The Praise of Men.

Who curses all the Temperance crew,
And all reformers, red or blue,

Who mean to pass laws good and true?

The Brewer.

Who fears the dawning of the day,
When right with might shall hold the sway,
And sweep his traffic clean away ?

The Brewer.

23

THE PRAISE OF MEN.

APOOR little girl in a tattered gown,

Wand'ring along through the crowded town,

All weary and worn on the curb sat down,
By the side of the way to rest;

Bedimmed with tears were her eyes of brown,
Her hands on her bosom pressed.

The night was approaching, and winter's chill blast,
That fell on the child as it hurried past,
Congealed the tears that were falling fast
From the poor little maiden's eyes;
The blinding snow on her pale cheek cast,
Unheeding her plaintive cries.

Now, hurriedly passing along the street,
She catches the sound of approaching feet,
And wearily rises as if to entreat
Some aid from the passer by;

But slowly and sadly resumes her seat,
Repelled by the glance of his eye.

He saw the wild tempest resistlessly hurl
The gathering snow flakes, with many a whirl,
Upon her bare head, where each soft shining curl
Was swept by the breath of the storm;
But what did he care for the little girl?
His raiment was ample and warm!

He went to a charity meeting that night,
And spoke, to the listeners' great delight,
Of how much 'twas the duty of all to unite
The suffering poor to relieve;

And held up his cheque for a thousand at sight,
So all the crowd could perceive.

He handed the cheque to the treasurer, when
The audience applauded again and again,

But the angel who holds the recording pen
This sentence, methinks, did record:
"He doeth his alms to be seen of men,
Their praise is his only reward."

The papers, next morning, had much to say
Of how the "good gentleman" did display
His generous spirit in giving away

So much to the poor man's cause:
He smiled as he read his own praise that day,
And thought of the night's applause.

Near by, the same paper went to repeat

A story they'd heard of how, out in the street,
A watchman, at dawning of morn, on his beat,
A poor little child had found,

With only the snow as a winding sheet,
Frozen to death on the ground.

Ah! who can declare that when God shall unfold
Eternity's record, he will not hold

Him guilty of murder, who seeks with his gold,

In charity's name to buy

The praises of men, while out in the cold

He leaves a poor child to die?

RUDDY urchin stooped to pluck
A daisy brimmed with dew,

And twine it with some buttercups
Of glorious golden hue;

And as he stooped to pick the flower
He faltered with surprise,-

"Oh, mother! this poor daisy's got

Some tears in its eyes!

His mother stroked his curly head,
And answered with a smile:
"This is the dew the daisy drinks,

Tis falling all the while

That you are in your little bed,
Wrapt up so snug and warm,

With angels watching round your head,
And dolly on your arm."

The boy looked up with great round eyes,

And said, "Oh, mother, dear!

If God sends dew for little flowers,
Who sends the ale and beer?"

(Choir of 5 or 6 voices in an adjacent vestry or passage, near enough to be heard distinctly).

[SCENE.-SUTHERLAND's home.

Сноп

HOIR sings:

JOHN reading newspaper,

ELLEN knitting.]

"Come, let us join our cheerful songs,

With angels round the throne;

Ten thousand thousand are their tongues,
But all their joys are one."

(ELLEN listening, puts down her work and places her apron

to her eyes.)

66 Worthy the Lamb that died," they cry,
"To be exalted thus ;

"Worthy the Lamb," our hearts reply,
"For He was slain for us."

JOHN (folding his paper). Ellen, what's the matter?;
ELLEN. Hush! don't you hear the singing?

"Jesus is worthy to receive
Honour and power divine;

And blessings more than we can give
Be, Lord, for ever Thine."

JOHN. Ay, ay, very nice; who are they?
ELLEN. The Fothergill family next door; hush!

"The whole creation join in one,

To bless the sacred name
Of Him that sits upon the throne,
And to adore the Lamb."

JOHN. Ay, ay, very nice, but it should not make you cry, Nellie.

ELLEN. Put down your paper, John, my heart is nearly bursting; I want to talk with you. There was a time when I told you every thought, when we two had not distinct existences but were one, as two drops of dew become one in the heart of the buttercup, but we have now grown reserved.

JOHN. Well, go on.

ELLEN. Well, John, I have to-day been thinking all about our married life.

JOHN. And what made you think of that?

ELLEN. Because it is twelve years to-day since we were married.

JOHN. Twelve years to-day! Really, how time does roll away!

ELLEN. Ah! I so well remember the day you came to my father's house to fetch me away. You had a white vest, a rosebud in your coat and a little touch of red on each cheek. Then I thought of the nice cottage we had at Springfield, and the little garden, and you remember the flowers we had in the window, and the ladders you made for the fuschias, and the cords you put up for the scarlet-runners.

JOHN. Yes, Ellen, those were better days.

ELLEN. Then I thought of the children now in heaven, -little Jim with his sailor's suit and straw hat with the word "Invincible" round it; and the little chatting Lily that was always doing little bits of mischief but never intended to do wrong.

JOHN. Ay, ay, Nellie, but don't talk of them.

ELLEN. Nay, John, but I have a mother's heart, and there is one wound in it that can never heal; their little laughing faces are photographed on my memory, and I talk with them still in my dreams.

JOHN. Hush! Listen, they are singing again :

"If we knew the baby fingers

Pressed against the window-pane,
Would be cold and stiff to-morrow-
Never trouble us again-

Would the bright eyes of our darling
Catch the frown upon our brow?—

Would the prints of rosy fingers

Vex us then as they do now?

Then scatter seeds of kindness."

"Charity never faileth."

"Ah, those little ice-cold fingers,
How they point our memories back
To the hasty words and actions

Strewn along our backward track!
How those little hands remind us,
As in snowy grace they lie,
Not to scatter thorns-but roses,
For our reaping by-and-by.

27

Then scatter seeds of kindness."

(During the singing JOHN moves about very uneasily, picks up his paper and puts it down again.)

JOHN. Well now, have you done? I want to go.

ELLEN. No, John, I thought of you taking to drink, a little at first, and then much, and of our march down, down and down ever since; furniture gone, clothes gone, comforts gone; nay, we have now hardly the common necessaries of life. Then I thought of your cruelty and neglect, of the wounds and bruises I have carried, of the hundreds of anxious hours, and hours of suffering endured, of the quarrels we have had, and the hard, peevish words I have said to you.

JOHN. Ellen, you don't usually talk to me like this. What's the matter are you poorly, or have you had a vision? It is like a last dying speech and confession-you alarm me.

ELLEN. To-day I remembered that my dear mother, now an angel of light, often said " Charity never faileth," but I never comprehended the meaning until to-day, and I find that I have all along pursued a wrong course,-I have scolded, used hard, cross words, and foolishly hoped to make you better by being bad myself, but it has flashed across my mind to-day that it is "Charity never faileth." I am sure mother was right, she found it in the Bible-it must be true; and if you will forgive me for the hard things I have said and the worse things I have thought, they shall never be repeated. 66 Charity never faileth." The thought is on my mind like a beam of sunlight. Already I see the dove with the olive leaf in her mouth, assuring me that the flood and storm are past. [A knock at the door.

Enter MILES, PETER, and JONAS.]

MILES. Good evening, folks. Well, Johnnie, we've been to the Boar's Head, and old Dr. Benson is there just a bit tipsy, but he is a fine old man; he has made us laugh till we were quite ill, he is just in talking order; and there is young Lawyer Squant, Gosling the barber, and one or two more real stars; and thinking you would like to have a crack with them, the landlord said he would stand a pint of tenpenny if we