Grim dragons leered at the unhappy wretch,
Noisome serpents hissed in the gloom,
As the ghastly guide turned the grating key
And left him alone to his doom.

85

Ah! who could find words for the thoughts that flowed
Through the mind of the guilty man;

He cursed his fate through his chattering teeth,
And he wished he was young again.

"Who are my accusers? Come, bring them to me,
My business was sanctioned by law,

I paid for a license," he hoarsely cried.
Oh! a terrible sight he saw,

For the first to come was a tiny child,
With a face that was pale and thin;

She slowly lifted a skeleton hand

And pointed it straight toward him:

"I have sobbed with hunger many a night,
As I lay on my bed of straw,

While my father paid you the price of bread-
Is starvation sanctioned by law?"
Before the bars of the damp prison doors

A poor drunkard's wife next appeared;
He remembered well how, many a time,

At her prayers and sobs he had sneered:

"I begged of you through my fast-falling tears,
As I knelt on your bar-room floor,
Not to give to my half-crazed husband, rum,
And at my petitions you swore.

My husband was killed in a drunken brawl,
Brought on by the liquor you sold,
May you now drink of the bitterest draught
That the depths of Hades can hold!"

A fair, blue-eyed boy, with a crimson gash
Cut deep in the broad youthful brow,
And his murderer passed, with fearful oaths,
By the door of the culprit now.

Full many a drunkard, with blood-shot eyes,
And delirious, woeful form,

Lingered near, to mock him, with jeering cries,
Ere the sad procession moved on.

There were little children, crying for bread,
And mothers who wept for their sons,

And maidens, whose lovers to crime were led,
Slowly greeted him, one by one.

Blind babes, deaf mutes, and children deformed
In many a horrible way,

Their sentence passed on the penitent wretch
During that, his settlement day.

Vainly he prayed in those hours for relief,
For the past he could not efface,
And he tore his hair in remorseful grief,
As the fruits of his sins he faced.
No license could help him under the weight
Of the punishment he had won;
No arguments fair were efficient there,
For his work could not be undone.

Oh! 'tis sad to think how many to-day,
Sow seeds for a harvest of tears,

And that they must reap at some future date
The results of their wasted years.

They, too, must pass over the river Styx,
With Charon, the ferryman old,

And Nemesis follows, to find their home
But a cell in a mountain cold,-

A mountain whose walls are rocks of remorse
That form round the spirit a cell,

Where serpents of pain and dragons of grief
Are symbolized inmates of hell.

Oh, pause, ere too late, beware of your fate,
Beware how you traffic with blood!

The curse of the lost is the certain cost
To those who embark on its flood.

THE ONE-LEGGED GOOSE.*

F. HOPKINSON SMITH.

"Wust scrape I eber got into wid old Marsa John was ober Henny. Henny was a young gal dat b'longed to Colonel Lloyd Barbour, on de next plantation to ourn. I tell ye she was a harricane in dem days. She come into de kitchen one time where I was helpin' git de din

*From "Colonel Carter of Cartersville, " by permission of the author.

ner ready an' de cook had gone to de spring-house, an she says:

"Chad, what yer cookin' dat smells so nice?'

"Dat's a goose,' I says, 'cookin' for Marsa John's dinWe got quality,' says I, pointin' to de dinin'-room

ner.

do'.'

666

Quality!' she says. 'Spec' I know what de quality is. Dat's for you and de cook.'

"Wid dat she grabs a caarvin' knife from de table, opens de do' ob de big oven, cuts off a leg ob de goose; an' dis'pears round de kitchen corner wid de leg in her mouf.

"'Fo' I knowed whar I was Marsa John come to de kitchen do' an' says, 'Gittin' late, Chad; bring in de dinner.' You see, Major, dey ain't no up an' down stairs in de big house, like it is yer; kitchin an' dinin'-room all on de same flo'.

“Well, sah, I was scared to def, but I tuk dat goose an' laid him wid de cut side down on de bottom of de pan 'fo' de cook got back, put some dressin' an' stuffin' ober him, an' shet de stove do'. Den I tuk de sweet potatoes an' de hominy an' put 'em on de table, an' den I went back in de kitchen to git de baked ham. I put on de ham an' some mo' dishes, an' Marsa says, lookin'

up:

"I t'ought dere was a roast goose, Chad?'

"I ain't yerd nothin' 'bout no goose,' I says. 'I'll ask de cook.'

"Next minute I yerd old Marsa a-hollerin': "Mammy Jane, ain't we got a goose?'

"Lord-a-massy! yes, Marsa. Chad, you wu'thless nig ger, ain't you tuk dat goose out yit?'

"Is we got a goose?' said I.

"Is we got a goose? Didn't you help pick it?'

"I see whar my hair was short, an' I snatched up a hot dish from de hearth, opened de oven do', an' slide de goose in jes as he was, an' lay him down befo' Marsa John.

"Now see what de ladies 'll have for dinner,' says old Marsa, pickin' up his caarvin' knife.

"What'll you take for dinner, miss?' says I. 'Baked ham?'

66 6

No,' she says, lookin' up to whar Marsa John sat; 'I think I'll take a leg ob dat goose'-jes so.

66

Well, Marsa cut off de leg an' put a little stuffin' an’ gravy on wid a spoon, an' says to me, 'Chad, see what dat gemman 'll have.'

66 6

What 'll you take for dinner, sah?' says I. 'Nice breast o' goose, or slice o' ham? '

"No; I think I'll take a leg of dat goose,' he says. "I didn't say nuffin', but I knowed berry well he wa'n't a-gwine to git it.

"But, Major, you oughter seen ole Marsa lookin' for der udder leg ob dat goose! He rolled him ober on de dish, dis way an' dat way, an' den he jabbed dat ole bone-handled caarvin' fork in him an' hel' him up ober de dish an' looked under him an' on top ob him, an den he says, kinder sad like:

"Chad, whar is de udder leg ob dat goose?' "It didn't hab none,' says I.

"You mean ter say, Chad, dat de gooses on my plantation on'y got one leg?'

"Some ob 'em has an' some ob 'em ain't. You see, Marsa, we got two kinds in de pond, an' we was a little boddered to-day, so Mammy Jane cooked dis one 'cause I cotched it fust.'

"Well,' said he, lookin' like he look when he send for you in de little room, I'll settle wid ye after dinner.'

“Well, dar I was shiverin' an' shakin' in my shoes an' droppin' gravy an' spillin' de wine on de table-cloth, I was dat shuck up; an' when de dinner was ober he calls all de ladies an' gemmen, an' says, 'Now come down to de duck pond. I'm gwineter show dis nigger dat all de gooses on my plantation got mo' den one leg.'

66

I followed 'long, trapesin' after de whole kit an' b'ilin', an' when we got to de pond"-here Chad nearly went

into a convulsion with suppressed laughter--"dar was de gooses sittin' on a log in de middle of dat ole green goose-pond wid one leg stuck down-so-an' de udder tucked under de wing."

Chad was now on one leg, balancing himself by my chair, the tears running down his cheeks.

"Dar Massa,' says I, 'don't ye see? Look at dat ole gray goose! Dat's de berry match ob de one we had to day.'

"Den de ladies all hollered an' de gemmen laughed so loud dey yerd 'em at de big house.

"Stop, you black scoun'rel!' Marsa John says, his face gittin' white an' he a-jerkin' his handkerchief from his pocket. Shoo!'

66

Major, I hope to have my braius kicked out by a lame grasshopper if ebery one ob dem gooses didn't put down de udder leg!

66.6

'Now, you lyin' nigger,' he says, raisin' his cane ober my head, 'I'll show you'

"Stop Marзa John!' I hollered; ''t ain't fair, 't ain't fair.'

"Why ain't it fair?' says he.

"'Cause,' says I, 'you did n't say

what was on de table."

"Shoo!" to de

goose

ST. PETER'S POLITENESS.

As Peter sat at heaven's gate

A maiden sought permission,

And begged of him, if not too late,
To give her free admission.

"What claim hast thou to enter here?"
He cried with earnest mien;

"Please, sir," said she, 'twixt hope and fear,
"I'm only just sixteen."

"Enough!" the hoary guardian said,

And the gate wide open threw;

"That is the age when every maid

Is girl and angel, too!"