But a new field suddenly opened before me; I was a man of weight and influence, and must be used for what I was worth. It is no joke, I can a.s.sure the reader, when I tell them that the way my pocket suffered was truly alarming. I don't know, but I have seriously thought, sometimes, that if I hadn't kicked loose from my dignity, I would have been gazetted as a bankrupt long before this time.

Soon after sending in my resignation as vestryman or deacon, I will not say which, I met the Rev. Mr----, and the way he talked to me about the earth being the "Lord's and the fullness thereof;" about our having the poor always with us; about the duties of charity, and the laying up of treasure in heaven, made me ashamed to go to church for a month to come.

I really began to fear that I was a doomed man and that the reputation of being a "wealthy citizen" was going to sink me into everlasting perdition. But I am getting over that feeling now. My cash-book, ledger, and bill-book set me right again; and I can b.u.t.ton up my coat and draw my purse-strings, when guided by the dictates of my own judgment, without a fear of the threatened final consequences before my eyes.

Still, I am the subject of perpetual annoyance from all sorts of people, who will persist in believing that I am made of money; and many of these approach me in, such a way as to put it almost entirely out of my power to say "no." They come with appeals for small amounts, as loans, donations to particular charities, or as the price of articles that I do not want, but which I cannot well refuse to take. I am sure that, since I have obtained my present unenviable reputation, it hasn't cost me a cent less than two thousand, in money given away, loaned never to be returned, and in the purchase of things that I never would have thought of buying.

And, with all this, I have made more enemies than I ever before had in my life, and estranged half of my friends and acquaintances.

Seriously, I have it in contemplation to "break" one of these days, in order to satisfy the world that I am not a rich man. I see no other effectual remedy for present grievances.

"WE'VE ALL OUR ANGEL SIDE."

DESPAIR not of the better part That lies in human kind-- A gleam of light still flickereth In e'en the darkest mind; The savage with his club of war, The sage so mild and good, Are linked in firm, eternal bonds Of common brotherhood.

Despair not! Oh despair not, then, For through this world so wide, No nature is so demon-like, But there's an angel side.

The huge rough stones from out the mine, Unsightly and unfair, Have veins of purest metal hid Beneath the surface there; Few rocks so bare but to their heights Some tiny moss-plant clings, And round the peaks, so desolate, The sea-bird sits and sings.

Believe me, too, that rugged souls, Beneath their rudeness hide Much that is beautiful and good-- We've all our angel side.

In all there is an inner depth-- A far off, secret way, Where, through dim windows of the soul, G.o.d sends His smiling ray; In every human heart there is A faithful sounding chord, That may be struck, unknown to us, By some sweet loving word; The wayward heart in vain may try Its softer thoughts to hide, Some unexpected tone reveals It has its angel side.

Despised, and low, and trodden down, Dark with the shade of sin: Deciphering not those halo lights Which G.o.d hath lit within; Groping about in utmost night, Poor prisoned souls there are, Who guess not what life's meaning is, Nor dream of heaven afar; Oh! that some gentle hand of love Their stumbling steps would guide, And show them that, amidst it all, Life has its angel side.

Brutal, and mean, and dark enough, G.o.d knows, some natures are, But He, compa.s.sionate, comes near-- And shall we stand afar?

Our cruse of oil will not grow less, If shared with hearty hand, And words of peace and looks of love Few natures can withstand.

Love is the mighty conqueror-- Love is the beauteous guide-- Love, with her beaming eye, can see We've all our angel side.

BLIND JAMES.

IN the month of December, in the neighbourhood of Paris, two men, one young, the other rather advanced in years, were descending the village street, which was made uneven and almost impa.s.sable by stones and puddles.

Opposite to them, and ascending this same street, a labourer, fastened to a sort of dray laden with a cask, was slowly advancing, and beside him a little girl, of about eight years old, who was holding the end of the barrow. Suddenly the wheel went over an enormous stone, which lay in the middle of the street, and the car leaned towards the side of the child.

"The man must be intoxicated," cried the young man, stepping forward to prevent the overturn of the dray. When he reached the spot, he perceived that the man was blind.

"Blind!" said he, turning towards his old friend. But the latter, making him a sign to be silent, placed his hand, without speaking, on that of the labourer, while the little girl smiled. The blind man immediately raised his head, his sightless eyes were turned towards the two gentlemen, his face shone with an intelligent and natural pleasure, and, pressing closely the hand which held his own, he said, with an accent of tenderness,

"Mr. Desgranges!"

"How!" said the young man, moved and surprised; "he knew you by the touch of your hand."

"I do not need even that," said the blind man; "when he pa.s.ses me in the street, I say to myself, 'That is his step.'" And, seizing the hand of Mr. Desgranges, he kissed it with ardour. "It was indeed you, Mr.

Desgranges, who prevented my falling--always you."

"Why," said the young man, "do you expose yourself to such accidents, by dragging this cask?"

"One must attend to his business, sir," replied he, gayly.

"Your business?"

"Undoubtedly," added Mr. Desgranges. "James is our water-carrier. But I shall scold him for going out without his wife to guide him."

"My wife was gone away. I took the little girl. One must be a little energetic, must he not? And, you see, I have done very well since I last saw you, my dear Mr. Desgranges; and you have a.s.sisted me."

"Come, James, now finish serving your customers, and then you can call and see me. I am going home."

"Thank you, sir. Good-by, sir; good-by, sir."

And he started again, dragging his cask, while the child turned towards the gentlemen her rosy and smiling face.

"Blind, and a water-carrier!" repeated the young man, as they walked along.

"Ah! our James astonishes you, my young friend. Yes, it is one of those miracles like that of a paralytic who walks. Should you like to know his story?"

"Tell it to me."

"I will do so. It does not abound in facts or dramatic incidents, but it will interest you, I think, for it is the history of a soul, and of a good soul it is--a man struggling against the night. You will see the unfortunate man going step by step out of a bottomless abyss to begin his life again--to create his soul anew. You will see how a blind man, with a n.o.ble heart for a stay, makes his way even in this world."

While they were conversing, they reached the house of Mr. Desgranges, who began in this manner:--

"One morning, three years since, I was walking on a large dry plain, which separates our village from that of Noiesemont, and which is all covered with mill-stones just taken from the quarry. The process of blowing the rocks was still going on. Suddenly a violent explosion was heard. I looked. At a distance of four or five hundred paces, a gray smoke, which seemed to come from a hole, rose from the ground. Stones were then thrown up in the air, horrible cries were heard, and springing from this hole appeared a man, who began to run across the plain as if mad. He shook his arms, screamed, fell down, got up again, disappeared in the great crevices of the plain, and appeared again. The distance and the irregularity of his path prevented me from distinguishing anything clearly; but, at the height of his head, in the place of his face, I saw a great, red mark. In alarm, I approached him, while from the other side of the plain, from Noiesemont, a troop of men and women were advancing, crying aloud. I was the first to reach the poor creature. His face was all one wound, and torrents of blood were streaming over his garments, which were all in rags.

"Scarcely had I taken hold of him, when a woman, followed by twenty peasants, approached, and threw herself before him.

"'James, James, is it you? I did not know you, James.'

"The poor man, without answering, struggled furiously in our hands.

"'Ah!' cried the woman, suddenly, and with a heart-rending voice, 'it is he!'

"She had recognised a large silver pin, which fastened his shirt, which was covered with blood.

"It was indeed he, her husband, the father of three children, a poor labourer, who, in blasting a rock with powder, had received the explosion in his face, and was blind, mutilated, perhaps mortally wounded.

"He was carried home. I was obliged to go away the same day, on a journey, and was absent a month. Before my departure, I sent him our doctor, a man devoted to his profession as a country physician, and as learned as a city physician. On my return--

"'Ah! well, doctor,' said I, 'the blind man?'

"'It is all over with him. His wounds are healed, his head is doing well, he is only blind; but he will die; despair has seized him, and he will kill himself. I can do nothing more for him, This is all,' he said; 'an internal inflammation is taking place. He must die.'

"I hastened to the poor man. I arrived. I shall never forget the sight.