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Updated: June 11, 2025
She stood looking at him till he was out of sight, and then as she moved away, let us hope to the bed which his bounty had provided, and not to a gin-shop, she exclaimed to herself again and again "Gracious, how beautiful he was!" "He's a good un," the woman at the public-house had said as soon as he left it; "but, my! did you ever see a man's face handsome as that fellow's?" Poor Burgo!
No one has a right to blame these people; they are as kind as any; it is not their fault that some are living among them to whom no experience at all is necessary, and who not only could sympathize, but do in thought, with the very angel that never fell, when they consider what it must be to him if the mortal child he has to watch goes wrong; with the poor weak drunkard who wishes he could keep sober, but feels, when he would fain pass by it, that the gin-shop, like a devil-fish, sends forth long tentacles and ruthlessly sucks him in; with the mother-whale, when her wilful young one insists on swimming up the fiord, and she who has risked her life to warn him must hear the thud of the harpoon in his side; with the old tired horse, when they fetch him in from his sober reverie in the fields, and put his blinkers on; with anything else? yes, with the bluebells, whose life above ground is so short, when wasteful children tread them down; these all feel something that one would fain save them from.
"Oh, can he can he have destroyed himself in a fit of despair?" gasped Lady Oldfield. "I think not, madam. Pray don't distress yourself. I believe we shall be able to hunt him out in a day or two. I shall send a man in plain clothes to the gin-shop again to-night to watch for him." Early the next day the superintendent called again. "We've found him," he said.
As she sits forlorn, it is not the wretched hovel that she sees, nor other hovels like it rows of tenements of hopeless poverty, the ale-house, the gin-shop, the coal-pit, and the choking factory but: "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood Stand dressed in living green" for her, thanks to the poet.
At the same time, they have their use, where they do not create their ridicule. On the Continent, life is idle; and the idlers are more harmlessly employed going to those pageants, than in the gin-shop. The finery and the foolery together also attract strangers, the idlers of other towns; it makes money, it makes conversation, it makes amusement, and it kills time.
Old Ford, who had been present and enjoyed the fracas, immediately took me into his especial favour; he declared that I was after his own heart, for I had the devil in me said that I had the right spirit to bring me to the gallows, and he hoped, old as he was, to live to see it: he then entreated of the Lord that my precious soul might be saved as a burning brand out of the fire took me by the hand and led me to the next gin-shop made me taste the nauseating poison told me I was a little man, and it was glorious to fight doubled up for me my puny fists, and asserted that cowards only suffered a blow without returning it.
"With great pleasure," answered I, bowing low, "since the act is a prelude to the pleasure of your acquaintance." My gentleman of the gin-shop opened his box with an air, as he replied "It is but seldom that I meet, in places of this description, gentlemen of the exterior of yourself and your friends. I am not a person very easily deceived by the outward man.
Tell them of hunger and the streets, beggary and stripes, the gin-shop, the station-house, and the pawnbroker’s, and they will understand you. Two or three women were standing at different parts of the grating, conversing with their friends, but a very large proportion of the prisoners appeared to have no friends at all, beyond such of their old companions as might happen to be within the walls.
For the last five months that I spent in Cleveland, I carried in my purse one solitary cent as a sort of talisman; firmly believing that some day it would turn into gold: but this did not happen; and on the day that I was expecting the receipt of the last eighteen dollars for my lessons, which were designed to bear my expenses to New York, I gave it to a poor woman in the street who begged me for a cent; and it doubtless, ere long, found its way into a gin-shop.
Sleep brings an hour or two of oblivion, hardly of peace; but they must wake, worn and miserable, and the waking brings no hope: their only known help lies in the gin-shop. What can be done with them? But the secrets God keeps must be as good as those he tells. But no sights of the night ever affected me so much as walking through this same St.
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