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poor were unnaturally and unnecessarily cut
off by the thousand, in the prematurity of
their age, or in the rottenness of their youth
for of flower or blossom such youth has
nonethe Gospel was NOT preached to them,
saving in hollow and unmeaning voices. That
of all wrongs, this was the first mighty wrong
the Pestilence warned us to set right. And that
no Post-Office Order to any amount, given to
a Begging-Letter Writer for the quieting of
an uneasy breast, would be presentable on
the Last Great Day as anything towards it.

The poor never write these letters. Nothing
could be more unlike their habits. The
writers are public robbers; and we who
support them are parties to their depredations.
They trade upon every circumstance
within their knowledge that affects us, public
or private, joyful or sorrowful; they pervert
the lessons of our lives; they change what
ought to be our strength and virtue, into
weakness, and encouragement of vice. There
is a plain remedy, and it is in our own hands.
We must resolve, at any sacrifice of feeling,
to be deaf to such appeals, and crush the

There are degrees in murder. Life must
be held sacred among us in more ways than
onesacred, not merely from the murderous
weapon, or the subtle poison, or the cruel
blow, but sacred from preventible diseases,
distortions, and pains. That is the first great
end we have to set against this miserable
imposition. Physical life respected, moral life
comes next. What will not content a
Begging-Letter Writer for a week, would educate
a score of children for a year. Let us give all
we can; let us give more than ever. But
let us give, and do, with a high purpose; not
to endow the scum of the earth, to its own
greater corruption, with the offals of our duty.


BETWEEN the rivers Kistnah and Beehma
in the Deckhan, surrounded by wild rocky
hills, lies the town of Shorapoor, capital of a
state of that name, inhabited by a people who
have generally been considered lawless,
superstitious, and quarrelsome. Of late years they
have been more industrious and peaceable, and
though still an excitable race, may be said to
be advancing in the arts of peace.

It was during a more remote period, when
few strangers ever ventured to penetrate
the country, that a weary-looking traveller,
covered with dust, entered one of the gates,
and sat down for awhile at the side of a well.
He then proceeded to take off his waistband
and turban, washed his head and his feet,
drank of the cool refreshing water, combed
his beard and moustachios, and spreading a
small carpet on which he laid his trusty sword,
drew from his wallet a neat little muslin skullcap;
then seated himself cross-legged, lighted
his pipe, and began to look very comfortable

In the mean time there were not wanting
many idle and curious people, who having
first at a distance observed the movements of
the stranger, approached him nearer and
nearer. But he seemed to take little notice
of the crowd, and appeared absorbed in a
sense of his own enjoyment, taking long whiffs
of his pipe, and looking as if he had made a
considerable progress towards the third heaven.

At length a respectable looking man, who
had come up, drew nearer than the rest, and
asked him from whence he had travelled, and
whither he was going? What he was seeking
in Shorapoor, and whether he was a merchant,
or merely came to look about him? But the
questions ended in smoke, being answered
only by whiffs.

Then came another still bolder man, and
said, 'Sir, the heat is great; be pleased to
come with me to my house, and repose
yourself there, and I will give you a nice cool
place in which you may sleep.'

Upon this the stranger drew his pipe from
his mouth, and replied, 'You are extremely
kind, good Sir, and I am really grateful to
you for your proffered hospitality; but the
fact is, I don't believe you would wish to have
me in your house, did you know what I
really am!'

And thus saying, he rolled his eyes about,
twisted up his moustachios, stroked his beard,
and assumed such a mysterious air, that an
indescribable terror seized the bystanders; so
much so, that in falling hastily back, some of
them tumbled down, and others tumbled over
them in a very ridiculous manner.

'He's a thief,' whispered one. 'Or a
Thug,' said another. 'Or an evil spirit in
the form of a man,' observed a fourth. 'At
all events, doesn't he look like one who had
killed another?'

In short the alarm became general, and
several deemed it prudent, first to sneak off,
and then take to their heels. A few, however,
of the bolder spirits kept their ground; and
seeing that the stranger did nothing but take
long whiffs from his pipe, sending the smoke
peacefully curling over his beard and
moustachios out of both his nostrils, they regained
their confidence, and began to think that after
all he might be some important personage;—
who could tell? So after a little pushing and
elbowing among themselves, a man was thrust
forward, under an idea that something might
come of it; but no, the stranger appeared as
unmoved as ever.

Then another, who had screwed up his
courage to that point, boldly advanced, and
thus spoke

'Do pray, Sir, tell us who upon earth you
may be?'—No answer.

Then the man who had offered a sleeping
place in his house chimed in, and said, 'Aye,
Sir, do let us know who or what you may be?
I assure you we are none of us at all afraid of