He lies up there, O, so in need of care and
kindness!
HIS BRAGS WERE MADE IN TIME OF STRENGTH,
and he expected to have strength to keep himself stoical. But now he is
weak,--weak and truly miserable. He hears the people come in to their
supper, go to their rooms, wash, run gayly down-stairs, chat, go down
another pair of stairs,--and then come the jarring sounds of plates and
knives and spoons, and, worse, the sickening smell of victuals. How can
they laugh and joke when he, a man and a brother, lies sick of a fever?
Ah! my friend, it would not be so were you the head of the house. All
would be changed. The supper-hour would come with a hush instead of a
clatter. The light stol'n forth o' the building would leave the whole
house in gloom. And in your selfish soul you would be glad, for God so
made all of us! Now you turn yourself to the wall, and marvel at the
lightness of human words and
THE GREEDINESS OF HUMAN WANTS.
You are little to be pitied in justice--greatly, in mercy! Lie there and
pity humanity, for they would be all like you, did not they follow in
nature's paths, where the roses of the wayside hide more of their
ugliness.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265