THE RETAILER AND HIS VICTIM.


BY CHARLES w. pENIsoN.
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Tbs hand Of death was on him. There he lay
In utter agony, upon his bed
VI straw; his sunken eye upturn'i, and bxd
On vacancy; his mouth was open wide, III
And Oft ne gasp'd for breath, like shot bird
Beneath MONDAY sun; his face how wan!
And DER it pass'd, like black cloud
Over . sterile waste, the awful frown NsE85a
OF hopeless deep despair. Around him stood
His wrstched offspring, noisy in their wo;
And as their cries burst from their aching hearts
They seemd to shake their toltering hut; for they
Forsaken ones! had no kind mother there,
To still their bitter groans. The dying man
Had bid them all adieu; had cast them forth
Upon the bleak, wide world neglected heirs
10 poor beggar's villa drunkard's name -
There enterd one, with reckless step and look,
That boldly mock'd this touching scene Of wo.
lie gazed with fearless eye, and blanchless cheek,
Upon the wreck which he himself had made;
Then seizing on his dying victims hand


Which seem'd instinctively to dread his touch
With sanity voice, but quaking heart he ask'd;
:" My neighbor, know st thou ME" Deep groans
In tones Of thrilling sound-the sufferer turn'd,
And fixing on his vister eye
That told unutterabIe things he said


know you alas alas ! too well do!


You who have stript me of my earthly all
Have beggar'd me and mine; have made my life
"A hell on earth ana now LOT me nave DurSt
The burning portals Of hell to come!


Look at this frame 80 weak and haggard now III
Look at this hovel--squalid misrys dem
At those dear innocents, and hear their sobs---
Then hence-and to the spot you call your home
But as you go, tread lightly DER the grave
Of my lost murderd wife when there, reflect,
That, out tor. knoUi,'g you, now might have
A frame as healthy and as firm as yours
That the same hand you now have dared to touch
Might still have labored on, to gather up
The treasures Of the SOIL and joyous, cast
Them in my partners lap, future store
For those sad, helpless orphans: that this hut,
Which charity to me has deign'd to loan
That Imight here be shelter'd from the storm,
And close my wretched days beneath roof
BY you has been exchanged for that which once
Was aine--mine, by the purchase Of my daily toll
And now begone! my spirit loathes thy sight;
But stop-remember must meet again
Meet, at the bar of Him whose searching eye
Has mark'd your every step; till then farewell
He ceased. His face was fush'd, and in his eye
There shone brightness not of earth which seem'd
10 pass, like fiery arrows, through the soul
OF him who trembling listen'd. He had pourd
That scorchng torrent Of his curses out,
Till it had dried the very fount Of life,
And thus, while burning in its fires, he died!