POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2053, 22 September 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

THE LITTLE SISTER OF CHARITY. Young Harry Gilflory was jnst twenty-four. And had to hia credit a million or more ; To him the great world was a garden of flowers, And he, like a butterfly, wasted hia hours. He frequented dabs, and he drove his fast horse — Was the pet of the belles, and their mammas, of coarse ; He had nothing to do bat kill time, and I fear This cost him at least twenty thousand a year.

Like many p assessors of very great wealth. He thought more of pleasures that kill than of health : The wine cup he’d quaff till his wits went

astiay, And sometimes he’d cling to it day after day Till nature gave out, and he’d wake at the

close Of a lengthened debauch, sick, unnerved.

and morose— A prey to remorse, and disgusted to think Of the follies he’d wrought while demented by drink.

’lwaa after a tnrn of this kind that yenng Gil— Dejected, unnerved by excess, and quite ill— Lounged in his hctel, to all outward things blind. At war with himself and with all of his kind ; His young features wore an expression forlorn, His clothes were bedaubed, and in some places torn. His hair was unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot. And ha looked very much like a penniless sot.

Though society’s pet, and by every one known. Not one spoke to Gil as he sat there alone ; He was left unmolested amid the rude din, Till a small beggar-girl from the street ventured in ; Her clothing was thin, and her features were pinch’d, Bnt from the rude gazers the child never flinch’d; She must have been less than a dozen years old, But a long fight with hardship had rendered her bold. To each lounger the little petitioner went—‘•Please give me a copper, sir—only a cent! b'ince morning I’ve had not a morsel to eat, And I’m tired, so tired, from walking the street! ” Some gave her a penny, some pushed her aside; Bnt, firm and undaunted, she every one tried, Till she came to onr hero, the wretched Gilfiery. Held out her wee hand, and repeated her story. “You’ve nothing to eat since the morning, you say ? ” Gill sullenly growled. “Little girl, go away ! For three days I’ve tasted no food ; so you see. You are far better off, you young beggar, than me ! " The girl hung her head and had nothing to say, Bat she heaved a deep sigh, aad walked slowly away ; She paused at the door, hesitated, and then Turned quickly, and then faced young Gilflory again. “Poor man ! ” she exclaimed ; “ I’m so sorry for you ! ” And her pitying eyes filled with heavenly dew, And her voice had a pathos as tender and sweet As our Saviour’s when Magdalen, knelt at His feet, “Three days without eating! Oh, that ii too bad ! Here, take these five cents, and you’ll make me so glad, You know you can’t live without something to eat. And I can get help from some one on the street.” From his indolent stupor Gilflory awoke. At first he felt sure that the child meant to joke ; He looked at her keenly, but naught could he trace Save angelic sympathy in her young face, “By Heaven! she means it!” ho cried, in suprlae ; “ Her young bosom heaves; there are tears in her eyes; Both language and aspect speak pity and love— She offers me money ; and means it, by Jove ! “ Thia poor little waif is a princess to-night, And I am the subject that pales in her light. She has tanght me a lesson that cannot depart While reason remains and there’s warmth in my heart; She has taught me the lesson that Christ tanght of old— That the heart which can feel is the genuine gold, And that in His bright home moat blessed He’ll call Not those who gave largely, but those who gave all, “ Come here, thou frail waif of small form but big heart, Gilflory’s the beggar—the lady thou art!” And quietly taking his hat from his head, He passed it around to each person, and said, “I want five dollars, please, not a single cent less, For this angel of light in a calico dress I” They gave without grumbling; bat then, don’t you see, They gave to a young millionaire on a spree. Who passed it in turn to the “angel of light In tho calico dress,” and kept sober that night, —Fkakci* S. Smith.