Select Literature.

Hawke's Bay Weekly Times, Volume 1, Issue 11, 18 March 1867, Page 61

Select Literature.

• GENTLEMAN GEOBGE. . ' a copper to get a poor • man a night’s lodging with.”. Such was the request of a squalid, tattered being, who shambled after the one cold January I walked homewards down London-road. He was • barefoot, and'was holding his rags across - his almost bare chest, and moaned pite- , ously when a cold blast rushed out of bye .streets, with a 'force and keenness which anode even my warm great coat' and muffler btit a poor protection;- “ Please, sir; do, sir.” • "We have so many appeals of this nature • addressed to us, that we grow too indif- • ferent to. them. “ Why does he not go to . the workhoifse ? ” we, say to ourselves; “If I were to give to all, I should soon be a beggar myself; ”. and so forth, and so, ' like the Levile, we pass by on' the other side. Tlie man craved so earnestly, for • charity that I stopped under, a lamp and ; confronted him. What a, miserable object ! He appeared to be about sixty years of age, although I afterwards,learned that . he, .was only forty-two. . Deep furrows ploughed ' his 1 liolldw cheeks. and broad forehead, his'eyes glittered de'ep in' their sockets,'and his nose was pinched like that of a corpse! There was, in spite" of his poverty-stricken appearance,' a look of bet- - ter days about him, that roused, my..curio- . Bity’and prompted me .to question him. “ A copper, kind gentleman, for the love . of God!” . , . , ... . “Why not go to tlie workhouse? If . you cannot work, it is of little use me giving you a trifle, for you-will have to come . to'that some time, and why not at once ?” ' “ Tliey Bend me about from,, one to . the ' other ''and treat me like ;, a-.- dog,” he 'moaned:-' '• V. • - ■ ■. r . “ But you. are treating, yourself, worse l than?, a dog by remaining, in ’the J .strcets in this way, .when, you might, have food and, shelter.” ‘ ‘ , ‘ “ sir;*’ ‘ he returned, “ you ; don’t know what'itls'tb be-friendless and poor.” He was rights I-had never known the want of money or friends; and what right ~h»£ I.to, judge. myrb|;qtherv? .him .from arid told"him 'tb at'once. He clutched them with tremtfliiig'haiid, and gazed at them like one in a dream. ' “Eighteenpence!” he“muttered. r ' *‘Ts thero'<realh/\ such, a biud.. iivtbe. world ? Sir,"l thank' you sihcemy.\‘t'G.d*tb i your 'wirnfarid sleep ydu irememper that 1 you. have thiainightlsavec ;my;body froralthe river;kndmy, soul from <^yeyJgsting* i firo.”. i hot always, what you

*R e . ,being struck .with, the propriety bf His, addresß. “ ‘] <l No,, no, no, not alwayi/sir, not alwata. A °Wt% gtotleman oncf. He .bowed gracefully, and then Relapsing into' tke'vitigranfr, once znbre bim,aad shuffiod awa y» muttering, “ a gentleman once: a gentleman' once.’ 1 :. - : ; ‘ «|V i - irl.lF a ftj b? w jnoat; anxious-towknow- more of this being, and, the mpment He h'ad gbne x remeiribered’tWo 'ortKree'ways iTV Wiiphd-'.cptddj Help: Him if'•’He; project deserving. At any rate, I had, old clothes at Home, and could find him a hat and a pair iof boots.; So,, with: ; the, best /int&ptmns, J followed hiin.,. One moment: 1 saw {Him slouching across 'the Street, but at - the. next ,a .passing ’.bus intervened, And Idoat sight of I wandered about the bye streets for some time,, and then gave up: the search with <& sigh,'arid walked briskly, away,, weaving -fanciful theories "to account .for the poor outcasts penury and. rags. 1 I ; had not gone far before my attention was: attracted toj a crowd collected round, a dramshop, .door, arid * to'the glazed top of 1 a policeman’s Hat,, the wearer, of wHich seemed to be em-1 ployed in pushing some drunken person I stopped arid hstened. .1 “ JNow move on Gentleman George,: or 111 lock you up again. , Come, tramp it, will you?” ' * '

.. “Mo, I won’t, my should IP But 111 give you a piece of poetry , “The stag at eve had„druuk hi* fill Where *' - w Ay, you’ve had your fill, bo hook it.” “ Stop a moment — The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece, Where burning Sappho loved and snnar. Where— **

“Now are you going t " “ What, does Moore sing about the flowing bowl ? What says 'Burns, Allan Ramsay, Byrori, Anacreon, and a host of others you neyer heard, of,' and therefore, I won’t cast pearls before swine by mentioning ? Don’t they all praise Falernian driegsj and write in praise of the rosy god? See, thou Cerberus.of the.infernal police court, here is one quartern of ancient 'J'homas in a bottle. What’s the price of it P . “ Fivepence,” returned the constable; “ aud now toddle along.” “ Fivepence! Oh man, man ; for although only. a. bobby you, are a man. ,Whj> it is Vitas of the ancients. Co' to - the British Museum, you dolt, and consult Paraselsusj Galen, and Nicholas Flamel.. You will then see that the bottle in my hand is a priceless'treasure* It' makes gold 'of copper, and turns a bobby*s hat and truncheon into animperial sceptre and crown. Now I’m off, thouminibn of a beak.' Say your prayers when you go home, study the character of Falstaif, drink a quart of burnt sack, and be happy ever after.” A roar of laughter from tho«*owd followed this speech, and staggering through the midst, bottle in hand, ea'rne Gentleman George, whose first-use, of his eighteenpence had been to drag his .weary limbs to the nearest dramshop to drown the recollection of his sorrows in gin. . . I followed him into a dark, dirty alley close to, and then tapped him on the shoulder. •

, “I am sorry to find you. have put the money I gave you to such a use.” “O, my kind benefactor, and do you upbraid me ? JSt tu Brute ? What did you think, now, I ought to have done with it?” • Spent it in food and a night’s lodging.” . “And .haven’t I done it? What I bought is father and mother, wife and children, meat/and drink, and lodging to me. See, mykindfriend, I have yet threepence left. I' get a bed for that, and take my meat and drihk with me.” “ And to-morrow? ” . . .. “I don’t care for to-morrow,” he returned, s eadying himself against the wall. “What is. to-morrow to me ? It never did, anything for me. . Why .should I c|£ anything' for it? To-morrow, and tomorrow, and to-morrow. Holloa, hold

up I” , t As he spoke, he lurched forward and fell '■ heavily upon his head. I hastened to his assistance, but on . raising his head I saw. the blood flowing from a deep gash in his" temple/ and beyond a low groan, there was no sign of hfe. .. , I ran into the street for assistance and soon'returned with the same policeman the. wretched man had just .been talking to. He t turned his bull’s;-eye,on the,ghastly Bpectade, and'then slibok his head. ' has done it at last, sir. He.has.fallen on- the .bottle, and the glass' has gone ‘ into his his bead. See, here’s : a pieced sticking! in the gash. No. don’t touch it, sir,.or perhaps^he’ll, bleep to death defore I get a surgecin to him. There’s the parish doctor lives in the next street; I’ll go - for him.” And so-saying, he hastened away, leaving me to watch the fallen' man, whose - heavy breathing' was painful in the .extreme to listen. ;. . .The; doctor soon arrived^,and made a careful' lamination wound, prohouncing. it’ hot to he damgeVous unless erysipelas set in.- ! . . . “ I’ll take him; to the hospital,” said the policeipan.i .. L .. h "“Np, ,te.ke r hiuli.to.tlije workhouse,” replied: ‘‘That is ‘the! ,proper place for him: ancTif?»he‘ : u'whrse'in the remove puxi (then: and if .heis , better, he Cannot ‘do hdter thim ptay.*’ ' lti ; \;p»j bjr'day'.i'’ cidl|dyat [ ? 'th© : ' f worl^ov«.e

to ask after Gentleman George. He was fellow'-and .had .not '.rempyal.,. On: a' sohbr toan’ suen a fill jhiad bpt ;littts effect, but it, was almost ; certain death to a drunkard.'' 4. ; ! • >. (To'he concluded in our next.)