The Rarity Of Christian Charity

The following lines from the pen of Jndge J. Willard Babbitt, are so good that the Argus reproduces theni for the benefit of its readers: ' 'Tis early night. The whistlingrwinds Po8.ses8the naked Street, Save herè and there some hapless wight Goes by with taurrylne feot. Thro' Winding snow and stinging sleet, Dashed by the wintry storm, In scanty oress, with luce upturned, Behold a témale forni 1 Why stande elie here on such a nisht, A,iul bravos i he killing f roet, Wih hund outstretchèd and motiouless, Like sentry at his post? The passers by givo her noJook, Nor note her upturned tace, Whose finely chiseled beauty-lines 8001e proud nian's homo would grace. A flashof lilit falls on herfSbe So frentle and ,0 kind - God Heavens! lier eyeballs quitfk disclose That the poor girl is blind! Agreat throug-froui a rích man's rhurcb With niany i face awry, Close-button up thelr overcoal -, And pass unlieedini by. And now the parson comea along- The last of thte Bleek bandHe bas 110 thought for su(h asshe. Nor heeds her outstretchèd hand. She never wrouged a single soul, Thouirh few know wheace gfie came, No vHgglng tongue waB ever heard To question her fair fame. And still she stands with outstretchèd hund. Her cold, muto lips are dumb, Oh, sisrhtless jrirl, Dereft of speech, Will succor never come V Will Eye that notes the sparrow's fall Have pity on thy headV Will no one note thy pleadlns dumb f l8Christian kindnese dead ? Notdeadl Notdeadl Asinfulmau - Heaven bl6sa the man of sln - (Tlieclerk of tlie tobáceo Btore) Who ciime and wheeled her in.