“A miracle!” shouted de sistahs. “A miracle nuffin!” says I; “I see froo de mattah.—it’s easy To tell you des how it come by: Each man fotched a bottle ob water, An’ thought, when de cask wuz complete, By eb’ry one else bringin’ whiskey, Nobody would notice de cheat.”
Dat sort o’ broke up the revival— An’ raly I think it wuz time, Wid all de head brudders convicted Ob such a contemptible crime. Dey isn’t no good in purfeshins; Dat’s one thing I hope ’at you sees— But, sah, it’s so late I mus’ leab you To pick out what moral you please. Irwin Russell.
WENDELL PHILLIPS.
What shall we mourn? For the prostrate tree that sheltered the young green wood? For the fallen cliff that fronted the sea, and guarded the fields from the flood? For the eagle that died in the tempest, afar from its eyry’s brood?
Nay, not for these shall we weep; for the silver cord must be worn, And the golden fillet shrink back at last, and the dust to its earth return; And tears are never for those who die with their face to the duty done: But we mourn for the fledglings left on the waste, and the fields where the wild waves run.
From the midst of the flock he defended, the brave one has gone to his rest; And the tears of the poor he befriended their wealth of affection attest.
From the midst of the people is stricken a symbol they daily saw, Set over against the law-book, of a higher than human law; For his life was a ceaseless protest, and his voice was a prophet’s cry To be true to the truth, and faithful, though the world were arrayed for the lie.
From the hearing of those who hated, a threatening voice has passed; But the lives of those who believe and die are not blown like a leaf on the blast. A sower of infinite seed was he, a woodman that hewed to the light, Who dared to be traitor to Union when Union was traitor to right.
“Fanatic!” the insects hissed, till he taught them to understand That the highest crime may be written in the highest law of the land. “Disturber,” and “dreamer,” the Philistines cried, when he preached an ideal creed, Till they learned that the men who have changed the world with the world have disagreed; That the remnant is right, when the masses are led like sheep to the pen; For the instinct of equity slumbers till roused by instinctive men.