The wise men, who assemble in the halls; of legislation, shall be blind to this ruin, desolation, and misery. Nay, they shall license the sale of this poison, and shall require of dignified magistrates to certify how much thereof shall be sold for the "Public Good."
This minister of woe and wretchedness shall roam over the earth at pleasure. It shall be found in every country of the Christian; it shall go into every city, into every village, and into every house. But it shall not visit the country of the heathen, nor spread woe and wretchedness among them, but by the hands of Christians.
The light of reason shall at length break upon the benighted and afflicted world. The truth shall be told. It shall be believed. The causes of calamity shall be unveiled. The friends of the human race shall speak and be respected. Rational man shall be ashamed of his follies and his crimes, and humbled to the dust that he was so long ignorant of their origin. Governments shall be ashamed that they so long tolerated and sustained the most costly and cruel foe that man has ever encountered. Avarice itself shall be conscience-stricken and penitent. It shall remain where nature placed it for use; and it shall be odious in the sight of Heaven and of Earth to convert the fruits of the soil into poison.
THE DAUGHTER OF THE DESERT.
BY JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY.
An opulent lord of Ispahan,
In luxury, lolled on a silk divan,
Dreaming the idle hours away
In a cloud of smoke from his nargile.
Weary with nothing to do in life,
He thought, as he watched the smoky whirls,
"'Twill be diversion to choose a wife
From my peerless bevy of dancing-girls.
There are beauties fair from every land—
Lustrous eyes from Samarcand,
Dusky forms from the upper Nile,
Teeth that glisten when red lips smile,
Gypsy faces of olive hue,
Stolen from some wild wandering clan,
Fair complexions and eyes of blue,
From the sunny isles of Cardachan,
Regal beauties of queenly grace
And sinuous sirens of unknown race;
Some one among them will surely bless
Hours that grow heavy with idleness."
Then the slave that waited his lightest need,
Fell on his knee, by the silk divan,
And the swarthy, listening ear gave heed
To the will of the lord of Ispahan.
"Send hither my dancing-girls," he said,
"And set me a feast to please the eye
And tempt the palate, for this shall be
A wedding breakfast before us spread,
If the charm of beauty can satisfy
And one of their number pleaseth me.
I will wed no maiden of high degree
With the tips of her fingers henna-stained
And the dew of youth from her life-blood drained,
But a child of nature wild and free."
Then the slave bent low and said: "O Sire,
A woman lingers beside the gate;
Her eyes are aglow like coals of fire
And she mourns as one disconsolate;
And when we bid her to cease and go,
Each eye grows bright, like an evening star,
And she sayeth: 'The master will hear my woe,
For I come from the deserts of Khandakar.'"
"Bid her to enter," the master said,
And the frown from his forehead swiftly fled.
The hasty word on his lip way stayed
As he thought of his youth, in the land afar,
And the peerless eyes of a Bedouin maid,
In the desert places of Khandakar.
The woman entered and swift unwound
The veil that mantled her face around,
And in matchless beauty, she stood arrayed,
In the scant attire of a Bedouin maid.
The indolent lord of Ispahan
Started back on the silk divan,
For in form and feature, in very truth,
It seemed the love of his early youth.
The almond eyes and the midnight hair,
The rosebud mouth and the rounded chin—
Time had not touched them; they still were fair,
And the passion of yore grew strong within.
Then she made him the secret Bedouin sign,
Which only dishonor can fail to heed;
The solemn pact of the races nine,
To help each other in time of need.
But her eyes beheld no answering sign,
Though a crimson tide to his forehead ran,
And the trembling maiden could not divine
The will of the lord of Ispahan.
With the sound of a rippling mountain brook,
The voice of the woman her lips forsook;
And thus her tale of despair began
In the lordly palace of Ispahan: