This last night of November was
genial and bright to those worthy people, in their little family-circle.
And the future was full of promise. And the rhetoric of the orator
settled the duty of man to man so satisfactorily, and painted the
pleasures of benevolence in such colors, that all their bosoms glowed.
"It is gratifying to think," said Mrs. Gingerford, wiping her eyes at
the pathetic close, "how much good the printing of that address in the
'Gazette' must accomplish. It will reach many so who hadn't the
good-fortune to hear it at the rooms."
Certainly, Madam. The "Gazette" is taken, and perhaps read this very
evening, in every one of the houses at which the pauper has applied in
vain for shelter, since you frowned him from your door. Those exalted
sentiments, breathed in musical periods, are no doubt a rich legacy to
the society of Timberville, and to the world. It was wise to print them;
they will "reach many so." But will they reach this outcast beggar-boy,
and benefit him? Alas, it is fast growing too late for that!
Utter fatigue and discouragement have overtaken him.
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