Page:New Peterson Magazine 1853 Vol. XXIV.pdf/73

PETERSON'S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXIV.

THE MODERN LAZARUS.

BY J. THORNTON RANDOLPH.

I.

It was a hot, breathless, Angust day in New York. The hour was high noon. Yet, beneath ‘that vertical sun, a blind beggar sat asking alms by the way-side.

His worn dress, though scrupulously clean, betrayed the utmost poverty, His hand shook with palsy as he held forth his tattered straw hat for alms. On his bared head, bald on top, but with a few thin, grey hairs around the edges, the vertical sun poured down its fierce host pitilessly. Poor old man!

Suddenly » splendid equipage drew up to the side-watk, and 8 portly, pompous man descended. Could the mendiosnt have seen that face, he ‘would scarcely have ventured to solicit slms; and now, when he did, his extended hat was rudely rebuffed.

“Get ont of tho way, get out of the way, ‘where's the police, I wonder,” cried the million- aire, in a quick, testy volce, rudely pushing the old mendicant aside.

An officer, who happened to be within heating, stepped immediately up, and was obsequiousness itself. He shook the beggar roughly.

“Come, be moving,” he said. And observing that the old man hesitated, but whether from ‘weakness, of to arouse pity he did not stop to inquire, he gave him » push, adding, “off with you at once!”

The aged mendicant resisted no longer. Feeling his way with his stick, he arose, and was soon lost to sight in the hurrying crowds, which even on that summer day, poured ceaselessly along the streets.

But, as he went, though his tongue was silent, his heart was not, He thought of hie early life, when, in a distant land, he had been prosperous and happy: his hearth shared by a sympathizing

Then he recalled the misfortunes which had driven him, fn his old age, into exile; the fever ship where his remaining grand-children had died; and the first day of utter beggary, type of many & day since when he had landed ons foreign shore, As these things rose before him, he groaned, ‘‘how long, oh! Lord, how long.”

af.

Josrump, end often almost overthrown, the mendicant had nevertheless snoceeded, at last, im advancing seversl aquares. He had now reached @ point where It became necessary to cross Broadway. For some time he hesitated, the ceaseless rolt of vehicles disheartening him ; but natty there was » lull, during whioh he thought he might venture.

He had achieved about half the distance, when ‘s pair of proud, high atepping horses approached ate rapid rate. ‘The liveried coachman, per- ceiving the beggar, drew partielly in. But his imperious meater, always impatient of delay, at thie angrily spoke up,

“Drive on, drive on," he cried, sharply. “What business has the old rascal to be in the way. He'll jump quick enough when he hears you on top of him,”

Ho did jump quick enough too: but it was the ‘wrong way. Catching the sound of the horses’ hoofs, he had turned bie sightless eyes toward them; and then, for the first time, the ooschman saw he was blind, To pull op agsin was the ‘work of & moment, even though the servant knew he was disobeying orders. But it was too Inte. The mendicant, losing his presenoe of mind, had sprung the wrong way; had fellen under the horses’ fest; and was run bodily over before the impetus of the carriage could be stopped.

Ho was not killed instantly. He had a recollection of being picked up, of hearing a crowd

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