Often there, often there, while others playing, Hear the cry, "buy my corn," she's ever praying. "Pray buy, pray buy, kind hearted stranger, One ear, then home, I'll brave the danger; Hot corn, come buy my nice hot corn!" Now at home, now at home, her cry is changing! "Will he come, will he come?" while fever's raging. She cries, she cries, "pray let me see him; Once more, once more, pray let me see him. Hot corn, he'll buy my nice hot corn!" "Will he come, will he come?" she's constant crying, "Will he come, will he come?" poor Katy's dying. "'Twas he, 'twas he, kind words was speaking Hot corn, hot corn, while I was seeking Hot corn, who'll buy my nice hot corn?" "Midnight there, midnight there, my hot corn crying, Kindly spoke, first kind words, they stop'd my sighing. That night, that night, when sleep was stealing, Kind words, kind words--my heart was healing; Hot corn, he'll buy my nice hot corn!" "Will he come, will he come?"--weak hands are feeling! "He has come, he has come--I see him kneeling-- One kiss--the light--how dim 'tis growing-- I thank--'tis dark--good bye--I'm going-- Hot corn--no more shall cry--hot corn!!!" Drop a tear, drop a tear, for she's departed, Drop a tear, drop a tear, poor broken hearted, Now pledge, now pledge, the world is crying, Take warning, warning, by Katy's dying, "Hot corn, who'll buy my nice hot corn?" "The music of this, as it is arranged for the piano, is one of the sweetest, plaintive things you ever heard." "And besides that, there are a good many other songs and tales, so Agnes tells me, already written, which never would have been if my poor child had not been called away from her home of misery here on earth to one made for the innocent and good beyond the grave. Who knows how much good all those songs and stories may do in the world, to save others from the road which I took to destruction!" "Oh, if the wretched, awful misery occasioned by rum, which I alone have seen, could be pictured to the world, it does seem to me that no sane man or woman could ever look upon the picture and live, without becoming so affected that they would foreswear all intoxicating beverages for ever afterwards." "Oh, sir, I know that I am now on my death bed, and I feel as though I was talking from the spirit world, and I do pray you to tell my fellow creatures, one and all--tell my own sex who are just beginning this life of temptation, degradation, sin, shame, woe, and death, what it brought me to, what it will bring all to, sooner or later, who, indulge as I did, first in wine, and, finally, in anything, everything that could sink reason into forgetfulness." Reader, have I obeyed that dying injunction? CHAPTER XVIII. JULIA ANTRIM, AND OTHER OLD ACQUAINTANCES. "Should old acquaintance be forgot?"