Household words, No. 24, September 7, 1850 : $b A weekly journal
General
Household words, No. 24, September 7, 1850 : $b A weekly journal
English literature -- Periodicals
judicature and the Tyburn executive much trouble and expense, by hanging
himself in Bridewell.
The success of Mr. Charles Price has never been surpassed; and even
after the darkest era in the history of Bank forgeries—which dates from
the suspension of cash payments, in February, 1797, and which will be
treated of in a succeeding paper—“Old Patch” was still remembered as the
Cæsar of Forgers.
THE TWO GUIDES OF THE CHILD.
A spirit near me said, “Look forth upon the Land of Life. What do you
see?”
“Steep mountains, covered by a mighty plain, a table-land of
many-coloured beauty. Beauty, nay, it seems all beautiful at first, but
now I see that there are some parts barren.”
“Are they quite barren?—look more closely still!”
“No, in the wildest deserts, now, I see some gum-dropping acacias, and
the crimson blossom of the cactus. But there are regions that rejoice
abundantly in flower and fruit; and now, O Spirit, I see men and women
moving to and fro.”
“Observe them, mortal.”
“I behold a world of love; the men have women’s arms entwined about
them; some upon the verge of precipices—friends are running to the
rescue. There are many wandering like strangers, who know not their
road, and they look upward. Spirit, how many, many eyes are looking up
as if to God! Ah, now I see some strike their neighbours down into the
dust; I see some wallowing like swine; I see that there are men and
women brutal.”
“Are they quite brutal?—look more closely still.”
“No, I see prickly sorrow growing out of crime, and penitence awakened
by a look of love. I see good gifts bestowed out of the hand of murder,
and see truth issue out of lying lips. But in this plain, O Spirit, I
see regions—wide, bright regions,—yielding fruit and flower, while
others seem perpetually veiled with fogs, and in them no fruit ripens. I
see pleasant regions where the rock is full of clefts, and people fall
into them. The men who dwell beneath the fog deal lovingly, and yet they
have small enjoyment in the world around them, which they scarcely see.
But whither are these women going?”
“Follow them.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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