Lewis, whose
ugly, positively ugly face was being perpetually transfigured with
emotion and variety. Without grace of feature or figure, he impressed
one as a living soul; and this inward light gave a translucent beauty
to the frail, chance-shapen vase, which all Mr. Remington's personal
advantages of form and color failed to impress us with. Only dark eyes
of un-sounded depth, and a voice whose rich cadences had an answering
rhythm in the inward man, showed what his attractions might be, or were,
to a woman. We became curious to see Mrs. Lewis, of whom we gained no
idea from his casual references to her.
* * * * *
LYRICS OF THE STREET.
VI.
PLAY.
From yon den of double-dealing,
With its Devil's host,
Come I, maddened out of healing:
All is lost!
So the false wine cannot blind me,
Nor the braggart toast;
But I know that Hell doth bind me:
All is lost!
Where the lavish gain attracts us,
And the easy cost,
While the damning dicer backs us,
All is lost!
Blest the rustic in his furrows,
Toil- and sweat-embossed;
Blest are honest souls in sorrows.
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