"Ah! shame on the thing called a man who could abuse a
sweet creature of fine flesh, like thee! it's not many has such a
pretty sweet face," says Broadman, with an air of compassion,
resting her shoulder against his bended knee as he encircles it with
his left arm, and looks upon the pale features, tears glistening in
his honest eyes. We might say with Broadman--"It's not the finest,
nor the polished of flesh, that hath the softest hearts." But,
reader, having performed our duty, let us drop the curtain over this
sad but true scene; and when you have conjectured the third and
fourth acts of the drama, join with us in hoping the chivalry of our
State may yet awake to a sense of its position, that, when we again
raise it, a pleasanter prospect may be presented.
CHAPTER LIV.
IN WHICH ARE DISCOVERIES AND PLEASANT SCENES.
ST. PATRICK'S night closed the day on which the scenes of the
foregoing chapter were enacted; and that patron saint being of
aristocratic descent, which caused him to be held in high esteem by
our "very first families," than among whom better admirers could
nowhere be found, his anniversary was sure to be celebrated with
much feasting and drinking. But while this homage to the good saint
made glad the hearts of thousands-while the city seemed radiant of
joy, and reeling men from Hibernia's gorgeous hall found in him an
excuse for their revelries--there sat in the box of a caf‚, situated
on the west side of Meeting Street, two men who seemed to have a
deeper interest at heart than that of the Saint's joy on his road to
paradise.
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