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What marvel that the poor man felt his faith
Even as he spake, he heard at his bare feet
The angel brought
All the while The low rebuking of the distant waves Stole in upon him like the voice of God Among the trees of Eden. Girding up His soul's loins with a resolute hand, he thrust The base thought from him: “Nauhaught, be a man! Starve, if need be; but, while you live, look out From honest eyes on all men, unashamed.
“God help me! I am deacon of the church,
The birds would tell of it, and all the leaves
Then Nauhaught drew
“T,” said a voice; “Ten golden pieces, in a silken purse, My daughter's handiwork.” He looked, and lo! One stood before him in a coat of frieze, And the glazed hat of a seafaring man, Shrewd-faced, broad-shouldered, with no trace of wings.
Marveling, he dropped within the straliger's hand
So down the street that, like a river of sand,
J. G. WHITTIER XVII.- THE CHEERFUL LOCKSMITH.
TROM the workshop of the Golden Key there issued
forth a tinkling sound, so merry and good-humored, that it suggested the idea of some one working blithely, and made quite pleasant music. Tink, tink, tink-cleai as a silver bell, and audible at every pause of the streets' harsher noises, as though it said, “I don't care; nothing puts me out; I am resolved to be happy.”
2. Women scolded, children squalled, heavy carts went rumbling by, horrible cries proceeded from the lungs of hawkers; still it struck in again, no higher, no lower, no louder, no softer; not thrusting itself on people's notice a bit the more for having been outdone by louder soundstink, tink, tink, tink, tink.
3. It was a perfect embodiment of the still small voice, free from all cold, hoarseness, huskiness, or unhealthiness of any kind. Foot-passengers slackened their pace, and were disposed to linger near it; neighbors who had got up splen'etic that morning, felt good-humor stealing on them as they heard it, and by degrees became quite sprightly; mothers danced their babies to its ringing ;-still the same magical tink, tink, tink, came gayly from the workshop of the Golden Key.
4. Who but the locksmith could have made such music? A gleam of sun shining through the unsashed window and checkering the dark workshop with a broad patch of light, fell full upon him, as though attracted by his sunny heart. There he stood working at his anvil, his face radiant with exercise and gladness, his sleeves turned up, his wig pushed off his shining forehead—the easiest, freest, happiest man in all the world.
5. Beside him sat a sleek cat, purring and winking in the light and falling every now and then into an idle doze, as from excess of comfort. The very locks that hung around had something jovial in their rust, and seemed like
There he stood working at his anvil, his face radiant with exercise and gladness his sleeves turned up, his wig pushed off his shining forehead-the easiest, freest, happiest man in all the world.