and many of these approach me in, such a way as to put it almost entirely out of my power to say “no.”  They come with appeals for small amounts, as loans, donations to particular charities, or as the price of articles that I do not want, but which I cannot well refuse to take.  I am sure that, since I have obtained my present unenviable reputation, it hasn’t cost me a cent less than two thousand, in money given away, loaned never to be returned, and in the purchase of things that I never would have thought of buying.

And, with all this, I have made more enemies than I ever before had in my life, and estranged half of my friends and acquaintances.

Seriously, I have it in contemplation to “break” one of these days, in order to satisfy the world that I am not a rich man.  I see no other effectual remedy for present grievances.

“WE’VE ALL OUR ANGEL SIDE.”

DESPAIR not of the better part
  That lies in human kind—­
A gleam of light still flickereth
  In e’en the darkest mind;
The savage with his club of war,
  The sage so mild and good,
Are linked in firm, eternal bonds
  Of common brotherhood. 
Despair not!  Oh despair not, then,
  For through this world so wide,
No nature is so demon-like,
  But there’s an angel side.

The huge rough stones from out the mine,
  Unsightly and unfair,
Have veins of purest metal hid
  Beneath the surface there;
Few rocks so bare but to their heights
  Some tiny moss-plant clings,
And round the peaks, so desolate,
  The sea-bird sits and sings. 
Believe me, too, that rugged souls,
  Beneath their rudeness hide
Much that is beautiful and good—­
  We’ve all our angel side.

In all there is an inner depth—­
  A far off, secret way,
Where, through dim windows of the soul,
  God sends His smiling ray;
In every human heart there is
  A faithful sounding chord,
That may be struck, unknown to us,
  By some sweet loving word;
The wayward heart in vain may try
  Its softer thoughts to hide,
Some unexpected tone reveals
  It has its angel side.

Despised, and low, and trodden down,
  Dark with the shade of sin: 
Deciphering not those halo lights
  Which God hath lit within;
Groping about in utmost night,
  Poor prisoned souls there are,
Who guess not what life’s meaning is,
  Nor dream of heaven afar;
Oh! that some gentle hand of love
  Their stumbling steps would guide,
And show them that, amidst it all,
  Life has its angel side.

Brutal, and mean, and dark enough,
  God knows, some natures are,
But He, compassionate, comes near—­
  And shall we stand afar? 
Our cruse of oil will not grow less,
  If shared with hearty hand,
And words of peace and looks of love
  Few natures can withstand. 
Love is the mighty conqueror—­
  Love is the beauteous guide—­
Love, with her beaming eye, can see
  We’ve all our angel side.