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As he beheld the Stranger. He was not
In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow
The symbol of a lofty lineage wore;

No followers at his back, nor in his hand
Buckler, or sword or spear; yet in his mien
Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled,
A kingly condescension graced his lips,
The lion would have crouched to in his lair.
His garb was simple, and his sandals worn;
His statue modelled with a perfect grace;
His countenance, the impress of a God
Touched with the open innocence of a child;
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky
In the serenest noon; his hair, unshorn,
Fell to his shoulders; and his curling beard
The fulness of perfected manhood bore.
He looked on Helon earnestly awhile,

As if his heart was moved; and stooping down,
He took a little water in his hand

And laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean!"
And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins,
And his dry palms grew moist, and ou his brow
The dewy softness of an infant's stole.
His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down
Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him.

N. P. Willis.

PLEADING EXTRAORDINARY.

MAY IT PLEASE THE COURT,-Gentlemen of the Jury: You sit in that box as the great reservoir of Roman liberty, Spartan fame, and Grecian polytheism. You are to swing the great flail of justice and electricity over this immense community, in hydraulic majesty, and conjugal superfluity. You are the great triumphal arch on which evaporates the even scales of justice and numerical computation. You are to ascend the deep arcana of nature, and dispose of my client with equiponderating concatena tion, in reference to his future velocity and reverberating momentum. Such is your sedative and stimulating char acter. My client is only a man of domestic eccentricity and matrimonial configuration, not permitted, as you are, gentlemen, to walk in the primeval and lowest vales of

society, but he has to endure the red-hot sun of the universe, on the heights of nobility and feudal eminence. He has a beautiful wife of horticultural propensities, that hen-pecks the remainder of his days with soothing and bewitching verbosity, that makes the nectar of his pandemonium as cool as Tartarus.

He has a family of domestic children, that gathers around the fireplace of his peaceful homicide in tumultitudinous consanguinity, and cry with screaming and rebounding pertinacity for bread, butter, and molasses. Such is the glowing and overwhelming character and defeasance of my client, who stands convicted before this court of oyer and terminer, and lex non scripta, by the persecuting pettifogger of this court, who is as much exterior to me as I am interior to the judge, and tlemen of the jury. you,-gen

This Borax of the law here has brought witnesses into this court, who swear that my client has stolen a firkin of butter. Now, I say every one of them swore to a lie, and the truth is concentrated within them. But if it is so, I justify the act on the ground that the butter was necessary for a public good, to tune his family into harmonious discord. But I take no other mountainous and absquatulated grounds on this trial, and move that a quash be laid upon this indictment.

Now I will prove this by a.learned expectoration of the principle of the law. Now butter is made of grass, and it is laid down by St. Peter Pindar, in his principle of subterraneous law, that grass is couchant and levant, which in our obicular tongue, means that grass is of a mild and free nature; consequently my client had a right to grass and butter both.

To prove my second great principle, "let facts be submitted to a candid world." Now butter is grease, and Greece is a foreign country, situated in the emaciated regions of Liberia and California; consequently my client cannot be tried in this horizon, and is out of the benediction of this court. I will now bring forward the ultima tum respondentia, and cap the great climax of logic, by quoting an inconceivable principle of law, as laid down in Latin, by Pothier, Hudibras, Blackstone, Hannibal, and Sangrado. It is thus: Hæc hoc morus multicaulis,

a mensa et thoro, ruta baga centum. Which means, in English, that ninety-nine men are guilty, where one is

innocent.

Now, it is your duty to convict ninety-nine men first; then you come to my client, who is innocent and acquitted according to law. If these great principles shall be duly depreciated in this court, then the great North pole of liberty, that has stood so many years in pneumatic tallness, shading these publican regions of commerce and agriculture, will stand the wreck of the Spanish Inquisition, the pirates of the hyperborean seas, and the marauders of the Aurora Blivar! But, gentlemen of the jury, if you convict my client, his children will be doomed to pine away in a state of hopeless matrimony; and his beautiful wife will stand lone and delighted, like a dried up mullen-stalk in a sheep-pasture.

UNDER THE LAMPLIGHT.

Under the lamplight, watch them come,
Figures, one, two, three;

A restless mass moves on and on,

Like waves on a stormy sea.
Lovers wooing,

Billing and cooing,

Heedless of the warning old,-
Somewhere in uncouth rhyme told,-
That old Time, Love's enemy,
Makes the warmest heart grow cold.
See how fond the maiden leaneth
On that strong encircling arm,
While her timid heart is beating

Near that other heart so warm;
Downcast are her modest glances,
Filled her heart with pleasant fancies.
Clasp her, lover!-clasp her closer,-
Time the winner, thou the loser!
He will steal

From her sparkling eye its brightness,
From her step its native lightness;

Or, perchance,

Ere another year has fled,

Thou may'st see her pale and dead.

Trusting maiden,
Heart love-laden,
Thou may'st learn

That the lip which breathed so softly
Told to thee a honeyed lie;

That the heart now beating near thee
Gave to thee no fond return,-
Learn-and die!

Under the lamp-light, watch them come,
Figures, one, two, three;
The moon is up, the stars are out,
And hurrying crowds I see,—
Some with sorrow,

Of the morrow
Thinking bitterly;

Why grief borrow?
Some that morrow

Ne'er shall live to see.

Which of all this crowd shall God
Summon to his court to-night?
Which of these many feet have trod
These streets their last?

Who first shall press

The floor that shines with diamonds bright?

To whom of all this throng shall fall

The bitter lot

To hear the righteous Judge pronounce:
"Depart ye cursed,-I know ye not!"
O, startling question!-who?

Under the lamplight, watch them come,
Faces fair to see,

Some that pierce your very soul

With thrilling intensity:

Cold and ragged,

Lean and haggard,

God! what misery!

See them watch yon rich brocade,
By their toiling fingers made,
With the eyes of poverty.
Does the tempter whisper now:

"Such may be thine own!"-but how?

Sell thy woman's virtue, wretch,

And the price that it will fetch

Is a silken robe as fine,

Gems that glitter,-hearts that shine,—
But pause, reflect!

Ere the storm shall o'er thee roll,—

Ere thy sin spurns all control,

Though with jewels bright bedecked,

Thou wilt lose thy self-respect;

All the good will spurn thy touch,
As if 'twere an adder's sting,
And the price that it will bring
Is a ruined soul!

God protect thee,-keep thee right,
Lonely wanderer of the night!

Under the lamplight, watch them come,-
Youth with spirits light;

His handsome face I'm sure doth make
Some quiet household bright.
Yet where shall this lover,
This son, this brother,
Hide his head to-night?
Where the bubbles swim
On the wine-cup's brim;
Where the song rings out

Till the moon grows dim;
Where congregate the knave and fool
To graduate in vice's school.
Oh! turn back, youth!
Thy mother's prayer
Rings in thy ear.
Let sinners not
Entice thee there.

Under the lamplight, watch them come,
The gay, the blithe, the free;
And some with a look of anguished pain
"Twould break your heart to see.
Some from a marriage,

Altar and priest;
Some from a death-bed,

Some from a feast;

Some from a den of crime, and some

Hurrying on to a happy home;

Some bowed down with age and woe,

Praying meekly as they go;

Others, whose friends and honor are gone,

To sleep all night on the pavement stone;
And losing all but shame and pride,
Be found in the morning, a suicide.
Rapidly moves the gliding throng,—
List the laughter, jest, and song;
Poverty treads

On the heels of wealth;
Loathsome disease

Near robust health.

Grief bows down

Its weary head;

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