When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer,
driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows
from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some
deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope
of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to
horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when
I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this
drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. Hogarth, and Mr. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be
laid away.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 07-07-2024 05:20:37