This is a humor book. These dying men to soothe and cheer? To do what mortal skill may do. To lighten their burdens of grief and woe; To shrive these dying souls of blame, To bid them hope in Heaven above. Who hath sent these in my dear name. To do this holiest work of love? Hath the treasure here given been paid by those. Whose 'wrongs' are so earnestly plead by you? Or hath it been done by their 'natural foes'. The wealthy, the rich, the opulent few. Of Madison Square and the Fifth Avenue? During this lengthy interrogation. The Spirit had been pretending to doze. But he waked himself up at the peroration. And most ungallantly turned up his nose. And turned on his heel, and turned him away, -- Sulkily saying, he'd Nothing to Say.
