voice is cracked, my throat's worn out, and my lungs are going fast. “Say, give me another whiskey, and I'll tell you what I'll do — I'll tell you a funny story and a fact I promise too. That I was ever a decent man, not one of you would think; But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink. “Fill 'er up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame — Such little drinks, to a bum like me are miserably tame; Five fingers! — there, that's the scheme — and corking whiskey too. Well, here's luck, boys; and landlord, my best regards to you. “You’ve treated me pretty kindly, and I'd like to tell you how I came to be the dirty sot, you see before you now. As I told you once, was a man with muscle, frame and health, And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth. “I was a painter — not one that daubed on bricks or wood, But an artist, and for my age I was rated pretty good, I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise, For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes. “I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis called the 'Chase of Fame.' It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name. And then I met a woman — now comes the funny part — With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart. “Why don't you laugh? 'Tis funny, that the vagabond you see Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me; But 'twas so, and for a month or two, her smiles were freely given, And when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven. “Did you ever see a woman for whom your soul you'd give, With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live; With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor, and a wealth of chestnut hair? If so, 'twas she, for there never was another half so fair. “I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May, Of a fair haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way. And Madeline admired it, and much to my surprise, Said she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes. “It didn't