Chapter XI: Act III

SCENE II. _Belmont. A room in Portia’s house. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and attendants._

PORTIA.――[890]

I pray you, tarry: pause[891] a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company; therefore, forbear[892] a while
There’s something tells me, but it is not love,
I would not lose you; and you know yourself,[893]
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
So will I never be; so may you miss me;
But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew[894] your eyes,
They have o’erlook’d me and divided me;
One half of me is yours,[895] the other half yours,[896]
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,[897]
And so all yours.
I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time,
To eke it, and to draw it out[898] in length,
To stay you from election.

BASSANIO.――

Let me choose;[899]
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Come, let me to my fortune[900] and the caskets.

PORTIA.――

Away,[901] then! I am lock’d in one of them;
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.[902]
Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading[903] in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
And watery death-bed for him.
Go,[904] Hercules!
Live thou, I live. With much more dismay
I view the fight, than thou[905] mak’st the fray.

BASSANIO.――

So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceiv’d with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt
But, being season’d with a gracious voice,
Obscures[906] the show of evil? In religion,
What damnèd error, but some sober brow
Will bless[907] it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
Thus, ornament is but the guilèd shore
To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous scarf
Veiling[908] an Indian beauty;
Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none[909] of thee;
Nor none[910] of thee, thou pale and common drudge
’Tween man and man: but thou,[911] thou meagre lead,
Which rather threat’nest than dost promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence;
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!

PORTIA (_aside_).――

How all the other passions fleet[912] to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac’d despair,
And shuddering fear,[913] and green-eyed jealousy!
O love! be moderate;[914] allay thy ecstasy;
In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.
I feel too much thy blessing; make it less,
For fear I surfeit.

BASSANIO.――

What find I here?
(_Opening the leaden casket._)

Fair Portia’s counterfeit![915] What demi-god
Hath come so near creation?
Here’s the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune.

[916]_You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new.
If you be well pleas’d with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss._

A gentle scroll.[917] Fair lady, by your leave;
I come by note, to give and receive.
Yet as doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you.

PORTIA.――

You see me,[918] Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am; though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet for you[919]
I would be trebled twenty times[920] myself,
A thousand times[921] more fair, ten thousand times[922] more rich,
That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues,[923] beauties,[924] livings,[925] friends,[926]
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is sum of nothing,[927] which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractis’d:
Happy in this,[928] she is not yet so old
But she may learn; happier than[929] this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all[930] is that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours[931] to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine[932] to you and yours[933]
Is now converted; but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion,[934] master of my servants,
Queen o’er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself[935]
Are yours,[936] my lord. I give them with this ring;[937]
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage[938] the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim you.

BASSANIO.――

Madam, you have bereft me[939] of all words;
Only my blood[940] speaks to you in my veins.
But when this ring[941]
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O then be bold to say, Bassanio’s dead!

GESTURES.
[890] Portia speaks to the right and Bassanio to left.
[891] P. H. O.
[892] V. H. O.
[893] H. O.
[894] V. H. O.
[895] H. O.
[896] Imp.
[897] Imp.
[898] P. H. Sw.
[899] B. Cla.
[900] L. H. L.
[901] H. L.
[902] L. V. H. L. speak to L.
[903] P. H. Sw.
[904] L. H. L.
[905] H. O.
[906] V. H. O.
[907] P. H. O.
[908] P. H. O.
[909] V. Con.
[910] Imp.
[911] H. F.
[912] B. Sp.
[913] B. Cli.
[914] B. Cla. to breast.
[915] Hold miniature.
[916] Sp.
[917] Turn to left.
[918] B. H. O. Sp.
[919] H. O.
[920] B. H. O.
[921] - [922] Impulses.
[923] H. O.
[924] - [925] - [926] Imps.
[927] D. L.
[928] H. O.
[929] Imp.
[930] B. H. O.
[931] H. O.
[932] To self.
[933] H. O.
[934] H. Sw.
[935] To self.
[936] H. O.
[937] Sp.
[938] Ind. H. O.
[939] B. D. O. and bow.
[940] To breast.
[941] Sp.

Thora.

I.

Thin and graceful, like a clipper, Thora was from top to toe,
Though her dress was very scanty and perhaps, not _comme il faut_;
Bare and brown her little feet were, and her cheeks were sunburnt,
too,
But her lips were very rosy and her eyes were very blue.

One black skirt with red embroidery and a snowy white _pelisse_
Were her wonted dress on week-days, when she felt herself at ease.
Hats she only wore in winter, when with snow the air[942] was dim,
But her eyes peeped forth full brightly ’neath the big sou’wester’s
brim.

For who thinks that a sou’wester, e’en if e’er and e’er so wide,[943]
From the boys’ admiring glances could a pretty maiden hide.
And ’tis known[944] how much attention every pretty maid annoys;
And――it was a thousand pities![945]――Thora did not like the boys;

They were either rude and noisy, or too bashful and confused;
As for loving them! No, thank you;[946] she would rather be excused!
And, besides, there were so many[947]――stout and slender, short and
tall――
How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them
all?

Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,
In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948] which were drooping, row[949]
on row,[950]
From their stakes; while to the westward[951] hung the sun so huge
and red;
Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952] drifting idly
o’er her head.

“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953] said the good-wife with a
sigh,
Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;
“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no
maid boon.
Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.

“Therefore I will tell thee,[954] daughter, what ’tis wise for thee
to do;
One man, e’en if e’er so canny,[955] never knows as much as two.
We will call the girls together from the valley’s every part,[956]
They shall choose among thy wooers him who is to own thy heart.”

“Oh! what sport!”[957] cried pretty Thora; “thanks to thee, my mother
dear!
Oh! how gayly we shall chatter when no prying men are near!
Loved and cherished shall my name be by the maidens round about;[958]
I shall cause no cheek to wither and no pretty lips to pout.”

II.

While the mountain tops[959] were rosy and with dew the grass[960]
was wet,
Thora hastened to the boat-house[961] to repair the fishing net;
Skipping, jumping, wild and wanton, danced[962] she o’er the fields
away,
Tossing[963] to the sportive echoes many a bright and careless lay.

When the lads who boats were bailing heard the pretty Thora sing,
Joining hands, they ran to meet her,[964] throwing round[965] the
maid a ring,
Now!” they cried, with boist’rous laughter; “now we’ve surely caught
thee, Miss,
Thou canst only buy thy freedom if thou give us each a kiss.”

“Come and take it,[966] lads,” cried Thora; “here’s my mouth[967] and
here my hand;[968]
Kiss, indeed! Why don’t you take it? Modest, sooth, is your demand!”
And when one stepped briskly forward, half emboldened by her speech,
With a slap[969] she sent him spinning, like a top upon the beach.

With a peal of mocking laughter, off[970] she bounded like a hind,
And her loosened yellow tresses fluttered gayly in the wind,
While the lad, abashed, bewildered, strolled away[971] with burning
ears
To compose his wounded feelings and escape his comrades’ jeers.

Now a gallant lad was Halvor, who in storm and billows’ roar
Oft had steered his skiff securely close beneath[972] the rocky shore,
And the thought within him rankled, with a dull and gnawing pain,
That a little maid had smote him whom he could not smite again.

And the dimpled face of Thora haunted him by night and day;
He was sure that he must love her, for his wrath had flown away;[973]
Yet he could have sworn a little, had not swearing been a sin,
Why should he thus love a maiden who was neither kith nor kin?

Strange to say, the little Thora, when her anger was at rest,
Found some queer, soft thoughts awaking dimly in her troubled
breast:[974]
“Had she not too harshly punished an offense not gravely meant?
Could she hope for God’s forgiveness who could rudely thus resent?”

Thus with doubt and passion wrestling, and by vague regrets
distraught,
Shyly nursing tender yearnings which she dared not frame in thought,
On the strand alone she wandered,[975] where, in whispered pulses
beat,
Drunk with sleep, the mighty ocean, darkly heaving at her feet.[976]

There it seemed――what odd illusion!――that her footsteps on the sand
Broke into a double rhythm, sharply echoing o’er the strand,
And she felt a shadowy presence in the moonlight, gaunt and
dread,[977]
Moving stealthily behind her,[978] and she dared not turn her head.

Swiftly, wildly, on[979] she hurried, while cloud, and moon, and star,
With a dumb, phantasmal ardor, sped along[980] th’ horizon’s bar;
Till exhausted, panting, sobbing, and bewildered with alarm,
Scarce she fell[981] ere she was lifted lightly on her lover’s
arm.[982]

“Thora,” said he, stooping o’er her, “pardon if I caused thee fright;
But my heart[983] was full to bursting. Speak I must, and speak
to-night.
Silence, Thora, is so heavy, like a load upon the breast;
Sooth, I think thou hast bewitched me; I can find no peace nor rest.”

Thora half-way stayed her weeping, and the moon,[984] which peeped
askance
From behind her cloud, revealed the tearful brightness of her glance.
“Oh! thou wouldst not love me,”[985] sobbed she, “if thou knew’st how
bad I am――
Once――I hung――a great, live lobster――on the tail of Hans, our ram!”

Scarce I know how he consoled her; but ere long her tears were dried,
And ’twas rumored in the parish――though again it was denied――[986]
That while all the moon was hidden――[987] all except the golden
tips――[988]
There was heard a sound mysterious, as of softly-meeting lips.

For the good-wife, mildly grumbling at the idle spinning-wheel,
Rose at length and trudged[989] sedately, anxious for the daughter’s
weal,
Over sand, and stone, and tangle, where the frightened plovers
flew[990]
Screaming seaward, and majestic skyward[991] soared the silent mew.

And ’twas she who with amazement heard the soft, mysterious sound;
And ’tis said she shook and tottered, almost fainting on the ground.
Scarce her reason she recovered, if the wild reports be true,
For she saw a queer-shaped figure,[992] which proved later to be two.

“Daughter,” said she, not ungently, “I have sought thee in alarm,
Fearing, in the treacherous moonlight, thou perchance hadst come to
harm;
Yet I hoped that I should find thee, though the night be dark and
drear,
Knowing that thou lov’st to wander where no prying men are near.”

Dumb, abashed stood little Thora, and her cheeks were flaming red;
Nervously she twirled her apron,[993] and she hung her pretty head,
Till at length she gathered courage and she whispered breathlessly:
“Mother, dear,[994] I love him truly, and he says that he loves me.”

“Lord ’a mercy on us, daughter!”[995] solemnly the dame replied;
“I who have the maids invited that they might thy choice decide;
For of men there are so many[996]――stout and slender, short and tall――
How’s a maid to choose among them, since she cannot love them all?”

Now the moon,[997] who had been hiding in a veil of misty lace,
Wishing to embarrass no one by the shining of her face,
Peeped again, in modest wonder, ere her cloud she gently broke,
And she saw the good-wife smiling, as to Thora thus she spoke:

“Since thou hast chosen, daughter――every bird[998] must try his
wings――
Tell me, how didst thou discover that thy heart to Halvor clings?”
“Well,” she said, in sweet confusion, while her eyes grew big with
tears,
“Thou wouldst scarcely understand it, mother dear――I boxed his ears.”

GESTURES.
[942] A. O.
[943] Measure.
[944] Ind. H. F.
[945] Con. V.
[946] Con. V.
[947] H. O.
[948] L. H. O.
[949] P. Sp.
[950] Imp.
[951] H. L.
[952] L. A. O.
[953] Impersonate.
[954] Ind. H. O.
[955] H. O.
[956] B. H. O.
[957] Speak to left, clasp hands.
[958] B. H. O.
[959] Left A. O.
[960] Left D. O.
[961] H. O.
[962] P. H. Sw.
[963] Raise P. Sp.
[964] B. H. F.
[965] B. Sp.
[966] Fold arms.
[967] To mouth.
[968] Sp.
[969] Sp.
[970] Left H. O.
[971] H. Sw.
[972] D. O.
[973] H. Sw.
[974] To breast.
[975] H. Sw.
[976] D. F.
[977] B. V. H. O.
[978] Glance sidewise without turning head.
[979] H. F.
[980] A. Sw.
[981] D. F.
[982] Sp.
[983] To heart.
[984] A. O.
[985] Sp.
[986] Ind. H. F.
[987] V. A. O.
[988] Ind. A. O.
[989] H. F.
[990] A. Sw.
[991] Raise P.
[992] Ind. H. F.
[993] Sp.
[994] B. Cla. to breast.
[995] B. raised V.
[996] B. H. O.
[997] A. O.
[998] H. O.

Valley Forge.

Extract from an oration delivered upon the occasion of the first Centenary Anniversary of the Encampment at Valley Forge.

My countrymen, the century that has gone by[999] has changed the face of nature and wrought a revolution in the habits of mankind. We stand to-day at the dawn[1000] of an extraordinary age. Freed[1001] from the chains of ancient thought and superstition, man has begun to win the most extraordinary victories in the domain of science. One by one he has dispelled[1002] the doubts of the ancient world. Nothing is too difficult for his hand to attempt――no region too remote[1003]――no place too sacred[1004] for his daring eye to penetrate. He has robbed the earth[1005] of her secrets and sought to solve the mysteries of the heavens![1006] He has secured and chained[1007] to his service the elemental forces of nature――he has made the fire[1008] his steed――the winds[1009] his ministers――the seas[1010] his pathway――the lightning[1011] his messenger. He has descended into the bowels[1012] of the earth, and walked in safety on the bottom[1013] of the sea. He has raised his head above the clouds,[1014] and made the impalpable air[1015] his resting-place. He has tried to analyze the stars, count[1016] the constellations, and weigh the sun. He has advanced with such astounding speed[1017] that, breathless, we have reached a moment when it seems as if distance had been annihilated,[1018] time made as naught, the invisible seen, the inaudible heard, the unspeakable spoken, the intangible felt, the impossible accomplished.[1019] And already we knock at the door of a new century[1020] which promises to be infinitely brighter[1021] and more enlightened and happier than this. But in all this blaze of light which illuminates the present and casts its reflection into the distant recesses of the past, there is not a single ray which shoots into the future.[1022] Not one step have we taken toward the solution of the mystery of life. That remains as dark and unfathomable[1023] as it was ten thousand years ago.

We know[1024] that we are more fortunate than our fathers. We believe[1025] that our children shall be happier than we. We know[1026] that this century is more enlightened than the last. We believe that the time to come[1027] will be better and more glorious than this. We think, we believe, we hope, but we do not know.[1028] Across that threshold[1029] we may not pass; behind that veil we may not penetrate. Into that country it may not be for us to go. It may be vouchsafed to us to behold[1030] it, wonderingly, from afar, but never to enter in. It matters not. The age in which we live is but a link in the endless and eternal chain. Our lives are like the sands upon the shore;[1031] our voices like the breath of this summer breeze[1032] that stirs the leaf for a moment and is forgotten. Whence we have come and whither we shall go, not one[1033] of us can tell. And the last survivor of this mighty multitude shall stay but a little while.

But in the impenetrable To Be, the endless generations are advancing[1034] to take our places as we fall. For them as for us shall the earth roll on[1035] and the seasons come and go, the snowflakes fall, the flowers bloom, and the harvests be gathered in. For them as for us shall the sun, like the life of man, rise out[1036] of darkness in the morning and sink[1037] into darkness in the night. For them as for us shall the years march by[1038] in the sublime procession of the ages. And here,[1039] in this place of sacrifice, in this vale of humiliation, in this valley of the shadow[1040] of that Death out of which the life of America arose, regenerate and free, let us believe with an abiding faith[1041] that, to them, Union will seem as dear,[1042] and Liberty as sweet,[1043] and Progress as glorious,[1044] as they were to our fathers and are to you[1045] and me, and that the institutions which have made us happy, preserved by the virtue of our children, shall bless the remotest generations of the time to come.[1046] And unto Him[1047] who holds in the hollow of His hand the fate of nations, and yet marks[1048] the sparrow’s fall, let us lift up our hearts this day, and into His eternal care[1049] commend ourselves, our children, and our country.

――_H. A. Brown._

GESTURES.
[999] H. Sw.
[1000] H. F.
[1001] H. O.
[1002] V. H. O.
[1003] H. B.
[1004] A. O.
[1005] D. F.
[1006] A. O.
[1007] P. H. F.
[1008] H. O.
[1009] A. O.
[1010] H. L.
[1011] Ind. A. O.
[1012] D. F.
[1013] P. D. Sw.
[1014] A. O.
[1015] V. A. O.
[1016] Ind. imps.
[1017] H. F. strong.
[1018] B. V. H. O.
[1019] D. F.
[1020] H. F.
[1021] H. Sw.
[1022] H. F.
[1023] P. D. O.
[1024] - [1025] - [1026] H. O.
[1027] H. F.
[1028] D. L.
[1029] P. D. F.
[1030] H. F.
[1031] H. L.
[1032] A. O.
[1033] D. L.
[1034] H. F.
[1035] P. H. Sw.
[1036] Raise P. F.
[1037] Drop P. L.
[1038] H. Sw.
[1039] H. F.
[1040] P. D. O.
[1041] A. O.
[1042] - [1043] H. O.
[1044] A. O.
[1045] H. O.
[1046] H. F.
[1047] A. F.
[1048] Ind. H. O.
[1049] A. F.

How “Ruby” Played.

Jud Brownin, when visiting New York, goes to hear Rubinstein, and gives the following description of his playing.

Well, sir, he had the blamedest, biggest, catty-cornedest pianner you ever laid eyes on; somethin’ like a distracted billiard-table on three legs. The lid was hoisted, and mighty well it was. If it hadn’t been, he’d a tore the entire inside clean out and scattered ’em to the four winds of heaven.

_Played well?_ You bet he did; but don’t interrupt me. When he first sit down, he ’peared to keer mighty little ’bout playin’, and wisht he hadn’t come. He tweedle-leedled a little on the treble, and twoodle-oodled some on the base――just foolin’ and boxin’ the thing’s jaws for bein’ in the way. And I says to a man settin’ next to me, says I, “What sort of fool playin’ is that?” And he says, “Heish!” But presently his hands commenced chasin’ one another up and down the keys like a parcel of rats scamperin’ through a garret very swift. Parts of it was sweet, though, and reminded me of a sugar squirrel turnin’ the wheel of a candy cage.

“Now,” I says to my neighbor, “he’s showin’ off. He thinks he’s a doin’ of it, but he ain’t got no idee, no plan of nothin’. If he’d play me a tune of some kind or other, I’d――”

But my neighbor says, “Heish,” very impatient.

I was just about to get up and go home, bein’ tired of that foolishness, when I heard a little bird wakin’ up away off in the woods, and call sleepy-like to his mate, and I looked up and see that Ruby was beginning to take some interest in his business, and I sit down again. It was the peep of day. The light came faint from the east, the breezes blowed gentle and fresh; some more birds waked up in the orchard, then some more in the trees near the house, and all begun singin’ together. People began to stir, and the gal opened the shutters. Just then the first beam of the sun fell upon the blossoms a little more, and it techt the roses on the bushes, and the next thing it was broad day; the sun fairly blazed, the birds sung like they’d split their little throats; all the leaves was movin’, and flashin’ diamonds of dew, and the whole wide world was bright and happy as a king. Seemed to me like there was a good breakfast in every house in the land, and not a sick child or woman anywhere. It was a fine mornin’.

And I says to my neighbor, “That’s music, that is.”

But he glared at me like he’d like to cut my throat.

Presently the wind turned; it began to thicken up, and a kind of gray mist came over things; I got low-spirited directly. Then a silver rain begun to fall. I could see the drops touch the ground; some flashed up like long pearl earrings, and the rest rolled away like round rubies. It was pretty, but melancholy. Then the pearls gathered themselves into long strands and necklaces, and then they melted into thin silver streams, runnin’ between golden gravels, and then the streams joined each other at the bottom of the hill, and made a brook that flowed silent, except that you could kinder see the music, specially when the bushes on the banks moved as the music went along down the valley. I could smell the flowers in the meadow. But the sun didn’t shine, nor the birds sing; it was a foggy day, but not cold.

The most curious thing was the little white angel boy, like you see in pictures, that run ahead of the music brook and led it on, and on, away out of the world, where no man ever was, certain. I could see that boy just as plain as I see you. Then the moonlight came, without any sunset, and shone on the graveyards where some few ghosts lifted their hands and went over the wall, and between the black, sharp-top trees, splendid marble houses rose up, with fine ladies in the lit-up windows, and men that loved ’em, but could never get a-nigh ’em, who played on guitars under the trees, and made me that miserable I could have cried, because I wanted to love somebody, I don’t know who, better than the men with the guitars did.

Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like a lost child for its dead mother, and I could a got up then and there and preached a better sermon than any I ever listened to. There wasn’t a thing in the world left to live for, not a blame thing, and yet I didn’t want the music to stop one bit. It was happier to be miserable than to be happy without being miserable. I couldn’t understand it. I hung my head and pulled out my handkerchief, and blowed my nose loud to keep me from cryin’. My eyes is weak, anyway. I didn’t want anybody to be a-gazin’ at me a-snivelin’, and it’s nobody’s business what I do with my nose. It’s mine. But some several glared at me, mad as blazes. Then, all of a sudden, old Rubin changed his tune. He ripped out and he rared, he tipped and he tared, he pranced and he charged like the grand entry at a circus. ’Peared to me that all the gas in the house was turned on at once, things got so bright, and I hilt up my head, ready to look any man in the face, and afraid of nothin’. It was a circus, and a brass band, and a big ball all a-goin’ on at the same time. He lit into them keys like a thousand of brick; he gave ’em no rest day or night; he set every livin’ joint in me a-goin’; and, not bein’ able to stand it no longer, I jumped, sprang onto my seat, and jest hollered:

“_Go it, Rube!_”

Every blamed man, woman, and child in the house riz on me and shouted, “Put him out! Put him out!”

“Put your great-grandmother’s grizzly-gray-greenish cat into the middle of next month!” I says. “Tech me, if you dare! I paid my money, and you just come a-nigh me!”

With that some several policemen run up, and I had to simmer down. But I could ’a’ fit any fool that laid hands on me, for I was bound to hear Ruby out or die.

He had changed his tune again. He hop-light ladies and tip-toed fine from end to end of the key-board. He played soft and low and solemn. I heard the church-bells over the hills. The candles of heaven was lit, one by one I saw the stars rise. The great organ of eternity began to play from the world’s end to the world’s end, and all the angels went to prayers. * * * Then the music changed to water; full of feeling that couldn’t be thought, and began to drop――drip, drop――drip, drop, clear and sweet, like tears of joy falling into a lake of glory. It was sweeter than that. It was as sweet as a sweetheart sweetened with white sugar mixt with powdered silver and seed diamonds. It was too sweet. I tell you the audience cheered. Rubin he kinder bowed like he wanted to say, “Much obleeged, but I’d rather you wouldn’t interrup’ me.”

He stopt a moment or two to ketch breath. Then he got mad. He run his fingers through his hair, he shoved up his sleeves, he opened his coat-tails a leetle further, he drug up his stool, he leaned over, and, sir, he just went for that old pianner. He slapt her face, he boxed her jaws, he pulled her nose, he pinched her ears, and he scratched her cheeks, until she fairly yelled. He knockt her down, and he stampt on her shameful. She bellowed, she bleated like a calf, she howled like a hound, she squealed like a pig, she shrieked like a rat, and _then_ he wouldn’t let her up. He ran a quarter-stretch down the low grounds of the base, till he got clean in the bowels of the earth, and you heard thunder galloping after thunder, through the hollows and caves of perdition, and then he fox-chased his right hand with his left till he got way out of the treble into the clouds, whar the notes was finer than the pints of cambric needles, and you couldn’t hear nothin’ but the shadders of ’em. And _then_ he wouldn’t let the old pianner go. He for’ard two’d, he crost over first gentleman, he chassade right and left, back to your places, he all hands’d aroun’ ladies to the right, promenade all, in and out, here and there, back and forth, up and down, perpetual motion, double twisted and turned and tacked and tangled into forty eleven thousand double bow knots.

By jinks! it was a mixtery. And then he wouldn’t let the old pianner go. He fecht up his right wing, he fecht up his left wing, he fecht up his centre, he fecht up his reserves. He fired by file, he fired by platoons, by company, by regiments, and by brigades. He opened his cannon――siege guns down thar, Napoleons here, twelve-pounders yonder――big guns, little guns, middle-sized guns, round shot, shells, shrapnels, grape, canister, mortar, mines, and magazines, every livin’ battery and bomb a-goin’ at the same time. The house trembled, the lights danced, the walls shuk, the floor come up, the ceilin’ come down, the sky split, the ground rokt――heavens and earth, creation, sweet potatoes, Moses, ninepences, glory, tenpenny nails, Sampson in a ’simmon tree, Tump Tompson in a tumbler-cart, roodle-oodle-oodle-oodle―― ruddle-uddle-uddle-uddle――raddle-addle-addle-addle――riddle-iddle-iddle- iddle――reedle-eedle-eedle-eedle――p-r-r-r-r-r-lang! Bang!!!! lang! per-lang! p-r-r-r-r-r! Bang!!!

With that bang! he lifted himself bodily into the air, and he come down with his knees, his ten fingers, his ten toes, his elbows, and his nose, striking every single, solitary key on the pianner at the same time. The thing busted, and went off into seventeen hundred and fifty-seven thousand five hundred and forty-two hemi-demi-semi-quivers, and I know’d no mo’.

When I come to, I were under ground about twenty foot, in a place they call Oyster Bay, a-treatin’ a Yankee that I never laid eyes on before, and never expect to again. Day was br’akin’ by the time I got to the St. Nicholas Hotel, and I pledge you my word I did not know my name. The man asked me the number of my room, and I told him, “Hot music on the half-shell for two!”

Nydia, the Blind Girl of Pompeii.

Adapted from Helen Potter’s rendering, by Frances E. Peirce.

Nydia was a Thessalonian, and well-born. Being taken prisoner by the Romans, she was sold into slavery, and treated with great cruelty. Her blindness, beauty, and pitiful condition appealed to the sympathies of Glaucus, a wealthy young Athenian, who purchased her. Arbaces, envious of her possession, and an enemy of Glaucus, captured and imprisoned her, and caused Glaucus to be accused of murder and condemned to fight a lion in the arena. The lion refused, however, to touch him, and Nydia, escaping from her prison at the time of the dreadful eruption of Vesuvius, found Glaucus, and conducted him and his _fiancée_ to the sea. Finding that he loved another, she drowned herself.

* * * * *

Kind Sosia, chide[1050] me not. I cannot endure to be so long alone; the solitude appals[1051] me. Sit with me, I pray, a little while. Nay,[1052] fear not that I should attempt to escape. Place thy seat[1053] before the door. Keep thine eye on me, I will not stir from this spot. Alas! why[1054] am I imprisoned here? [1055]What is the hour? Evening, thou sayest? Hast thou heard how went the trial of the Athenian, Glaucus? He is condemned for shedding priestly blood![1056] The gods forbid! ’Tis false, ’tis false, I say! Arbaces saw[1057] the deed? Arbaces, the Egyptian? Arbaces hates the priest; hates Glaucus, too. Come, Truth,[1058] and triumph o’er thy foes. (_Exit Sosia._)

What shrieks are those I hear;[1059] so near and yet so far! It seems this way,[1060] here! Ah! yes. (_Calls._) Who is it in distress? Who cries aloud? Calenus, the priest? What, you saw Arbaces strike the blow! Then you can prove dear Glaucus innocent. But why are you here? (_Aside._) Ah! me! if free to speak, he could save[1061] my master! (_Calls again._) Listen, if you were free, would you give testimony against Arbaces, the rich and powerful Arbaces? Would you the truth proclaim? Would you save the Athenian? Your priestly word can save him. If I procure you liberty, you will not play me false? No, no! I will not doubt you; you could not be so cruel! Remember, Calenus, you have promised![1062]

How can I release the priest?[1063] how best the truth make known? how gain the præetor’s ear? Ah! these gems[1064] I have worn so long may clear the way. I was not born a slave――no, no! My birth is equal his. Why, then freedom would give me the right to love dear Glaucus.

Sosia! Sosia! Come hither,[1065] guard. Sosia, how much dost thou require to make up the purchase of thy freedom? Two thousand sesterces! The gods be praised![1066] Not more? Seest thou these bracelets[1067] and this chain?[1068] I’ll give them thee if thou wilt let me out, only for one little hour; let me out at midnight; I will return before to-morrow’s dawn; nay, thou[1069] canst go with me, keep me in sight, and bring me back again. How could I flee from thee against thy will? I am blind! Thou sayest me nay?[1070] Is there no hope, then? Oh! he is leaving me![1071] I shall go mad,[1072] mad! Stay,[1073] one moment――only one――thou wilt not at least refuse to take a letter for me; thy master cannot kill thee for that. Thou wilt? The gods be praised![1074] Bring me a tablet of wax and a stilus. (_Writes._)

“[1075]Nydia, the slave, to Sallust, the friend of Glaucus. I am a prisoner in the house of Arbaces. Hasten to the prætor and procure my release, and we shall yet save Glaucus from the lion. There is another prisoner within these walls, whose witness can exonerate the Athenian from the charge against him; one who saw the crime――who can prove the criminal is a villain hitherto unsuspected. Fly! hasten! quick! quick! Bring with you armed men, lest resistance be made, and a cunning and dexterous smith; for the dungeon of my fellow-prisoner is thick and strong. Oh! by thy right hand, and thy father’s ashes, lose not a moment.”

Sosia, I am blind and in prison. Thou mayest think to deceive me――thou mayest pretend only to take the letter to Sallust, but here I solemnly dedicate[1076] thy head to vengeance, thy soul to the infernal[1077] powers, if thou wrongest thy trust, and I call upon thee to place thy right hand of faith in mine,[1078] and repeat after me these words: “By the ground on which we stand――by the elements which contain life, and can curse life――by Orcus, the all-avenging――by the Olympian Jupiter, the all-seeing――I swear that I will discharge my trust and faithfully deliver into the hands of Sallust this letter. And if I perjure myself in this oath, may the full curses of heaven and hell be wreaked upon me.” Enough!――I trust thee――take thy reward.[1079] It is already dark――depart at once. (_Exit Sosia._)

And I, alas, I am a slave forevermore.[1080] No more can look for freedom――for love. Tears, tears! Why, why should eyes that cannot see have power to weep?

Hark![1081] the lion roars as if in fear. It is the amphitheatre and the games are on! I hear a cry, I hear a voice[1082]――“_The lion touches not the victim!_” Aye, even the wild beasts love Glaucus. “_Arbaces, the Egyptian, is the murderer! Glaucus is innocent! Set him free! Set him free!_” He is saved, he is saved![1083] What heaviness[1084] fills the air? The ground trembles as though rocked by an earthquake, or is it the throbbing of my heart?[1085] What does it mean? Sosia, Sosia! Unlock the door and let me out. [1086]What sounds do I hear? What thunder shakes the ground; what cries――what strange sounds; the air is hot and stifling――I cannot breathe! Oh! Sallust, is that thy voice? Speak! and tell me what has happened. Vesuvius all ablaze, and the sun gone down at noon? Ah! the gods[1087] are angry! Canst thou tell me of Glaucus? Hast thou seen him? crouched beneath the arch of the Forum? Ah, then, I can find him, for I am free! Some friendly hand slipped the bolts of my prison.

[1088]Glaucus! Glaucus! How can I hope to reach his ears amidst all this tumult and confusion? Hark![1089] a new sound comes from afar. It is the chant of the Christians on their way to their temple to worship.

(Chanted.)
_Woe! woe! Behold the Lord descendeth to judgment!
He maketh fire come down from the heavens in the sight of men!
Woe! woe! ye strong and mighty!
Woe to ye of the fasces and the purple!
Woe to the idolater and the worshiper of the beast!
Woe to ye who pour forth the blood of saints and gloat over the death
pangs of the sons of God! Woe! woe!_

Glaucus! Glaucus![1090] He answers my call. Ah! take[1091] my hand; this way,[1092] this way; to the sea, to the sea! Trust me, I know the way! To the sea, to the sea! (_Exit._)

(Chant off the stage.)

_Woe to the proud ones who defy Him;
Woe to the wicked who deny Him;
Woe to the wicked, woe!_

――_Lord Lytton._

GESTURES.
[1050] V. con.
[1051] B. V. H. O.
[1052] V. con.
[1053] H. F.
[1054] Drop hand hopelessly.
[1055] Sits.
[1056] Rises suddenly.
[1057] Ind. H. F.
[1058] B. H. F.
[1059] Lis.
[1060] Feels her way round the wall.
[1061] Clasp hands.
[1062] Feels her way back again.
[1063] Intense thoughtful position.
[1064] Feels wrists and throat.
[1065] Beckon.
[1066] Clasp hands.
[1067] Show wrists.
[1068] To neck.
[1069] H. F.
[1070] Both hands appealingly to front, then stagger back.
[1071] Start forward.
[1072] Hand to head.
[1073] P. H. F.
[1074] Throw B. up.
[1075] Motion of writing for the whole letter.
[1076] Ind. straight up.
[1077] Ind. D. F.
[1078] H. F.
[1079] H. F.
[1080] Weeps.
[1081] Lis.
[1082] For all words italicized use a far-off, imitative voice.
[1083] B. thrown upward.
[1084] Hand to breast.
[1085] To heart.
[1086] The next lines must be given with strong dramatic power,
natural gestures, and intense facial expression.
[1087] Clasp hands.
[1088] Take several steps to right.
[1089] Lis. to left.
[1090] Speak to right.
[1091] H. O.
[1092] Left H. O.

The Dream of Eugene Aram.

’Twas in the prime of summer-time,
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys
Came bounding out of school;[1093]
There were some that ran, and some that leapt
Like troutlets in the pool.

Away[1094] they sped, with gamesome minds,
And souls untouched by sin;
To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone[1095] the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.

Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran――
Turning to mirth all things[1096] of earth,
As only boyhood can,
But the usher[1097] sat remote from all,
A melancholy man!

His hat was off, his vest apart,
To catch Heaven’s[1098] blessed breeze;
For a burning thought was in his brow,
And his bosom ill at ease;
So he leaned his head on his hands, and read
The book between his knees.

Leaf after leaf he turned[1099] it o’er,
Nor ever glanced aside,
For the peace of his soul he read that book
In the golden eventide;
Much study had made him very lean,
And pale, and leaden-eyed.

At last he shut the ponderous tome;
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strained[1100] the dusky covers close,
And fixed the brazen hasp:
“O God![1101] could I so close my mind,
And clasp it with a clasp!”

Then leaping[1102] on his feet upright:
Some moody turns he took――
Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook――
And lo! he saw a little boy[1103]
That pored upon a book.

“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,
Romance or fairy fable?
Or is it some historic page,
Of kings and crowns unstable?”
The young boy gave an upward glance――
“It is ‘The Death of Abel.’”[1104]

The usher took six hasty strides,
As smit with sudden pain――
Six hasty strides beyond the place,
Then slowly back again;
And down[1105] he sat beside the lad,
And talked with him of Cain;

And, long since then, of bloody men
Whose deeds tradition saves;
Of lonely folk cut off unseen,
And hid[1106] in sudden graves;
Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,
And murders done in caves;

And how the sprites of injured men
Shriek upward[1107] from the sod――
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod;
And unknown facts of guilty acts
Are seen in dreams from God;

He told how murderers walked the earth
Beneath the curse[1108] of Cain,
With crimson clouds before their eyes,
And flames about their brain;
For blood has left upon their souls
Its everlasting stain.

“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth,
Their pangs must be extreme――
Woe, woe, unutterable woe,[1109]
Who spill life’s sacred stream!
_For why?_ Methought, last night, I wrought
A murder in a dream!

“One that had never done me wrong,
A feeble man, and old;
I led him to a lonely field――[1110]
The moon[1111] shone clear and cold;
‘Now here,’ said I, ‘this man shall die,
And I will have his gold!’

“Two sudden blows[1112] with ragged stick,
And one with a heavy stone,
One hurried gash[1113] with a hasty knife,
And then the deed was done;
There was nothing lying at my foot
But lifeless flesh and bone.

“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill;
And yet I feared him all the more,
For lying there so still;[1114]
There was a manhood in his look,
That murder could not kill.

“And, lo! the universal air[1115]
Seemed lit with ghastly flame;
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes[1116]
Were looking down in blame;
I took the dead men by his hand,[1117]
And called upon his name.

“O God![1118] it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain;
But when I touched[1119] the lifeless clay,
The blood gushed out[1120] amain;
For every clot a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain.[1121]

“My head was like an ardent coal;
My heart[1122] as solid ice;
My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,
Was at the devil’s price;
A dozen times I groaned; the dead
Had never groaned but twice.

“And now, from forth the frowning sky,[1123]
From the heaven’s topmost height,
I heard a voice――the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging sprite:
‘Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,
And hide it from my sight!’

“I took the dreary body up,[1124]
And cast[1125] it in a stream――
A sluggish water, black[1126] as ink,
The depth was so extreme,
My gentle boy, remember[1127] this
Is _nothing but a dream_!

“Down[1128] went the corpse with hollow plunge,
And vanished in the pool;
Anon I cleansed[1129] my bloody hands,
And washed my forehead[1130] cool,
And sat among the urchins young,
That evening in the school.

“O heaven![1131] to think of their white souls,
And mine so black and grim!
I could not share in childish prayer,
Nor join in evening hymn;
Like a devil of the pit[1132] I seemed,
Mid holy cherubim.

“And peace went with them, one and all,
And each calm pillow spread;
But guilt was my grim chamberlain,
That lighted me to bed;
And drew my midnight curtains round,[1133]
With fingers bloody red.

“All night I lay in agony,
In anguish[1134] dark and deep,
My fevered eyes I dared not close,
But stared aghast at Sleep;
For Sin has rendered unto her
The keys of hell to keep.

“All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime,
With one besetting, horrid hint,
That racked[1135] me all the time――
A mighty yearning like the first
Fierce impulse unto crime.

“One stern tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave;[1136]
Stronger and stronger every pulse
Did that temptation crave,
Still urging me to go[1137] and see
The dead man in his grave.

“Heavily I rose up, as soon
As light was in the sky,
And sought the black, accursed[1138] pool,
With a wild, misgiving eye;
And I saw the dead[1139] in the river bed,
For the faithless stream was dry.

“Merrily rose the lark,[1140] and shook
The dewdrop from its wing;
But I never marked its morning flight,
I never heard it sing;
For I was stooping once again
Under the horrid thing.

“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up[1141] and ran;
There was no time to dig a grave
Before the day began:
In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,
I _hid_[1142] the murdered man;

“And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was otherwhere;
As soon as the midday task was done,
In secret I was there;
And a mighty wind had swept[1143] the leaves,
And _still_ the corpse[1144] was bare.

“Then down I cast me[1145] on my face,
And first began to weep,
For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep――
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms[1146] deep.

“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,
Till blood for blood atones;
Ay, though he’s buried in a cave,
And trodden down with stones,
And years have rotted off his flesh,
The world shall see his bones.

“O God! that horrid, _horrid_[1147] dream
Besets me now, _awake_;
Again, again, with dizzy brain,[1148]
The human life I take;
And my red right hand grows raging hot,
Like Cranmer’s at the stake.

“And still no peace for the restless clay,
Will wave or mould allow;
The horrid thing _pursues_ my soul――
It stands before[1149] me _now_!”
The fearful boy looked up, and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.

That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin’s eyelids kissed,
Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,
Through the cold and heavy mist;
And Eugene Aram walked[1150] between,
_With gyves upon his wrist_.

――_Thomas Hood._

GESTURES.
[1093] H. O.
[1094] H. Sw.
[1095] P. H. Sw.
[1096] B. H. O.
[1097] Left H. O.
[1098] Glance up.
[1099] Sp.
[1100] Sp.
[1101] Look up.
[1102] Left, raise P.
[1103] D. F.
[1104] Look up.
[1105] D. F.
[1106] P. D. F.
[1107] Raise P.
[1108] P. H. O.
[1109] Shake head.
[1110] H. F.
[1111] A. O.
[1112] Sp.
[1113] Sp.
[1114] P. D. F.
[1115] A. Sw.
[1116] Ind. A. Impulses.
[1117] Sp.
[1118] Left hand to face.
[1119] P. Sp.
[1120] Raise P. Sp.
[1121] To head.
[1122] To heart sustained.
[1123] Look up. [1124] - [1125] B. Sp.
[1126] P. D. F.
[1127] Ind. H. O.
[1128] D. F.
[1129] B. Sp.
[1130] To head.
[1131] Clasp hands and look up.
[1132] Ind. D. O.
[1133] B. Sp.
[1134] B. Cli. D.
[1135] To breast.
[1136] P. D. O.
[1137] H. O.
[1138] V. D. O.
[1139] Ind. D. O.
[1140] A. O.
[1141] B. Sp.
[1142] P. D. O.
[1143] P. D. Sw.
[1144] D. O.
[1145] B. P. D. F.
[1146] D. F.
[1147] B. V. H. O.
[1148] To head.
[1149] H. F. and shrink backward.
[1150] H. F.

One Day Solitary.[1151]

I am all right! Good-bye,[1152] old chap!
Twenty-four hours, that won’t be long;
Nothing to do but take a nap,
And――say![1153] can a fellow sing a song?
Will the light fantastic be in order――
A pigeon-wing[1154] on your pantry floor?
What are the rules for a regular boarder?
Be quiet? All right![1155] Cling-clang goes the door.

_Clang-clink_ the bolts, and I am locked in;
Some pious reflection and repentance
Come next, I suppose, for I just begin
To perceive the sting[1156] in the tail of my sentence――
“One day whereof shall be solitary.”
Here I am at the end of my journey,
And[1157]――well, it ain’t jolly, not so very――
I’d like to throttle[1158] that sharp attorney.

He took my money, the very last dollar,[1159]
Didn’t leave me so much as a dime,
Not enough to buy me a paper collar
To wear at my trial; he knew all the time[1160]
’Twas some that I got for the stolen silver.
Why hasn’t he been indicted, too?
If he doesn’t exactly rob and pilfer,
He lives by the plunder[1161] of them that do.

Then didn’t it put me into a fury,
To see him step up,[1162] and laugh and chat
With the county attorney, and joke with the jury,
When all was over, then go back[1163] for his hat,
While Sue was sobbing to break her heart,
And all I could do was to stand and stare?[1164]
He had pleaded my cause,[1165] he had played his part,
And got his fee――and what more[1166] did he care?

It’s droll to think how, just out yonder,[1167]
The world goes jogging on the same;
Old men will save, and boys will squander,
And fellows will play at the same old game
Of get-and-spend to-morrow,[1168] next year――
And drink and carouse, and who will there be
To remember a comrade buried here?[1169]
I am nothing to them, they are nothing to me.

And Sue――yes, she will forget me too,
I know; already her tears are drying.
I believe there is nothing that girl can do
So easy as laughing, and lying, and crying.
She clung to me while there was hope,
Then broke her heart in that last wild sob;
But she ain’t going to sit and mope
While I am at work on a five years’ job.

They’ll set me to learning a trade, no doubt,
And I must forget to speak or smile;
I shall go marching in[1170] and out,[1171]
One of a silent tramping file
Of felons, at morning, and noon, and night,
Just down to the shops[1172] and back to the cells,[1173]
And work with a thief at left[1174] and right,[1175]
And feed, and sleep, and――nothing else.[1176]

Was I born for this?[1177] Will the old folks know?
I can see them[1178] now on the old home-place;
His gait is feeble, his step is slow,
There’s a settled grief on his furrowed face;
While she goes wearily groping[1179] about
In a sort of dream, so bent, so sad!
But this won’t do![1180] I must sing and shout,
And forget myself, or else go mad.[1181]

I won’t be foolish; although for a minute[1182]
I was there[1183] in my little room once more.
What wouldn’t I give just now to be in it?
The bed is yonder,[1184] and there[1185]is the door;
The Bible is here[1186] on the neat, white stand;
The summer sweets are ripening now;
In the flickering light I reach my hand[1187]
From the window, and pluck them from the bough.

When I was a child (oh! well for me
And them if I had never been older!),
When he told me stories on his knee,
And tossed me, and carried me on his shoulder;
When she knelt down and heard my prayer,
And gave me in my bed my good-night kiss――
Did they ever think that all their care
For an only son could come to this?

Foolish again![1188] No sense in tears
And gnashing the teeth; and yet,[1189] somehow,
I haven’t thought of them so for years;
I never knew them, I think, till now.
How fondly, how blindly, they trusted me!
When I should have been in my bed asleep,
I slipped from the window,[1190] and down[1191] the tree,
And sowed for the harvest which now I reap.

And Jennie――how could I bear to leave her?
If I had but wished――but I was a fool!
My heart was filled with a thirst and a fever,
Which no sweet airs of heaven could cool.
I can hear her asking: [1192]“Have you heard?”
But mother falters and shakes her head;
[1193]“O Jennie! Jennie! never a word!
What can it mean? He must be dead!”

[1194]Light-hearted, a proud, ambitious lad,
I left my home that morning in May;
What visions,[1195] what hopes, what plans I had!
And what have I[1196]――where are they all[1197]――to-day?
Wild fellows, and wine, and debts, and gaming,
Disgrace,[1198] and the loss of place and friend;
And I was an outlaw,[1199] past reclaiming.
Arrest and sentence, and――that is the end![1200]

Five years! Shall ever I quit this prison?[1201]
Homeless, an outcast, where[1202] shall I go?
Return to them, like one arisen[1203]
From the grave, that was buried long ago?
All is still;[1204] ’tis the close of the week;
I slink[1205] through the garden, I stop by the well,
I see him totter,[1206] I hear her shriek!――
What sort of a tale will I have to tell?

But here I am![1207] What’s the use of grieving?
Five years――will it be too late to begin?
Can sober thinking and honest living
Still make me the man I might have been?
I’ll sleep. Oh![1208] would I could wake to-morrow
In that old room, to find, at last,
That all my troubles and all their sorrow
Are only a dream[1209] of the night that is past.

――_J. T. Trowbridge._

[1151] Requires a table and chair.

GESTURES.
[1152] Wave hand.
[1153] P. H. O.
[1154] Sp. feet.
[1155] Nod.
[1156] Ind. H. F.
[1157] Walk up and down.
[1158] Sp.
[1159] H. F.
[1160] B. H. O. conversational.
[1161] H. O.
[1162] Imitate.
[1163] Left H. L.
[1164] Imitate.
[1165] B. H. O.
[1166] H. L.
[1167] L. H. O.
[1168] H. F.
[1169] D. F.
[1170] Hand carried across body and then out to.
[1171] H. O.
[1172] H. O.
[1173] H. F.
[1174] Left H. O.
[1175] H. O.
[1176] Sit.
[1177] Left elbow on table, hand to head.
[1178] H. O.
[1179] P. H. O.
[1180] Rise.
[1181] To head.
[1182] Sit.
[1183] H. O.
[1184] H. F.
[1185] H. O.
[1186] Left H. F.
[1187] H. O. Sp.
[1188] Toss head.
[1189] Head in hand.
[1190] H. O.
[1191] D. O.
[1192] To left.
[1193] To right.
[1194] Rise.
[1195] V. H. F.
[1196] H. O.
[1197] B. H. O.
[1198] P. D. O.
[1199] H. L.
[1200] Look around cell, B. H. O.
[1201] Sit.
[1202] B. H. O.
[1203] Raise P.
[1204] P. H. F.
[1205] P. Sw. to F.
[1206] H. F.
[1207] Thumbs in armholes of vest, and lean back in chair.
[1208] Head on hand.
[1209] V. Sp.

Meg Merrilies.

ADAPTED BY FRANCES E. PEIRCE.

ARGUMENT.――Henry Bertram is stolen by the gypsies when a child; he is abandoned by them, serves in the army, and finally wanders back to his native place. The gypsies discover him, and, to extort money from the man who holds illegal possession of young Bertram’s estates, conspire to carry him off by force or to murder him. From this dilemma old Meg Merrilies delivers him at the peril of her life. Shot by her own people, she dies heroically proclaiming his heirship to the estates of Ellangowan.