Chapter XIII: Act III: SCENE I. Sea-shore, with the castle on the rocks (1)

MEG.――So, so; his death is purposed; and they have chosen the scene of one murder to commit another. Right! the blood spilt on that spot has long cried for vengeance, and it shall fall upon them. Sebastian, speed to Dinmont and the youth; tell them not to separate for their lives――guide them to the glen near the tower; there let them wait till Glossin and Hatteraick meet in the cavern, and I will join them. Away, and do my bidding! (_Exit Sebastian._) Now to send to Mannering; I must remain on the watch myself――Gabriel I dare not trust. Ha! who comes now? ’Tis Abel Sampson, Henry Bertram’s ancient tutor! It shall be so. (_Advance._) Stop! I command ye!

LUCY.――She’s mad!

MEG.――No; I am not mad! I’ve been imprisoned for mad, scourged for mad, banished for mad; but mad I am not! Halt, and stand fast, or ye shall rue the day while a limb of you hangs together! Stay, thou tremblest! (_Take out an old black whiskey bottle and hold it out to Sampson, left._) Drink of this and put some heart in ye, or I will―― Can your learning tell you what that is, eh? Will you remember my errand now? Ay! then tell Colonel Mannering, if ever he owed a debt to the house of Ellangowan, and hopes to see it prosper, he must come instantly, armed and well attended, to the glen, below the tower of Derncleugh, and fail not on his life! You know the spot! Ay, Abel Sampson, there blazed my hearth for many a day! and there, beneath the willow that hung its garlands over the brook, I’ve sat and sung to Harry Bertram, songs of the old time. That tree is wither’d now, never to be green again, and old Meg Merrilies will never, never sing blythe songs more. But I charge you, Abel Sampson, when the heir shall have his own――as soon as he shall――that you tell him not to forget Meg Merrilies, but to build up the old walls in the glen for her sake, and let those that live there be too good to fear the beings of another world, for, if ever the dead come back among the living, I will be seen in that glen many a night after these crazed old bones are whitened in the mouldering grave! ha! ha! (_Laugh and stagger back._)

I have said it, old man! ye shall see him again, and the best lord he shall be that Ellangowan has seen these hundred years. But you’re o’er long here. To Mannering! Away! and bid him come to that spot instantly, or the heir of Ellangowan may perish forever! Away, away! (_Exit while speaking the last two words._)

――_Sir Walter Scott._

The Dukite Snake.

Well, mate, you’ve asked me about a fellow
You met to-day in a black and yellow
Chain-gang suit, with a peddler’s pack,
Or with some such burden strapped to his back.
Did you meet him square? No, passed you by?[1210]
Well, if you had, and had looked in his eye,
You’d have felt for your irons then and there;
For the light of his eye is a madman’s glare.
Some eight years back, in the spring of the year,
He came from Scotland and settled here.[1211]

A splendid young fellow he was just then,
And one of the bravest and truest of men.
In a year his wife came, and he showed her round
His sandal-wood and his crops in the ground,
And spoke of the future; they cried for joy,
The husband’s arm clasping his wife and boy.

Well, friend, if a little of heaven’s best bliss
Ever comes from the upper world[1212] to this,
It came into that manly bushman’s life,
And circled him round with the arms of his wife.

God bless that bright memory! Even to me,
A rough, lonely man, did she seem to be,
While living, an angel[1213] of God’s pure love,
And now I could pray to her face above.
And David――he loved her as only a man
With a heart as large as was his heart, can.
I wondered how they could have lived apart,
For he was her idol, and she was his heart.

Friends, there isn’t much more of the tale to tell;
I was talking of angels awhile since. Well,
Now I’ll change to a devil――ay, to a devil![1214]
You needn’t start; if a spirit of evil
Ever came to this world its hate to slake
On mankind, it came as a dukite snake,
Now, mark[1215] you, these dukites don’t go alone;
There’s another near when you see but one;
And beware you of killing that one you see
Without finding the other; for you may be
More than twenty miles from the spot that night,
When camped, but you’re tracked by the lone dukite,
That will follow[1216] your trail like death or fate,
And kill you as sure as you killed its mate.

Well, poor Dave Sloane had his young wife here
Three months; ’twas just this time of the year.
He had teamed some sandal-wood to the Vasse,
And was homeward bound when he saw on the grass[1217]
A long red snake.[1218] He had never been told
Of the dukite’s ways; he jumped to the road,
And smashed[1219] its flat head with the bullock goad.
He was proud of the red skin, so he tied
Its tail to the cart, and the snake’s blood dyed
The bush on the path he followed that night.
He was early home, and the dead dukite
Was flung at the door to be skinned next day.
At sunrise next morning he started away
To hunt up his cattle. A three hours’ ride
Brought him back; he gazed on his home with pride
And joy in his heart; he jumped from his horse
And entered――to look on[1220] his young wife’s corse,
And his dead child clutching its mother’s clothes
As in fright; and there, as he gazed, arose,
From her breast, where ’twas resting, the gleaming head
Of the terrible dukite, as if it said,
“I’ve had vengeance, my foe! you took all I had!”
And so had the snake: David Sloane was mad!

I rode to his hut just by chance that night,
And there[1221] on the threshold the clear moonlight
Showed the two snakes dead. I pushed in[1222] the door;
The dead were stretched[1223] on the moonlit floor;
The man held the hand of his wife, his pride,
His poor life’s treasure, and crouched[1224] by her side.
I touched and called him; he heeded me not;
So I dug her grave in a quiet spot,
And lifted them both, her boy on her breast,
And laid them down in the shade to rest.
Then I tried to take my poor friend away,
But he cried so woefully, “Let me stay[1225]
Till she comes again!” that I had no heart
To try to persuade him then to part
From all that was left to him here――her grave;
So I stayed by his side that night, and save
One heart-cutting cry, he uttered no sound――

O God! that wail――like the wail of a hound!
’Tis six long years since I heard that cry,
But ’twill ring in my ears till the day I die.
Since that fearful night no one has heard
Poor David Sloane utter sound or word.
You have seen to-day how he always goes;[1226]
He’s been given that suit of convict’s clothes
By some prison officer. On his back
You noticed a load like a peddler’s pack?
Well, that’s what[1227] he lives for; when reason went,
Still memory lived, for his days are spent
In searching for dukites; year by year
That bundle of skins is growing. ’Tis clear
That the Lord out of evil some good still takes;
For he’s clearing[1228] this bush of the dukite snakes.

――_J. Boyle O’Reilly._

GESTURES.
[1210] H. Sw.
[1211] H. O.
[1212] A. O.
[1213] Look up.
[1214] Ind. D. O.
[1215] Ind. H. F.
[1216] P. D. F. Sw.
[1217] D. F.
[1218] Trace with finger.
[1219] Sp.
[1220] P. D. F.
[1221] D. F.
[1222] V. H. F.
[1223] P. D. Sw.
[1224] P. D. F.
[1225] Clasp hands.
[1226] H. Sw.
[1227] H. O.
[1228] V. H. Sw.

Mad.

This piece won the Post-Graduate medal at the Ninth Annual Commencement of the Mt. Vernon Institute of Elocution and Languages, 1892.

’Twas many years since I had left my home
To travel distant lands, but time sped on;[1229]
Again with eagerness and wonderment
I sought the cherish’d haunts[1230] and friends of yore.
One man whom I remember’d as a boy,
Whose piercing eyes, pale face, and silken locks
Had oft comment attracted, now I found
In mad-house pent. He recognized my face,
Although he would anon bewilder’d gaze.
In changing tones which shed a ling’ring light[1231]
Awhile upon his soul, but swiftly turn’d
To fierce embitter’d grief, he told me there
His all-absorbing tale. ’Twas thus he spoke:
“They call me mad. And hour by hour I’m watch’d
By lurking keepers, who with looks askance,[1232]
Would search my thoughts, and deem themselves unseen,
For when I would return their gaze, they droop
Their eyes, and with a heedless air pass by.[1233]
They call me mad, and so deny[1234] my right
To liberty enjoy’d by other men.
They call me mad! but know they[1235] what they mean?

“Yea, if vividly to recall the past,
And linger with emotions deep and fond
On all that yielded life a moment’s joy,
And now lies garner’d in sweet Mem’ry’s store――
If this[1236] betokens madness――I am mad.
Or if to know with what dear promise youth
Was robed――how cherish’d were the constant thoughts
Of happiness to come in future years――
And feel how treach’rous was the fate that crush’d[1237]
Those thoughts and bade me dare to seek revenge[1238]――
If this may madness prove, then I am mad.
And this is why,[1239] forsooth, they deem me so!

“Even now the recollection of the past,
In varied visions, float[1240] before mine eyes,
And thoughts of old afflictions make me feel
How blest[1241] I might have been――how sad I am![1242]

“A group of children trotting[1243] off to school,
While two[1244] amongst the rest, a boy and girl,
Go hand in hand, and prattle as they go,
Then fondly kiss and part, till, school-time o’er,
They meet and kiss again, and hand in hand
Return to home,[1245] recounting all they’ve learnt.
Anon they paddle in the rippling brook,[1246]
Their merry voices striving to out-do
The babble of the water ’neath their feet;
Or, roaming in the fields,[1247] they mimic birds[1248]
That seem to sing a sweet accomp’niment
To happy childhood passing thus away.

“The glad years speed[1249] along. Those children twain
Have ripen’d ’neath the influence of time,
For life has but reveal’d its summer days
To him[1250] of impulse strong and keen-sensed soul――
To her[1251] of beauteous face and loving heart,
And each is happy in the other’s love.

“And this glad pair in childhood and in youth
Was Cousin Ruth and I. Oh! it was joy
To loiter arm in arm on summer eves
By hedge-rows,[1252] or through fields[1253] of long-grown grass
Where breath’d sweet-scented breezes all around,[1254]
And birds sang anthems to the dying day;
Or wonder where the murm’ring river ran,[1255]
While tales of love gave birth to cheerful smiles.
And just as pleasant in the winter-tide
To tread the hard, crisp roads; and watch the stars,
That look’d like angel-lovers gladd’ning Earth,
While we humm’d homely airs, and never dreamt
That aught but death could e’er divide our hearts.

“Ah! Death assumed most unsuspected guise――
The guise of one whom I deemed friend, alas!
And whom I’d make my confidant of hopes
To be fulfill’d in future happy days.
You know[1256] the rest. My friend became my foe,
And won the heart of her I loved, though that
I might have brook’d in silence and in pain,
But he a villain[1257] proved, and mock’d[1258] her tears.
I learnt the truth; then sought,[1259] and found him, too,
Though not alone, as my heart wish’d. Arose
Within my breast[1260] the promptings of wild hate,
And, like a furied fiend, with fierce intent
I grasp’d[1261] his throat and dash’d[1262] him to the ground,
And would have slain[1263] him there had those around
Not dragg’d my tight’ning fingers from his flesh.

“Thus foil’d, a sudden impulse seized my soul,
And hate[1264] intense begat intenser love.[1265]
From those who held me I sprang forth,[1266] then rush’d
To find my Ruth and clasp[1267] her to my breast;
I yearn’d, at least, to heal her sorrow’d heart,
Forget her wrong, and love her as of old.
But when I found her, my poor girl was dead;
There[1268] on the cruel river’s bank she lay,
The water dripping[1269] from her golden hair――
Those golden ringlets I had fondled oft!
I clasp’d her hand[1270] and gazed into her eyes,
Whose steadfast stare seemed now to pierce me through,
And placed my lips against her clay-cold cheek
Till presently they bore her[1271] from my sight.

“Night came; the wand’ring wind was wailing wild,
And dreary rains were lashing[1272] all the land;
I felt them not, I only felt the fire
That raged within my soul,[1273] and wander’d on[1274]
With pale and haggard features, glaring, blood-shot eyes,
Dishevell’d hair, clench’d fists,[1275] and boiling blood!
Amid the chaos of my brain[1276] one thought
Usurp’d despotic sway, and led me on
And on, with purpose fix’d and fierce――to kill,[1277]
To murder[1278] him who slew my only love!

“Ere long I found the thing I sought――alone!
I heard[1279] the sound of voices, heard them say
‘Good-night,’ ‘Good-night.’ One voice I knew; ’twas his!
I cowered low,[1280] till, with quick step, he pass’d,
Then, silent as a tiger, follow’d[1281] swift.
When he had gain’d the meadow he must cross,
I quicken’d pace, and saw him speed before――[1282]
‘Hillo, hillo!’ I cried; he stood to hear,
And ere a moment pass’d I reach’d his side.
There was a look of terror in his face,
And seeing me he scream’d, and would have fled,
But, with a grasp of steel, I clutch’d[1283] his throat,
And, though he craved for mercy, strangled him,
And crush’d[1284] the reptile’s form beneath my foot,
Then left him[1285] lying on the meadow path,
And onward[1286] swiftly sped――I know not where,
Until, o’ercome by agony of heart,
Upon the grass[1287] in dark despair I fell!
My throat[1288] was parch’d, a mist[1289] came o’er my eyes,
My head was rack’d, the blood forsook my veins,
And coldness, by degrees, my senses numb’d.[1290]

“When I awoke as ’twere from a long dream
Of agonizing thought, I was confined
Within these walls,[1291] and knew they call’d me mad.”

GESTURES.
[1229] H. Sw.
[1230] H. F.
[1231] P. H. F.
[1232] Eyes Sp.
[1233] H. Sw.
[1234] D. L.
[1235] H. O.
[1236] H. F.
[1237] P. D. O.
[1238] Cli. raised.
[1239] H. O.
[1240] V. H. Sw.
[1241] B. H. O.
[1242] Drop hands hopelessly.
[1243] H. Sw.
[1244] Ind. H. O.
[1245] Left H. Sw.
[1246] D. F.
[1247] H. Sw.
[1248] Look up.
[1249] H. Sw.
[1250] H. O.
[1251] Left H. O.
[1252] H. O.
[1253] Imp.
[1254] B. H. O.
[1255] H. Sw.
[1256] H. F.
[1257] Cli. D.
[1258] P. Ind. H. O.
[1259] H. F.
[1260] To breast.
[1261] - [1262] B. Sp.
[1263] Ind. D. F.
[1264] B. Cli. D.
[1265] B. H. O.
[1266] H. F.
[1267] B. Sp.
[1268] D. F.
[1269] Turn to P.
[1270] Sp.
[1271] Left H. Sw.
[1272] B. P. H. O.
[1273] To breast.
[1274] H. Sw.
[1275] B. Cli.
[1276] To head.
[1277] Ind. H. O.
[1278] Cli. D. O.
[1279] Lis. to left.
[1280] Bend body.
[1281] H. Sw.
[1282] H. F.
[1283] B. Sp.
[1284] B. P. D. F.
[1285] D. O.
[1286] H. F.
[1287] P. D. F.
[1288] To throat.
[1289] To eyes.
[1290] P. D. O.
[1291] B. H. O.

A Woman’s Vengeance.

I thank[1292] you for your sympathy,
But help! No,[1293] there is none for me.
For what I’ve done I feel no sting
Of penitence, nor can time bring
One pang of sorrow. You may think
Me hard, unfeeling, and may shrink[1294]
From me with loathing when I say,
I’m glad my bullet found the way
Into his heart; and I would do
The same again, and glory,[1295] too,
In having done it. Penalty!
For what they now may do with me
I care but little.[1296] He is dead,
And that ends all.
What made me do the deed? The old,
Old[1297] time-worn story of man’s cold
And heartless cruelty; of wrongs
Heaped on her head,[1298] to whom belongs
At least respect,[1299] if nothing more.
I met him――him, my husband――just
Five years ago. My God! what trust
I placed in his fair words, so soft,
So sweet, so full of love. But love is blind,
And I was madly so. The first two years
Were full[1300] of joy――joy without tears.
My life was of peaceful love.
But, ah! the change came sudden, fast;
My summer sun was overcast.[1301]
The godlike being that I thought
Of all mankind[1302] most perfect wrought,
Tore off[1303] the mask that hid his face,
And, to my horror,[1304] in his place
Revealed a demon,[1305] blackest-hued,
Remorseless, pitiless, imbued
With all the wickedness that heart
Can hold, or shameless sin[1306] impart
The loving words to curses[1307] turned;
My fond advances all were spurned.[1308]
I soon became for him a thing
To tread upon――a clod to fling[1309]
From out his path. I took my child
And fled[1310] one night, half maddened, wild,
Far from his sight――I cared not where
So I again his face might ne’er
Behold. But soon once more with words
That seemed to me like songs of birds[1311]
He sought me out, and with eyes
Filled with repentant tears, implored
Forgiveness; and I――fool![1312] ignored[1313]
The past, forgot my woes, and went
Back to his home with heart content.
O Heaven![1314] could I have but foreseen,
Could I have known he did not mean
To keep the vows so freely made!
Once more his promises were cast
Aside,[1315] as idle words, and worse
Than e’en before――a daily curse[1316]
My life became.
Then came at last the final blow――
The worst that love can contemplate,
And which can turn that love to hate.[1317]
One night, when he had gone from me,
I found a letter which he carelessly
Had overlooked. The script[1318] was small
And neat――a woman’s hand! A wall
Of fire outstretched[1319] before my eyes;
A nameless horror seemed to rise.
No, no! this could not be. He might
Be bad, be dead to sense of right,
But false! O Heaven![1320] The dreadful thought
Surged in my brain.[1321] I crushed[1322] it, fought[1323]
It down with frenzied eagerness.
The note was open; chilled, nerveless,
I drew it[1324] from its fold and read,
[1325]“This night to meet him,” so it said.
This night! how throbbed[1326] my aching head!
Her house it gave――the place, the hour――
I seemed renewed with sudden power.
He[1327] would be there, and so would I.[1328]
I cast[1329] the hated letter by;
My child from off the floor I clasped,
And from the bureau drawer I grasped
A loaded pistol that would right
My wrong. So out[1330] into the night,
Into the raging storm, I fled,
My babe clasped[1331] in my arms.
I could but repeat,
“False! false! I’ll be revenged!”[1332] My soul
Now stirred and roused beyond control,
Was filled with one desire alone,
And that was that he should atone[1333]
For this――to woman――foulest[1334] wrong.
So through the night I sped along
Until I reached her house.
And then I heard[1335]
A voice within――his voice! Each word
In sweet and loving tenderness,
And accents that _my_[1336] heart should bless
Were lavished on _her_[1337] listening ears.
I listened, listened,[1338] all unseen,
Until I thought I should go wild.[1339]
Then, with a desperate hand, flung wide[1340]
The casement. With a bound, beside
The two[1341] I stood. She started――screamed;
He turned[1342] and saw me, and then seemed
A moment as if turned to stone;
And as his baseness I made known,
She――poor thing――with a long, low cry,
Sank[1343] to the floor despairingly.
Then, like a fiend let loose from hell,
He toward[1344] me leaped with one fierce yell,
And grasping[1345] quick a heavy chair
Cried, “Curse you!” whirled it high[1346] in air.
I sprang aside[1347] in sudden dread;
The blow fell full upon the head
Of my sweet child, that lifeless dropped
Back in my arms. My heart throbs[1348] stopped;
A red mist swam[1349] before my sight;
I could not scream, try as I might.
I grasped the pistol[1350] from my breast,
_And then I killed[1351] him!_ All the rest
For days to me was blank;[1352] and when――
O Heaven! why did I not die then?
At last my sense came back. I would
Have taken my own life if I could.
But it perhaps was better[1353] so;
God will not judge me hard, I know.
And when, in answer to His call,
I stand within the heavenly hall,[1354]
And the Blessed One
Says, “Why hast thou transgressed my laws?”
My babe shall plead its mother’s[1355] cause.

――_Thomas F. Wilford._

GESTURES.
[1292] Bow head.
[1293] V. Con.
[1294] B. V. to right.
[1295] A. O.
[1296] Shrug shoulders.
[1297] H. B.
[1298] P. H. O.
[1299] H. O.
[1300] B. H. O.
[1301] V. A. O.
[1302] B. H. O.
[1303] V. Sp.
[1304] B. V. to R.
[1305] Ind. D. O.
[1306] P. D. O.
[1307] Cli. D.
[1308] V. H. O.
[1309] Left D. Sw.
[1310] H. L.
[1311] A. O.
[1312] B. Cli. D.
[1313] V. H. O.
[1314] Clasp hands.
[1315] V. H. L.
[1316] B. Cli. D.
[1317] P. D. O.
[1318] Look in left hand.
[1319] V. H. Sw.
[1320] Clasp to breast.
[1321] To head.
[1322] B. P. D.
[1323] B. Cli. D.
[1324] Sp.
[1325] Trace on left hand.
[1326] Hand to head.
[1327] H. O.
[1328] To self.
[1329] Left Sp.
[1330] H. F.
[1331] B. Sp.
[1332] Cli. raised.
[1333] D. F.
[1334] B. Cli. D.
[1335] Lis.
[1336] To self.
[1337] H. O.
[1338] Lean to R. and raise hand.
[1339] To head.
[1340] B. V. Sp.
[1341] H. F.
[1342] Look to left.
[1343] B. D. F.
[1344] Left H. O.
[1345] - [1346] B. Sp.
[1347] Start back.
[1348] R. hand to heart.
[1349] Left V. Sw.
[1350] Sp.
[1351] Ind. H. F.
[1352] B. V. H. F.
[1353] B. H. O.
[1354] A. O.
[1355] To self.

The Dream of Aldarin.

Arranged by Laura Coleman, who won with it the first gold graduating medal at the Eighth Commencement of the Mt. Vernon Institute of Elocution and Languages, 1891.

A chamber with a low, dark ceiling,[1356] supported by massive rafters[1357] of oak; floors[1358] and walls[1359] of dark stone, unrelieved by wainscot or plaster――bare, rugged, and destitute.

A dim, smoking light,[1360] burning in a vessel of iron, threw[1361] its red and murky beams over the fearful contents of a table. It was piled high[1362] with the unsightly forms of the dead. Prostrate among these mangled bodies, his arms flung carelessly[1363] on either side, slept and dreamed Aldarin[1364]――Aldarin, the Fratricide.

He hung on the verge of a rock, a rock of melting bitumen, that burned his hands to masses of crisped and blackened flesh. The rock projected over[1365] a gulf, to which the cataracts of earth might compare as the rivulet[1366] to the vast ocean.[1367] It was the Cataract of Hell. He looked below. God of Heaven,[1368] what a sight! Fiery waves, convulsed and foaming, with innumerable whirlpools[1369] crimsoned by bubbles of flame. Each whirlpool swallowing millions[1370] of the lost. Each bubble bearing on its surface the face of a soul, lost[1371] and lost forever.[1372]

Borne on by[1373] the waves, they raised[1374] their hands and cast their burning eyes to the skies, and shrieked the eternal death-wail of the lost.

Over this scene, awful and vast, towered a figure[1375] of ebony blackness, his darkened brow concealed[1376] in the clouds, his extended arms grasping[1377] the infinitude of the cataract, his feet resting upon islands of bitumen far in the gulf[1378] below. The eyes of the figure were fixed upon Aldarin,[1379] as he clung with the nervous clasp of despair to the rock, and their gaze curdled[1380] his heated blood.

He was losing his grasp; sliding and sliding from the rock, his feet hung over[1381] the gulf. There was no hope for him. He must fall――fall[1382]――and fall forever. But lo! a stairway,[1383] built of white marble, wide, roomy, and secure, seemed to spring from the very rock to which he clung, winding upward from the abyss, till it was lost in the distance far, far above. He beheld two figures slowly descending[1384]――the figure of a warrior[1385] and the form of a dark-eyed woman.[1386] He knew those figures; he knew them well. They were his victims! Her face, his wife’s! beautiful as when he first wooed her in the gardens of Palestine;[1387] but there was blood[1388] on her vestments, near the heart, and his lip was spotted with one drop of that thick, red blood. “This,” he muttered, “this, indeed, is hell,[1389] and yet I must call for aid――call to them!”[1390] How the thought writhed like a serpent round his very heart.

He drew himself along the rugged rock, clutching[1391] the red-hot ore in the action. He wanted but a single inch, a little inch and he might grasp the marble of the stairway. Another and a desperate effort. His fingers clutched it,[1392] but his strength was gone. He could not hold it in his grasp. With an eye of horrible intensity he looked above. “Thou wilt save me,[1393] Ilmerine, my wife. Thou wilt drag me up to thee.” She stooped. She clutched his blackened fingers and placed them around the marble.[1394] His grasp was tight and desperate. “Julian, O Julian! grasp this hand.[1395] Aid me, O Julian! my brother!” The warrior stooped, laid hold on his hand, and drawing it toward the casement, wound it around[1396] another piece of marble. But again his strength fails. [1397]“Julian, my brother; Ilmerine, my wife, seize me! Drag me from this rock of terror! Save me! O save me!”[1398] She stooped. She unwound finger after finger. She looked at his horror-stricken face and pointed to the red wound in her heart.[1399] He looked toward the other face. “Thou, Julian,[1400] reach me thy hand. Thy hand, or I perish!” The warrior slowly reached forth his hand from beneath the folds of his cloak. He held before the eyes of the doomed a goblet of gold.[1401] It shone and glimmered through the foul air like the beacon fire of hell.

“Take it away![1402] ’Tis the death bowl!” shrieked Aldarin’s livid lips. “I murdered thee. Thou canst not save.” He drew back from the maddening sight. He lost his hold, he slid from the rock, he fell.[1403]

[1404]Above, beneath, around, all[1405] was fire, horror,[1406] death; and still he fell.[1407] “Forever and forever,” rose the shrieks of the lost. All hell groaned aloud, “Ever, ever. Forever and forever,” and his own soul muttered back, “This――this――is――hell!”[1408]

――_George Lippard._

GESTURES.
[1356] A. O.
[1357] B. A. O.
[1358] D. O.
[1359] H. O.
[1360] H. F.
[1361] P. H. Sw.
[1362] P. Sp.
[1363] Sp.
[1364] H. F.
[1365] P. D. F.
[1366] D. O.
[1367] H. Sw.
[1368] B. V. H. O. and look down.
[1369] Sp. P. D. F.
[1370] B. D. O.
[1371] D. F.
[1372] Imp.
[1373] H. Sw.
[1374] B. Sp.
[1375] Ind. H. F.
[1376] V. A. F.
[1377] B. P. H. O.
[1378] D. F.
[1379] Ind. D. F.
[1380] B. to heart.
[1381] P. D. F.
[1382] P. D. Sp.
[1383] Trace upward with finger.
[1384] Trace downward with finger.
[1385] H. F.
[1386] Imp.
[1387] H. L.
[1388] Ind. H. F.
[1389] Cli. D.
[1390] H. F.
[1391] Sp.
[1392] Sp.
[1393] B. Cla.
[1394] Sp.
[1395] A. F.
[1396] Sp.
[1397] B. extended.
[1398] Imp.
[1399] To self.
[1400] Left A. F.
[1401] L. Sp.
[1402] B. V. H. F.
[1403] D. F.
[1404] Look around.
[1405] B. H. O.
[1406] Turn to vertical.
[1407] B. D. F.
[1408] B. Cli. A.

The Death of Uncle Tom.

Adapted by C. R. Bechtel.

The escape of Cassy and Emmeline irritated the before surly temper of Legree to the last degree; and his fury, as was to be expected, fell upon the defenceless head of Tom. When he hurriedly announced the tidings among his hands, there was a sudden light in Tom’s eye, a sudden upraising of his hands, that did not escape him. He saw that he did not join the muster of the pursuers. He thought of forcing him to do it, but, having had, of old, experience of his inflexibility when commanded to take part in any deed of inhumanity, he would not, in his hurry, stop to enter into any conflict with him.

Tom, therefore, remained behind, with a few who had learned of him to pray, and offered up prayers for the escape of the fugitives.

When Legree returned, baffled and disappointed, all the long-working hatred of his soul toward his slave began to gather in a deadly and desperate form.

“Well, Tom!” said Legree, walking up and seizing him grimly by the collar of his coat, and speaking through his teeth, in a paroxysm of determined rage, “do you know, I’ve made up my mind to kill you?”

“It’s very likely, Mas’r,” said Tom, calmly.

“I have,” said Legree, with grim, terrible calmness, “done――just―― that――thing, Tom, unless you’ll tell me what you know about these yer gals!”

Tom stood silent.

“D’ye hear?” said Legree, stamping, with a roar like that of an incensed lion. “Speak!”

“I han’t got nothing to tell, Mas’r,” said Tom, with a slow, firm, deliberate utterance.

“Do ye dare to tell me, ye old black Christian, ye don’t know?” said Legree.

Tom stood silent.

“Speak!” thundered Legree, striking him furiously. “Do you know anything?”

“I know, Mas’r, but I can’t tell anything. I can die!”

Legree drew in a long breath, and, suppressing his rage, took Tom by the arm, and, approaching his face almost to his, said in a terrible voice, “Hark’e, Tom! ye think, ’cause I’ve let ye off before, I don’t mean what I say; but this time I’ve made up my mind, and counted the cost. You’ve always stood it out agin me; now I’ll conquer ye or kill ye!――one or t’other. I’ll count every drop of blood there is in you, and take ’em, one by one, till ye give up!”

Tom looked up at his master, and answered, “Mas’r, if you was sick, or in trouble, or dying, and I could save ye, I’d give ye my heart’s blood; and if taking every drop of blood in this poor old body would save your precious soul, I’d give ’em freely, as the Lord gave His for me. O Mas’r! don’t bring this great sin on your soul! It will hurt you more than ’twill me! Do the worst you can――my troubles’ll be over soon; but, if ye don’t repent, yours won’t never end!”

Like a strange snatch of heavenly music heard in the lull of a tempest, this burst of feeling made a moment’s blank pause.

Legree stood aghast and looked at Tom, and there was such a silence that the tick of the old clock could be heard measuring, with silent touch, the last moments of mercy and probation to that hardened heart.

It was but a moment. There was one hesitating pause――one irresolute, relenting thrill――and the spirit of evil came back with sevenfold vehemence, and Legree, foaming with rage, smote his victim to the ground.

* * * * *

Two days after, a young man drove a light wagon up through the avenue of China-trees fronting Legree’s house, and, throwing the reins hastily on the horse’s neck, sprang out and inquired for the owner of the place.

It was George Shelby, the son of Tom’s former master.

He was soon introduced into the house, where he found Legree in the sitting-room.

Legree received the stranger with a kind of surly hospitality.

“I understand,” said the young man, “that you bought, in New Orleans, a boy named Tom. He used to be on my father’s place, and I came to see if I couldn’t buy him back.”

Legree’s brow grew dark, and he broke out, passionately:

“Yes, I did buy such a fellow, and a fine bargain I had of it, too! The most rebellious, saucy, impudent dog! Set up my niggers to run away; got off two gals worth eight hundred or a thousand dollars apiece. He owned to that, and when I bid him tell me where they was, he up and said he knew, but he wouldn’t tell, and stood to it, though I gave him the cussedest flogging I ever gave nigger yet. I b’lieve he’s trying to die, but I don’t know as he’ll make it out.”

“Where is he?” said George, impetuously. “Let me see him.”

The cheeks of the young man were crimson and his eyes flashed fire, but he prudently said nothing as yet.

“He’s in dat ar shed,” said a little fellow, who stood holding George’s horse.

Legree kicked the boy and swore at him, but George, without saying another word, turned and strode to the spot.

Tom had been lying two days since the fatal night, not suffering, for every nerve of suffering was blunted and destroyed. He lay, for the most part, in a quiet stupor, for the laws of a powerful and well-knit frame would not at once release the imprisoned spirit. By stealth, there had been there, in the darkness of the night, poor desolated creatures, who stole from their scanty hours’ rest that they might repay to him some of those ministrations of love in which he had always been so abundant. Truly, those poor disciples had little to give――only the cup of cold water――but it was given with full hearts.

When George entered the shed, he felt his head giddy and his heart sick.

“Is it possible――is it possible?” said he, kneeling down by him. “Uncle Tom, my poor, poor old friend!”

Something in the voice penetrated to the ear of the dying. He moved his head gently, smiled, and said――

“Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are.”

Tears, which did honor to his manly heart, fell from the young man’s eyes, as he bent over his poor friend.

“Oh! dear Uncle Tom! do wake――do speak once more! Look up! Here’s Mas’r George――your own little Mas’r George. Don’t you know me?”

“Mas’r George!” said Tom, opening his eyes, and speaking in a feeble voice. “Mas’r George!” He looked bewildered.

Slowly the idea seemed to fill his soul, and the vacant eye became fixed and brightened, the whole face lighted up, the hard hands clasped, and tears ran down the cheeks.

“Bless the Lord! it is――it is――it’s all I wanted! They haven’t forgot me. It warms my soul; it does my old heart good! Now I shall die content! Bless the Lord, oh! my soul!”

“You sha’n’t die! you mustn’t die, nor think of it. I’ve come to buy you, and take you home,” said George, with impetuous vehemence.

“Oh! Mas’r George, ye’re too late. The Lord’s bought me, and is going to take me home, and I long to go. Heaven is better than Kintuck.”

“Oh! don’t die! It’ll kill me!――it’ll break my heart to think what you’ve suffered――and living in this old shed here! Poor, poor fellow!”

“Don’t call me poor fellow!” said Tom, solemnly. “I have been poor fellow, but that’s all past and gone now. I’m right in the door, going into glory! Oh! Mas’r George! Heaven has come! I’ve got the victory!――the Lord Jesus has given it to me! Glory to His name!”

At this moment the sudden flush of strength which the joy of meeting his young master had infused into the dying man gave way. A sudden sinking fell upon him; he closed his eyes; and that mysterious and sublime change passed over his face that told the approach of other worlds.

He began to draw his breath with long, deep inspirations, and his broad chest rose and fell heavily. The expression of his face was that of a conqueror.

“Who――who――who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” he said, in a voice that contended with mortal weakness, and, with a smile, he fell asleep.

There is no monument to mark the last resting-place of our friend. He needs none! His Lord knows where he lies, and will raise him up, immortal, to appear with Him when He shall appear in His glory.

Pity him not! Such a life and death is not for pity! Not in the riches of omnipotence is the chief glory of God, but in self-denying, suffering love! And blessed are the men whom He calls to fellowship with Him, bearing their cross after Him with patience. Of such it is written: “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

――_Harriet Beecher Stowe._

“To-morrow’ll be the happiest day of all the glad New Year,
For I’m to be Queen of the May, mother, I’m to be Queen of the May!”]

“Swore Off.”

This piece won the class medal at the Ninth Annual Commencement of the Mt. Vernon Institute of Elocution and Languages, 1892.

_Sit on chair at right side of a common table._

Boys, take another![1409] To-night we’ll be gay,
For to-morrow, you know, is the New Year’s Day,
And I promised my Bessie to-night should be
The very last night I stayed on this spree.
I’ve been a good fellow――spent lots of “tin”
In sampling and drinking both whiskey and gin;
And yet I remember,[1410] a long while ago,
When the sight of a drunken man frightened me so.
I ran for a square.[1411] I remember quite well
When I even detested[1412] the very smell
Of the accursed stuff. I sometimes think
’Twas the devil[1413] who tempted me to take the first drink.
But why look back with remorse or regret?
I mustn’t remember[1414]――I want to forget.
[1415]Landlord, the bottle![1416] That’s pretty good stuff;
Though I reckon I’ve seen and tasted enough.
It’s a year since I’ve drawn a sober breath.
The doctors all say I will go to my death
If I do not leave off――you may laugh and scoff;
But somehow or other, between me and you,
I believe what the doctors tell me is true,
For at night when I try to be closing my eyes,
Such horrible visions[1417] before me arise
That I cannot rest, and I walk[1418] the floor
And long for the sleep that is mine no more.
To-night it winds up. Laugh on,[1419] but you’ll see[1420]
That this is the very last night of my spree.
I’ve promised my Bessie, and further, I swore――
She’s got the paper――to taste it no more
After to-night. When I told her I’d sign,
The look on her face made me think of the time
When she stood at the altar,[1421] a beautiful bride,
And I looked on my choice with a good deal of pride.
Ah! many’s the time since I’ve been on this spree,
I’ve seen this good woman get down[1422] on her knee
And ask God, in His goodness, have mercy on me.
To-night it ends up. Do you hear[1423] what I say?――
I’m a man[1424] once again from the New Year’s Day.
Take one with you? Why, I certainly will――[1425]
To-night is my last, and I’ll be drinking my fill.
“Good luck and good health!”――[1426] strange wishes to make
O’er each glass of whiskey and gin that we take.
Good luck! Well, now, fellows, be still,[1427] and we’ll see
The good luck I’ve had since I started this spree.
What with losing the job where I first learned my trade――
I’ve had twenty since, and I’m much afraid
The reason for losing them all is this glass.[1423]
The story of shame and disgrace let us pass;[1429]
I’ll sum up the whole. You all know[1430] it’s true
I could own a nice home――now the rent’s overdue,
Yet, during this time――it is true,[1431] what I say――
I wished myself luck at least ten times a day,
And as for good health! Now, do you think it right,[1432]
When you know it’s destroying your appetite,
To call it good health? Why, I’ve not tasted food
For days at a time. Do you call my health good?
One with the landlord?[1433] To be sure, ev’ry time――
His till has held many a dollar of mine.
Come! set up the poison! To-night is the last――
Then I’ll look upon rum as a thing of the past[1434]
Well, here’s to you,[1435] land―― Ah! you’d play me a trick![1436]
Take off[1437] that red wig with the horns very quick,
Or I’ll put down this glass and be leaving the place.
Boys, look[1438] at the way he’s distorting his face!
Look![1439] look![1440] it’s the devil――a good masquerade[1441]
For those who engage in the rum-selling trade.
Go on[1442] with the game!――you’ll find I’m not afraid――
Ha, ha, ha, ha! at your by-play I scoff――
Whose blood-hound is this?[1443] Keep him off![1444] Keep him
off![1445]
Get out,[1446] you big brute! Don’t you fellows see[1447]
He’s wicked? Will bite? That he’s snapping at me?
My God![1448] see his fangs! all reeking with gore――
[1449]Help! landlord, help! fell[1450] this brute to the floor.
Ah! he’s gone! Take another![1451] my nerves are unstrung,
Quick! Give me the bottle[1452] ere the midnight is rung,
[1453]Ah! whiskey’s[1454] the stuff that will make me feel gay,
And I’ve said I’ve sworn off from the New Year’s Day――
Quick! give me the bottle! Curse you![1455] don’t refuse,
Or I’ll pull you apart,[1456] if my temper I lose――
Now give me a glass! Come, boys, take a drink![1457]
It’s the last you’ll be taking with me, so I think――
O God! what is this?[1458] See, boys――it’s a snake!
Look! the bottle is full――hear the hissing they make――
They crawl[1459] from its neck. For God’s sake, a drink!
Thanks! Boys, here’s luck![1460]
(_Midnight hour strikes._)
’Tis the New Year, I think.
My oath[1461]――yes my oath! Is this sound I hear[1462]
The hour of midnight? Aye, it is the New Year.
(_Throws glass from him._)
Begone from my sight, thou demon of hell!
Boys, here they come![1463] there they go! Ah, the spell
Is o’er. I’m afire![1464] See! It shoots[1465] from my eyes!
I am burning within![1466] There[1467] the red demon lies.
What angel is this?[1468] ’Tis my Bessie to see
If my word has been kept about ending this spree――
No, no, it is black![1469] ’Tis the devil’s device――
He’s claiming a soul as a sacrifice.
Great God! Is this death?[1470] The blood-hound again!
Take him off![1471] Take him off![1472] Do I call you in vain?
He clutches my throat[1473]――he chokes out my life![1474]
Won’t some of you fellows go after my wife?
Must I die here alone? See! they beckon to me.
Oh! if Bessie, my heart-broken wife, could but see
That I kept my word. Won’t――you――kindly――say
I “swore off” for good on the New Year’s Day.[1475]

――_J. N. Fort._

GESTURES.
[1409] Raise glass in left hand.
[1410] Lean head on left hand.
[1411] H. Sw.
[1412] V. H. O.
[1413] Ind. D. O.
[1414] Rise and walk.
[1415] Call to left and sit.
[1416] Motion of pouring out liquor and drinking.
[1417] V. H. F.
[1418] H. Sw.
[1419] H. O.
[1420] Ind. H. O.
[1421] H. F.
[1422] D. F.
[1423] H. O.
[1424] Stand up, thumb in armhole.
[1425] Sit.
[1426] Raise glass in left hand.
[1427] P. H. O.
[1428] Point to left hand.
[1429] P. Sw.
[1430] H. O.
[1431] H. O. emphatic.
[1432] Hand on knee.
[1433] To left.
[1434] H. B.
[1435] Raise left hand with glass.
[1436] Half rise.
[1437] V. Sp.
[1438] Point to left.
[1439] - [1440] Imps.
[1441] Sit.
[1442] H. Sw.
[1443] Rise suddenly, get behind chair, and look down to right.
[1444] B. V. to R.
[1445] Imp.
[1446] V. Sp.
[1447] Ind. D. O.
[1448] B. Cli. up.
[1449] To left.
[1450] Cli. D. O.
[1451] Sit.
[1452] Sp.
[1453] Drink.
[1454] Left Sp.
[1455] Cli. Sp.
[1456] B. Cli. Sp.
[1457] Raise glass.
[1458] Point to glass.
[1459] Sp.
[1460] Drink.
[1461] Raise hand, palm front.
[1462] Listen.
[1463] Point here and there.
[1464] B. to head.
[1465] B. Sp.
[1466] B. to breast.
[1467] Ind. D. O.
[1468] Look to left.
[1469] Left V. H. O.
[1470] B. on breast.
[1471] B. V. H. Par. to R.
[1472] Imp.
[1473] B. to throat.
[1474] Sit.
[1475] Let head drop on left arm on table and the whole body relax.

The Unknown Speaker.

It is the Fourth Day of July, 1776.

In the old State-house[1476] in the city of Philadelphia are gathered half a hundred men to strike[1477] from their limbs the shackles of British despotism. There is silence[1478] in the hall――every face is turned toward the door[1479] where the committee of three, who have been out all night penning a parchment, are soon to enter. The door opens, the committee appears.[1480] That tall man[1481] with the sharp features, the bold brow, and the sand-hued hair, holding the parchment in his hand, is a Virginia farmer, Thomas Jefferson. That stout-built man[1482] with stern look and flashing eye, is a Boston man, one John Adams. And that calm-faced man[1483] with hair drooping in thick curls to his shoulders, that[1484] is the Philadelphia printer, Benjamin Franklin.

The three advance to the table.[1485]

The parchment is laid[1486] there.

Shall it be signed or not? A fierce debate ensues. Jefferson[1487] speaks a few bold words. Adams[1488] pours out his whole soul. The deep-toned voice of Lee[1489] is heard, swelling[1490] in syllables of thunder-like music. But still there is doubt, and one pale-faced man whispers something about “axes,[1491] scaffolds, and gibbet.”

“Gibbet?” echoes a fierce, bold voice through the hall. “Gibbet? They may stretch our necks on all[1492] the gibbets in the land; they may turn every rock[1493] into a scaffold; every tree[1494] into a gallows; every home[1495] into a grave, and yet the words of that parchment[1496] there can never[1497] die! They may pour our blood[1498] on a thousand scaffolds, and yet from every drop that dyes the axe a new champion of freedom will spring[1499] into birth. The British King may blot out[1500] the stars of God from the sky, but he cannot blot out His words written on that parchment[1501] there. The works[1502] of God may perish; His words, never![1503]

“The words of this declaration will live in the world long after our bones are dust. To the mechanic[1504] in his workshop they will speak hope; to the slave[1505] in the mines, freedom; but to the coward kings,[1506] these words will speak in tones of warning[1507] they cannot choose but hear.

“They will be terrible as the flaming syllables on Belshazzar’s wall![1508] They will speak in language startling as the trump of the Archangel[1509] saying: ‘You have trampled on mankind long enough! At last the voice of human woe has pierced[1510] the ear of God, and called His judgment down! You have waded[1511] to thrones through rivers of blood; you have trampled[1512] on the necks of millions of fellow-beings. Now kings, now purple hangmen, for you[1513] come the days of axes and gibbets and scaffolds.’

“Such is the message of that declaration to mankind,[1514] to the kings of the earth. And shall we falter now? And shall we start back[1515] appalled when our feet touch the very threshold[1516] of Freedom?

“Sign[1517] that parchment! Sign,[1518] if the next moment the gibbet’s rope is about your neck! Sign,[1519] if the next minute this hall rings[1520] with the clash of the falling axes! Sign[1521] by all your hopes in life or death, as men, as husbands,[1522] as fathers,[1523] brothers,[1524] sign your names to the parchment, or be accursed[1525] forever!

“Sign, and not only for yourselves, but for all ages,[1526] for that parchment will be the text-book of freedom,[1527] the Bible[1528] of the rights of men forever. Nay,[1529] do not start and whisper with surprise! It is truth,[1530] your own hearts witness it; God[1531] proclaims it. Look at this strange history of a band[1532] of exiles and outcasts, suddenly transformed into a people,[1533] a handful of[1534] men, weak in arms, but mighty[1535] in God-like faith; nay, look at your recent achievements, your Bunker Hill,[1536] your Lexington,[1537] and then tell me, if you can,[1538] that God has not given America to be free!

“It is not given to our poor human intellect to climb to the skies,[1539] and to pierce[1540] the councils of the Almighty One. But methinks I stand among the awful clouds[1541] which veil[1542] the brightness of Jehovah’s throne.

“Methinks I see the recording angel[1543] come trembling up to that throne to speak his dread message. ‘Father,[1544] the old world is baptized[1545] in blood. Father, look with one glance of Thine eternal eye, and behold evermore that terrible[1546] sight, man trodden beneath the oppressor’s feet, nations lost in blood, murder and superstition walking hand in hand over the graves of the victims, and not a single voice[1547] to whisper hope to man!’

“He stands there,[1548] the angel, trembling with the record of human guilt. But hark![1549] The voice of Jehovah speaks from out the awful cloud: ‘Let there be light again! Tell my people, the poor and oppressed, to go out from the old world, from oppression and blood, and build my altar in the new!’

“As I live, my friends, I believe that to be His voice! Yes, were my soul trembling on the verge[1550] of eternity, were this hand[1551] freezing in death, were this voice choking[1552] in the last struggle, I would still, with the last impulse of that soul, with the last wave[1553] of that hand, with the last gasp of that voice, implore[1554] you to remember this truth――God has given America to be free![1555] Yes, as I sank[1556] into the gloomy shadows of the grave, with my last faint whisper I would beg you to sign[1557] that parchment for the sake of the millions whose very breath is now hushed[1558] in intense expectation as they look up to you for the awful words, ‘You are free!’”[1559]

The unknown speaker fell exhausted in his seat, but the work was done. A wild murmur runs[1560] through the hall. “Sign!” There is no doubt now. Look how they rush forward![1561] Stout-hearted John Hancock has scarcely time to sign his bold name before the pen is grasped by another,[1562] another,[1563] and another.[1564] Look how the names blaze[1565] on the parchment! Adams and Lee, Jefferson and Carroll, Franklin and Sherman!

And now the parchment is signed.

Now, old man[1566] in the steeple, now bare your arm and let the bell speak![1567] Hark[1568] to the music of that bell! Is there not a poetry in that sound, a poetry more sublime than that of Shakespeare[1569] and Milton? Is there not a music in that sound that reminds you of those sublime tones which broke from angel lips when the news of the child Jesus burst on the hill-tops of Bethlehem?[1570] For the tones of that bell now come pealing, pealing, pealing.[1571] “Independence now[1572] and Independence forever.”[1573]

GESTURES.
[1476] H. O.
[1477] B. D. L.
[1478] P. H. O.
[1479] Left H. O.
[1480] Left H. O.
[1481] Left Ind. H. O.
[1482] Left Ind. H. O.
[1483] Left H. O.
[1484] Left Ind. H. O.
[1485] Right hand sweep
from left to H. F.
[1486] P. H. F.
[1487] H. O.
[1488] Left H. O.
[1489] H. F.
[1490] H. Sw.
[1491] Hand to mouth, sustained.
[1492] B. H. O.
[1493] D. O.
[1494] H. O.
[1495] Left H. O.
[1496] Ind. H. F.
[1497] Ind. D. F.
[1498] B. D. F.
[1499] Raise P.
[1500] V. A. Sw.
[1501] Ind. H. F.
[1502] H. O.
[1503] D. O.
[1504] H. O.
[1505] Left D. O.
[1506] P. Ind. H. O.
[1507] Ind. Impulses.
[1508] Trace as though on wall.
[1509] A. O.
[1510] Ind. A. O.
[1511] B. H. F., palms facing.
[1512] B. P. D. O.
[1513] H. O.
[1514] H. Sw.
[1515] Sp. body.
[1516] D. F.
[1517] - [1518] - [1519] Ind. H. F.
[1520] A. Sw.
[1521] Ind. H. F.
[1522] H. O.
[1523] - [1524] Impulses.
[1525] Cli. D.
[1526] B. H. O.
[1527] A. O.
[1528] H. O.
[1529] V. H. F.
[1530] H. F.
[1531] A. O.
[1532] H. F.
[1533] H. O.
[1534] H. F.
[1535] Cli. raised.
[1536] H. O.
[1537] Imp.
[1538] H. F.
[1539] A. O.
[1540] Ind. A. O.
[1541] B. A. O.
[1542] B. V. A. O.
[1543] A. O.
[1544] A. O., sustained to victims; eyes follow this gesture.
[1545] Left P. D. L.
[1546] Left V. D. L.
[1547] B. D. L.
[1548] A. O.
[1549] Lis. to R. A., sustained during and to end of quotation.
[1550] D. F.
[1551] H. F.
[1552] To throat.
[1553] Sp.
[1554] B. H. F.
[1555] B. H. O.
[1556] B. D. F.
[1557] Ind. H. F.]
[1558] B. P. H. O.
[1559] B. H. O.
[1560] H. Sw.
[1561] H. F.
[1562] - [1563] - [1564] Imps.
[1565] Trace with finger.
[1566] A. F.
[1567] A. Sw.
[1568] Lis.
[1569] Left H. L.
[1570] Left H. B.
[1571] A. Sw.
[1572] H. F.
[1573] H. Sw.

JUVENILES.

The Boy and the Boot.

“Bother!” was all that John Clatterby said;
His breath came quick and his cheeks were red,
He flourished his elbows and looked absurd,
While, over and over, his “Bother!” I heard.