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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6, by 
+Charles H. Sylvester
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6
+
+Author: Charles H. Sylvester
+
+Release Date: June 19, 2007 [EBook #21864]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND, VOL. 6 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Julia Miller, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of changes is
+found at the end of the book. Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation
+have been maintained. A list of those words is found at the end of the
+book. Oe ligatures have been expanded. The original book used both
+numerical and symbolic footnote markers. This version follows the
+original usage.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE TOURNAMENT]
+
+
+
+
+                    Journeys
+                Through Bookland
+
+               A NEW AND ORIGINAL
+        PLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE
+            WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE
+                  FOR CHILDREN
+
+                      _BY_
+             CHARLES H. SYLVESTER
+  _Author of English and American Literature_
+
+                   VOLUME SIX
+                 _New Edition_
+
+                 [Illustration]
+
+                    Chicago
+             BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY
+                   PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+  Copyright, 1922
+  BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                     PAGE
+  HORATIUS                                           _Lord Macaulay_    1
+  LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER                            _Thomas Campbell_   23
+  SIR WALTER SCOTT                                 _Grace E. Sellon_   26
+  THE TOURNAMENT                                  _Sir Walter Scott_   38
+  THE RAINBOW                                      _Thomas Campbell_   91
+  THE LION AND THE MISSIONARY                    _David Livingstone_   93
+  THE MOSS ROSE                         _Translated from Krummacher_   98
+  FOUR DUCKS ON A POND                           _William Allingham_   98
+  RAB AND HIS FRIENDS                             _John Brown, M.D._   99
+  ANNIE LAURIE                                     _William Douglas_  119
+  THE BLIND LASSIE                                     _T. C. Latto_  120
+  BOYHOOD                                       _Washington Allston_  122
+  SWEET AND LOW                                    _Alfred Tennyson_  122
+  CHILDHOOD                                     _Donald G. Mitchell_  124
+  THE BUGLE SONG                                   _Alfred Tennyson_  133
+  THE IMITATION OF CHRIST                          _Thomas à Kempis_  134
+  THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB                        _Lord Byron_  141
+  RUTH                                                                143
+  THE VISION OF BELSHAZZAR                              _Lord Byron_  153
+  SOHRAB AND RUSTEM                                                   157
+  SOHRAB AND RUSTUM                                 _Matthew Arnold_  173
+  THE POET AND THE PEASANT                         _Emile Souvestre_  206
+  JOHN HOWARD PAYNE AND _Home, Sweet Home_                            221
+  AULD LANG SYNE                                      _Robert Burns_  228
+  HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD               _Alfred Tennyson_  231
+  CHARLES DICKENS                                                     232
+  A CHRISTMAS CAROL                                _Charles Dickens_  244
+  CHRISTMAS IN OLD TIME                           _Sir Walter Scott_  356
+  ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD                _Thomas Gray_  360
+  THE SHIPWRECK                             _Robert Louis Stevenson_  371
+  ELEPHANT HUNTING                         _Roualeyn Gordon Cumming_  385
+  SOME CLEVER MONKEYS                                  _Thomas Belt_  402
+  POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC                         _Benjamin Franklin_  407
+  GEORGE ROGERS CLARK                                                 422
+  THE CAPTURE OF VINCENNES                     _George Rogers Clark_  428
+  THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK                          _Edgar Allan Poe_  453
+  THE MODERN BELLE                                           _Stark_  463
+  WIDOW MACHREE                                       _Samuel Lover_  464
+  LIMESTONE BROTH                                   _Gerald Griffin_  467
+  THE KNOCK-OUT                                      _Davy Crockett_  471
+  THE COUNTRY SQUIRE                                _Thomas Yriarte_  474
+  TO MY INFANT SON                                     _Thomas Hood_  478
+
+  PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES                                       481
+
+For Classification of Selections, see General Index, at end of Volume X
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                     PAGE
+  THE TOURNAMENT (Color Plate)              _Donn P. Crane_  FRONTISPIECE
+  THE LONG ARRAY OF HELMETS BRIGHT               _Herbert N. Rudeen_    5
+  "LIE THERE," HE CRIED, "FELL PIRATE"           _Herbert N. Rudeen_   13
+  HORATIO IN HIS HARNESS, HALTING UPON ONE KNEE  _Herbert N. Rudeen_   21
+  "BOATMAN, DO NOT TARRY"                        _Herbert N. Rudeen_   24
+  SIR WALTER SCOTT (Halftone)                                          26
+  ABBOTSFORD (Color Plate)                                             30
+  THRONG GOING TO THE LISTS                          _R. F. Babcock_   41
+  THE DISINHERITED KNIGHT UNHORSES BRYAN             _R. F. Babcock_   59
+  THE ARMOUR MAKERS                                  _R. F. Babcock_   69
+  PRINCE JOHN THROWS DOWN THE TRUNCHEON              _R. F. Babcock_   85
+  ROWENA CROWNING DISINHERITED KNIGHT                _R. F. Babcock_   89
+  "RAB, YE THIEF!"                               _Herbert N. Rudeen_  103
+  JAMES BURIED HIS WIFE                          _Herbert N. Rudeen_  117
+  SHE REACHES DOWN TO DIP HER TOE                _Herbert N. Rudeen_  125
+  POOR TRAY IS DEAD                              _Herbert N. Rudeen_  132
+  "WHITHER THOU GOEST, I WILL GO"                    _R. F. Babcock_  145
+  RUTH GLEANING                                      _R. F. Babcock_  147
+  THE WRITING ON THE WALL                              _Louis Grell_  155
+  SOHRAB AND PERAN-WISA (Color Plate)                  _Louis Grell_  174
+  PERAN-WISA GIVES SOHRAB'S CHALLENGE                _R. F. Babcock_  179
+  THE SPEAR RENT THE TOUGH PLATES                    _R. F. Babcock_  191
+  RUSTUM SORROWS OVER SOHRAB                         _R. F. Babcock_  203
+  MATTHEW ARNOLD (Halftone)                                           204
+  JOHN HOWARD PAYNE (Halftone)                                        222
+  THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME                   _Iris Weddell White_  225
+  FOR AULD LANG SYNE                             _Herbert N. Rudeen_  230
+  CHARLES DICKENS (Halftone)                                          232
+  THE CLERK SMILED FAINTLY                      _Iris Weddell White_  255
+  "IN LIFE I WAS YOUR PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY"    _Iris Weddell White_  263
+  IN THE BEST PARLOR                            _Iris Weddell White_  281
+  THE FIDDLER STRUCK UP "SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY" _Iris Weddell White_  285
+  UPON THE COUCH THERE SAT A JOLLY GIANT        _Iris Weddell White_  297
+  BOB AND TINY TIM (Color Plate)                      _Hazel Frazee_  304
+  THERE NEVER WAS SUCH A GOOSE                  _Iris Weddell White_  307
+  "SO I AM TOLD," RETURNED THE SECOND           _Iris Weddell White_  329
+  HE READ HIS OWN NAME                          _Iris Weddell White_  344
+  HE STOOD BY THE WINDOW--GLORIOUS!             _Iris Weddell White_  348
+  "A MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOB!"                     _Iris Weddell White_  355
+  HOMEWARD PLODS HIS WEARY WAY                       _R. F. Babcock_  361
+  THE COUNTRY CHURCHYARD                             _R. F. Babcock_  369
+  I FOUND I WAS HOLDING TO A SPAR                _Herbert N. Rudeen_  372
+  WITH BEATING HEART I APPROACHED A VIEW             _R. F. Babcock_  397
+  A CEBUS MONKEY                                 _Herbert N. Rudeen_  405
+  THE SLEEPING FOX CATCHES NO POULTRY            _Herbert N. Rudeen_  411
+  CLARK TOOK THE LEAD                                _R. F. Babcock_  433
+  WE MET AT THE CHURCH                               _R. F. Babcock_  449
+  "WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY"                    _Herbert N. Rudeen_  455
+  IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND          _Herbert N. Rudeen_  458
+  "FAITH, I WISH YOU'D TAKE ME!"                 _Herbert N. Rudeen_  465
+  HE SOON SEES A FARMHOUSE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE  _Herbert N. Rudeen_  468
+  THE SQUIRE'S LIBRARY                          _Iris Weddell White_  475
+  "THERE GOES MY INK!"                              _Lucille Enders_  479
+
+
+
+HORATIUS
+
+_By_ LORD MACAULAY
+
+
+     NOTE.--This spirited poem by Lord Macaulay is founded on one of the
+     most popular Roman legends. While the story is based on facts, we
+     can by no means be certain that all of the details are historical.
+
+     According to Roman legendary history, the Tarquins, Lucius
+     Tarquinius Priscus and Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, were among the
+     early kings of Rome. The reign of the former was glorious, but that
+     of the latter was most unjust and tyrannical. Finally the
+     unscrupulousness of the king and his son reached such a point that
+     it became unendurable to the people, who in 509 B. C. rose in
+     rebellion and drove the entire family from Rome. Tarquinius
+     Superbus appealed to Lars Porsena, the powerful king of Clusium for
+     aid and the story of the expedition against Rome is told in this
+     poem.
+
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium[1-1]
+      By the Nine Gods[1-2] he swore
+    That the great house of Tarquin
+      Should suffer wrong no more.
+    By the Nine Gods he swore it,
+      And named a trysting day,
+    And bade his messengers ride forth
+    East and west and south and north,
+      To summon his array.
+
+    East and west and south and north
+      The messengers ride fast,
+    And tower and town and cottage
+      Have heard the trumpet's blast.
+    Shame on the false Etruscan
+      Who lingers in his home,
+    When Porsena of Clusium
+      Is on the march for Rome.
+
+    The horsemen and the footmen
+      Are pouring in amain
+    From many a stately market-place;
+      From many a fruitful plain.
+    From many a lonely hamlet,
+      Which, hid by beech and pine,
+    Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest
+      Of purple Apennine;
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    There be thirty chosen prophets,
+      The wisest of the land,
+    Who alway by Lars Porsena
+      Both morn and evening stand:
+    Evening and morn the Thirty
+      Have turned the verses o'er,
+    Traced from the right on linen white[2-3]
+      By mighty seers of yore.
+
+    And with one voice the Thirty
+      Have their glad answer given:
+    "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;
+      Go forth, beloved of Heaven:
+    Go, and return in glory
+      To Clusium's royal dome;
+    And hang round Nurscia's[3-4] altars
+      The golden shields of Rome."
+
+    And now hath every city
+      Sent up her tale[3-5] of men:
+    The foot are fourscore thousand,
+      The horse are thousand ten.
+    Before the gates of Sutrium[3-6]
+      Is met the great array.
+    A proud man was Lars Porsena
+      Upon the trysting day.
+
+    For all the Etruscan armies
+      Were ranged beneath his eye,
+    And many a banished Roman,
+      And many a stout ally;
+    And with a mighty following
+      To join the muster came
+    The Tusculan Mamilius,
+      Prince of the Latian[3-7] name.
+
+    But by the yellow Tiber
+      Was tumult and affright:
+    From all the spacious champaign[3-8]
+      To Rome men took their flight.
+    A mile around the city,
+      The throng stopped up the ways;
+    A fearful sight it was to see
+      Through two long nights and days.
+
+    For aged folks on crutches,
+      And women great with child,
+    And mothers sobbing over babes
+      That clung to them and smiled,
+    And sick men borne in litters
+      High on the necks of slaves,
+    And troops of sunburnt husbandmen
+      With reaping-hooks and staves,
+
+    And droves of mules and asses
+      Laden with skins of wine,
+    And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
+      And endless herds of kine,
+    And endless trains of wagons
+      That creaked beneath the weight
+    Of corn-sacks and of household goods,
+      Choked every roaring gate.
+
+    Now, from the rock Tarpeian[4-9]
+      Could the wan burghers spy
+    The line of blazing villages
+      Red in the midnight sky.
+    The Fathers of the City,[5-10]
+      They sat all night and day,
+    For every hour some horseman came
+      With tidings of dismay.
+
+    To eastward and to westward
+      Have spread the Tuscan bands;
+    Nor house nor fence nor dovecote
+      In Crustumerium stands.
+    Verbenna down to Ostia[5-11]
+      Hath wasted all the plain;
+    Astur hath stormed Janiculum,[5-12]
+      And the stout guards are slain.
+
+    Iwis,[5-13] in all the Senate,
+      There was no heart so bold,
+    But sore it ached, and fast it beat,
+      When that ill news was told.
+    Forthwith up rose the Consul,[5-14]
+      Uprose the Fathers all;
+    In haste they girded up their gowns,
+      And hied them to the wall.
+
+    They held a council standing
+      Before the River-Gate;
+    Short time was there, ye well may guess,
+      For musing or debate.
+    Out spake the Consul roundly:
+      "The bridge must straight go down;
+    For since Janiculum is lost,
+      Naught else can save the town."
+
+    Just then a scout came flying,
+      All wild with haste and fear;
+    "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
+      Lars Porsena is here."
+    On the low hills to westward
+      The Consul fixed his eye,
+    And saw the swarthy storm of dust
+      Rise fast along the sky.
+
+    And nearer fast and nearer
+      Doth the red whirlwind come;
+    And louder still and still more loud,
+    From underneath that rolling cloud,
+    Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud,
+      The trampling, and the hum.
+    And plainly and more plainly
+      Now through the gloom appears,
+    Far to left and far to right,
+    In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
+    The long array of helmets bright,
+      The long array of spears.
+
+    And plainly, and more plainly
+      Above that glimmering line,
+    Now might ye see the banners
+      Of twelve fair cities shine;
+    But the banner of proud Clusium
+      Was highest of them all,
+    The terror of the Umbrian,
+      The terror of the Gaul.
+
+    Fast by the royal standard,
+      O'erlooking all the war,
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium
+      Sat in his ivory car.
+    By the right wheel rode Mamilius,
+      Prince of the Latian name,
+    And by the left false Sextus,[7-15]
+      That wrought the deed of shame.
+
+[Illustration: THE LONG ARRAY OF HELMETS BRIGHT]
+
+    But when the face of Sextus
+      Was seen among the foes,
+    A yell that bent the firmament
+      From all the town arose.
+    On the house-tops was no woman
+      But spat toward him and hissed,
+    No child but screamed out curses,
+      And shook its little fist.
+
+    But the Consul's brow was sad,
+      And the Consul's speech was low,
+    And darkly looked he at the wall,
+      And darkly at the foe.
+    "Their van will be upon us
+      Before the bridge goes down;
+    And if they once may win the bridge,
+      What hope to save the town?"
+
+    Then out spake brave Horatius,
+      The Captain of the Gate:
+    "To every man upon this earth
+      Death cometh soon or late.
+    And how can man die better
+      Than facing fearful odds,
+    For the ashes of his fathers,
+      And the temples of his gods,
+
+    "And for the tender mother
+      Who dandled him to rest,
+    And for the wife who nurses
+      His baby at her breast,
+    And for the holy maidens
+      Who feed the eternal flame,[8-16]
+    To save them from false Sextus
+      That wrought the deed of shame?
+
+    "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
+      With all the speed ye may;
+    I, with two more to help me,
+      Will hold the foe in play.
+    In yon strait path a thousand
+      May well be stopped by three.
+    Now who will stand on either hand,
+      And keep the bridge with me?"
+
+    Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
+      A Ramnian proud was he:
+    "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
+      And keep the bridge with thee."
+    And out spake strong Herminius;
+      Of Titian blood was he:
+    "I will abide on thy left side,
+      And keep the bridge with thee."
+
+    "Horatius," quoth the Consul,
+      "As thou sayest, so let it be."
+    And straight against that great array
+      Forth went the dauntless Three.
+    For Romans in Rome's quarrel
+      Spared neither land nor gold,
+    Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    Then none was for a party;
+      Then all were for the state;
+    Then the great man helped the poor,
+      And the poor man loved the great:
+    Then lands were fairly portioned;
+      Then spoils were fairly sold:
+    The Romans were like brothers
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    Now while the Three were tightening
+      Their harness on their backs,
+    The Consul was the foremost man
+      To take in hand an axe:
+    And Fathers mixed with Commons[10-17]
+      Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
+    And smote upon the planks above,
+      And loosed the props below.
+
+    Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
+      Right glorious to behold,
+    Came flashing back the noonday light,
+    Rank behind rank, like surges bright
+      Of a broad sea of gold.
+    Four hundred trumpets sounded
+      A peal of warlike glee,
+    As that great host, with measured tread,
+    And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
+    Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head,
+      Where stood the dauntless Three.
+
+    The Three stood calm and silent,
+      And looked upon the foes,
+    And a great shout of laughter
+      From all the vanguard rose;
+    And forth three chiefs came spurring
+      Before that deep array;
+    To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
+    And lifted high their shields, and flew
+      To win the narrow way;
+
+    Aunus from green Tifernum,[11-18]
+      Lord of the Hill of Vines;
+    And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
+      Sicken in Ilva's mines;
+    And Picus, long to Clusium
+      Vassal in peace and war,
+    Who led to fight his Umbrian powers
+    From that gray crag where, girt with towers,
+    The fortress of Nequinum lowers
+      O'er the pale waves of Nar.
+
+    Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
+      Into the stream beneath:
+    Herminius struck at Seius,
+      And clove him to the teeth:
+    At Picus brave Horatius
+      Darted one fiery thrust;
+    And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms
+      Clashed in the bloody dust.
+
+    Then Ocnus of Falerii
+      Rushed on the Roman Three:
+    And Lausulus of Urgo,
+      The rover of the sea;
+    And Aruns of Volsinium,
+      Who slew the great wild boar,
+    The great wild boar that had his den
+    Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen,
+    And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
+      Along Albinia's shore.
+
+    Herminius smote down Aruns:
+      Lartius laid Ocnus low:
+    Right to the heart of Lausulus
+      Horatius sent a blow.
+    "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate!
+      No more, aghast and pale,
+    From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark
+    The track of thy destroying bark.
+    No more Campania's[12-19] hinds[12-20] shall fly
+    To woods and caverns when they spy
+      Thy thrice accursed sail."
+
+    But now no sound of laughter
+      Was heard among the foes.
+    A wild and wrathful clamor
+      From all the vanguard rose.
+    Six spears' lengths from the entrance
+      Halted that deep array,
+    And for a space no man came forth
+      To win the narrow way.
+
+    But hark! the cry is Astur:
+      And lo! the ranks divide;
+    And the great Lord of Luna
+      Comes with his stately stride.
+    Upon his ample shoulders
+      Clangs loud the fourfold shield,
+    And in his hand he shakes the brand
+      Which none but he can wield.
+
+[Illustration: "LIE THERE," HE CRIED, "FELL PIRATE!"]
+
+    He smiled on those bold Romans
+      A smile serene and high;
+    He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
+      And scorn was in his eye.
+    Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter[14-21]
+      Stand savagely at bay:
+    But will ye dare to follow,
+      If Astur clears the way?"
+
+    Then, whirling up his broadsword
+      With both hands to the height,
+    He rushed against Horatius,
+      And smote with all his might.
+    With shield and blade Horatius
+      Right deftly turned the blow.
+    The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;
+    It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
+    The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
+      To see the red blood flow.
+
+    He reeled, and on Herminius
+      He leaned one breathing-space;
+    Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds,
+      Sprang right at Astur's face.
+    Through teeth, and skull, and helmet,
+      So fierce a thrust he sped,
+    The good sword stood a handbreadth out
+      Behind the Tuscan's head.
+
+    And the great Lord of Luna
+      Fell at that deadly stroke,
+    As falls on Mount Alvernus
+      A thunder-smitten oak.
+    Far o'er the crashing forest
+      The giant arms lie spread;
+    And the pale augurs, muttering low,
+      Gaze on the blasted head.
+
+    On Astur's throat Horatius
+      Right firmly pressed his heel,
+    And thrice and four times tugged amain,
+      Ere he wrenched out the steel.
+    "And see," he cried, "the welcome,
+      Fair guests, that waits you here!
+    What noble Lucumo comes next
+      To taste our Roman cheer?"
+
+    But at his haughty challenge
+      A sullen murmur ran,
+    Mingled of wrath and shame and dread,
+      Along that glittering van.
+    There lacked not men of prowess,
+      Nor men of lordly race;
+    For all Etruria's noblest
+      Were round the fatal place.
+
+    But all Etruria's noblest
+      Felt their hearts sink to see
+    On the earth the bloody corpses,
+      In the path the dauntless Three:
+    And, from the ghastly entrance
+      Where those bold Romans stood,
+    All shrank, like boys who unaware,
+    Ranging the woods to start a hare,
+    Come to the mouth of the dark lair
+    Where, growling low, a fierce old bear
+      Lies amidst bones and blood.
+
+    Was none who would be foremost
+      To lead such dire attack:
+    But those behind cried "Forward!"
+      And those before cried "Back!"
+    And backward now and forward
+      Wavers the deep array;
+    And on the tossing sea of steel,
+    To and fro the standards reel;
+    And the victorious trumpet-peal
+      Dies fitfully away.
+
+    Yet one man for one moment
+      Stood out before the crowd;
+    Well known was he to all the Three,
+      And they gave him greeting loud.
+    "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
+      Now welcome to thy home!
+    Why dost thou stay, and turn away?
+      Here lies the road to Rome."
+
+    Thrice looked he at the city;
+      Thrice looked he at the dead;
+    And thrice came on in fury,
+      And thrice turned back in dread;
+    And, white with fear and hatred,
+      Scowled at the narrow way
+    Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
+      The bravest Tuscans lay.
+
+    But meanwhile axe and lever
+      Have manfully been plied;
+    And now the bridge hangs tottering
+      Above the boiling tide.
+    "Come back, come back, Horatius!"
+      Loud cried the Fathers all.
+    "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
+      Back, ere the ruin fall!"
+
+    Back darted Spurius Lartius;
+      Herminius darted back:
+    And, as they passed, beneath their feet
+      They felt the timbers crack.
+    But when they turned their faces,
+      And on the farther shore
+    Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
+      They would have crossed once more.
+
+    But with a crash like thunder
+      Fell every loosened beam,
+    And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
+      Lay right athwart the stream;
+    And a long shout of triumph
+      Rose from the walls of Rome,
+    As to the highest turret-tops
+      Was splashed the yellow foam.
+
+    And, like a horse unbroken
+      When first he feels the rein,
+    The furious river struggled hard,
+      And tossed his tawny mane,
+    And burst the curb, and bounded,
+      Rejoicing to be free,
+    And whirling down, in fierce career,
+    Battlement, and plank, and pier,
+      Rushed headlong to the sea.
+
+    Alone stood brave Horatius,
+      But constant still in mind;
+    Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
+      And the broad flood behind.
+    "Down with him!" cried false Sextus,
+      With a smile on his pale face.
+    "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena,
+      "Now yield thee to our grace."
+
+    Round turned he, as not deigning
+      Those craven ranks to see;
+    Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,
+      To Sextus naught spake he;
+    But he saw on Palatinus[18-22]
+      The white porch of his home;
+    And he spake to the noble river
+      That rolls by the towers of Rome.
+
+    "O Tiber! father Tiber![18-23]
+      To whom the Romans pray,
+    A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
+      Take thou in charge this day!"
+    So he spake, and speaking sheathed
+      The good sword by his side,
+    And with his harness on his back
+      Plunged headlong in the tide.
+
+    No sound of joy or sorrow
+      Was heard from either bank;
+    But friends and foes in dumb surprise,
+    With parted lips and straining eyes,
+      Stood gazing where he sank;
+    And when above the surges
+      They saw his crest appear,
+    All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
+    And even the ranks of Tuscany
+      Could scarce forbear to cheer.
+
+    But fiercely ran the current,
+      Swollen high by months of rain:
+    And fast his blood was flowing,
+      And he was sore in pain,
+    And heavy with his armor,
+      And spent with changing blows:
+    And oft they thought him sinking,
+      But still again he rose.
+
+    Never, I ween, did swimmer,
+      In such an evil case,
+    Struggle through such a raging flood
+      Safe to the landing-place:
+    But his limbs were borne up bravely
+      By the brave heart within,
+    And our good father Tiber
+      Bore bravely up his chin.
+
+    "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus;
+      "Will not the villain drown?
+    But for this stay, ere close of day
+      We should have sacked the town!"
+    "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena,
+      "And bring him safe to shore;
+    For such a gallant feat of arms
+      Was never seen before."
+
+    And now he feels the bottom;
+      Now on dry earth he stands;
+    Now round him throng the Fathers
+      To press his gory hands;
+    And now, with shouts and clapping,
+      And noise of weeping loud,
+    He enters through the River-Gate,
+      Borne by the joyous crowd.
+
+    They gave him of the corn-land,
+      That was of public right,
+    As much as two strong oxen
+      Could plow from morn till night;
+    And they made a molten image,
+      And set it up on high,
+    And there it stands unto this day
+      To witness if I lie.
+
+    It stands in the Comitium,[20-24]
+      Plain for all folk to see;
+    Horatius in his harness,
+      Halting upon one knee:
+    And underneath is written,
+      In letters all of gold,
+    How valiantly he kept the bridge
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    And still his name sounds stirring
+      Unto the men of Rome,
+    As the trumpet-blast that cries to them
+      To charge the Volscian[20-25] home;
+    And wives still pray to Juno[20-26]
+      For boys with hearts as bold
+    As his who kept the bridge so well
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    And in the nights of winter,
+      When the cold north-winds blow,
+    And the long howling of the wolves
+      Is heard amidst the snow;
+    When round the lonely cottage
+      Roars loud the tempest's din,
+    And the good logs of Algidus
+      Roar louder yet within:
+
+[Illustration: HORATIUS IN HIS HARNESS, HALTING UPON ONE KNEE]
+
+    When the oldest cask is opened,
+      And the largest lamp is lit;
+    When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
+      And the kid turns on the spit;
+    When young and old in circle
+      Around the firebrands close;
+    And the girls are weaving baskets,
+      And the lads are shaping bows;
+
+    When the goodman mends his armor,
+      And trims his helmet's plume;
+    When the goodwife's shuttle merrily
+      Goes flashing through the loom,--
+    With weeping and with laughter
+      Still is the story told,
+    How well Horatius kept the bridge
+      In the brave days of old.[22-27]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1-1] Clusium was a powerful town in Etruria.
+
+[1-2] According to the religion of the Etruscans there were nine great
+gods. An oath by them was considered the most binding oath that a man
+could take.
+
+[2-3] This line shows us that the writing of the Etruscans was done
+backwards, as we should consider it; that is, they wrote from right to
+left instead of from left to right.
+
+[3-4] Nurscia was a city of the Sabines.
+
+[3-5] _Tale_ here means _number_.
+
+[3-6] Sutrium was an Etruscan town twenty-nine miles from Rome.
+
+[3-7] The Latins were an Italian race who, even before the dawn of
+history, dwelt on the plains south of the Tiber. Rome was supposed to be
+a colony of Alba Longa, the chief Latin city, but the Latin peoples were
+in the fourth century brought into complete subjection to Rome.
+
+[3-8] _Champaign_, or _campagna_, means any open, level tract of
+country. The name is specifically applied to the extensive plains about
+Rome.
+
+[4-9] A part of the Capitoline, one of the seven hills on which Rome is
+built, was called the Tarpeian Rock, after Tarpeia, daughter of an early
+governor of the citadel on the Capitoline. According to the popular
+legend, when the Sabines came against Rome, Tarpeia promised to open the
+gate of the fortress to them if they would give her what they wore on
+their left arms. It was their jewelry which she coveted, but she was
+punished for her greed and treachery, for when the soldiers had entered
+the fortress they hurled their shields upon her, crushing her to death.
+
+[5-10] _Fathers of the City_ was the name given to the members of the
+Roman Senate.
+
+[5-11] Ostia was the port of Rome, situated at the mouth of the Tiber.
+
+[5-12] Janiculum is a hill on the west bank of the Tiber at Rome. It was
+strongly fortified, and commanded the approach to Rome.
+
+[5-13] _Iwis_ is an obsolete word meaning _truly_.
+
+[5-14] When the kings were banished from Rome the people vowed that
+never again should one man hold the supreme power. Two chief rulers were
+therefore chosen, and were given the name of _consuls_.
+
+[7-15] Sextus was the son of the last king of Rome. It was a shameful
+deed of his which finally roused the people against the Tarquin family.
+
+[8-16] In the temple of the goddess Vesta a sacred flame was kept
+burning constantly, and it was thought that the consequences to the city
+would be most dire if the fire were allowed to go out. The Vestal
+virgins, priestesses who tended the flame, were held in the highest
+honor.
+
+[10-17] The Roman people were divided into two classes, the patricians,
+to whom belonged all the privileges of citizenship, and the plebeians,
+who were not allowed to hold office or even to own property. Macaulay
+gives the English name _Commons_ to the plebeians.
+
+[11-18] A discussion as to who these chiefs were, or as to where the
+places mentioned were located, would be profitless. The notes attempt to
+give only such information as will aid in understanding the story.
+
+[12-19] _Campania_ is another name for the campagna.
+
+[12-20] _Hinds_ here means _peasants_.
+
+[14-21] Romulus, the founder of Rome, and Remus, his brother, were,
+according to the legend, rescued and brought up by a she-wolf, after
+they had been cast into the Tiber to die.
+
+[18-22] The Palatine is one of the seven hills of Rome.
+
+[18-23] The Romans personified the Tiber River, and even offered prayers
+to it.
+
+[20-24] The Comitium was the old Roman polling-place, a square situated
+between the Forum and the Senate House.
+
+[20-25] The Volscians were among the most determined of the Italian
+enemies of Rome.
+
+[20-26] Juno was the goddess who was thought of as presiding over
+marriage and the birth of children.
+
+[22-27] You can tell from these last three stanzas, that Macaulay is
+writing his poem, not as an Englishman of the nineteenth century, but as
+if he were a Roman in the days when Rome, though powerful, had not yet
+become the luxurious city which it afterward was. That is, he thought of
+himself as writing in the days of the Republic, not in the days of the
+Empire.
+
+
+
+
+LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER
+
+_By_ THOMAS CAMPBELL
+
+
+    A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
+      Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
+    And I'll give thee a silver pound,
+      To row us o'er the ferry."
+
+    "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
+      This dark and stormy water?"
+    "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
+      And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
+
+    "And fast before her father's men
+      Three days we've fled together,
+    For should he find us in the glen,
+      My blood would stain the heather.
+
+    "His horsemen hard behind us ride;
+      Should they our steps discover,
+    Then who will cheer my bonny bride
+      When they have slain her lover?"
+
+    Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
+      "I'll go, my chief--I'm ready;
+    It is not for your silver bright,
+      But for your winsome lady:
+
+    "And by my word! the bonny bird
+      In danger shall not tarry;
+    So though the waves are raging white,
+      I'll row you o'er the ferry."
+
+[Illustration: "BOATMAN, DO NOT TARRY!"]
+
+    By this the storm grew loud apace,
+      The water-wraith was shrieking;
+    And in the scowl of heaven each face
+      Grew dark as they were speaking.
+
+    But still as wilder blew the wind,
+      And as the night grew drearer,
+    Adown the glen rode armed men,
+      Their trampling sounded nearer.
+
+    "O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
+      "Though tempests round us gather;
+    I'll meet the raging of the skies,
+      But not an angry father."
+
+    The boat had left a stormy land,
+      A stormy sea before her,--
+    When, oh! too strong for human hand,
+      The tempest gather'd o'er her.
+
+    And still they row'd amidst the roar
+      Of waters fast prevailing:
+    Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,
+      His wrath was changed to wailing.
+
+    For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade,
+      His child he did discover:--
+    One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
+      And one was round her lover.
+
+    "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
+      "Across this stormy water:
+    And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
+      My daughter!--oh my daughter!"
+
+    'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,
+      Return or aid preventing;
+    The waters wild went o'er his child,
+      And he was left lamenting.
+
+
+
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+_By_ GRACE E. SELLON
+
+
+Of the old and honorable families of Scotland there are perhaps none
+more worthy than those from which were descended the parents of Sir
+Walter Scott. In the long line of ancestors on either side were fearless
+knights and bold chiefs of the Scottish Border whose adventures became a
+delightful heritage to the little boy born into the Edinburgh family of
+Scott in 1771. Perhaps his natural liking for strange and exciting
+events would have made him even more eager than other children to be
+told fairy stories and tales of real heroes of his own land. But even
+had this not been so, the way in which he was forced to spend his early
+childhood was such that entertainment of this kind was about all that he
+could enjoy. He was not two years old when, after a brief illness, he
+lost the use of one of his legs and thus became unable to run about as
+before, or even to stand. Soon afterward he was sent to his
+grandfather's farm at Sandy-Knowe, where it was thought that the country
+life would help him. There he spent his days in listening to lively
+stories of Scotsmen who had lived in the brave and rollicking fashion of
+Robin Hood, in being read to by his aunt or in lying out among the
+rocks, cared for by his grandfather's old shepherd. When thus out of
+doors he found so much of interest about him that he could not lie
+still and would try so hard to move himself about that at length he
+became able to rise to his feet and even to walk and run.
+
+[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT 1771-1832]
+
+Except for his lameness, he grew so well and strong that when he was
+about eight years old he was placed with his brothers in the upper class
+of the Edinburgh grammar school, known as the High School. Though he had
+had some lessons in Latin with a private tutor, he was behind his class
+in this subject, and being a high-spirited and sensitive boy, he felt
+rather keenly this disadvantage. Perhaps the fact that he could not be
+one of the leaders of his class made him careless; at any rate, he could
+never be depended upon to prepare his lesson, and at no time did he make
+a consistently good record. However, he found not a little comfort for
+his failure as a student in his popularity as a storyteller and
+kind-hearted comrade. Among the boys of his own rank in the school he
+won great admiration for his never-ending supply of exciting narratives
+and his willingness to give help upon lessons that he would otherwise
+have left undone.
+
+At the end of three years his class was promoted, and he found the new
+teacher much more to his liking. Indeed, his ability to appreciate the
+meaning and beauty of the Latin works studied became recognized: he
+began to make translations in verse that won praise, and, with a new
+feeling of distinction, he was thus urged on to earnest efforts. After
+leaving this school, he continued his excellent progress in the study of
+Latin for a short time under a teacher in the village of Kelso, where he
+had gone to visit an aunt.
+
+Meanwhile his hours out of school were spent in ways most pleasing to
+his lively imagination. His lameness did not debar him from the most
+active sports, nor even from the vigorous encounters in which, either
+with a single opponent or with company set against company, the Scotch
+schoolboys defended their reputation as hard fighters. One of these
+skirmishes that made a lasting impression upon Walter Scott he himself
+tells us of, and his biographer, Lockhart, has quoted it in describing
+the hardy boyhood days of the great writer. It frequently happened that
+bands of children from different parts of Edinburgh would wage war with
+each other, fighting with stones and clubs and other like weapons.
+Perhaps the city authorities thought that these miniature battles
+afforded good training: at least the police seem not to have interfered.
+The boys in the neighborhood where Walter lived had formed a company
+that had been given a beautiful standard by a young noblewoman. This
+company fought every week with a band composed of boys of the poorer
+classes. The leader of the latter was a fine-looking young fellow who
+bore himself as bravely as any chieftain. In the midst of a hotly fought
+contest, this boy had all but captured the enemy's proudly erected
+standard when he was struck severely to the ground with a cruelly heavy
+weapon. The dismayed companies fled in all directions, and the lad was
+taken to the hospital. In a few days, however, he recovered; and then it
+was that through a friendly baker Walter Scott and his brothers were
+able to get word to their mistreated opponent and to offer a sum of
+money in token of their regret. But Green-breeks, as the young leader
+had been dubbed, refused to accept this, and said besides that they
+might be sure of his not telling what he knew of the affair in which he
+had been hurt, for he felt it a disgrace to be a talebearer. This
+generous conduct so impressed young Scott and his companions that always
+afterward the fighting was fair.
+
+It must have been with not a little difficulty that this warlike spirit
+was subdued and made obedient to the strict rules observed in the
+Presbyterian home on Sunday. To a boy whose mind was filled with
+stirring deeds of adventure and all sorts of vivid legends and romances,
+the long, gloomy services seemed a tiresome burden. Monday, however,
+brought new opportunities for reading favorite poets and works of
+history and travel, and many were the spare moments through the week
+that were spent thus. The marvelous characters and incidents in
+Spenser's _Faerie Queene_ were a never-ending source of enjoyment, and
+later Percy's _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_ was discovered by the
+young reader with a gladness that made him forget everything else in the
+world. "I remember well," he has written, "the spot where I read these
+volumes for the first time. It was beneath a huge platanus tree, in the
+ruins of what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbor in the garden
+I have mentioned. The summer day sped onward so fast that,
+notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of
+dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was found still entranced in my
+intellectual banquet. To read and to remember was in this instance the
+same thing, and henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows, and all who
+would hearken to me, with tragical recitations from the ballads of
+Bishop Percy. The first time, too, I could scrape a few shillings
+together, which were not common occurrences with me, I bought unto
+myself a copy of these beloved volumes; nor do I believe I ever read a
+book half so frequently, or with half the enthusiasm."
+
+After his return from Kelso, Walter was sent to college, but with no
+better results than in the early years at the High School. The Latin
+teacher was so mild in his requirements that it was easy to neglect the
+lessons, and in beginning the study of Greek the boy was again at a
+disadvantage, for nearly all his classmates, unlike himself, knew a
+little of the language. He was scarcely more successful in a private
+course in mathematics, but did well in his classes in moral philosophy.
+History and civil and municipal law completed his list of studies. So
+meager did this education seem that in later years Scott wrote in a
+brief autobiography, "If, however, it should ever fall to the lot of
+youth to peruse these pages--let such a reader remember that it is with
+the deepest regret that I recollect in my manhood the opportunities of
+learning which I neglected in my youth: that through every part of my
+literary career I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance:
+and that I would at this moment give half the reputation I have had the
+good fortune to acquire, if by doing so I could rest the remaining part
+upon a sound foundation of learning and science."
+
+[Illustration: ABBOTSFORD]
+
+It had been decided that Walter should follow his father's profession,
+that of the law, and accordingly he entered his father's office, to
+serve a five years' apprenticeship. Though it may seem surprising, in
+view of his former indolence, it is true that he gave himself to his
+work with great industry. At the same time, however, he continued to
+read stories of adventure and history and other similar works with as
+much zest as ever, and entered into an agreement with a friend whereby
+each was to entertain the other with original romances. The monotony of
+office duties was also relieved by many trips about the country, in
+which the keenest delight was felt in natural beauties and in the
+historical associations of old ruins and battlefields and other places
+of like interest. Then, too, there were literary societies that advanced
+the young law-apprentice both intellectually and socially. Thus the
+years with his father passed. Then, as he was to prepare himself for
+admission to the bar, he entered law classes in the University of
+Edinburgh, with the result that in 1792 he was admitted into the Faculty
+of Advocates.
+
+The first years of his practice, though not without profit, might have
+seemed dull and irksome to the young lawyer, had not his summers been
+spent in journeys about Scotland in which he came into possession of a
+wealth of popular legends and ballads. It was during one of these
+excursions, made in 1797, that he met the attractive young French woman,
+Charlotte Carpenter, who a few months later became his wife. A previous
+and unfortunate love affair had considerably sobered Scott's ardent
+nature, but his friendship and marriage with Miss Carpenter brought him
+much of the happiness of which he had believed himself to have been
+deprived.
+
+The young couple spent their winters in Edinburgh and their summers at
+the suburb Lasswade. During the resting time passed in the country
+cottage, Scott found enjoyment in composing poems based upon some of the
+legends and superstitions with which he had become familiar in his
+jaunts among ruined castles and scenes in the Highlands. Some of these
+verses, shown in an offhand manner to James Ballantyne, who was the head
+of a printing establishment in Kelso, met with such favorable
+recognition that Scott was encouraged to lay bare to his friend a plan
+that had been forming in his mind for publishing a great collection of
+Scotch ballads. As a result Scott entered upon the work of editing them
+and by 1803 had published the three volumes of his _Minstrelsy of the
+Scottish Border_. So successful was this venture that shortly afterward
+he began the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_, a lengthy poem in which his
+keen interest in the thrilling history of the Scottish Border found full
+expression. This poem, published in 1805, was heartily welcomed, and
+opened to its author the career for which he was best fitted.
+
+The popularity of the _Lay_, together with the fact that the young poet
+had won no honors as an advocate, doubtless accounts for his retiring
+from the bar in 1806. He had been made sheriff of Selkirkshire in 1799,
+and to the income thus received was added that of a clerk of the Court
+of Sessions, an office to which he was appointed in 1806. More than
+this, he had in the preceding year become a partner in the Ballantyne
+printing establishment, which had moved to Edinburgh, and his growing
+fame as a writer seemed to promise that his association with this firm
+would bring considerable profit.
+
+With a good income thus assured, Scott was able within the following
+four years to produce besides minor works, two other great poems,
+_Marmion, a Tale of Flodden Field_, and _The Lady of the Lake_. These
+rank with the most stirring and richly colored narrative poems in our
+language. So vivid, indeed, are the pictures of Scottish scenery found
+in _The Lady of the Lake_, that, according to a writer who was living
+when it was published, "The whole country rang with the praises of the
+poet--crowds set off to view the scenery of Loch Katrine, till then
+comparatively unknown; and as the book came out just before the season
+for excursions, every house and inn in that neighborhood was crammed
+with a constant succession of visitors."
+
+This lively and pleasing story, with its graceful verse form, has become
+such a favorite for children's reading, that it seems very amusing to be
+told of the answer given by one of Scott's little daughters to a family
+friend who had asked her how she liked the poem: "Oh, I have not read
+it; papa says there's nothing so bad for young people as reading bad
+poetry." The biographer Lockhart recounts also a little incident in
+which young Walter Scott, returning from school with the marks of battle
+showing plainly on his face, was asked why he had been fighting, and
+replied, looking down in shame, that he had been called a _lassie_.
+Never having heard of even the title of his father's poem, the boy had
+fiercely resented being named, by some of his playmates, _The Lady of
+the Lake_.
+
+In order to fulfil his duties as sheriff, Scott had in 1804 leased the
+estate of Ashestiel, and in this wild and beautiful stretch of country
+on the Tweed River had spent his summers. When his lease expired in
+1811, he bought a farm of one hundred acres extending along the same
+river, and in the following year removed with his family to the cottage
+on this new property. This was the simple beginning of the magnificent
+Abbotsford home. Year after year changes were made, and land was added
+to the estate until by the close of 1824 a great castle had been
+erected. The building and furnishing of this mansion were of the keenest
+interest to its owner, an interest that was expressed probably with most
+delight in the two wonderful armories containing weapons borne by many
+heroes of history, and in the library with its carved oak ceiling, its
+bookcases filled with from fifteen to twenty thousand volumes, among
+which are some of unusual value, and its handsome portrait of the eldest
+of Scott's sons.
+
+The building of this splendid dwelling place shows Scott to have been
+exceptionally prosperous as a writer. Yet his way was by no means always
+smooth. In 1808 he had formed with the Ballantynes a publishing house
+that, as a result of poor management, failed completely in 1813. Scott
+bore the trouble with admirable coolness, and by means of good
+management averted further disaster and made arrangements for the
+continued publication of his works.
+
+By this time he had found through the marked success of his novel
+_Waverley_, published in 1814, that a new and promising field lay before
+him. He decided then to give up poetry and devote himself especially to
+writing romances, in which his love of the picturesque and thrilling in
+history and of the noble and chivalrous in human character could find
+the widest range of expression. With marvelous industry he added one
+after another to the long series of his famous Waverley Novels. Perhaps
+the height of his power was reached in 1819 in the production of
+_Ivanhoe_, though _Waverley_, _Guy Mannering_ and _The Heart of
+Midlothian_, previously written, as well as _Kenilworth_ and _Quentin
+Durward_, published later, must also be given first rank. In the
+intervals of his work on these novels, Scott also wrote reviews and
+essays and miscellaneous articles. He became recognized as the most
+gifted prose writer of his age, and his works, it is said, became "the
+daily food, not only of his countrymen, but of all educated Europe." He
+was sought after with eager homage by the wealthy and notable, and was
+given the title of baronet, yet remained as simple and sincere at heart
+as in the early days of his career.
+
+With the sales of his books amounting to $50,000 or more a year, it is
+not strange that he should have felt his fortune assured. But again, and
+this time with the most serious results, he was deceived by the
+mismanagement of others. The printing firm of James Ballantyne and
+Company, in which he had remained a partner, became bankrupt in 1826.
+Had it not been for a high sense of honor, he would have withdrawn with
+the others of the firm; but the sense of his great debt pressed upon him
+so sorely that he agreed to pay all that he owed, at whatever cost to
+himself. For the remaining six years of his life he worked as hard as
+failing health would allow, and the strain of his labor told on him
+severely.
+
+At length he consented to a trip to southern Europe, but the change did
+not bring back his health. Not long after his return to Abbotsford, in
+1832, he called his son-in-law to his bedside early one morning, and
+speaking in calm tones, said: "Lockhart, I may have but a minute to
+speak to you. My dear, be a good man--be virtuous--be religious--be a
+good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie
+here." After a few words more he asked God's blessing on all in the
+household and then fell into a quiet sleep from which he did not awake
+on earth.
+
+Had Scott lived but a few years longer he would undoubtedly have paid
+off all his voluntarily assumed obligations. As it was, all his debts
+were liquidated in 1847 by the sale of copyrights.
+
+Many years have passed since the death of Sir Walter Scott, and to the
+young readers of to-day the time in which he lived may seem far away and
+indistinct. But every boy and girl can share with him the pleasure that
+he felt, all his life, in stories of battle on sea and land, in love
+tales of knights and ladies, in mysterious superstitions and in
+everything else that spurs one on at the liveliest speed through the
+pages of a book. These interests and delights of his boyhood he never
+outgrew. They kept him always young at heart and gave to his works a
+freshness and brightness that few writers have been able to retain
+throughout their lives.
+
+When he became _laird_ of Abbotsford, the same sunny nature and kindly
+feeling for others that had drawn about him many comrades in his
+schoolboy days, attracted to him crowds of visitors who, though they
+intruded on his time, were received with generous courtesy. His tall,
+strongly built figure was often the center of admiring groups of guests
+who explored with him the wonders and beauties of Abbotsford, listening
+meanwhile to his humorous stories. At such times, with his clear,
+wide-open blue eyes, and his pleasant smile lighting his somewhat heavy
+features, he would have been called a handsome man. Of all who came to
+the home at Abbotsford, none were more gladly received than the children
+of the tenants who lived in the little homes on the estate. Each year,
+on the last morning in December, it was customary for them to pay a
+visit of respect to the _laird_, and though they may not have known it,
+he found more pleasure in this simple ceremony than in all the others of
+the Christmas season.
+
+To these gentler qualities of his nature was joined not a little of the
+hardihood of the Scotch heroes whose lives he has celebrated. The same
+"high spirit with which, in younger days," he has written, "I used to
+enjoy a Tam-o'-Shanter ride through darkness, wind and rain, the boughs
+groaning and cracking over my head, the good horse free to the road and
+impatient for home, and feeling the weather as little as I did," was
+that which bore him bravely through misfortune and gave him the splendid
+courage with which in his last years he faced the ruin of his fortune.
+With an influence as strong and wholesome as that of his works as a
+writer, remains the example of his loyal, industrious life.
+
+
+
+
+THE TOURNAMENT
+
+_By_ SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+
+     NOTE.--Scott's _Ivanhoe_, from which this account of _The
+     Tournament_ is taken, belongs to the class of books known as
+     historical novels. Such a book does not necessarily have as the
+     center of its plot an historical incident, nor does it necessarily
+     have an historical character as hero or heroine; it does, however,
+     introduce historic scenes or historic people, or both. In
+     _Ivanhoe_, the events of which take place in England in the twelfth
+     century, during the reign of Richard I, both the king and his
+     brother John appear, though they are by no means the chief
+     characters. The great movements known as the Crusades, while they
+     are frequently mentioned and give a sort of an atmosphere to the
+     book, do not influence the plot directly.
+
+     _Ivanhoe_ does much more, however, than introduce us casually to
+     Richard and John; it gives us a striking picture of customs and
+     manners in the twelfth century. The story is not made to halt for
+     long descriptions, but the events themselves and their settings are
+     so brought before us that we have much clearer pictures of them
+     than hours of reading in histories and encyclopedias could give us.
+     This account of a tournament, for instance, while it lets us see
+     all the gorgeousness that was a part of such pageants, does not
+     fail to give us also the cruel, brutal side.
+
+The poor as well as the rich, the vulgar as well as the noble, in the
+event of a tournament, which was the grand spectacle of that age, felt
+as much interested as the half-starved citizen of Madrid, who has not a
+real left to buy provisions for his family, feels in the issue of a
+bull-fight. Neither duty nor infirmity could keep youth or age from such
+exhibitions. The passage of arms, as it was called, which was to take
+place at Ashby, in the county of Leicester, as champions of the first
+renown were to take the field in the presence of Prince John himself,
+who was expected to grace the lists, had attracted universal attention,
+and an immense confluence of persons of all ranks hastened upon the
+appointed morning to the place of combat.
+
+The scene was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood near Ashby,
+was an extensive meadow of the finest and most beautiful green turf,
+surrounded on one side by the forest, and fringed on the other by
+straggling oak trees, some of which had grown to an immense size. The
+ground, as if fashioned on purpose for the martial display which was
+intended, sloped gradually down on all sides to a level bottom, which
+was enclosed for the lists with strong palisades, forming a space of a
+quarter of a mile in length, and about half as broad. The form of the
+enclosure was an oblong square, save that the corners were considerably
+rounded off, in order to afford more convenience for the spectators. The
+openings for the entry of the combatants were at the northern and
+southern extremities of the lists, accessible by strong wooden gates,
+each wide enough to admit two horsemen riding abreast. At each of these
+portals were stationed two heralds, attended by six trumpets, as many
+pursuivants,[39-1] and a strong body of men-at-arms, for maintaining
+order, and ascertaining the quality of the knights who proposed to
+engage in this martial game.
+
+On a platform beyond the southern entrance, formed by a natural
+elevation of the ground, were pitched five magnificent pavilions,
+adorned with pennons of russet and black, the chosen colors of the five
+knights challengers. The cords of the tents were of the same color.
+Before each pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by whom it
+was occupied, and beside it stood his squire, quaintly disguised as a
+salvage[40-2] or silvan man, or in some other fantastic dress, according
+to the taste of his master and the character he was pleased to assume
+during the game. The central pavilion, as the place of honor, had been
+assigned to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of
+chivalry, no less than his connection with the knights who had
+undertaken this passage of arms, had occasioned him to be eagerly
+received into the company of challengers, and even adopted as their
+chief and leader, though he had so recently joined them. On one side of
+his tent were pitched those of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Richard
+(Philip) de Malvoisin, and on the other was the pavilion of Hugh de
+Grantmesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity, whose ancestor had been Lord
+High Steward of England in the time of the Conqueror and his son William
+Rufus. Ralph de Vipont, a knight of Saint John of Jerusalem, who had
+some ancient possessions at a place called Heather, near
+Ashby-de-la-Zouche, occupied the fifth pavilion.
+
+From the entrance into the lists a gently sloping passage, ten yards in
+breadth, led up to the platform on which the tents were pitched. It was
+strongly secured by a palisade on each side, as was the esplanade in
+front of the pavilions, and the whole was guarded by men-at-arms.
+
+The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar entrance of
+thirty feet in breadth, at the extremity of which was a large enclosed
+space for such knights as might be disposed to enter the lists with the
+challengers, behind which were placed tents containing refreshments of
+every kind for their accommodation, with armorers, farriers, and other
+attendants, in readiness to give their services wherever they might be
+necessary.
+
+[Illustration: THRONG GOING TO THE LISTS]
+
+The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by temporary galleries,
+spread with tapestries and carpets, and accommodated with cushions for
+the convenience of those ladies and nobles who were expected to attend
+the tournament. A narrow space between these galleries and the lists
+gave accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than
+the mere vulgar, and might be compared to the pit of a theatre. The
+promiscuous multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf
+prepared for the purpose, which, aided by the natural elevation of the
+ground, enabled them to overlook the galleries, and obtain a fair view
+into the lists. Besides the accommodation which these stations afforded,
+many hundred had perched themselves on the branches of the trees which
+surrounded the meadow; and even the steeple of a country church, at some
+distance, was crowded with spectators.
+
+It only remains to notice respecting the general arrangement, that one
+gallery in the very centre of the eastern side of the lists, and
+consequently exactly opposite to the spot where the shock of the combat
+was to take place, was raised higher than the others, more richly
+decorated, and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the royal
+arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen in rich liveries waited
+around this place of honor, which was designed for Prince John and his
+attendants. Opposite to this royal gallery was another, elevated to the
+same height, on the western side of the lists; and more gayly, if less
+sumptuously, decorated than that destined for the Prince himself. A
+train of pages and of young maidens, the most beautiful who could be
+selected, gayly dressed in fancy habits of green and pink, surrounded a
+throne decorated in the same colors; Among pennons and flags, bearing
+wounded hearts, burning hearts, bleeding hearts, bows and quivers, and
+all the commonplace emblems of the triumphs of Cupid, a blazoned
+inscription informed the spectators that this seat of honor was designed
+for _La Royne de la Beaute et des Amours_. But who was to represent the
+Queen of Beauty and of Love on the present occasion no one was prepared
+to guess.
+
+Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged forward to occupy
+their respective stations, and not without many quarrels concerning
+those which they were entitled to hold. Some of these were settled by
+the men-at-arms with brief ceremony; the shafts of their battle-axes and
+pummels of their swords being readily employed as arguments to convince
+the more refractory. Others, which involved the rival claims of more
+elevated persons, were determined by the heralds, or by the two marshals
+of the field, William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, who, armed at
+all points, rode up and down the lists to enforce and preserve good
+order among the spectators.
+
+Gradually the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in their
+robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles were contrasted with
+the gayer and more splendid habits of the ladies, who, in a greater
+proportion than even the men themselves, thronged to witness a sport
+which one would have thought too bloody and dangerous to afford their
+sex much pleasure. The lower and interior space was soon filled by
+substantial yeomen and burghers, and such of the lesser gentry as, from
+modesty, poverty, or dubious title, durst not assume any higher place.
+It was of course amongst these that the most frequent disputes for
+precedence occurred.
+
+Suddenly the attention of every one was called to the entrance of Prince
+John, who at that moment entered the lists, attended by a numerous and
+gay train, consisting partly of laymen, partly of church-men, as light
+in their dress, and as gay in their demeanor, as their companions. Among
+the latter was the Prior of Jorvaulx, in the most gallant trim which a
+dignitary of the church could venture to exhibit. Fur and gold were not
+spared in his garments; and the points of his boots turned up so very
+far as to be attached not to his knees merely, but to his very girdle,
+and effectually prevented him from putting his foot into the stirrup.
+This, however, was a slight inconvenience to the gallant Abbot, who,
+perhaps even rejoicing in the opportunity to display his accomplished
+horsemanship before so many spectators, especially of the fair sex,
+dispensed with the use of these supports to a timid rider. The rest of
+Prince John's retinue consisted of the favorite leaders of his mercenary
+troops, some marauding barons and profligate attendants upon the court,
+with several Knights Templars and Knights of Saint John.
+
+Attended by this gallant equipage, himself well mounted, and splendidly
+dressed in crimson and in gold, bearing upon his hand a falcon, and
+having his head covered by a rich fur bonnet, adorned with a circle of
+precious stones, from which his long curled hair escaped and overspread
+his shoulders, Prince John, upon a gray and high-mettled palfrey,
+caracoled within the lists at the head of his jovial party, laughing
+loud with his train, and eyeing with all the boldness of royal criticism
+the beauties who adorned the lofty galleries.
+
+In the midst of Prince John's cavalcade, he suddenly stopped, and,
+appealing to the Prior of Jorvaulx, declared the principal business of
+the day had been forgotten.
+
+"By my halidom," said he, "we have neglected, Sir Prior, to name the
+fair Sovereign of Love and of Beauty, by whose white hand the palm is to
+be distributed. For my part, I am liberal in my ideas, and I care not if
+I give my vote for the black-eyed Rebecca."
+
+"Holy Virgin," answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror, "a
+Jewess! We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not
+yet old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my patron saint that
+she is far inferior to the lovely Saxon, Rowena."
+
+From the tone in which this was spoken, John saw the necessity of
+acquiescence. "I did but jest," he said; "and you turn upon me like an
+adder! Name whom you will, in the fiend's name, and please yourselves."
+
+"Nay, nay," said De Bracy, "let the fair sovereign's throne remain
+unoccupied until the conqueror shall be named, and then let him choose
+the lady by whom it shall be filled. It will add another grace to his
+triumph, and teach fair ladies to prize the love of valiant knights, who
+can exalt them to such distinction."
+
+"If Brian de Bois-Guilbert gain the prize," said the Prior, "I will gage
+my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and Beauty."
+
+"Bois-Guilbert," answered De Bracy, "is a good lance; but there are
+others around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to encounter
+him."
+
+"Silence, sirs," said Waldemar, "and let the Prince assume his seat. The
+knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time advances, and
+highly fit it is that the sports should commence."
+
+Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse all the
+inconveniences of a favorite minister, who, in serving his sovereign,
+must always do so in his own way. The Prince acquiesced, however,
+although his disposition was precisely of that kind which is apt to be
+obstinate upon trifles, and, assuming his throne, and being surrounded
+by his followers, gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the
+tournament, which were briefly as follows:
+
+First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.
+
+Secondly, any knight proposing to combat might, if he pleased, select a
+special antagonist from among the challengers, by touching his shield.
+If he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made
+with what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with lances at
+whose extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no danger
+was encountered, save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if
+the shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the combat was
+understood to be at _outrance_,[46-3] that is, the knights were to fight
+with sharp weapons, as in actual battle.
+
+Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by each of
+them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the victor in the
+first day's tourney, who should receive as prize a war-horse of
+exquisite beauty and matchless strength; and in addition to this reward
+of valor, it was now declared, he should have the peculiar honor of
+naming the Queen of Love and Beauty, by whom the prize should be given
+on the ensuing day.
+
+Fourthly, it was announced that, on the second day, there should be a
+general tournament, in which all the knights present, who were desirous
+to win praise, might take part; and being divided into two bands, of
+equal numbers, might fight it out manfully until the signal was given by
+Prince John to cease the combat. The elected Queen of Love and Beauty
+was then to crown the knight, whom the Prince should adjudge to have
+borne himself best in this second day, with a coronet composed of thin
+gold plate, cut into the shape of a laurel crown. On this second day the
+knightly games ceased. But on that which was to follow, feats of
+archery, of bull-baiting, and other popular amusements were to be
+practiced, for the more immediate amusement of the populace. In this
+manner did Prince John endeavor to lay the foundation of a popularity
+which he was perpetually throwing down by some inconsiderate act of
+wanton aggression upon the feelings and prejudices of the people.
+
+The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries
+were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful in
+the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the
+various dresses of these dignified spectators rendered the view as gay
+as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the
+substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more
+plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant
+embroidery, relieving, and at the same time setting off, its splendor.
+
+The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of
+"Largesse,[48-4] largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and silver pieces
+were showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of
+chivalry to exhibit liberality toward those whom the age accounted at
+once the secretaries and historians of honor. The bounty of the
+spectators was acknowledged by the customary shouts of "Love of
+ladies--Death of champions--Honor to the generous--Glory to the brave!"
+To which the more humble spectators added their acclamations, and a
+numerous band of trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments.
+When these sounds had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay
+and glittering procession, and none remained within them save the
+marshals of the field, who, armed cap-à-pie, sat on horseback,
+motionless as statues, at the opposite ends of the lists. Meantime, the
+inclosed space at the northern extremity of the lists, large as it was,
+was now completely crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill
+against the challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented
+the appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening
+helmets and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many
+cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which,
+fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the
+restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.
+
+At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot,
+advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and
+the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my
+Saxon authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length
+their devices, their colors, and the embroidery of their horse
+trappings. It is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects.
+
+Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.
+Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins: the
+place that once knew them, knows them no more--nay, many a race since
+theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they
+occupied with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal lords.
+What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or the
+evanescent symbols of their martial rank?
+
+Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited their
+names and feats, the champions advanced through the lists, restraining
+their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the
+same time, they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and
+dexterity of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound
+of a wild barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of the
+challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was of Eastern
+origin, having been brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the
+cymbals and bells seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the
+knights as they advanced. With the eyes of an immense concourse of
+spectators fixed upon them, the five Knights advanced up the platform
+upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating
+themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance,
+the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself. The
+lower order of spectators in general--nay, many of the higher class, and
+it is even said several of the ladies--were rather disappointed at the
+champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort of persons
+who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest tragedies were
+then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion to the danger
+incurred by the champions engaged.
+
+Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated to
+the extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line;
+while the challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their
+horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the
+platform and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had
+touched their respective shields.
+
+At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against each
+other at full gallop; and such was the superior dexterity or good
+fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert,
+Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground. The antagonist of
+Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest
+or the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as to
+break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent--a circumstance
+which was accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually
+unhorsed, because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the
+former evinced awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and of
+the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained the honor of his party, and
+parted fairly with the Knight of Saint John, both splintering their
+lances without advantage on either side.
+
+The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the
+heralds and the clangor of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the
+victors and the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to their
+pavilions, and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could,
+withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their
+victors concerning the redemption of their arms and their horses, which,
+according to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth
+of their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted by
+the applauses of the spectators, among whom he retreated, to the
+aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' mortification.
+
+A second and a third party of knights took the field; and although they
+had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly
+remained with the challengers, not one of them whom lost his seat or
+swerved from his charge--misfortunes which befell one or two of their
+antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed
+to them seemed to be considerably damped by their continued success.
+Three knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the
+shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-Boeuf, contented themselves with
+touching those of the three other knights who had not altogether
+manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection did
+not alter the fortune of the field: the challengers were still
+successful. One of their antagonists was overthrown; and both the others
+failed in the _attaint_, that is, in striking the helmet and shield of
+their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct
+line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.
+
+After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did it
+appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the contest. The
+spectators murmured among themselves; for, among the challengers,
+Malvoisin and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular from their characters, and
+the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers and
+foreigners.
+
+But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly as
+Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the Norman
+challengers, a repeated triumph over the honor of England. His own
+education had taught him no skill in the games of chivalry, although,
+with the arms of his Saxon ancestors, he had manifested himself, on many
+occasions, a brave and determined soldier.
+
+He looked anxiously to Athelstane, who had learned the accomplishments
+of the age, as if desiring that he should make some personal effort to
+recover the victory which was passing into the hands of the Templar and
+his associates. But, though both stout of heart and strong of person,
+Athelstane had a disposition too inert and unambitious to make the
+exertions which Cedric seemed to expect from him.
+
+"The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in a marked tone;
+"are you not tempted to take the lance?"
+
+"I shall tilt to-morrow," answered Athelstane, "in the _mêlée_; it is
+not worth while for me to arm myself to-day."
+
+Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the Norman
+word _mêlée_ (to express the general conflict), and it evinced some
+indifference to the honor of the country; but it was spoken by
+Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect that he would not
+trust himself to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had no
+time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his word, observing, "It
+was better, though scarce easier, to be the best man among a hundred
+than the best man of two."
+
+Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but Cedric, who
+better understood the Jester's meaning, darted at him a severe and
+menacing look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and
+place prevented his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service,
+more sensible marks of his master's resentment.
+
+The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by the
+voices of the heralds exclaiming--"Love of ladies, splintering of
+lances! stand forth, gallant knights, fair eyes look upon your deeds!"
+
+The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild bursts
+expressive of triumph or defiance, while the clowns[53-5] grudged a
+holiday which seemed to pass away in inactivity; and old knights and
+nobles lamented in whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the
+triumphs of their younger days, but agreed that the land did not now
+supply dames of such transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts of
+former times. Prince John began to talk to his attendants about making
+ready the banquet, and the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights and
+foiled a third.
+
+At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded one of
+those long and high flourishes with which they had broken the silence of
+the lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note
+of defiance from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see the
+new champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were the
+barriers opened than he paced into the lists. As far as could be judged
+of a man sheathed in armor, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed
+the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made. His
+suit of armor was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the
+device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with
+the Spanish word _Desdichado_, signifying Disinherited. He was mounted
+on a gallant black horse, and as he passed through the lists he
+gracefully saluted the Prince and the ladies by lowering his lance. The
+dexterity with which he managed his steed, and something of youthful
+grace which he displayed in his manner, won him the favor of the
+multitude, which some of the lower classes observed by calling out,
+"Touch Ralph de Vipont's shield--touch the Hospitaller's shield; he has
+the least sure seat, he is your cheapest bargain."
+
+The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended the
+platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and, to
+the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central
+pavilion, struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. All stood astonished at his
+presumption, but none more than the redoubted Knight whom he had thus
+defied to mortal combat, and who, little expecting so rude a challenge,
+was standing carelessly at the door of the pavilion.
+
+"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "and have you
+heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?"
+
+"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited
+Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books
+of the tourney.
+
+"Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert, "and look your
+last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise."
+
+"Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight, "and to
+requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by
+my honor you will need both."
+
+Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward
+down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same
+manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern
+extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his
+antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause of
+the multitude.
+
+However incensed at his adversary for the precautions he recommended,
+Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice; for his honor was too
+nearly concerned to permit his neglecting any means which might insure
+victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed his horse for a
+proved and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He chose a new and
+tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have been strained in the
+previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly he laid aside his shield,
+which had received some little damage, and received another from his
+squires. His first had only borne the general device of his order,
+representing two knights riding upon one horse, an emblem expressive of
+the original humility and poverty of the Templars, qualities which they
+had since exchanged for the arrogance and wealth that finally occasioned
+their suppression. Bois-Guilbert's new shield bore a raven in full
+flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, _Gare le
+Corbeau_.[56-6]
+
+When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two
+extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the
+highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the encounter could
+terminate well for the Disinherited Knight; yet his courage and
+gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators.
+
+The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished
+from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the centre
+of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into
+shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both
+knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backward
+upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their steeds by
+use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on each other for an
+instant with eyes which seemed to flash fire through the bars of their
+visors, each made a demi-volte,[57-7] and, retiring to the extremity of
+the lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.
+
+A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs,
+and general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators
+in this encounter--the most equal, as well as the best performed, which
+had graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station
+than the clamor of applause was hushed into a silence so deep and so
+dead that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.
+
+A few minutes' pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their
+horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to
+the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung from
+their stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the same
+speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal
+fortune as before.
+
+In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his
+antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly that his spear
+went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On
+the other hand, that champion had, at the beginning of his career,
+directed the point of his lance toward Bois-Guilbert's shield, but,
+changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it to
+the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,
+rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on
+the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even at
+this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and had
+not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As
+it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a
+cloud of dust.
+
+To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed was to the
+Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at
+his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the
+spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror.
+The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his
+sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses between
+them, and reminded them that the laws of the tournament did not, on the
+present occasion, permit this species of encounter.
+
+"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful
+glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us."
+
+"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be
+mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am
+alike ready to encounter thee."
+
+More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals,
+crossing their lances between them, compelled them to separate. The
+Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert to
+his tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of
+despair.
+
+Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of
+wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced
+that he quaffed it, "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion
+of foreign tyrants." He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance
+to the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them that he
+should make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order
+in which they pleased to advance against him.
+
+[Illustration: DISINHERITED KNIGHT UNHORSES BRIAN]
+
+The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armor, was the first who
+took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull's head,[59-8]
+half defaced by the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and
+bearing the arrogant motto, _Cave, Adsum_.[59-9] Over this champion the
+Disinherited Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both
+knights broke their lances fairly, but Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a
+stirrup in the encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.
+
+In the stranger's third encounter, with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was
+equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque that
+the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only saved from falling by
+being unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his companions.
+
+In his fourth combat, with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight
+showed as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and
+dexterity. De Grantmesnil's horse, which was young and violent, reared
+and plunged in the course of the career so as to disturb the rider's
+aim, and the stranger, declining to take the advantage which this
+accident afforded him, raised his lance, and passing his antagonist
+without touching him, wheeled his horse and rode back again to his own
+end of the lists, offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a
+second encounter. This De Grantmesnil declined, avow himself vanquished
+as much by the courtesy as by the address of his opponent.
+
+Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being
+hurled to the ground with such force that the blood gushed from his nose
+and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists.
+
+The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
+Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honors to the Disinherited
+Knight.
+
+William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the marshals of the field,
+were the first to offer their congratulations to the victor, praying
+him, at the same time, to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least,
+that he would raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive the
+prize of the day's tourney from the hands of Prince John. The
+Disinherited Knight, with all knightly courtesy, declined their request,
+alleging, that he could not at this time suffer his face to be seen, for
+reasons which he had assigned to the heralds when he entered the lists.
+The marshals were perfectly satisfied by this reply; for amid the
+frequent and capricious vows by which knights were accustomed to bind
+themselves in the days of chivalry, there were none more common than
+those by which they engaged to remain incognito for a certain space, or
+until some particular adventure was achieved. The marshals, therefore,
+pressed no further into the mystery of the Disinherited Knight, but,
+announcing to Prince John the conqueror's desire to remain unknown, they
+requested permission to bring him before his Grace, in order that he
+might receive the reward of his valor.
+
+John's curiosity was excited by the mystery observed by the stranger;
+and, being already displeased with the issue of the tournament, in which
+the challengers whom he favored had been successively defeated by one
+knight, he answered haughtily to the marshals, "By the light of Our
+Lady's brow, this same knight hath been disinherited as well of his
+courtesy as of his lands, since he desires to appear before us without
+uncovering his face. Wot ye, my lords," he said, turning round to his
+train, "who this gallant can be that bears himself thus proudly?"
+
+"I cannot guess," answered De Bracy, "nor did I think there had been
+within the four seas that girth Britain a champion that could bear down
+these five knights in one day's jousting. By my faith, I shall never
+forget the force with which he shocked De Vipont. The poor
+Hospitaller[62-10] was hurled from his saddle like a stone from a
+sling."
+
+"Boast not of that," said a Knight of Saint John, who was present; "your
+Temple champion had no better luck. I saw your brave lance,
+Bois-Guilbert, roll thrice over, grasping his hands full of sand at
+every turn."
+
+De Bracy, being attached to the Templars, would have replied, but was
+prevented by Prince John. "Silence, sirs!" he said; "what unprofitable
+debate have we here?"
+
+"The victor," said De Wyvil, "still waits the pleasure of your
+Highness."
+
+"It is our pleasure," answered John, "that he do so wait until we learn
+whether there is not some one who can at least guess at his name and
+quality. Should he remain there till nightfall, he has had work enough
+to keep him warm."
+
+"Your Grace," said Waldemar Fitzurse, "will do less than due honor to
+the victor if you compel him to wait till we tell your Highness that
+which we cannot know; at least I can form no guess--unless he be one of
+the good lances who accompanied King Richard to Palestine, and who are
+now straggling homeward from the Holy Land."
+
+While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought forward the Disinherited
+Knight to the foot of a wooden flight of steps, which formed the ascent
+from the lists to Prince John's throne. With a short and embarrassed
+eulogy upon his valor, the Prince caused to be delivered to him the
+war-horse assigned as the prize.
+
+But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in reply to the compliment
+of the Prince, which he only acknowledged with a profound obeisance.
+
+The horse was led into the lists by two grooms richly dressed, the
+animal itself being fully accoutred with the richest war-furniture;
+which, however, scarcely added to the value of the noble creature in the
+eyes of those who were judges. Laying one hand upon the pommel of the
+saddle, the Disinherited Knight vaulted at once upon the back of the
+steed without making use of the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his
+lance, rode twice around the lists, exhibiting the points and paces of
+the horse with the skill of a perfect horseman.
+
+The appearance of vanity which might otherwise have been attributed to
+this display was removed by the propriety shown in exhibiting to the
+best advantage the princely reward with which he had been just honored,
+and the Knight was again greeted by the acclamation of all present.
+
+In the meanwhile, the bustling Prior of Jorvaulx had reminded Prince
+John, in a whisper, that the victor must now display his good judgment,
+instead of his valor, by selecting from among the beauties who graced
+the galleries a lady who should fill the throne of the Queen of Beauty
+and of Love, and deliver the prize of the tourney, upon the ensuing day.
+The Prince accordingly made a sign with his truncheon as the Knight
+passed him in his second career around the lists. The Knight turned
+toward the throne, and, sinking his lance until the point was within a
+foot of the ground, remained motionless, as if expecting John's
+commands; while all admired the sudden dexterity with which he instantly
+reduced his fiery steed from a state of violent emotion and high
+excitation to the stillness of an equestrian statue.
+
+"Sir Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since that is the only
+title by which we can address you, it is now your duty, as well as
+privilege, to name the fair lady who, as Queen of Honor and of Love, is
+to preside over next day's festival. If, as a stranger in our land, you
+should require the aid of other judgment to guide your own we can only
+say that Alicia, the daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar Fitzurse,
+has at our court been long held the first in beauty as in place.
+Nevertheless, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on whom you
+please this crown, by the delivery of which to the lady of your choice
+the election of to-morrow's Queen will be formal and complete. Raise
+your lance."
+
+The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its point a coronet of
+green satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold, the upper edge of
+which was relieved by arrow-points and hearts placed interchangeably,
+like the strawberry leaves and balls upon a ducal crown.
+
+In the broad hint which he dropped respecting the daughter of Waldemar
+Fitzurse, John had more than one motive, each the offspring of a mind
+which was a strange mixture of carelessness and presumption with low
+artifice and cunning. He was desirous of conciliating Alicia's father,
+Waldemar, of whom he stood in awe, and who had more than once shown
+himself dissatisfied during the course of the day's proceedings; he had
+also a wish to establish himself in the good graces of the lady. But
+besides all these reasons, he was desirous to raise up against the
+Disinherited Knight, toward whom he already entertained a strong
+dislike, a powerful enemy in the person of Waldemar Fitzurse, who was
+likely, he thought, highly to resent the injury done to his daughter in
+case, as was not unlikely, the victor should make another choice.
+
+And so indeed it proved. For the Disinherited Knight passed the gallery,
+close to that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the
+full pride of triumphant beauty, and pacing forward as slowly as he had
+hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his right
+of examining the numerous fair faces which adorned that splendid circle.
+
+It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beauties who
+underwent this examination, during the time it was proceeding. Some
+blushed; some assumed an air of pride and dignity; some looked straight
+forward, and essayed to seem utterly unconscious of what was going on;
+some drew back in alarm, which was perhaps affected; some endeavored to
+forbear smiling; and there were two or three who laughed outright. There
+were also some who dropped their veils over their charms; but as the
+Wardour Manuscript says these were fair ones of ten years' standing, it
+may be supposed that, having had their full share of such vanities, they
+were willing to withdraw their claim in order to give a fair chance to
+the rising beauties of the age.
+
+At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which the Lady
+Rowena was placed, and the expectation of the spectators was excited to
+the utmost.
+
+It must be owned that, if an interest displayed in his success could
+have bribed the Disinherited Knight, the part of the lists before which
+he paused had merited his predilection. Cedric the Saxon, overjoyed at
+the discomfiture of the Templar, and still more so at the miscarriage of
+his two malevolent neighbors, Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, had
+accompanied the victor in each course not with his eyes only, but with
+his whole heart and soul. The Lady Rowena had watched the progress of
+the day with equal attention, though without openly betraying the same
+intense interest. Even the unmoved Athelstane had shown symptoms of
+shaking off his apathy, when, calling for a huge goblet of muscadine, he
+quaffed it to the health of the Disinherited Knight.
+
+Whether from indecision or some other motive of hesitation, the champion
+of the day remained stationary for more than a minute, while the eyes of
+the silent audience were riveted upon his motions; and then, gradually
+and gracefully sinking the point of his lance, he deposited the coronet
+which it supported at the feet of the fair Rowena. The trumpets
+instantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the
+Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with suitable
+penalties those who should be disobedient to her authority. They then
+repeated their cry of "Largesse," to which Cedric, in the height of his
+joy, replied by an ample donative, and to which Athelstane, though less
+promptly, added one equally large.
+
+There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman descent, who were
+as much unused to see the preference given to a Saxon beauty as the
+Norman nobles were to sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which they
+themselves had introduced. But these sounds of disaffection were drowned
+by the popular shout of "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and
+lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!" To which many in the lower area
+added, "Long live the Saxon Princess! long live the race of the immortal
+Alfred!"
+
+However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince John and to those
+around him, he saw himself nevertheless obliged to confirm the
+nomination of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse, he left his
+throne, and mounting his jennet, accompanied by his train, he again
+entered the lists.
+
+Spurring his horse, as if to give vent to his vexation, he made the
+animal bound forward to the gallery where Rowena was seated, with the
+crown still at her feet.
+
+"Assume," he said, "fair lady, the mark of your sovereignty, to which
+none vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John of Anjou; and if it
+please you to-day, with your noble sire and friends, to grace our
+banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall learn to know the empress to
+whose service we devote to-morrow."
+
+Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his native Saxon.
+
+"The Lady Rowena," he said, "possesses not the language in which to
+reply to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in your festival. I also,
+and the noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, speak only the language and
+practice only the manners, of our fathers. We therefore decline with
+thanks your Highness's courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow,
+the Lady Rowena will take upon her the state to which she has been
+called by the free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the
+acclamations of the people."
+
+So saying, he lifted the coronet and placed it upon Rowena's head, in
+token of her acceptance of the temporary authority assigned to her.
+
+In various routes, according to the different quarters from which they
+came, and in groups of various numbers, the spectators were seen
+retiring over the plain. By far the most numerous part streamed toward
+the town of Ashby, where many of the distinguished persons were lodged
+in the castle, and where others found accommodation in the town itself.
+Among these were most of the knights who had already appeared in the
+tournament, or who proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who, as
+they rode slowly along, talking over the events of the day, were greeted
+with loud shouts by the populace. The same acclamations were bestowed
+upon Prince John, although he was indebted for them rather to the
+splendor of his appearance and train than to the popularity of his
+character.
+
+A more sincere and more general, as well as a better merited
+acclamation, attended the victor of the day, until, anxious to withdraw
+himself from popular notice, he accepted the accommodation of one of
+those pavilions pitched at the extremities of the lists, the use of
+which was courteously tendered him by the marshals of the field. On his
+retiring to his tent, many who had lingered in the lists, to look upon
+and form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed.
+
+The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded
+together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now
+exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating
+in all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other
+sounds were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the
+galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety
+for the night, and wrangled among themselves for half-used bottles of
+wine and relics of the refreshments which had been served round to the
+spectators.
+
+[Illustration: THE ARMOUR MAKERS]
+
+Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and
+these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of
+the armorers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order to
+repair or alter the suits of armor to be used again on the morrow.
+
+A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two hours to
+two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night.
+
+The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion than squires
+and pages in abundance tendered their services to disarm him, to bring
+fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath. Their zeal
+on this occasion was perhaps sharpened by curiosity, since every one
+desired to know who the knight was that had gained so many laurels, yet
+had refused, even at the command of Prince John, to lift his visor or to
+name his name. But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified.
+The Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his
+own squire, or rather yeoman--a clownish-looking man, who, wrapped in a
+cloak of dark-colored felt, and having his head and face half buried in
+a Norman bonnet made of black fur, seemed to affect the incognito as
+much as his master. All others being excluded from the tent, this
+attendant relieved his master from the more burdensome parts of his
+armor, and placed food and wine before him, which the exertions of the
+body rendered very acceptable.
+
+The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal ere his menial announced
+to him that five men, each leading a barbed steed,[70-11] desired to
+speak with him. The Disinherited Knight had exchanged his armor for the
+long robe usually worn by those of his condition, which, being furnished
+with a hood, concealed the features, when such was the pleasure of the
+wearer, almost as completely as the visor of the helmet itself; but the
+twilight, which was now fast darkening, would of itself have rendered a
+disguise unnecessary, unless to persons to whom the face of an
+individual chanced to be particularly well known.
+
+The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stepped boldly forth to the front of
+his tent, and found in attendance the squires of the challengers, whom
+he easily knew by their russet and black dresses, each of whom led his
+master's charger, loaded with the armor in which he had that day fought.
+
+"According to the laws of chivalry," said the foremost of these men, "I,
+Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the redoubted Knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert,
+make offer to you, styling yourself for the present the Disinherited
+Knight, of the horse and armor used by the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert
+in this day's passage of arms, leaving it with your nobleness to retain
+or to ransom the same, according to your pleasure; for such is the law
+of arms."
+
+The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, and then stood to
+await the decision of the Disinherited Knight.
+
+"To you four, sirs," replied the Knight, addressing those who had last
+spoken, "and to your honorable and valiant masters, I have one common
+reply. Commend me to the noble knights, your masters, and say, I should
+do ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which can never be used by
+braver cavaliers. I would I could here end my message to these gallant
+knights; but being, as I term myself, in truth and earnest, the
+Disinherited, I must be thus far bound to your masters, that they will,
+of their courtesy, be pleased to ransom their steeds and armor, since
+that which I wear I can hardly term mine own."
+
+"We stand commissioned, each of us," answered the squire of Reginald
+Front-de-Boeuf, "to offer a hundred zecchins[72-12] in ransom of
+these horses and suits of armor."
+
+"It is sufficient," said the Disinherited Knight. "Half the sum my
+present necessities compel me to accept; of the remaining half,
+distribute one moiety among yourselves, sir squires, and divide the
+other half between the heralds and the pursuivants, and minstrels, and
+attendants."
+
+The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences, expressed their deep
+sense of a courtesy and generosity not often practiced, at least upon a
+scale so extensive.
+
+The Disinherited Knight then addressed his discourse to Baldwin, the
+squire of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. "From your master," said he, "I will
+accept neither arms nor ransom. Say to him in my name, that our strife
+is not ended--no, not till we have fought as well with swords as with
+lances, as well on foot as on horseback. To this mortal quarrel he has
+himself defied me, and I shall not forget the challenge. Meantime, let
+him be assured that I hold him not as one of his companions, with whom I
+can with pleasure exchange courtesies; but rather as one with whom I
+stand upon terms of mortal defiance."
+
+"My master," answered Baldwin, "knows how to requite scorn with scorn,
+and blows with blows, as well as courtesy with courtesy. Since you
+disdain to accept from him any share of the ransom at which you have
+rated the arms of the other knights, I must leave his armor and his
+horse here, being well assured that he will never deign to mount the one
+nor wear the other."
+
+"You have spoken well, good squire," said the Disinherited Knight--"well
+and boldly, as it beseemeth him to speak who answers for an absent
+master. Leave not, however, the horse and armor here. Restore them to
+thy master; or, if he scorns to accept them, retain them, good friend,
+for thine own use. So far as they are mine, I bestow them upon you
+freely."
+
+Baldwin made a deep obeisance, and retired with his companions; and the
+Disinherited Knight entered the pavilion.
+
+Morning arose in unclouded splendor, and ere the sun was much above the
+horizon the idlest or the most eager of the spectators appeared on the
+common, moving to the lists as to a general centre, in order to secure a
+favorable situation for viewing the continuation of the expected games.
+
+The marshals and their attendants appeared next on the field, together
+with the heralds, for the purpose of receiving the names of the knights
+who intended to joust, with the side which each chose to espouse. This
+was a necessary precaution in order to secure equality between the two
+bodies who should be opposed to each other.
+
+According to due formality, the Disinherited Knight was to be considered
+as leader of the one body, while Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had been
+rated as having done second-best in the preceding day, was named first
+champion of the other band. Those who had concurred in the challenge
+adhered to his party, of course, excepting only Ralph de Vipont, whom
+his fall had rendered unfit so soon to put on his armor. There was no
+want of distinguished candidates to fill up the ranks on either side.
+
+In fact, although the general tournament, in which all knights fought at
+once, was more dangerous than single encounters, they were,
+nevertheless, more frequented and practiced by the chivalry of the age.
+Many knights, who had not sufficient confidence in their own skill to
+defy a single adversary of high reputation, were, nevertheless, desirous
+of displaying their valor in the general combat, where they might meet
+others with whom they were more upon an equality.
+
+On the present occasion, about fifty knights were inscribed as desirous
+of combating upon each side, when the marshals declared that no more
+could be admitted, to the disappointment of several who were too late in
+preferring their claim to be included.
+
+About the hour of ten o'clock the whole plain was crowded with horsemen,
+horsewomen, and foot-passengers, hastening to the tournament; and
+shortly after, a grand flourish of trumpets announced Prince John and
+his retinue, attended by many of those knights who meant to take share
+in the game, as well as others who had no such intention.
+
+About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon, with the Lady Rowena,
+unattended, however, by Athelstane. This Saxon lord had arrayed his tall
+and strong person in armor, in order to take his place among the
+combatants; and, considerably to the surprise of Cedric, had chosen to
+enlist himself on the part of the Knight Templar. The Saxon, indeed, had
+remonstrated strongly with his friend upon the injudicious choice he had
+made of his party; but he had only received that sort of answer usually
+given by those who are more obstinate in following their own course than
+strong in justifying it.
+
+His best, if not his only, reason for adhering to the party of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, Athelstane had the prudence to keep to himself. Though
+his apathy of disposition prevented his taking any means to recommend
+himself to the Lady Rowena, he was, nevertheless, by no means insensible
+to her charms, and considered his union with her as a matter already
+fixed beyond doubt by the assent of Cedric and her other friends. It
+had, therefore, been with smothered displeasure that the proud though
+indolent Lord of Coningsburgh beheld the victor of the preceding day
+select Rowena as the object of that honor which it became his privilege
+to confer. In order to punish him for a preference which seemed to
+interfere with his own suit, Athelstane, confident of his strength, and
+to whom his flatterers, at least, ascribed great skill in arms, had
+determined not only to deprive the Disinherited Knight of his powerful
+succor, but, if an opportunity should occur, to make him feel the weight
+of his battle-axe.
+
+De Bracy, and other knights attached to Prince John, in obedience to a
+hint from him, had joined the party of the challengers, John being
+desirous to secure, if possible, the victory to that side. On the other
+hand, many other knights, both English and Norman, natives and
+strangers, took part against the challengers, the more readily that the
+opposite band was to be led by so distinguished a champion as the
+Disinherited Knight had approved himself.
+
+As soon as Prince John observed that the destined Queen of the day
+arrived upon the field, assuming that air of courtesy which sat well
+upon him when he was pleased to exhibit it, he rode forward to meet her,
+doffed his bonnet, and, alighting from his horse, assisted the Lady
+Rowena from her saddle, while his followers uncovered at the same time,
+and one of the most distinguished dismounted to hold her palfrey.
+
+"It is thus," said Prince John, "that we set the dutiful example of
+loyalty to the Queen of Love and Beauty, and are ourselves her guide to
+the throne which she must this day occupy. Ladies," he said, "attend
+your Queen, as you wish in your turn to be distinguished by like
+honors."
+
+So saying, the Prince marshalled Rowena to the seat of honor opposite
+his own, while the fairest and most distinguished ladies present crowded
+after her to obtain places as near as possible to their temporary
+sovereign.
+
+No sooner was Rowena seated than a burst of music, half-drowned by the
+shouts of the multitude, greeted her new dignity. Meantime, the sun
+shone fierce and bright upon the polished arms of the knights of either
+side, who crowded the opposite extremities of the lists, and held eager
+conference together concerning the best mode of arranging their line of
+battle and supporting the conflict.
+
+The heralds then proclaimed silence until the laws of the tourney should
+be rehearsed. These were calculated in some degree to abate the dangers
+of the day--a precaution the more necessary as the conflict was to be
+maintained with sharp swords and pointed lances.
+
+The champions were therefore prohibited to thrust with the sword, and
+were confined to striking. A knight, it was announced, might use a mace
+or battle-axe at pleasure; but the dagger was a prohibited weapon. A
+knight unhorsed might renew the fight on foot with any other on the
+opposite side in the same predicament; but mounted horsemen were in that
+case forbidden to assail him. When any knight could force his antagonist
+to the extremity of the lists, so as to touch the palisade with his
+person or arms, such opponent was obliged to yield himself vanquished,
+and his armor and horse were placed at the disposal of the conqueror. A
+knight thus overcome was not permitted to take further share in the
+combat. If any combatant was struck down, and unable to recover his feet,
+his squire or page might enter the lists and drag his master out of the
+press; but in that case the knight was adjudged vanquished, and his arms
+and horse declared forfeited. The combat was to cease as soon as Prince
+John should throw down his leading staff, or truncheon--another
+precaution usually taken to prevent the unnecessary effusion of blood by
+the too long endurance of a sport so desperate. Any knight breaking the
+rules of the tournament, or otherwise transgressing the rules of
+honorable chivalry, was liable to be stripped of his arms, and, having
+his shield reversed, to be placed in that posture astride upon the bars
+of the palisade, and exposed to public derision, in punishment of his
+unknightly conduct. Having announced these precautions, the heralds
+concluded with an exhortation to each good knight to do his duty, and to
+merit favor from the Queen of Beauty and Love.
+
+This proclamation having been made, the heralds withdrew to their
+stations. The knights, entering at either end of the lists in long
+procession, arranged themselves in a double file, precisely opposite to
+each other, the leader of each party being in the center of the foremost
+rank, a post which he did not occupy until each had carefully arranged
+the ranks of his party, and stationed every one in his place.
+
+It was a goodly, and at the same time an anxious, sight to behold so
+many gallant champions, mounted bravely and armed richly, stand ready
+prepared for an encounter so formidable, seated on their war-saddles
+like so many pillars of iron, and awaiting the signal of encounter with
+the same ardor as their generous steeds, which, by neighing and pawing
+the ground, gave signal of their impatience.
+
+As yet the knights held their long lances upright, their bright points
+glancing to the sun, and the streamers with which they were decorated
+fluttering over the plumage of the helmets. Thus they remained while the
+marshals of the field surveyed their ranks with the utmost exactness,
+lest either party had more or fewer than the appointed number. The tale
+was found exactly complete. The marshals then withdrew from the lists,
+and William de Wyvil, with a voice of thunder, pronounced the signal
+words--"_Laissez aller!_"[78-13] The trumpets sounded as he spoke; the
+spears of the champions were at once lowered and placed in the rests;
+the spurs were dashed into the flanks of the horses; and the two
+foremost ranks of either party rushed upon each other in full gallop,
+and met in the middle of the lists with a shock the sound of which was
+heard at a mile's distance. The rear rank of each party advanced at a
+slower pace to sustain the defeated, and follow up the success of the
+victors, of their party.
+
+The consequences of the encounter were not instantly seen, for the dust
+raised by the trampling of so many steeds darkened the air, and it was a
+minute ere the anxious spectators could see the fate of the encounter.
+When the fight became visible, half the knights on each side were
+dismounted--some by the dexterity of their adversary's lance; some by
+the superior weight and strength of opponents, which had borne down both
+horse and man; some lay stretched on earth as if never more to rise;
+some had already gained their feet, and were closing hand to hand with
+those of their antagonists who were in the same predicament; and several
+on both sides, who had received wounds by which they were disabled, were
+stopping their blood by their scarfs, and endeavoring to extricate
+themselves from the tumult. The mounted knights, whose lances had been
+almost all broken by the fury of the encounter, were now closely engaged
+with their swords, shouting their war-cries, and exchanging buffets, as
+if honor and life depended on the issue of the combat.
+
+The tumult was presently increased by the advance of the second rank on
+either side, which, acting as a reserve, now rushed on to aid their
+companions. The followers of Brian de Bois-Guilbert shouted--"_Ha!
+Beau-seant! Beau-seant!_[79-14] For the Temple! For the Temple!" The
+opposite shouted in answer--"_Desdichado! Desdichado!_" which watchword
+they took from the motto upon their leaders' shield.
+
+The champions thus encountering each other with the utmost fury, and
+with alternate success, the tide of battle seemed to flow now toward the
+southern, now toward the northern, extremity of the lists, as the one or
+the other party prevailed. Meantime the clang of the blows and the
+shouts of the combatants mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets,
+and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless
+beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armor of the combatants was
+now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the
+sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted
+upon the breeze like snowflakes. All that was beautiful and graceful in
+the martial array had disappeared, and what was now visible was only
+calculated to awake terror or compassion.
+
+Yet such is the force of habit, that not only the vulgar spectators, who
+are naturally attracted by sights of horror, but even the ladies of
+distinction, who crowded the galleries, saw the conflict with a
+thrilling interest certainly, but without a wish to withdraw their eyes,
+from a sight so terrible. Here and there, indeed, a fair cheek might
+turn pale, or a faint scream might be heard, as a lover, a brother, or a
+husband was struck from his horse. But, in general, the ladies around
+encouraged the combatants, not only by clapping their hands and waving
+their veils and kerchiefs, but even by exclaiming, "Brave lance! Good
+sword!" when any successful thrust or blow took place under their
+observation.
+
+Such being the interest taken by the fair sex in this bloody game, that
+of men is the more easily understood. It showed itself in loud
+acclamations upon every change of fortune, while all eyes were so
+riveted on the lists that the spectators seemed as if they themselves
+had dealt and received the blows which were there so freely bestowed.
+And between every pause was heard the voice of the heralds, exclaiming,
+"Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! Fight on; death is
+better than defeat! Fight on, brave knights! for bright eyes behold your
+deeds!"
+
+Amid the varied fortunes of the combat, the eyes of all endeavored to
+discover the leaders of each band, who, mingling in the thick of the
+fight, encouraged their companions both by voice and example. Both
+displayed great feats of gallantry nor did either Bois-Guilbert or the
+Disinherited Knight find in the ranks opposed to them a champion who
+could be termed their unquestioned match. They repeatedly endeavored to
+single out each other, spurred by mutual animosity, and aware that the
+fall of either leader might be considered as decisive of victory. Such,
+however, was the crowd and confusion that, during the earlier part of
+the conflict, their efforts to meet were unavailing, and they were
+repeatedly separated by the eagerness of their followers, each of whom
+was anxious to win honor by measuring his strength against the leader of
+the opposite party.
+
+But when the field became thin by the numbers on either side who had
+yielded themselves vanquished, had been compelled to the extremity of
+the lists, or been otherwise rendered incapable of continuing the
+strife, the Templar and the Disinherited Knight at length encountered
+hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity, joined to rivalry
+of honor, could inspire. Such was the address of each in parrying and
+striking, that the spectators broke forth into a unanimous and
+involuntary shout, expressive of their delight and admiration.
+
+But at this moment the party of the Disinherited Knight had the worst;
+the gigantic arm of Front-de-Boeuf on the one flank, and the ponderous
+strength of Athelstane on the other, bearing down and dispersing those
+immediately opposed to them. Finding themselves freed from their
+immediate antagonists, it seems to have occurred to both these knights
+at the same instant that they would render the most decisive advantage
+to their party by aiding the Templar in his contest with his rival.
+Turning their horses, therefore, at the same moment, the Norman spurred
+against the Disinherited Knight on the one side and the Saxon on the
+other. It was utterly impossible that the object of this unequal and
+unexpected assault could have sustained it, had he not been warned by a
+general cry from the spectators, who could not but take interest in one
+exposed to such disadvantage.
+
+"Beware! beware! Sir Disinherited!" was shouted so universally that the
+knight became aware of his danger; and striking a full blow at the
+Templar, he reined back his steed in the same moment, so as to escape
+the charge of Athelstane and Front-de-Boeuf. These knights, therefore,
+their aim being thus eluded, rushed from opposite sides between the
+object of their attack and the Templar, almost running their horses
+against each other ere they could stop their career. Recovering their
+horses, however, and wheeling them round, the whole three pursued their
+united purpose of bearing to the earth the Disinherited Knight.
+
+Nothing could have saved him except the remarkable strength and activity
+of the noble horse which he had won on the preceding day.
+
+This stood him in the more stead, as the horse of Bois-Guilbert was
+wounded and those of Front-de-Boe and Athelstane were both tired
+with the weight of their gigantic masters, clad in complete armor, and
+with the preceding exertions of the day. The masterly horsemanship of
+the Disinherited Knight, and the activity of the noble animal which he
+mounted, enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's point his
+three antagonists, turning and wheeling with the agility of a hawk upon
+the wing, keeping his enemies as far separate as he could, and rushing
+now against the one, now against the other, dealing sweeping blows with
+his sword, without waiting to receive those which were aimed at him in
+return.
+
+But although the lists rang with the applauses of his dexterity, it was
+evident that he must at last be overpowered; and the nobles around
+Prince John implored him with one voice to throw down his warder, and to
+save so brave a knight from the disgrace of being overcome by odds.
+
+"Not I, by the light of Heaven!" answered Prince John: "this same
+springal,[83-15] who conceals his name and despises our proffered
+hospitality, hath already gained one prize, and may now afford to let
+others have their turn." As he spoke thus, an unexpected incident
+changed the fortune of the day.
+
+There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight a champion in black
+armor, mounted on a black horse, large of size, tall, and to all
+appearance powerful and strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted.
+This knight, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, had hitherto
+evinced very little interest in the event of the fight, beating off with
+seeming ease those combatants who attacked him, but neither pursuing his
+advantages nor himself assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto
+acted the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the tournament,
+a circumstance which procured him among the spectators the name of _Le
+Noir Faineant_, or the Black Sluggard.
+
+At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy, when he discovered
+the leader of his party so hard bested; for, setting spurs to his horse,
+which was quite fresh, he came to his assistance like a thunderbolt,
+exclaiming, in a voice like a trumpet-call, "_Desdichado_, to the
+rescue!" It was high time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was
+pressing upon the Templar, Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his
+uplifted sword; but ere the blow could descend, the Sable Knight dealt a
+stroke on his head, which, glancing from the polished helmet, lighted
+with violence scarcely abated on the chamfron[84-16] of the steed, and
+Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground, both horse and man equally
+stunned by the fury of the blow. _Le Noir Faineant_ then turned his
+horse upon Athelstane of Coningsburgh; and his own sword having been
+broken in his encounter with Front-de-Boeuf, he wrenched from the hand
+of the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and, like one
+familiar with the use of the weapon, bestowed him such a blow upon the
+crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved
+this double feat, for which he was the more highly applauded that it was
+totally unexpected from him, the knight seemed to resume the
+sluggishness of his character, returning calmly to the northern
+extremity of the lists, leaving his leader to cope as he best could with
+Brian de Bois-Guilbert. This was no longer matter of so much difficulty
+as formerly. The Templar's horse had bled much, and gave way under the
+shock of the Disinherited Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert
+rolled on the field, encumbered with the stirrup, from which he was
+unable to draw his foot. His antagonist sprung from horseback, waved his
+fatal sword over the head of his adversary, and commanded him to yield
+himself; when Prince John, more moved by the Templar's dangerous
+situation than he had been by that of his rival, saved him the
+mortification of confessing himself vanquished, by casting down his
+warder and putting an end to the conflict.
+
+[Illustration: PRINCE JOHN THROWS DOWN THE TRUNCHEON]
+
+It was, indeed, only the relics and embers of the fight which continued
+to burn; for of the few knights who still continued in the lists, the
+greater part had, by tacit consent, forborne the conflict for some time,
+leaving it to be determined by the strife of the leaders.
+
+The squires, who had found it a matter of danger and difficulty to
+attend their masters during the engagement, now thronged into the lists
+to pay their dutiful attendance to the wounded, who were removed with
+the utmost care and attention to the neighboring pavilions, or to the
+quarters prepared for them in the adjoining village.
+
+Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, one of the most
+gallantly contested tournaments of that age; for although only four
+knights, including one who was smothered by the heat of his armor, had
+died upon the field, yet upward of thirty were desperately wounded, four
+or five of whom never recovered. Several more were disabled for life;
+and those who escaped best carried the marks of the conflict to the
+grave with them. Hence it is always mentioned in the old records as the
+"gentle and joyous passage of arms of Ashby."
+
+It being now the duty of Prince John to name the knight who had done
+best, he determined that the honor of the day remained with the knight
+whom the popular voice had termed _Le Noir Faineant_. It was pointed out
+to the Prince, in impeachment of this decree, that the victory had been
+in fact won by the Disinherited Knight, who, in the course of the day,
+had overcome six champions with his own hand, and who had finally
+unhorsed and struck down the leader of the opposite party. But Prince
+John adhered to his own opinion, on the ground that the Disinherited
+Knight and his party had lost the day but for the powerful assistance of
+the Knight of the Black Armor, to whom, therefore, he persisted in
+awarding the prize.
+
+To the surprise of all present, however, the knight thus preferred was
+nowhere to be found. He had left the lists immediately when the conflict
+ceased, and had been observed by some spectators to move down one of the
+forest glades with the same slow pace and listless and indifferent
+manner which had procured him the epithet of the Black Sluggard.[87-17]
+After he had been summoned twice by sound of trumpet and proclamation of
+the heralds, it became necessary to name another to receive the honors
+which had been assigned to him. Prince John had now no further excuse
+for resisting the claim of the Disinherited Knight, whom, therefore, he
+named the champion of the day.
+
+Through a field slippery with blood and encumbered with broken armor and
+the bodies of slain and wounded horses, the marshals again conducted
+the victor to the foot of Prince John's throne.
+
+"Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since by that title only you
+will consent to be known to us, we a second time award to you the honors
+of this tournament, and announce to you your right to claim and receive
+from the hands of the Queen of Love and Beauty the chaplet of honor
+which your valor has justly deserved."
+
+The Knight bowed low and gracefully, but returned no answer.
+
+While the trumpets sounded, while the heralds strained their voices in
+proclaiming honor to the brave and glory to the victor, while ladies
+waved their silken kerchiefs and embroidered veils, and while all ranks
+joined in a clamorous shout of exultation, the marshals conducted the
+Disinherited Knight across the lists to the foot of that throne of honor
+which was occupied by the Lady Rowena.
+
+On the lower step of this throne the champion was made to kneel down.
+Indeed, his whole action since that the fight had ended seemed rather to
+have been upon the impulse of those around him than from his own free
+will; and it was observed that he tottered as they guided him the second
+time across the lists. Rowena, descending from her station with a
+graceful and dignified step, was about to place the chaplet which she
+held in her hand upon the helmet of the champion, when the marshals
+exclaimed with one voice, "It must not be thus; his head must be bare."
+The knight muttered faintly a few words, which were lost in the hollow
+of his helmet; but their purport seemed to be a desire that his casque
+might not be removed.
+
+[Illustration: ROWENA CROWNING DISINHERITED KNIGHT]
+
+Whether from love of form or from curiosity, the marshals paid no
+attention to his expressions of reluctance, but unhelmed him by cutting
+the laces of his casque, and undoing the fastening of his gorget. When
+the helmet was removed the well-formed yet sun-burned features of a
+young man of twenty-five were seen, amid a profusion of short fair
+hair. His countenance was as pale as death, and marked in one or two
+places with streaks of blood.
+
+Rowena had no sooner beheld him that she uttered a faint shriek; but at
+once summoning up the energy of her disposition, and compelling herself,
+as it were, to proceed, while her frame yet trembled with the violence
+of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the victor the
+splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day, and
+pronounced in a clear and distinct tone these words: "I bestow on thee
+this chaplet, Sir Knight, as the meed of valor assigned to this day's
+victor." Here she paused a moment, and then firmly added, "And upon brow
+more worthy could a wreath of chivalry never be placed!"
+
+The knight stooped his head and kissed the hand of the lovely Sovereign
+by whom his valor had been rewarded; and then, sinking yet further
+forward, lay prostrate at her feet.
+
+There was a general consternation. Cedric, who had been struck mute by
+the sudden appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward as if to
+separate him from Rowena. But this had been already accomplished by the
+marshals of the field, who, guessing the cause of Ivanhoe's swoon, had
+hastened to undo his armor, and found that the head of a lance had
+penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side.
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[39-1] A pursuivant was an attendant on a herald.
+
+[40-2] _Salvage_ is an old form of the word _savage_.
+
+[46-3] _Outrance_ is an old word meaning _the last extremity_.
+
+[48-4] A largesse is a gift or donation.
+
+[53-5] _Clowns_ here means _peasants_.
+
+[56-6] _Gare le Corbeau_ means _Beware of the raven_.
+
+[57-7] A demi-volte is a certain movement of a horse, by which he makes
+a half turn with the fore-feet off the ground.
+
+[59-8] _Front-de-Boeuf_ means bull's head.
+
+[59-9] _Cave, Adsum_ is a Latin expression meaning _Beware, I am here_.
+
+[62-10] _Hospitallers_ was another name for the Knights of Saint John.
+
+[70-11] _Barbed_, or _barded_, is a term used of a war-horse, and means
+_furnished with armor_.
+
+[72-12] A zecchin, or sequin, is worth about $2.25.
+
+[78-13] _Laissez aller_ means literally _Let go_.
+
+[79-14] _Beau-seant_ was the name given to the black and white banner of
+the Templars.
+
+[83-15] _Springal_ is an old word meaning _youth_ or _young man_.
+
+[84-16] The _chamfron_ is the defensive armor of the front part of the
+head of a war-horse.
+
+[87-17] The Black Sluggard was the king of England, Richard the
+Lion-Hearted, who had been absent from England on a Crusade and had come
+back without allowing his brother John to know of his return.
+
+
+
+
+THE RAINBOW
+
+_By_ THOMAS CAMPBELL
+
+
+    Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
+      When storms prepare to part,
+    I ask not proud Philosophy
+      To teach me what thou art.
+
+    Still seem, as to my childhoods' sight,
+      A midway station given,
+    For happy spirits to alight,
+      Betwixt the earth and heaven.
+
+    Can all that optics teach, unfold
+      Thy form to please me so,
+    As when I dreamt of gems and gold
+      Hid in thy radiant bow?[91-1]
+
+    When science from creation's face
+      Enchantment's veil withdraws,
+    What lovely visions yield their place
+      To cold material laws!
+
+    And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
+      But words of the Most High,
+    Have told why first thy robe of beams
+      Was woven in the sky.[91-2]
+
+    When o'er the green undeluged earth
+      Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
+    How came the world's gray fathers forth
+      To watch thy sacred sign!
+
+    And when its yellow lustre smiled
+      O'er mountains yet untrod,
+    Each mother held aloft her child
+      To bless the bow of God.
+
+    The earth to thee her incense yields,
+      The lark thy welcome sings,
+    When, glittering in the freshen'd fields,
+      The snowy mushroom springs.
+
+    How glorious is thy girdle, cast
+      O'er mountain, tower, and town,
+    Or mirror'd in the ocean vast
+      A thousand fathoms down!
+
+    As fresh in yon horizon dark,
+      As young thy beauties seem,
+    As when the eagle from the ark
+      First sported in thy beam.
+
+    For, faithful to its sacred page,
+      Heaven still rebuilds thy span;
+    Nor lets the type grow pale with age
+      That first spoke peace to man.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[91-1] There was an old, old belief that a pot of god was hidden at the
+end of the rainbow, and that whoever found his way to the spot might
+claim the gold. This superstition has existed in almost all lands, and
+references to it are constantly to be found in literature.
+
+[91-2] According to the account given in _Genesis IX_, God said to Noah
+after the flood:
+
+"And I will establish my covenant with you; neither shall all flesh be
+cut off any more by the waters of a flood; neither shall there any more
+be a flood to destroy the earth.
+
+"This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you, and
+every living creature that is with you for perpetual generations:
+
+"I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant
+between me and the earth.
+
+"And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that
+the bow shall be seen in the cloud:
+
+"And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you, and every
+living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a
+flood to destroy all flesh."
+
+
+
+
+THE LION AND THE MISSIONARY
+
+_By_ DAVID LIVINGSTONE
+
+
+     NOTE.--Few men have endured more hardships, dangers and excitement
+     that did David Livingstone, missionary and African traveler, from
+     whose writings this account of an adventure with a lion is taken.
+     He penetrated to parts of Africa where no white man had ever been
+     before, he suffered repeated attacks of African fever, he exposed
+     himself to constant danger from wild beasts and wilder men; and he
+     did none of this in his own interests. He was no merchant seeking
+     for gold and diamonds, he was no discoverer seeking for fame; his
+     only aim was to open up the continent of Africa so that
+     civilization and Christianity might enter.
+
+     In 1840 Livingstone was sent as medical missionary to South Africa.
+     Here he joined Robert Moffat, in Bechuanaland, where he worked for
+     nine years. Learning from the natives that there was a large lake
+     to the northward, he set out on his first exploring trip, and at
+     length discovered Lake Ngami. Later, he undertook other journeys of
+     exploration, on one of which he reached the Atlantic coast and then
+     returned, crossing the entire continent. His greatest achievement
+     was the exploration of the lake region of South Africa. So cut off
+     was he, in the African jungles, from all the outer world that no
+     communication was received from him for three years, and fears as
+     to his safety were relieved only when Stanley, sent out by the _New
+     York Herald_ to search for Livingstone, reported that he had seen
+     and assisted him.
+
+     In May, 1873, Livingstone died, at a village near Lake Bangweolo.
+     His body was taken to England and laid in Westminster Abbey, but
+     his heart was buried at the foot of the tree under whose branches
+     he died.
+
+Returning toward Kuruman, I selected the beautiful valley of Mabotsa
+(latitude 25° 14´ south, longitude 26° 30´) as the site of a missionary
+station, and thither I removed in 1843. Here an occurrence took place
+concerning which I have frequently been questioned in England, and
+which, but for the importunities of friends, I meant to have kept in
+store to tell my children when in my dotage. The Bakatla of the village
+Mabotsa were much troubled by lions, which leaped into the cattle pens
+by night and destroyed their cows. They even attacked the herds in open
+day. This was so unusual an occurrence that the people believed that
+they were bewitched,--"given," as they said, "into the power of the
+lions by a neighboring tribe." They went once to attack the animals,
+but, being rather a cowardly people compared to Bechuanas in general on
+such occasions, they returned without killing any.
+
+It is well known that if one of a troop of lions is killed, the others
+take the hint and leave that part of the country. So, the next time the
+herds were attacked, I went with the people, in order to encourage them
+to rid themselves of the annoyance by destroying one of the marauders.
+We found the lions on a small hill about a quarter of a mile in length,
+and covered with trees. A circle of men was formed round it, and they
+gradually closed up, ascending pretty near to each other. Being down
+below on the plain with a native schoolmaster, named Mebálwe, a most
+excellent man, I saw one of the lions sitting on a piece of rock within
+the now closed circle of men. Mebálwe fired at him before I could, and
+the ball struck the rock on which the animal was sitting. He bit at the
+spot struck, as a dog does at a stick or stone thrown at him; then
+leaping away, broke through the opening circle and escaped unhurt. The
+men were afraid to attack him, perhaps on account of their belief in
+witchcraft. When the circle was reformed, we saw two other lions in it;
+but we were afraid to fire lest we should strike the men, and they
+allowed the beasts to burst through also.
+
+If the Bakatla had acted according to the custom of the country, they
+would have speared the lions in their attempt to get out. Seeing we
+could not get them to kill one of the lions, we bent our footsteps
+toward the village; in going round the end of the hill, however, I saw
+one of the beasts sitting on a piece of rock as before, but this time he
+had a little bush in front. Being about thirty yards off, I took a good
+aim at his body through the bush, and fired both barrels into it. The
+men then called out, "He is shot, he is shot!" Others cried, "He has
+been shot by another man too; let us go to him!" I did not see any one
+else shoot at him, but I saw the lion's tail erected in anger behind the
+bush, and turning to the people, said, "Stop a little, till I load
+again." When in the act of ramming down the bullets, I heard a shout.
+Starting, and looking half round, I saw the lion just in the act of
+springing upon me.
+
+I was upon a little height; he caught my shoulder as he sprang, and we
+both came to the ground below together. Growling horribly close to my
+ear, he shook me as a terrier dog does a rat. The shock produced a
+stupor similar to that which seems to be felt by a mouse after the first
+shake of the cat. It caused a sort of dreaminess, in which there was no
+sense of pain nor feeling of terror, though I was quite conscious of all
+that was happening. It was like what patients partially under the
+influence of chloroform describe, who see all the operation, but feel
+not the knife. This singular condition was not the result of any mental
+process. The shake annihilated fear, and allowed no sense of horror in
+looking round at the beast. This peculiar state is probably produced in
+all animals killed by the carnivora; and if so, is a merciful provision
+by our benevolent Creator for lessening the pain of death. Turning round
+to relieve myself of the weight, as he had one paw on the back of my
+head, I saw his eyes directed to Mebálwe, who was trying to shoot him at
+a distance of ten or fifteen yards. His gun, a flint one, missed fire in
+both barrels; the lion immediately left me, and, attacking Mebálwe, bit
+his thigh. Another man, whose life I had saved before, after he had been
+tossed by a buffalo, attempted to spear the lion while he was biting
+Mebálwe. He left Mebálwe and caught this man by the shoulder, but at
+that moment the bullets he had received took effect, and he fell down
+dead. The whole was the work of a few moments, and must have been his
+paroxysms of dying rage. In order to take out the charm from him, the
+Bakatla on the following day made a huge bonfire over the carcass, which
+was declared to be that of the largest lion they had ever seen. Besides
+crunching the bone into splinters, he left eleven teeth wounds on the
+upper part of my arm.
+
+A wound from this animal's tooth resembles a gunshot wound; it is
+generally followed by a great deal of sloughing and discharge, and
+pains are felt in the part, periodically ever afterward. I had on a
+tartan jacket on the occasion, and I believe that it wiped off all the
+virus from the teeth that pierced the flesh, for my two companions in
+this affray have both suffered from the peculiar pains, while I have
+escaped with only the inconvenience of a false joint in my limb. The man
+whose shoulder was wounded, showed me his wound actually burst forth
+afresh on the same month of the following year. This curious point
+certainly deserves the attention of inquirers.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE MOSS ROSE
+
+TRANSLATED FROM KRUMMACHER
+
+
+    The angel of the flowers, one day,
+    Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay,--
+    That spirit to whose charge 'tis given
+    To bathe young buds in dews of heaven.
+    Awaking from his light repose,
+    The angel whispered to the rose:
+    "O fondest object of my care,
+    Still fairest found, where all are fair;
+    For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me
+    Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee."
+    "Then," said the rose, with deepened glow,
+    "On me another grace bestow."
+    The spirit paused, in silent thought,--
+    What grace was there that flower had not?
+    'Twas but a moment,--o'er the rose
+    A veil of moss the angel throws,
+    And, robed in nature's simplest weed,
+    Could there a flower that rose exceed?
+
+
+
+
+FOUR DUCKS ON A POND
+
+_By_ WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
+
+
+    Four ducks on a pond,
+    A grass bank beyond,
+    A blue sky of spring,
+    White clouds on the wing;
+    What a little thing
+    To remember for years,
+    To remember with tears.
+
+
+
+
+RAB AND HIS FRIENDS
+
+_By_ JOHN BROWN, M. D.
+
+
+Four and thirty years ago, Bob Ainslie and I were coming up Infirmary
+street from the high school, our heads together, and our arms
+intertwisted, as only lovers and boys know how or why.
+
+When we got to the top of the street, and turned north, we espied a
+crowd at the Tron-church. "A dog fight!" shouted Bob, and was off; and
+so was I, both of us all but praying that it might not be over before we
+got up! And is not this boy nature! and human nature too? and don't we
+all wish a house on fire not to be out before we see it? Dogs like
+fighting; old Isaac says they "delight" in it, and for the best of all
+reasons; and boys are not cruel because they like to see the fight. They
+see three of the great cardinal virtues of dog or man--courage,
+endurance, and skill--in intense action. This is very different from a
+love of making dogs fight, and enjoying, and aggravating, and making
+gain by their pluck. A boy--be he ever so fond himself of fighting, if
+he be a good boy, hates and despises all this, but he would have run off
+with Bob and me fast enough; it is a natural, and a not wicked, interest
+that all boys and men have in witnessing intense energy in action.
+
+Does any curious and finely-ignorant woman wish to know how Bob's eye at
+a glance announced a dog fight to his brain? He did not, he could not
+see the dogs fighting; it was a flash of an inference, a rapid
+induction. The crowd round a couple of dogs fighting, is a crowd
+masculine mainly, with an occasional active, compassionate woman,
+fluttering wildly round the outside, and using her tongue and her hands
+freely upon the men, as so many "brutes"; it is a crowd annular, compact
+and mobile; a crowd centripetal, having its eyes and its heads all bent
+downward and inward, to one common focus.
+
+Well, Bob and I are up, and find it is not over; a small thoroughbred,
+white bull-terrier, is busy throttling a large shepherd's dog,
+unaccustomed to war, but not to be trifled with. They are hard at it;
+the scientific little fellow doing his work in great style, his pastoral
+enemy fighting wildly, but with the sharpest of teeth and a great
+courage. Science and breeding, however, soon had their own; the Game
+Chicken, as the premature Bob called him, working his way up, took his
+final grip of poor Yarrow's throat--and he lay gasping and done for. His
+master, a brown, handsome, big young shepherd from Tweedsmuir, would
+have liked to have knocked down any man, would "drink up Esil, or eat a
+crocodile," for that part, if he had a chance; it was no use kicking the
+little dog; that would only make him hold the closer. Many were the
+means shouted out in mouthfuls, of the best possible ways of ending it.
+
+"Water!" but there was none near, and many cried for it who might have
+got it from the well at Blackfriars Wynd.
+
+"Bite the tail!" and a large, vague, benevolent, middle-aged man, more
+desirous than wise, with some struggle got the bushy end of Yarrow's
+tail into his ample mouth, and bit it with all his might. This was more
+than enough for the much-enduring, much-perspiring shepherd, who, with a
+gleam of joy over his broad visage, delivered a terrific facer upon our
+large, vague, benevolent, middle-aged friend--who went down like a shot.
+
+Still the Chicken holds; death not far off.
+
+"Snuff! a pinch of snuff!" observed a calm, highly-dressed young buck,
+with an eye-glass in his eye. "Snuff, indeed!" growled the angry crowd,
+affronted and glaring.
+
+"Snuff! a pinch of snuff!" again observes the buck, but with more
+urgency; whereupon were produced several open boxes, and from a mull
+which may have been at Culloden, he took a pinch, knelt down, and
+presented it to the nose of the Chicken. The laws of physiology and of
+snuff take their course; the Chicken sneezes, and Yarrow is free.
+
+The young pastoral giant stalks off with Yarrow in his arms--comforting
+him.
+
+But the bull-terrier's blood is up, and his soul unsatisfied; he grips
+the first dog he meets, and discovering she is not a dog, in Homeric
+phrase, he makes a brief sort of _amende_,[101-1] and is off. The boys,
+with Bob and me at their head, are after him; down Niddry street he
+goes, bent on mischief; up the Cowgate like an arrow--Bob and I, and our
+small men, panting behind.
+
+There, under the single arch of the South bridge is a huge mastiff,
+sauntering down the middle of the causeway, as if with his hands in his
+pockets; he is old, gray, brindled, as big as a little Highland bull,
+and has the Shakespearian dewlaps shaking as he goes.
+
+The Chicken makes straight at him, and fastens on his throat. To our
+astonishment, the great creature does nothing but stand still, holds
+himself up, and roar--yes, roar; a long, serious, remonstrative roar.
+How is this? Bob and I are up to them. _He is muzzled!_ The bailies had
+proclaimed a general muzzling, and his master, studying strength and
+economy mainly, had encompassed his huge jaws in a homemade apparatus,
+constructed out of the leather of some ancient breechin. His mouth was
+open as far as it could; his lips curled up in rage--a sort of terrible
+grin; his teeth gleaming, ready, from out of the darkness; the strap
+across his mouth tense as a bow string; his whole frame stiff with
+indignation and surprise; his roar asking us all round, "Did you ever
+see the like of this?"
+
+He looked a statue of anger and astonishment, done in Aberdeen granite.
+
+We soon had a crowd; the Chicken held on. "A knife!" cried Bob; and a
+cobbler gave him his knife; you know the kind of knife, worn away
+obliquely to a point, and always keen. I put its edge to the tense
+leather; it ran before it; and then!--one sudden jerk of that enormous
+head, a sort of dirty mist about his mouth, no noise, and the bright and
+fierce little fellow is dropped, limp, and dead. A solemn pause; this
+was more than any of us had bargained for. I turned the little fellow
+over, and saw he was quite dead; the mastiff had taken him by the small
+of the back, like a rat, and broken it.
+
+He looked down at his victim appeased, ashamed and amazed; snuffed him
+all over, stared at him, and taking a sudden thought, turned round and
+trotted off.
+
+Bob took the dead dog up, and said, "John, we'll bury him after tea."
+
+[Illustration: "RAB, YE THIEF!"]
+
+"Yes," said I, and was off after the mastiff. He made up the Cowgate at
+a rapid swing; he had forgotten some engagement. He turned up the
+Candlemaker Row, and stopped at the Harrow Inn.
+
+There was a carrier's cart ready to start, and a keen, thin, impatient,
+black-a-vised little man, his hand at his gray horse's head looking
+about angrily for something.
+
+"Rab, ye thief!" said he, aiming a kick at my great friend, who drew
+cringing up, and avoiding the heavy shoe with more agility than dignity,
+and watching his master's eye, slunk dismayed under the cart--his ears
+down, and as much as he had of tail down too.
+
+What a man this must be--thought I--to whom my tremendous hero turns
+tail! The carrier saw the muzzle hanging, cut and useless, from his
+neck, and I eagerly told him the story which Bob and I always thought,
+and still think, Homer, or King David, or Sir Walter, alone were worthy
+to rehearse. The severe little man was mitigated, and condescended to
+say, "Rab, ma man, puir Rabbie"--whereupon the stump of a tail rose up,
+the ears were cocked, the eyes filled, and were comforted; the two
+friends were reconciled. "Hupp!" and a stroke of the whip were given to
+Jess; and off went the three.
+
+Bob and I buried the Game Chicken that night (we had not much of a tea)
+in the back-green of his house in Melville street, No. 17, with
+considerable gravity and silence; and being at the time in the Iliad,
+and, like all boys, Trojans, we called him Hector of course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Six years have passed--a long time for a boy and a dog: Bob Ainslie is
+off to the wars; I am a medical student, and clerk at Minto House
+Hospital.
+
+Rab I saw almost every week, on the Wednesday; and we had much pleasant
+intimacy. I found the way to his heart by frequent scratching of his
+huge head, and an occasional bone. When I did not notice him he would
+plant himself straight before me, and stand wagging that bud of a tail,
+and looking up, with his head a little to the one side. His master I
+occasionally saw; he used to call me "Maister John," but was laconic as
+any Spartan.
+
+One fine October afternoon, I was leaving the hospital when I saw the
+large gate open, and in walked Rab with that great and easy saunter of
+his. He looked as if taking general possession of the place; like the
+Duke of Wellington entering a subdued city, satiated with victory and
+peace.
+
+After him came Jess, now white from age, with her cart; and in it a
+woman, carefully wrapped up--the carrier leading the horse anxiously,
+and looking back.
+
+When he saw me, James (for his name was James Noble) made a curt and
+grotesque "boo," and said, "Maister John, this is the mistress; she's
+got a trouble in her breest--some kind of an income we'er thinkin'."
+
+By this time I saw the woman's face; she was sitting on a sack filled
+with straw, her husband's plaid round her, and his big-coat, with its
+large white metal buttons, over her feet.
+
+I never saw a more unforgettable face--pale, serious, _lonely_,
+delicate, sweet, without being at all what we call fine. She looked
+sixty, and had on a mutch, white as snow, with its black ribbon; her
+silvery, smooth hair setting off her dark-gray eyes--eyes such as one
+sees only twice or thrice in a lifetime, full of suffering, full also of
+the overcoming of it; her eyebrows black and delicate, and her mouth
+firm, patient, and contented, which few mouths ever are.
+
+As I have said, I never saw a more beautiful countenance, or a more
+subdued or settled quiet. "Ailie," said James, "this is Maister John,
+the young doctor; Rab's freend, ye ken. We often speak aboot you,
+doctor."
+
+She smiled, and made a movement, but said nothing; and prepared to come
+down, putting her plaid aside and rising. Had Solomon, in all his glory,
+been handing down the Queen of Sheba, at his palace gate, he could not
+have done it more daintily, more tenderly, more like a gentleman, than
+did James, the Howgate carrier, when he lifted down Ailie, his wife.
+
+The contrast of his small, swarthy, weatherbeaten, keen, worldly face to
+hers--pale, subdued, and beautiful--was something wonderful. Rab looked
+on concerned and puzzled, but ready for anything that might turn
+up--were it to strangle the nurse, the porter, or even me. Ailie and he
+seemed great friends.
+
+"As I was sayin', she's got a kind o' trouble in her breest, doctor;
+wull ye tak' a look at it?" We walked into the consulting-room, all
+four; Rab grim and comic, willing to be happy and confidential if cause
+could be shown, willing also to be the reverse on the same terms. Ailie
+sat down, undid her open gown and her lawn handkerchief round her neck,
+and, without a word, showed me her right breast. I looked at and
+examined it carefully, she and James watching me, and Rab eying all
+three. What could I say? There it was that had once been so soft, so
+shapely, so white, so gracious and bountiful, so "full of all blessed
+conditions"--hard as a stone, a center of horrid pain, making that pale
+face, with its gray, lucid, reasonable eyes, and its sweet resolved
+mouth, express the full measure of suffering overcome. Why was that
+gentle, modest, sweet woman, clean and lovable, condemned by God to bear
+such a burden?
+
+I got her away to bed.
+
+"May Rab and me bide?" said James.
+
+"_You_ may; and Rab, if he will behave himself."
+
+"I'se warrant he's do that, doctor;" and in slunk the faithful beast.
+
+I wish you could have seen him. There are no such dogs now. He belonged
+to a lost tribe. As I have said, he was brindled, and gray like Rubislaw
+granite; his hair short, hard, and close, like a lion's; his body
+thickset, like a little bull--a sort of compressed Hercules of a dog. He
+must have been ninety pounds' weight, at the least; he had a large blunt
+head; his muzzle black as night, his mouth blacker than any night, a
+tooth or two--being all he had--gleaming out of his jaws of darkness.
+His head was scarred with the records of old wounds, a sort of series of
+fields of battle all over it; one eye out, one ear cropped as close as
+was Archbishop Leighton's father's; the remaining eye had the power of
+two; and above it, and in constant communication with it, was a tattered
+rag of an ear, which was forever unfurling itself, like an old flag; and
+then that bud of a tail, about one inch long, if it could in any sense
+be said to be long, being as broad as long--the mobility, the
+instantaneousness of that bud were very funny and surprising, and its
+expressive twinklings and winkings, the intercommunications between the
+eye, the ear, and it, were of the oddest and swiftest.
+
+Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size; and having fought his
+way all along the road to absolute supremacy, he was as mighty in his
+own line as Julius Cæsar or the Duke of Wellington, and had the gravity
+of all great fighters.
+
+You must have often observed the likeness of certain men to certain
+animals, and of certain dogs to men. Now, I never looked at Rab without
+thinking of the great Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller. The same large,
+heavy, menacing, combative, sombre, honest countenance, the same deep
+inevitable eye, the same look--as of thunder asleep, but ready--neither
+a dog nor a man to be trifled with.
+
+Next day, my master, the surgeon, examined Ailie. There was no doubt it
+must kill her, and soon. It could be removed--it might never return--it
+would give her speedy relief--she should have it done.
+
+She curtsied, looked at James, and said, "When?"
+
+"To-morrow," said the kind surgeon--a man of few words.
+
+She and James and Rab and I retired. I noticed that he and she spoke a
+little, but seemed to anticipate everything in each other. The following
+day at noon, the students came in, hurrying up the great stair. At the
+first landing-place, on a small well-known blackboard, was a bit of
+paper fastened by wafers and many remains of old wafers beside it. On
+the paper were the words--"An operation to-day. J. B., _Clerk_."
+
+Up ran the youths, eager to secure good places; in they crowded, full of
+interest and talk.
+
+"What's the case? Which side is it?"
+
+Don't think them heartless; they are neither better nor worse than you
+or I; they get over their professional horrors, and into their proper
+work; and in them pity--as an _emotion_, ending in itself or at best in
+tears and a long-drawn breath, lessens, while pity as a _motive_ is
+quickened, and gains power and purpose. It is well for poor human
+nature that it is so.
+
+The operating theatre is crowded; much talk and fun, and all the
+cordiality and stir of youth. The surgeon with his staff of assistants
+is there. In comes Ailie; one look at her quiets and abates the eager
+students. The beautiful old woman is too much for them. They sit down,
+and are dumb, and gaze at her. These rough boys feel the power of her
+presence.
+
+She walks in quickly, but without haste; dressed in her mutch, her
+neckerchief, her white dimity short-gown, her black bombazine petticoat,
+showing her white worsted stockings and her carpet-shoes. Behind her was
+James with Rab. James sat down in the distance, and took that huge and
+noble head between his knees. Rab looked perplexed and dangerous;
+forever cocking his ear and dropping it as fast.
+
+Ailie stepped up on a seat, and laid herself on the table, as her friend
+the surgeon told her; arranged herself, gave a rapid look at James, shut
+her eyes, rested herself on me, and took my hand. The operation was at
+once begun; it was necessarily slow; and chloroform--one of God's best
+gifts to his suffering children--was then unknown. The surgeon did his
+work. Rab's soul was working within him; he saw that something strange
+was going on--blood flowing from his mistress, and she suffering; his
+ragged ear was up, and importunate; he growled and gave now and then a
+sharp impatient yelp; he would have liked to have done something to that
+man. But James had him firm, and gave him a _glower_[109-2] from time to
+time, and an intimation of a possible kick;--all the better for James,
+it kept his eye and his mind off Ailie.
+
+It is over; she is dressed, steps gently and decently down from the
+table, looks for James; then, turning to the surgeon and the students,
+she curtsies--and in a low, clear voice, begs their pardon if she has
+behaved ill. The students--all of us--wept like children; the surgeon
+happed her up carefully--and, resting on James and me, Ailie went to her
+room, Rab following. We put her to bed. James took off his heavy shoes,
+crammed with tackets, heel-capt and toe-capt, and put them carefully
+under the table, saying, "Maister John, I'm for nane o' yer strynge
+nurse bodies for Ailie. I'll be her nurse, and I'll gang about on my
+stockin' soles as canny as pussy."
+
+And so he did; handy and clever, and swift and tender as any woman, was
+that horny-handed, snell, peremptory little man. Everything she got he
+gave her; he seldom slept; and often I saw his small, shrewd eyes out of
+the darkness, fixed on her. As before, they spoke little.
+
+Rab behaved well, never moving, showing us how meek and gentle he could
+be, and occasionally, in his sleep, letting us know that he was
+demolishing some adversary. He took a walk with me every day, generally
+to the Candlemaker Row; but he was sombre and mild; declined doing
+battle, though some fit cases offered, and indeed submitted to sundry
+indignities; and was always very ready to turn and came faster back, and
+trotted up the stair with much lightness, and went straight to that
+door.
+
+Jess, the mare, had been sent, with her weather-worn cart, to Howgate,
+and had doubtless her own dim and placid meditations and confusions, on
+the absence of her master and Rab, and her unnatural freedom from the
+road and her cart.
+
+For some days Ailie did well. The wound healed "by the first intention;"
+for as James said, "Our Ailie's skin's ower clean to beil." The students
+came in quiet and anxious, and surrounded her bed. She said she liked to
+see their young, honest faces. The surgeon dressed her, and spoke to her
+in his own short, kind way, pitying her through his eyes, Rab and James
+outside the circle--Rab being now reconciled, and even cordial, and
+having made up his mind that as yet nobody required worrying, but as you
+may suppose _semper paratus_.[111-3]
+
+So far well; but four days after the operation my patient had a sudden
+and long shivering, a "groosin'," as she called it. I saw her soon
+after; her eyes were too bright, her cheek colored; she was restless,
+and ashamed of being so; the balance was lost; mischief had begun.
+
+On looking at the wound, a blush of red told the secret; her pulse was
+rapid, her breathing anxious and quick, she wasn't herself, as she said,
+and was vexed at her restlessness. We tried what we could, James did
+everything, was everywhere; never in the way, never out of it. Rab
+subsided under the table into a dark place, and was motionless, all but
+his eye, which followed every one. Ailie got worse; began to wander in
+her mind, gently; was more demonstrative in her ways to James, rapid in
+her questions, and sharp at times. He was vexed, and said, "She was
+never that way afore; no, never."
+
+For a time she knew her head was wrong, and was always asking our
+pardon--the dear, gentle old woman; then delirium set in strong, without
+pause. Her brain gave way, and then came that terrible spectacle,
+
+    "The intellectual power, through words and things,
+    Went sounding on its dim and perilous way;"
+
+she sang bits of old songs and psalms, stopping suddenly, mingling the
+Psalms of David, and the diviner words of his Son and Lord, with homely
+odds and ends and scraps of ballads.
+
+Nothing more touching, or in a sense more strangely beautiful, did I
+ever witness. Her tremulous, rapid, affectionate, eager, Scotch
+voice--the swift, aimless, bewildered mind, the baffled utterance, the
+bright and perilous eye; some wild words, some household cares,
+something for James, the names of the dead, Rab called rapidly and in a
+"fremyt"[112-4] voice, and he starting up, surprised, and slinking off
+as if he were to blame somehow, or had been dreaming he heard. Many
+eager questions and beseechings which James and I could make nothing of,
+and on which she seemed to set her all, and then sink back ununderstood.
+It was very sad, but better than many things that are not called sad.
+James hovered about, put out and miserable, but active and exact as
+ever; read to her, when there was a lull, short bits from the Psalms,
+prose and metre, chanting the latter in his own rude and serious way,
+showing great knowledge of the fit words, bearing up like a man, and
+doating over her as his "ain Ailie," "Ailie, ma woman!" "Ma ain bonnie
+wee dawtie!"
+
+The end was drawing on: the golden bowl was breaking; the silver cord
+was fast being loosed--that _animula blandula, vagula, hospes,
+comesque_[113-5] was about to flee. The body and the soul--companions
+for sixty years--were being sundered, and taking leave. She was walking,
+alone, through the valley of that shadow, into which one day we must all
+enter--and yet she was not alone, for we knew whose rod and staff were
+comforting her.
+
+One night she had fallen quiet, and as we hoped, asleep; her eyes were
+shut. We put down the gas and sat watching her. Suddenly she sat up in
+bed, and taking a bedgown which was lying on it rolled up, she held it
+eagerly to her breast--to the right side. We could see her eyes bright
+with surpassing tenderness and joy, bending over this bundle of clothes.
+She held it as a woman holds her sucking child; opening out her
+nightgown impatiently, and holding it close, and brooding over it, and
+murmuring foolish little words, as one whom his mother comforteth, and
+who sucks and is satisfied. It was pitiful and strange to see her
+wasting dying look, keen and yet vague--her immense love.
+
+"Preserve me!" groaned James, giving away. And then she rocked back and
+forward, as if to make it sleep, hushing it, and wasting on it her
+infinite fondness.
+
+"Wae's me, doctor; I declare she's thinkin' it's that bairn."
+
+"What bairn?"
+
+"The only bairn we ever had; our wee Mysie, and she's in the Kingdom,
+forty years and mair."
+
+It was plainly true: the pain in the breast telling its urgent story to
+a bewildered, ruined brain, was misread, and mistaken; it suggested to
+her the uneasiness of a breast full of milk, and then the child; and so
+again once more they were together, and she had her ain wee Mysie in her
+bosom.
+
+This was the close. She sank rapidly: the delirium left her; but, as she
+whispered, she was "clean silly"; it was the lightening before the final
+darkness. After having for some time lain still--her eyes shut, she
+said, "James!"
+
+He came close to her, and lifting up her calm, clear, beautiful eyes,
+she gave him a long look, turned to me kindly but shortly, looked for
+Rab but could not see him, then turned to her husband again, as if she
+would never leave off looking, shut her eyes and composed herself. She
+lay for some time breathing quick, and passed away so gently, that when
+we thought she was gone, James, in his old-fashioned way, held the
+mirror to her face. After a long pause, one small spot of dimness was
+breathed out; it vanished away, and never returned, leaving the blank
+clear darkness of the mirror without a stain. "What is your life? it is
+even a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth
+away."
+
+Rab all this time had been full awake and motionless; he came forward
+beside us; Ailie's hand, which James had held, was hanging down; it was
+soaked with his tears; Rab licked it all over carefully, looked at her,
+and returned to his place under the table.
+
+James and I sat, I don't know how long, but for some time--saying
+nothing: he started up, abruptly, and with some noise went to the table,
+and putting his right fore and middle fingers each into a shoe, pulled
+them out, and put them on, breaking one of the leather latchets, and
+muttering in anger, "I never did the like o' that afore."
+
+I believe he never did; nor after either. "Rab!" he said roughly, and
+pointing with his thumb to the bottom of the bed. Rab leaped up, and
+settled himself; his head and eye to the dead face. "Maister John, ye'll
+wait for me," said the carrier, and disappeared in the darkness,
+thundering downstairs in his heavy shoes. I ran to a front window: there
+he was, already round the house, and out at the gate fleeing like a
+shadow.
+
+I was afraid about him, and yet not afraid; so I sat down beside Rab,
+and being wearied, fell asleep. I awoke from a sudden noise outside. It
+was November, and there had been a heavy fall of snow. Rab was _in statu
+quo_;[115-6] he heard the noise too, and plainly knew it, but never
+moved. I looked out, and there, at the gate, in the dim morning--for the
+sun was not up--was Jess and the cart--a cloud of steam rising from the
+old mare. I did not see James; he was already at the door, and came up
+to the stairs, and met me. It was less than three hours since he left,
+and he must have posted out--who knows how--to Howgate, full nine miles
+off; yoked Jess, and driven her astonished into town. He had an armful
+of blankets, and was streaming with perspiration. He nodded to me,
+spread out on the floor two pairs of clean old blankets, having at their
+corners "A. G., 1794," in large letters in red worsted. These were the
+initials of Alison Græme, and James may have looked in at her from
+without--himself unseen but not unthought of--when he was "wat, wat and
+weary," and after having walked many a mile over the hills, may have
+seen her sitting, while "a' the lave were sleepin';" and by the
+firelight working her name on the blankets, for her ain James' bed.
+
+He motioned Rab down, and taking his wife in his arms, laid her in the
+blankets, and happed her carefully and firmly up, leaving the face
+uncovered; and then lifting her, he nodded again sharply to me, and with
+a resolved but utterly miserable face, strode along the passage, and
+downstairs, followed by Rab. I followed with a light; but he didn't need
+it. I went out, holding stupidly the candle in my hand in the calm
+frosty air; we were soon at the gate. I could have helped him, but I saw
+he was not to be meddled with, and he was strong, and did not need it.
+He laid her down as tenderly, as safely, as he had lifted her out ten
+days before--as tenderly as when he had her first in his arms when she
+was only "A. G."--sorted her, leaving that beautiful sealed face open to
+the heavens; and then taking Jess by the head, he moved away. He did not
+notice me, neither did Rab, who presided behind the cart.
+
+I stood till they passed through the long shadow of the College, and
+turned up Nicholson Street. I heard the solitary cart sound through the
+streets, and die away and come again; and I returned, thinking of that
+company going up Libberton Brae, then along Roslin Muir, the morning
+light touching the Pentlands and making them on-looking ghosts; then
+down the hill through Auchindinny woods, past "haunted Woodhouselee";
+and as daybreak came sweeping up the bleak Lammermuirs, and fell on his
+own door, the company would stop, and James would take the key, and
+lift Ailie up again, laying her on her own bed, and, having put Jess up,
+would return with Rab and shut the door.
+
+[Illustration: JAMES BURIED HIS WIFE]
+
+James buried his wife, with his neighbors mourning, Rab inspecting the
+solemnity from a distance. It was snow, and that black ragged hole would
+look strange in the midst of the swelling spotless cushion of white.
+James looked after everything; then rather suddenly fell ill, and took
+to bed; was insensible when the doctor came, and soon died. A sort of
+low fever was prevailing in the village, and his want of sleep, his
+exhaustion, and his misery, made him apt to take it. The grave was not
+difficult to reopen. A fresh fall of snow had again made all things
+white and smooth; Rab once more looked on, and slunk home to the
+stable.
+
+And what of Rab? I asked for him next week of the new carrier who got
+the goodwill of James's business, and was now master of Jess and her
+cart.
+
+"How's Rab?"
+
+He put me off, and said rather rudely, "What's _your_ business wi' the
+dowg?"
+
+I was not to be so put off.
+
+"Where's Rab?"
+
+He, getting confused and red, and intermeddling with his hair, said,
+"'Deed sir, Rab's died."
+
+"Dead! what did he die of?"
+
+"Well, sir," said he, getting redder, "he didna exactly dee; he was
+killed. I had to brain him wi' a rack-pin; there was nae doing wi' him.
+He lay in the treviss wi' the mear, and wadna come oot. I tempit him wi'
+the kail and meat, but he wad tak naething, and keepit me frae feedin'
+the beast, and he was aye gur gurrin', and grup gruppin' me by the legs.
+I was laith to make awa wi' the old dowg, his like wasne atween this and
+Thornhill--but, 'deed, sir, I could do naething else."
+
+I believed him. Fit end for Rab, quick and complete. His teeth and his
+friends gone, why should he keep the peace and be civil?
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[101-1] _Amende_ means _apology_.
+
+[109-2] _Glower_, a Scotch word meaning a savage stare.
+
+[111-3] _Semper paratus_ means _always ready_.
+
+[112-4] _Fremyt_ means _trembling, querulous_.
+
+[113-5] _Animula blandula, vagula, hospes, comesque_, means _sweet
+fleeting life, companion and sojourner_.
+
+[115-6] _In statu quo_ means _in the same position_.
+
+
+
+
+ANNIE LAURIE
+
+
+     NOTE.--Concerning the history of this song it is stated on good
+     authority that there did really live, in the seventeenth century,
+     an Annie Laurie. She was a daughter of Sir Robert Laurie, first
+     baronet of the Maxwelton family, and was celebrated for her beauty.
+     We should be glad to hear that Annie Laurie married the Mr. Douglas
+     whose love for her inspired the writing of this poem, but records
+     show that she became the wife of another man.
+
+     Only the first two verses were composed by Douglas; the last was
+     added by an unknown author.
+
+    Maxwelton braes are bonnie
+    Where early fa's the dew,
+    And it's there that Annie Laurie
+    Gie'd me her promise true,--
+    Gie'd me her promise true,
+    Which ne'er forgot will be;
+    And for bonnie Annie Laurie
+    I'd lay me doune and dee.
+
+    Her brow is like the snaw drift;
+    Her throat is like the swan;
+    Her face it is the fairest
+    That e'er the sun shone on,--
+    That e'er the sun shone on;
+    And dark blue is her ee;
+    And for bonnie Annie Laurie
+    I'd lay me doune and dee.
+
+    Like dew on the gowan lying
+    Is the fa' o' her fairy feet;
+    And like winds in summer sighing,
+    Her voice is low and sweet,--
+    Her voice is low and sweet;
+    And she's a' the world to me;
+    And for bonnie Annie Laurie
+    I'd lay me doune and dee.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND LASSIE
+
+_By_ T. C. LATTO
+
+
+    O hark to the strain that sae[120-1] sweetly is ringin',
+      And echoing clearly o'er lake and o'er lea,[120-2]
+    Like some fairy bird in the wilderness singin';
+      It thrills to my heart, yet nae[120-3] minstrel I see.
+    Round yonder rock knittin', a dear child is sittin',
+      Sae toilin' her pitifu' pittance[120-4] is won,
+    Hersel' tho' we see nae,[120-5] 'tis mitherless[120-6] Jeanie--
+      The bonnie[120-7] blind lassie that sits i' the sun.
+
+    Five years syne come autumn[120-8] she cam'[120-9] wi' her mither,
+      A sodger's[120-10] puir[120-11] widow, sair[120-12] wasted an'
+          gane;[120-13]
+    As brown fell the leaves, sae wi' them did she wither,
+      And left the sweet child on the wide world her lane.[121-14]
+    She left Jeanie weepin', in His holy keepin'
+      Wha[121-15] shelters the lamb frae[121-16] the cauld[121-17] wintry
+          win';
+    We had little siller,[121-18] yet a' were good till her,
+      The bonnie blind lassie that sits i' the sun.
+
+    An' blythe now an' cheerfu', frae mornin' to e'enin
+      She sits thro' the simmer, an' gladdens ilk[121-19] ear,
+    Baith[121-20] auld and young daut[121-21] her, sae gentle and winnin';
+      To a' the folks round the wee lassie is dear.
+    Braw[121-22] leddies[121-23] caress her, wi' bounties would press her;
+      The modest bit[121-24] darlin' their notice would shun;
+    For though she has naething, proud-hearted this wee thing,
+      The bonnie blind lassie that sits i' the sun.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[120-1] _Sae_ is the Scotch word for _so_.
+
+[120-2] A lea is a grassy field or meadow.
+
+[120-3] _Nae_ means _no_.
+
+[120-4] _Pittance_ means _small earnings_.
+
+[120-5] _Nae_ is _not_.
+
+[120-6] _Mither_ is the Scotch form of _mother_.
+
+[120-7] _Bonnie_ means _pretty_.
+
+[120-8] _Since come autumn_; that is, it will be nine years next autumn.
+
+[120-9] _Cam'_ is a contraction of _came_.
+
+[120-10] _Sodger's_ is _soldier's_.
+
+[120-11] _Puir_ is the Scotch spelling of _poor_.
+
+[120-12] _Sair_ is _sore_, that is, _sadly_.
+
+[120-13] _Gane_ means _gone_.
+
+[121-14] _Her lane_ means _by herself_.
+
+[121-15] _Wha_ is Scotch for _who_.
+
+[121-16] _Frae_ means _from_.
+
+[121-17] _Cauld_ is the Scotch form of _cold_.
+
+[121-18] _Siller_ means _silver money_, or simply _money_.
+
+[121-19] _Ilk_ means _every_.
+
+[121-20] _Baith_ is Scotch for _both_.
+
+[121-21] _Daut_ means _pet_.
+
+[121-22] _Braw_ means _fine_, or _gay_.
+
+[121-23] _Leddies_ is the Scotch form of _ladies_.
+
+[121-24] _Bit_ means _little_.
+
+
+
+
+BOYHOOD
+
+_By_ WASHINGTON ALLSTON
+
+
+    Ah, then how sweetly closed those crowded days!
+    The minutes parting one by one like rays,
+      That fade upon a summer's eve.
+    But O, what charm or magic numbers
+    Can give me back the gentle slumbers
+      Those weary, happy days did leave?
+    When by my bed I saw my mother kneel,
+      And with her blessing took her nightly kiss;
+      Whatever Time destroys, he cannot this;--
+    E'en now that nameless kiss I feel.
+
+
+
+
+SWEET AND LOW
+
+
+     NOTE.--In Tennyson's long poem _The Princess_ is a little lullaby
+     so wonderfully sweet that all who have read it wish to read it
+     again. It is one that we all love, no matter whether we are little
+     children and hear it sung to us or are older children and look back
+     to the evenings when we listened to mother's loving voice as she
+     led us gently into the land of dreams while she watched patiently
+     for father's return.
+
+     Here are the stanzas which are usually known by the name _Sweet and
+     Low_:
+
+    Sweet and low, sweet and low,
+      Wind of the western sea,
+    Low, low, breathe and blow,
+      Wind of the western sea!
+    Over the rolling waters go,
+    Come from the dying moon, and blow,
+      Blow him again to me;
+    While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.
+
+    Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
+      Father will come to thee soon;
+    Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
+      Father will come to thee soon;
+    Father will come to his babe in the nest,
+    Silver sails all out of the west
+      Under the silver moon:
+    Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
+
+     It is interesting to try to determine just how a great poet makes
+     us feel so strongly the thing that he tells us. In this case
+     Tennyson thinks of a mother in England and a father who is
+     somewhere in the West, out on the broad Atlantic, but is coming
+     home to his little one. The mother dreams only of the home-coming
+     of her husband, and she wishes the baby to learn to love its father
+     as much as she does, so as she sings the little one to sleep, she
+     pours out her love for both in beautiful melody.
+
+     To express this mother-love and anxious care the poet has chosen
+     simple words that have rich, musical sounds, that can be spoken
+     easily and smoothly and that linger on the tongue. He speaks of the
+     sea, the gentle wind, the rolling waters, the dying moon and the
+     silver sails, all of which call up ideas that rest us and make us
+     happy, and then with rare skill he arranges the words so that when
+     we read the lines we can feel the gentle rocking movement that
+     lulls the little one, the pretty one into its gentle slumbers.
+
+
+
+
+CHILDHOOD[124-1]
+
+_By_ DONALD G. MITCHELL
+
+
+Isabel and I--she is my cousin, and is seven years old, and I am
+ten--are sitting together on the bank of a stream, under an oak tree
+that leans half way over to the water. I am much stronger than she, and
+taller by a head. I hold in my hands a little alder rod, with which I am
+fishing for the roach and minnows, that play in the pool below us.
+
+She is watching the cork tossing on the water, or playing with the
+captured fish that lie upon the bank. She has auburn ringlets that fall
+down upon her shoulders; and her straw hat lies back upon them, held
+only by the strip of ribbon, that passes under her chin. But the sun
+does not shine upon her head; for the oak tree above us is full of
+leaves; and only here and there, a dimple of the sunlight plays upon the
+pool, where I am fishing.
+
+Her eye is hazel, and bright; and now and then she turns it on me with a
+look of girlish curiosity, as I lift up my rod--and again in playful
+menace, as she grasps in her little fingers one of the dead fish, and
+threatens to throw it back upon the stream. Her little feet hang over
+the edge of the bank; and from time to time, she reaches down to dip her
+toe in the water; and laughs a girlish laugh of defiance, as I scold
+her for frightening away the fishes.
+
+"Bella," I say, "what if you should tumble in the river?"
+
+"But I won't."
+
+"Yes, but if you should?"
+
+[Illustration: SHE REACHES DOWN TO DIP HER TOE]
+
+"Why then you would pull me out."
+
+"But if I wouldn't pull you out?"
+
+"But I know you would; wouldn't you, Paul?"
+
+"What makes you think so, Bella?"
+
+"Because you love Bella."
+
+"How do you know I love Bella?"
+
+"Because once you told me so; and because you pick flowers for me that I
+cannot reach; and because you let me take your rod, when you have a fish
+upon it."
+
+"But that's no reason, Bella."
+
+"Then what is, Paul?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, Bella."
+
+A little fish has been nibbling for a long time at the bait; the cork
+has been bobbing up and down--and now he is fairly hooked, and pulls
+away toward the bank, and you cannot see the cork.
+
+"Here, Bella, quick!"--and she springs eagerly to clasp her little hands
+around the rod. But the fish has dragged it away on the other side of
+me; and as she reaches farther, and farther, she slips, cries--"Oh,
+Paul!" and falls into the water.
+
+The stream, they told us when we came, was over a man's head--it is
+surely over little Isabel's. I fling down the rod, and thrusting one
+hand into the roots that support the overhanging bank, I grasp at her
+hat, as she comes up; but the ribbons give way, and I see the terribly
+earnest look upon her face as she goes down again. Oh, my
+mother--thought I--if you were only here!
+
+But she rises again; this time, I thrust my hand into her dress, and
+struggling hard, keep her at the top, until I can place my foot down
+upon a projecting root; and so bracing myself, I drag her to the bank,
+and having climbed up, take hold of her belt firmly with both hands, and
+drag her out; and poor Isabel, choked, chilled, and wet, is lying upon
+the grass.
+
+I commence crying aloud. The workmen in the fields hear me, and come
+down. One takes Isabel in his arms, and I follow on foot to our uncle's
+home upon the hill.
+
+--"Oh, my dear children!" says my mother; and she takes Isabel in her
+arms; and presently with dry clothes, and blazing wood-fire, little
+Bella smiles again. I am at my mother's knee.
+
+"I told you so, Paul," says Isabel--"aunty, doesn't Paul love me?"
+
+"I hope so, Bella," said my mother.
+
+"I know so," said I; and kissed her cheek.
+
+And how did I know it? The boy does not ask; the man does. Oh, the
+freshness, the honesty, the vigor of a boy's heart! how the memory of it
+refreshes like the first gush of spring, or the break of an April
+shower!
+
+But boyhood has its PRIDE, as well as its LOVES.
+
+My uncle is a tall, hard-faced man; I fear him when he calls
+me--"child;" I love him when he calls me--"Paul." He is almost always
+busy with his books; and when I steal into the library door, as I
+sometimes do, with a string of fish, or a heaping basket of nuts to show
+to him--he looks for a moment curiously at them, sometimes takes them in
+his fingers--gives them back to me, and turns over the leaves of his
+book. You are afraid to ask him if you have not worked bravely; yet you
+want to do so.
+
+You sidle out softly, and go to your mother; she scarce looks at your
+little stores; but she draws you to her with her arm, and prints a kiss
+upon your forehead. Now your tongue is unloosed; that kiss and that
+action have done it; you will tell what capital luck you have had; and
+you hold up your tempting trophies; "are they not great, mother?" But
+she is looking in your face, and not at your prize.
+
+"Take them, mother," and you lay the basket upon her lap.
+
+"Thank you, Paul, I do not wish them: but you must give some to Bella."
+
+And away you go to find laughing, playful, cousin Isabel. And we sit
+down together on the grass, and I pour out my stores between us. "You
+shall take, Bella, what you wish in your apron, and then when study
+hours are over, we will have such a time down by the big rock in the
+meadow!"
+
+"But I do not know if papa will let me," says Isabel.
+
+"Bella," I say, "do you love your papa?"
+
+"Yes," says Bella, "why not?"
+
+"Because he is so cold; he does not kiss you, Bella, so often as my
+mother does; and besides, when he forbids your going away, he does not
+say, as mother does--my little girl will be tired, she had better not
+go--but he says only--Isabel must not go. I wonder what makes him talk
+so?"
+
+"Why Paul, he is a man, and doesn't--at any rate, I love him, Paul.
+Besides, my mother is sick, you know."
+
+"But Isabel, my mother will be your mother, too. Come, Bella, we will go
+ask her if we may go."
+
+And there I am, the happiest of boys, pleading with the kindest of
+mothers. And the young heart leans into that mother's heart--none of the
+void now that will overtake it in the years that are to come. It is
+joyous, full, and running over!
+
+"You may go," she says, "if your uncle is willing."
+
+"But mamma, I am afraid to ask him; I do not believe he loves me."
+
+"Don't say so, Paul," and she draws you to her side; as if she would
+supply by her own love the lacking love of a universe.
+
+"Go, with your cousin Isabel, and ask him kindly; and if he says
+no--make no reply."
+
+And with courage, we go hand in hand, and steal in at the library door.
+There he sits--I seem to see him now--in the old wainscoted room,
+covered over with books and pictures; and he wears his heavy-rimmed
+spectacles, and is poring over some big volume, full of hard words, that
+are not in any spelling-book.
+
+We step up softly; and Isabel lays her little hand upon his arm; and he
+turns, and says--"Well, my little daughter?"
+
+I ask if we may go down to the big rock in the meadow?
+
+He looks at Isabel, and says he is afraid--"we cannot go."
+
+"But why, uncle? It is only a little way, and we will be very careful."
+
+"I am afraid, my children; do not say any more: you can have the pony,
+and Tray, and play at home."
+
+"But, uncle----"
+
+"You need say no more, my child."
+
+I pinch the hand of little Isabel, and look in her eye--my own half
+filling with tears. I feel that my forehead is flushed, and I hide it
+behind Bella's tresses--whispering to her at the same time--"Let us go."
+
+"What, sir," says my uncle, mistaking my meaning--"do you persuade her
+to disobey?"
+
+Now I am angry, and say blindly--"No, sir, I didn't!" And then my rising
+pride will not let me say, that I wished only Isabel should go out with
+me.
+
+Bella cries; and I shrink out; and am not easy until I have run to bury
+my head in my mother's bosom. Alas! pride cannot always find such
+covert! There will be times when it will harass you strangely; when it
+will peril friendships--will sever old, standing intimacy; and then--no
+resource but to feed on its own bitterness. Hateful pride!--to be
+conquered, as a man would conquer an enemy, or it will make whirlpools
+in the current of your affections--nay, turn the whole tide of the heart
+into rough and unaccustomed channels.
+
+But boyhood has its GRIEF too, apart from PRIDE.
+
+You love the old dog, Tray; and Bella loves him as well as you. He is a
+noble old fellow, with shaggy hair, and long ears, and big paws, that he
+will put up into your hands, if you ask him. And he never gets angry
+when you play with him, and tumble him over in the long grass, and pull
+his silken ears. Sometimes, to be sure, he will open his mouth, as if he
+would bite, but when he gets your hand fairly in his jaws, he will
+scarce leave the print of his teeth upon it. He will swim, too, bravely,
+and bring ashore all the sticks you throw upon the water; and when you
+fling a stone to tease him, he swims round and round, and whines, and
+looks sorry, that he cannot find it.
+
+He will carry a heaping basket full of nuts, too, in his mouth, and
+never spill one of them; and when you come out to your uncle's home in
+the spring, after staying a whole winter in the town, he knows you--old
+Tray does! And he leaps upon you, and lays his paws on your shoulder,
+and licks your face; and is almost as glad to see you, as cousin Bella
+herself. And when you put Bella on his back for a ride, he only
+pretends to bite her little feet--but he wouldn't do it for the world.
+Ay, Tray is a noble old dog!
+
+But one summer, the farmers say that some of their sheep are killed, and
+that the dogs have worried them; and one of them comes to talk with my
+uncle about it.
+
+But Tray never worried sheep; you know he never did; and so does nurse;
+and so does Bella; for in the spring, she had a pet lamb, and Tray never
+worried little Fidele.
+
+And one or two of the dogs that belong to the neighbors are shot; though
+nobody knows who shot them; and you have great fears about poor Tray;
+and try to keep him at home, and fondle him more than ever. But Tray
+will sometimes wander off; till finally, one afternoon, he comes back
+whining piteously, and with his shoulder all bloody.
+
+Little Bella cries loud; and you almost cry, as nurse dresses the wound;
+and poor old Tray whines very sadly. You pat his head, and Bella pats
+him; and you sit down together by him on the floor of the porch, and
+bring a rug for him to lie upon; and try and tempt him with a little
+milk, and Bella brings a piece of cake for him--but he will eat nothing.
+You sit up till very late, long after Bella has gone to bed, patting his
+head, and wishing you could do something for poor Tray; but he only
+licks your hand, and whines more piteously than ever.
+
+In the morning, you dress early, and hurry downstairs; but Tray is not
+lying on the rug; and you run through the house to find him, and
+whistle, and call--Tray--Tray! At length you see him lying in his old
+place, out by the cherry tree, and you run to him; but he does not
+start; and you lean down to pat him--but he is cold, and the dew is wet
+upon him--poor Tray is dead!
+
+[Illustration: POOR TRAY IS DEAD]
+
+You take his head upon your knees, and pat again those glossy ears, and
+cry; but you cannot bring him to life. And Bella comes, and cries with
+you. You can hardly bear to have him put in the ground; but uncle says
+he must be buried. So one of the workmen digs a grave under the cherry
+tree, where he died--a deep grave, and they round it over with earth,
+and smooth the sods upon it--even now I can trace Tray's grave.
+
+You and Bella together put up a little slab for a tombstone; and she
+hangs flowers upon it, and ties them there with a bit of ribbon. You
+can scarce play all that day; and afterward, many weeks later, when you
+are rambling over the fields, or lingering by the brook, throwing off
+sticks into the eddies, you think of old Tray's shaggy coat, and of his
+big paw, and of his honest eye; and the memory of your boyish grief
+comes upon you; and you say with tears, "Poor Tray!" And Bella too, in
+her sad sweet tones, says--"Poor old Tray--he is dead!"
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[124-1] From _Reveries of a Bachelor_, by Donald G. Mitchell (Ik
+Marvel).
+
+
+
+
+THE BUGLE SONG
+
+_By_ ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+
+      The splendor falls on castle walls
+        And snowy summits old in story:
+      The long light shakes across the lakes,
+        And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
+        And thinner, clearer, farther going!
+      O sweet and far from cliff and scar
+        The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
+    Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O love, they die in yon rich sky,
+        They faint on hill or field or river:
+      Or echoes roll from soul to soul,
+        And grow for ever and for ever.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE IMITATION OF CHRIST
+
+_By_ THOMAS à KEMPIS
+
+OF FOLLOWING CHRIST AND DESPISING ALL WORLDLY VANITIES
+
+
+Our Lord saith: he that followeth me walketh not in darkness.
+
+These are the words of Christ in the which we are admonished to follow
+his life and his manners if we would be truly enlightened and be
+delivered from all manner of blindness of heart.
+
+Wherefore let our chief study be upon the life of Jesus Christ.
+
+Sublime words make not a man holy and righteous, but it is a virtuous
+life that maketh him dear to God.
+
+I desire rather to know compunction than its definition. If thou knewest
+all the sayings of all the philosophers, what should that avail thee
+without charity and grace?
+
+All other things in the world, save only to love God and serve him, are
+vanity of vanities and all vanity.
+
+And it is vanity also to desire honour and for a man to lift himself on
+high.
+
+And it is vanity to follow the desires of the flesh and to desire the
+thing for which man must afterward grievously be punished.
+
+And it is vanity to desire a long life and to take no care to live a
+good life.
+
+And it is vanity for a man to take heed only to this present life and
+not to see before those things that are to come.
+
+Study therefore to withdraw thy heart from love of things visible and
+turn thee to things invisible.
+
+For they that follow their senses stain their consciences and lose the
+grace of God.
+
+
+OF A HUMBLE OPINION OF OURSELVES
+
+Every man naturally desireth knowledge; but knowledge without love and
+fear of God, what availeth it?
+
+Certainly the meek plow-man that serveth God is much better than the
+proud philosopher that, taking no heed of his own living, studies the
+course of the stars.
+
+He that knoweth himself well is lowly in his own sight and hath no
+delight in man's praises.
+
+If I knew all things that are in the world and had not charity, what
+should that help me before God who shall judge me according to my deeds?
+
+Unwise is he that more attendeth to other things than to the health of
+his soul.
+
+Many words fill not the soul; but a good life refresheth the mind and a
+pure conscience giveth a great confidence in God.
+
+The more thou canst do and the better that thou canst do, the more
+grievously thou shalt be judged unless thou live holily.
+
+Think not highly of thyself but rather acknowledge thine ignorance.
+
+If thou wilt learn and know anything profitably, love to be unknown and
+to be accounted as of little worth.
+
+
+OF THE TEACHING OF TRUTH
+
+Blissful is he whom truth itself teacheth, not by figures or voices, but
+as it is.
+
+What availeth great searching of dark and hidden things for the which we
+shall not be blamed in the judgment though we know them not?
+
+He to whom the Word Everlasting speaketh is delivered from a multitude
+of opinions. Of one Word came all things, and all things speak one word;
+that is the Beginning that speaketh to us. No man without the Word
+understandeth or judgeth righteously.
+
+He to whom all things are one and who draweth all things to one and
+seeth all things in one may be quiet in heart and peaceably abide in
+God.
+
+O God of truth, make me one with thee in everlasting love!
+
+Ofttimes it wearieth me to hear and read many things; in thee Lord is
+all that I wish and can desire.
+
+Let all teachers hold their peace and all manner of creatures keep their
+silence in thy sight: Speak thou alone to me!
+
+Who hath a stronger battle than he that useth force to overcome himself?
+This should be our occupation, to overcome ourselves and every day to be
+stronger and somewhat holier.
+
+Meek knowing of thyself is more acceptable to God than deep inquiry
+after knowledge.
+
+Knowledge or bare and simple knowing of things is not to be blamed, the
+which, in itself considered, is good and ordained of God: but a good
+conscience and a virtuous life is ever to be preferred.
+
+And forasmuch as many people study more to have knowledge than to live
+well, therefore ofttimes they err and bring forth little fruit or none.
+
+Certainly at the day of doom it shall not be asked of us what we have
+read but what we have done; nor what good we have spoken but how
+religiously we have lived.
+
+Verily he is great that in himself is little and meek and setteth at
+naught all height of honour. Verily he is great that hath great love.
+Verily he is prudent that deemeth all earthly things foul so that he may
+win Christ. And he is verily well learned that doth the will of God and
+forsaketh his own will.
+
+
+OF WISDOM IN MAN'S ACTIONS
+
+It is not fit to give credence to every word nor to every suggestion,
+but every thing is to be weighed according to God, warily and in
+leisure.
+
+Alas, rather is evil believed of another man than good; we are so weak.
+
+But the perfect believe not easily all things that men tell, for they
+know man's infirmity, ready to speak evil and careless enough in words.
+
+Hereto it belongeth also not to believe every man's words, nor to tell
+other men what we hear or carelessly believe.
+
+Have thy counsel with a wise man and a man of conscience and seek rather
+to be taught by thy betters than to follow thine own inventions.
+
+Good life maketh a man wise in God's sight and expert in many things.
+
+The more meek that a man is and the more subject to God the more wise
+shall he be in all things--and the more patient.
+
+
+OF READING THE SCRIPTURES
+
+Truth is to be sought in holy writings, not in eloquence. Every holy
+writing ought to be read with the same spirit wherewith it was made.
+
+We ought in Scriptures rather to seek profitableness than subtle
+language.
+
+We ought as gladly to read simple and devout books as high and profound
+ones.
+
+Let not the authority of him that writeth, whether he be of great name
+or little, change thy thought, but let the love of pure truth draw thee
+to read.
+
+Ask not who said this, but take heed what is said. Man passeth, but the
+truth of the Lord abideth everlastingly.
+
+God speaketh to us in diverse ways without respect to persons.
+
+If thou wilt draw profit in reading, read meekly, simply and truly, not
+desiring to have a reputation for knowledge.
+
+
+OF INORDINATE AFFECTIONS
+
+Whenever a man coveteth anything inordinately, anon is he disquieted in
+himself.
+
+The proud man and covetous hath never rest: the poor and the meek in
+spirit dwell in peace.
+
+The man that is not perfectly dead to himself is soon tempted and soon
+overcome by small things and things of little price.
+
+In withstanding passions and not in serving them, standeth peace of
+heart.
+
+There is no peace in the heart of the carnal man nor in him that is all
+given to outward things; but in the fervent, spiritual man is peace.
+
+
+OF SHUNNING TOO GREAT FAMILIARITY
+
+Show not thy heart to every man but bring thy cause to him that is wise
+and feareth God.
+
+Converse rarely with young people and strangers.
+
+Flatter not rich men and seek not great men; but keep company thyself
+with meek and simple men and talk of such things as will edify.
+
+Be not familiar to any woman; but generally commend all good women to
+God.
+
+Desire to be familiar with God and with his angels and avoid knowledge
+of men. Love is to be given to all men, but familiarity is not
+expedient.
+
+It happeneth some times that a person unknown shineth by his bright
+fame, whose presence offendeth and maketh dark the eyes of the
+beholders. We often hope to please others by our being and living with
+them, but often we displease them through the bad manners they find in
+us.
+
+
+OF SHUNNING MANY WORDS
+
+Avoid noise and the press of men as much as thou mayest: for talking of
+worldly deeds, though they be brought forth with true and simple
+intention, hindereth much: for we be soon defiled and led into vanity.
+
+I have wished myself ofttimes to have held my peace and not to have been
+among men. Why speak we and talk we together so gladly, since seldom we
+come home without hurting of conscience?
+
+We talk so oft together because by such speaking we seek comfort each
+from the other and to relieve the heart that is made weary with many
+thoughts; and we speak much of such things as we love or desire or such
+things as we dislike. But, alas, it is ofttimes vainly and fruitlessly,
+for such outward comfort is a great hindering to inward and heavenly
+consolation. Therefore we ought to watch and pray that our time pass not
+idly by.
+
+
+OF FLEEING FROM VAIN HOPE AND ELATION
+
+He is vain that putteth his hope in men or in other created things.
+
+Be not ashamed to serve other men for the love of Jesus Christ and to be
+considered poor in this world. Stand not upon thyself but set thy trust
+in God. Do what in thee is and God shall be nigh to thy good will.
+
+Trust not in thine own knowledge nor in the skill of any man living; but
+rather in the grace of God that helpeth meek folk and maketh low them
+that are proud.
+
+Rejoice thee not in riches if thou have any, nor in friends if they be
+mighty; but in God that giveth all things and above all things desireth
+to give Himself.
+
+Rejoice not for thy greatness nor for the beauty of that body which is
+corrupted and disfigured with a little sickness.
+
+Please not thyself for thy ability or for thy wit lest thou displease
+God of whom cometh all the good that thou hast naturally.
+
+Account not thyself better than others, lest peradventure thou be held
+worse in the sight of God that knoweth what is in man.
+
+Be not proud of good works; for God's judgments are otherwise than
+thine. Ofttimes what pleaseth man displeaseth God.
+
+If thou hast any good things in thee believe better things of others
+that thou mayest keep thy humility.
+
+It hurteth thee not to be set under all men: it might hinder thee if
+thou settest thyself afore others.
+
+Continual peace is with the meek man, but in the heart of the proud man
+are often envy and indignation.
+
+     Thomas à Kempis was born in the latter part of the fourteenth
+     century and lived to a good old age. His name in full was Thomas
+     Haemercken, but as he was born in the town of Kempen he has been
+     generally known by the title above given. The _Imitation_ was
+     written slowly, a little at a time, and as the result of reading,
+     reflection and prayer.
+
+     The very brief selections given above are condensed from the first
+     ten chapters of the first book. While in the main following the
+     best translation of the original, the language has been simplified
+     in a few places.
+
+
+
+
+THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB
+
+_By_ LORD BYRON
+
+
+     NOTE.--Byron takes for granted his readers' knowledge of the events
+     with which this poem deals; that is, he does not tell the whole
+     story. Indeed, he gives us very few facts. Is there, for instance,
+     in the poem any hint as to who Sennacherib was, or as to who the
+     enemy was that the Assyrians came against? But if we turn to the
+     eighteenth and nineteenth chapters of _Second Kings_, we shall find
+     the whole account of Sennacherib, king of Assyria, and his
+     expedition against the Hebrew people. The climax of the story, with
+     which this poem deals, is to be found in _Second Kings_, xix, 35.
+
+    The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
+    And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold,
+    And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
+    When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
+
+    Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
+    That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
+    Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
+    That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.
+
+    For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
+    And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
+    And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
+    And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still.
+
+    And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
+    But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride:
+    And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
+    And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
+
+    And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
+    With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
+    And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
+    The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
+
+    And the widows of Ashur[142-1] are loud in their wail,
+    And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal,[142-2]
+    And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
+    Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[142-1] _Ashur_ is the Assyrian form of our word _Assyria_.
+
+[142-2] Baal was the chief god of the Assyrians.
+
+
+
+
+RUTH
+
+
+     NOTE.--This charming story may be found complete in the book of
+     _Ruth_ in the Old Testament by those who wish the literal Bible
+     narrative as it is there given.
+
+     Little is known as to the date of the writing of the book of
+     _Ruth_. Some authorities believe that it was written earlier than
+     500 B.C., while others contend that it was not written until much
+     later. As to the purpose, also, there are differences of opinion;
+     is the book merely a religious romance, told to point a moral, or
+     is it an historical narrative meant to give information as to the
+     ancestry of David? Whichever is true, the story is a delightful
+     one, and we enjoy reading it just as we do any other story, apart
+     from its Biblical interest.
+
+I
+
+Now it came to pass in the days when the judges ruled in Judah that
+there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem-Judah
+went to sojourn in the country of Moab, he, and his wife and his two
+sons. Together they came into the land and continued there; but the man
+died, and the wife was left, and her two sons.
+
+And they took them wives of the women of Moab; the name of the one was
+Orpah, and the name of the other was Ruth; and they dwelled there about
+ten years. Then the two sons died also both of them; and the woman,
+Naomi, their mother, alone was left of the family that came into Moab.
+
+Then she arose with her daughters-in-law, that she might return from the
+country of Moab; for she had heard in the country of Moab how that the
+Lord had visited his people in giving them bread.
+
+Wherefore she went forth out of the place where she was, and her two
+daughters-in-law with her; and they went on the way to return unto the
+land of Judah.
+
+But Naomi said unto her two daughters-in-law, "Go, return each to her
+mother's house. The Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with the
+dead, and with me. The Lord grant you that ye may find rest again, each
+in the house of her husband."
+
+Then she kissed them; and they lifted up their voices and wept, and said
+unto her, "Surely we will return with thee unto thy people."
+
+Naomi said, "Turn again, my daughters, why will you go with me? Have I
+yet any more sons that may be your husbands? Nay, it grieveth me much
+for your sakes that the hand of the Lord is gone out against me. Turn
+again my daughters; go your way."
+
+Again they lifted up their voice and wept, and Orpah kissed her
+mother-in-law, but Ruth clave unto her.
+
+Naomi said, "Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone back unto her people, and
+unto her gods; return thou after thy sister-in-law."
+
+And Ruth said, "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from
+following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou
+lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my
+God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord
+do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me."
+
+When Naomi saw that Ruth was steadfastly minded to go with her, then she
+left speaking unto her. So they two went until they came to Bethlehem.
+
+[Illustration: "WHITHER THOU GOEST, I WILL GO"]
+
+There it came to pass that all the city was moved about them, and the
+people said, "Is this Naomi?"
+
+"Call me not Naomi," she said unto them. "Call me Mara: for the Almighty
+hath dealt very bitterly with me.[146-1] I went out full and the Lord
+hath brought me home again empty: why then call me Naomi, seeing the
+Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me?"
+
+So Naomi returned, and Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter-in-law, with
+her, which returned out of the country of Moab: and they came to
+Bethlehem in the beginning of barley harvest.
+
+
+II
+
+Naomi had a kinsman of her husband's, a mighty man of wealth; and his
+name was Boaz.
+
+And Ruth said unto Naomi, "Let me now go to the field, and glean ears of
+corn after him in whose sight I shall find grace." And Naomi answered,
+"Go, my daughter."
+
+And she went, and came, and gleaned in the field after the reapers: and
+her hap was to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz.
+
+And, behold, Boaz came from Bethlehem and said unto the reapers, "The
+Lord be with you."
+
+And the reapers answered him, "The Lord bless thee." Then said Boaz unto
+his servant that was set over the reapers, "Whose damsel is this?"
+
+And the servant answered and said, "It is the Moabitish damsel that came
+back with Naomi out of the country of Moab. And she said, 'I pray you,
+let me glean and gather after the reapers among the sheaves': so she
+came, and hath continued even from the morning until now, that she
+tarried a little in the house."
+
+Boaz said unto Ruth, "Hearest thou not, my daughter? Go not to glean in
+another field, neither go from hence, but abide here fast by my maidens.
+Let thine eyes be on the field that they do reap, and go thou after
+them: have I not charged the young men that they shall not touch thee?
+and when thou art athirst, go unto the vessels, and drink of that which
+the young men have drawn."
+
+[Illustration: RUTH GLEANING]
+
+Then she fell on her face and bowed herself to the ground, and said unto
+him, "Why have I found grace in thine eyes, that thou shouldest take
+knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger?"
+
+And Boaz answered and said unto her, "It hath fully been shewed me, all
+that thou hast done unto thy mother-in-law since the death of thine
+husband: and how thou hast left thy father and thy mother, and the land
+of thy nativity, and art come unto a people which thou knewest not
+heretofore. The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given
+thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to
+trust."
+
+Then she said, "Let me find favour in thy sight, my lord; for that thou
+hast comforted me, and for that thou hast spoken friendly unto thine
+handmaid, though I be not like unto one of thine handmaidens."
+
+And Boaz said unto her, "At mealtime come thou hither, and eat of the
+bread and dip thy morsel in the vinegar."
+
+And she sat beside the reapers; and he reached her parched corn, and she
+did eat, and was sufficed and left.
+
+And when she was risen up to glean again, Boaz commanded his young men,
+saying, "Let her glean even among the sheaves and reproach her not; and
+let fall also some handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she
+may glean them, and rebuke her not."
+
+So she gleaned in the field until even, and beat out that she had
+gleaned: and it was about an ephah[148-2] of barley. And she took it up,
+and went into the city: and her mother-in-law saw what she had gleaned.
+
+And her mother-in-law said unto her, "Where hast thou gleaned to-day?
+and where wroughtest thou? blessed be he that did take knowledge of
+thee."
+
+And she showed her mother-in-law with whom she had wrought, and said,
+"The man's name with whom I wrought to-day is Boaz."
+
+And Naomi said unto her daughter-in-law, "Blessed be he of the Lord, who
+hath not left off his kindness to the living and to the dead." And Naomi
+said unto her, "The man is near of kin unto us, one of our next
+kinsmen."
+
+And Ruth the Moabitess said, "He said unto me also, 'Thou shalt keep
+fast by my young men, until they have ended all my harvest.'"
+
+And Naomi said unto Ruth, her daughter-in-law, "It is good, my daughter,
+that thou go out with his maidens, that they meet thee not in any other
+field."
+
+So she kept fast by the maidens of Boaz to glean unto the end of barley
+harvest and of wheat harvest; and dwelt with her mother-in-law.
+
+
+III
+
+Then Naomi, her mother-in-law, said unto Ruth, "My daughter, shall I not
+seek rest for thee, that it may be well with thee? And now is not Boaz
+of our kindred, with whose maidens thou wast? Behold he winnoweth barley
+to-night in the threshing floor. Wash thyself, therefore, and anoint
+thee, and put thy raiment upon thee and get thee down to the floor, and
+he will tell thee what to do."
+
+And Ruth said, "All that thou sayest unto me, that will I do."
+
+Therefore went she down unto the threshing floor and did according to
+all that her mother-in-law bade her. And Boaz saw her and loved her and
+asked her, "Who art thou?"
+
+She answered, "I am Ruth, thy handmaid."
+
+And Boaz said, "Blessed be thou of the Lord, my daughter, and fear not,
+for all the city of my people doth know thou art a virtuous woman. And
+now it is true that I am thy near kinsman: howbeit, there is a kinsman
+nearer than I. Tarry this night, and it shall be in the morning that if
+he will perform unto thee the part of a kinsman, well; let him do the
+kinsman's part. But if he will not do the part of a kinsman to thee,
+then will I do the part of the kinsman to thee, as the Lord liveth.
+Bring now the vail that thou hast upon thee and hold it."
+
+And when she held it, he measured six measures of barley, and laid it on
+her, and she returned into the city.
+
+When now she came to her mother, Naomi asked, "Who art thou?" And Ruth
+told her all that the man had said and done, and said, "These six
+measures of barley gave he me, for he said to me, 'Go not empty unto thy
+mother-in-law.'"
+
+Then said Naomi, "Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter
+will fall; for the man will not be in rest until he have finished the
+thing this day."
+
+
+IV
+
+Then went Boaz up to the gate and sat him down there; and, behold, the
+kinsman of whom Boaz spoke, came by; unto whom Boaz said, "Ho, such a
+one! turn aside, sit down here." And he turned aside and sat down.
+
+And Boaz took also ten men of the elders of the city and said, "Sit ye
+down here." And they sat down.
+
+Then said Boaz unto the kinsman, "Naomi, that is come again out of the
+land of Moab, selleth a parcel of land, which was our brother's. And I
+thought to ask thee to buy it before the inhabitants and before the
+elders of my people. If thou wilt redeem it, redeem it; but if thou wilt
+not redeem it, then tell me, that I may know: for there is none to
+redeem it beside thee, and I am after thee. And what day thou buyest it
+of the hand of Naomi, thou must buy it also of Ruth the Moabitess, the
+wife of the dead."
+
+And the kinsman said, "I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I mar mine
+own inheritance; redeem thou my right to thyself: for I cannot redeem
+it."
+
+Now this was the manner in former time in Israel, concerning redeeming
+and concerning changing, for to confirm all things: a man plucked off
+his shoe and gave it to his neighbor; and this was a testimony in
+Israel. Therefore the kinsman said unto Boaz, "Buy it for thee." So he
+drew off his shoe.
+
+And Boaz said unto the elders and all the people, "Ye are witnesses this
+day that I have bought all that was Naomi's husband's and all that was
+her son's of the hand of Naomi. Moreover, Ruth the Moabitess, the wife
+of my kinsman that is dead, have I purchased to be my wife, that the
+name of the dead be not cut off from among his brethren, and from the
+gate of his place: ye are witnesses this day."
+
+And all the people that were there in the gate, and the elders, said,
+"We are witnesses. The Lord make the woman that is come into thine house
+like Rachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel: and
+do thou worthily and be famous in Bethlehem."
+
+So Boaz took Ruth, and she was his wife, and she bare him a son. And the
+women said unto Naomi, "Blessed be the Lord that hath not left thee this
+day without a kinsman, that his name may be famous in Israel. And he
+shall be unto thee a restorer of thy life, and a nourisher of thine old
+age; for thy daughter-in-law which loveth thee, which is better to thee
+than seven sons, hath borne him."
+
+And Naomi took the child and laid it in her bosom, and became nurse unto
+it. And the women, her neighbors, gave it a name, saying, "There is a
+son born to Naomi, and his name is Obed."
+
+This same Obed is the father of Jesse, who is the father of David.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[146-1] _Naomi_ means _pleasant_, while _Mara_ means _bitter_.
+
+[148-2] The _ephah_ was equal to about two pecks and five quarts.
+
+
+
+
+THE VISION OF BELSHAZZAR
+
+_By_ LORD BYRON
+
+
+     NOTE.--According to the account given in the fifth chapter of
+     _Daniel_, Belshazzar was the last king of Babylon, and the son of
+     the great king Nebuchadnezzar, who had destroyed Jerusalem and
+     taken the Jewish people captive to Babylon. The dramatic incident
+     with which the second stanza of Byron's poem deals is thus
+     described:
+
+     "In the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote
+     over against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the
+     king's palace; and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote."
+
+     After all the Babylonian wise men had tried in vain to read the
+     writing, the "captive in the land," Daniel, was sent for, and he
+     interpreted the mystery.
+
+     "And this is the writing that was written, MENE, MENE, TEKEL,
+     UPHARSIN.
+
+     "This is the interpretation of the thing: MENE; God hath numbered
+     thy kingdom, and finished it.
+
+     "TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.
+
+     "PERES; Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and
+     Persians."
+
+     The fulfillment of the prophecy thus declared by Daniel is
+     described thus briefly: "In that night was Belshazzar the king of
+     the Chaldeans slain. And Darius the Median took the kingdom."
+
+    The King was on his throne,
+      The Satraps[153-1] throng'd the hall;
+    A thousand bright lamps shone
+      O'er that high festival.
+    A thousand cups of gold,
+      In Judah deem'd divine--
+    Jehovah's vessels hold[154-2]
+      The godless Heathen's wine.
+
+    In that same hour and hall
+      The fingers of a Hand
+    Came forth against the wall,
+      And wrote as if on sand:
+    The fingers of a man;--
+      A solitary hand
+    Along the letters ran,
+      And traced them like a wand.
+
+    The monarch saw, and shook,
+      And bade no more rejoice;
+    All bloodless wax'd his look,
+      And tremulous his voice:--
+    "Let the men of lore appear,
+      The wisest of the earth,
+    And expound the words of fear,
+      Which mar our royal mirth."
+
+    Chaldea's[154-3] seers are good,
+      But here they have no skill;
+    And the unknown letters stood
+      Untold and awful still.
+    And Babel's[154-4] men of age
+      Are wise and deep in lore;
+    But now they were not sage,
+      They saw--but knew no more.
+
+[Illustration: THE WRITING ON THE WALL]
+
+    A Captive in the land,
+      A stranger and a youth,
+    He heard the king's command,
+      He saw that writing's truth;
+    The lamps around were bright,
+      The prophecy in view;
+    He read it on that night,--
+      The morrow proved it true!
+
+    "Belshazzar's grave is made,
+      His kingdom pass'd away,
+    He, in the balance weigh'd,
+      Is light and worthless clay;
+    The shroud, his robe of state;
+      His canopy, the stone:
+    The Mede is at his gate!
+      The Persian on his throne!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[153-1] The satraps were the governors of the provinces, who ruled under
+the king and were accountable to him.
+
+[154-2] These were the sacred "vessels that were taken out of the temple
+of the house of God which was at Jerusalem."
+
+[154-3] The terms _Chaldea_ and _Babylonia_ were used practically
+synonymously.
+
+[154-4] _Babel_ is a shortened form of _Babylon_.
+
+
+
+
+SOHRAB AND RUSTEM
+
+RUSTEM
+
+
+The Persians have a great epic which is to them about what the _Iliad_
+and the _Odyssey_ were to the Greeks and the _Æneid_ was to the Romans.
+In character, however, the Persian epic is more like the English
+narrative _Morte d' Arthur_, from which readings will be found elsewhere
+in these volumes. This wonderful poem, the _Shah Nameh_, relates
+exploits of the Shahs of Persia for a period that is supposed to extend
+over more than three thousand years. It was written by Firdusi, a famous
+Persian poet, toward the close of the tenth century, and is filled with
+tales of the marvelous adventures and stirring achievements of national
+heroes. Fierce monsters like those that appear in the legendary tales of
+all nations stalk through its pages, and magicians, good and bad, work
+their enchantments for and against the devoted Persians. The imagination
+of Eastern writers is more vivid than that of the Europeans, and for
+that reason the stories are more full of thrilling episodes and
+supernatural occurrences.
+
+Chief among the heroes is Rustem, who seems to have lived through many
+centuries, and to have been the one great defender of the Persian
+throne. From the cradle he was marked for renown, for he was larger,
+stronger and healthier than any other babe that was ever born. His
+mother alone could not feed him, and ten nurses were required to
+satisfy the infant's hunger. His father, Zal, the white-haired, looked
+with pride upon his growing son, who as soon as he was weaned fell upon
+bread and meat as his only diet and required as much of them as would
+feed five ordinary men. Such a child ought to make a wonderful man, and
+this one fulfilled the highest hopes of his parents, for he became
+taller in stature, broader in shoulders, deeper in the chest and
+stronger in all his muscles than any other man the Persian race had ever
+known.
+
+His childish exploits were quite as wonderful as those of his later
+years. One night he was awakened from his slumbers by hearing the
+servants say that the great white elephant on which his father rode on
+state occasions had broken loose and was running about the royal
+gardens, mad with rage, pulling up the trees, tearing down buildings and
+killing every one that came in his way. Not a man dared stand against
+the fierce beast, and though the archers had tried again and again their
+weapons had no effect upon him.
+
+Rustem rose from his couch, put on his clothes, caught from the wall the
+huge club his grandfather had owned, and made for the door of his
+chamber.
+
+"Where are you going? What will you do?" cried the frightened servants.
+
+"Open the door. I must stop that elephant before he does greater
+damage," answered the boy.
+
+One of his serving men, braver than the rest, opposed the boy. "I dare
+not obey you," said the man; "your father would never forgive me if I
+let you go forth to be slain by that ferocious beast whose broken chains
+clank about his legs and whose huge trunk brings destruction to
+everything it strikes. You will be knocked down and trampled to death.
+This is pure folly!"
+
+"Out of my way," cried the enraged Rustem. "You rush upon your own
+doom."
+
+Almost blind with anger, the furious youth swung his club about him and
+struck the faithful servant so fearful a blow that his head was knocked
+from his body and rolled along the floor like a huge ball. The other
+servants fled to the corners of the room and gave Rustem a clear path.
+One blow from his great club broke the iron balls from the door and sent
+it flying from its hinges. Shouldering his club Rustem hurried into the
+garden, where he soon found the maddened elephant in the midst of the
+ruin he was making. When the unwieldy animal saw the boy approaching it
+rushed at him with savage bellowings, swinging its long, powerful trunk
+from side to side in great circles. The terrible spectacle frightened
+Rustem not in the least, and the dauntless youth rushed forward and
+struck the elephant a single blow full in its forehead. The great legs
+trembled and bent, the huge body tottered and fell, making a mountain of
+quivering flesh. Rustem calmly shouldered his club, returned to his
+chamber, and finished his sleep.
+
+As Rustem grew to manhood he became the owner of a great horse little
+less wonderful than his master. Raksh, for that was the animal's name,
+not only carried Rustem in war and in the chase, but he fought for his
+master in every conflict, watched over him in his sleep, and defended
+him with human intelligence. On one of his expeditions Rustem lay down
+to sleep near the den of a lion, that as he came forth to hunt at night
+saw the horse and rider asleep before him. The lion, knowing that if he
+could kill the horse the man would not get away, made ready to spring
+upon Raksh, but that wary animal was sleeping with one eye open and met
+the leaping lion more than half way with two great hoofs planted
+squarely in his face. Before the astonished animal could recover his
+senses Raksh seized him by the back and beat his life out upon the
+ground.
+
+Of Rustem's countless struggles with dragons, witches, genii and other
+strange beings, and of the wonderful battles by which he defended the
+throne of Persia, we cannot stop to read. They were all very similar in
+one respect at least, for always he escaped from deadly peril by his own
+wisdom and strength, aided often, as we have said, by Raksh. But there
+is one part of his life, one series of more than human adventures that
+we ought to know.
+
+One day Rustem was hunting over a plain on the borders of Tartary when
+he discovered a large herd of wild asses. No animal could outstrip
+Raksh, and so his master was soon among the herd, killing the animals to
+right and left. Some he slew with the arrows of his strong bow, others
+he lassoed and killed with his trusty club. When his love for hunting
+was satisfied he built a fire, roasted one of the asses and prepared for
+a great feast. In time even his sharp appetite was quenched, and lying
+down upon his blanket he was soon buried in a sound slumber.
+
+As he slept Raksh wandered about the plains quietly feeding. Without
+noticing it he strayed far away from his master, and in fact quite out
+of sight.
+
+Then it happened that seven Tartars who had been following Raksh made a
+dash at him and tried to capture him with their lassoes. The noble horse
+fought them manfully, killing two of them with the blows of his forefeet
+and biting the head from the shoulders of another. But the ropes from
+the lassoes became tangled with his legs, and even the marvelous Raksh
+was at last thrown, overpowered and led struggling away.
+
+When Rustem awoke his first thought was for his horse, but though he
+looked everywhere the faithful animal was not in sight. Such a thing had
+never happened before, and Rustem grew pale with sorrow and dread.
+
+"What can I do without my noble charger?" he said. "How can I carry my
+arrows, club and other weapons? How can I defend myself? Moreover, I
+shall be the laughingstock of friends and enemies alike, for all will
+say that in my carelessness I slept and allowed my horse to be stolen."
+
+At last he discovered the tracks of Raksh in the dust of the plain, and
+following them with difficulty he found himself at the town of Samengan.
+The king and nobles of the town knew Rustem, but seemed surprised to see
+him come walking. The wanderer explained what had happened, and the wily
+monarch answered, "Have no fear, noble Rustem. Every one knows your
+wonderful horse Raksh, and soon some one will come and bring him to you.
+I will even send many men to search for him. In the meantime, rest with
+us and be happy. We will entertain you with the best, and in pleasure
+you will forget your loss till Raksh is returned to you."
+
+This plan pleased Rustem, and the king kept his word in royal
+entertainments in which he served his guest with grave humility.
+Moreover, the princess Tehmina likewise served Rustem with becoming
+grace and dignity. No maiden was ever more beautiful. She was tall as
+the cypress and as graceful as a gazelle. Her neck and shoulders were
+like ivory; her hair, black and shiny as a raven's wings, hung in two
+long braids down her back, as the Persian horseman loops his lasso to
+his saddle bow; her lips were like twin rubies, and her black brilliant
+eyes glanced from highly-arched eye-brows.
+
+Rustem fell deeply in love with the fair maiden as soon as he saw her,
+and at the first opportunity told her of his affection. Tehmina then
+confessed that she had long loved Rustem from the reports she had heard
+of his noble character and deeds of great prowess. The capture of Raksh
+was a part of her plan for meeting the owner, for she felt sure he would
+follow the animal's track to her father's capital. All this served to
+make more strong the love of Rustem, who immediately demanded of the
+king his daughter's hand in marriage. The king, glad enough to have so
+powerful a man for his son, consented willingly to the match, and after
+they were married amid great rejoicings, Rustem settled down at the
+court in quiet enjoyment of his new-found home.
+
+A powerful man like Rustem cannot always remain in idleness, however,
+and when news came to him that the Persian king was in need of his
+greatest warrior, Rustem took his lasso, his bow and arrows and his
+club, mounted Raksh and rode away. Before going, however, he took from
+his arm an onyx bracelet that had been his father's, and calling
+Tehmina to him handed it to her, saying:
+
+"Take this bracelet, my dear one, and keep it. If we have a child and it
+be a girl, weave the bracelet in her hair and she will grow tall,
+beautiful and good; if our child be a boy, fasten the bracelet on his
+arm, and he will become strong and courageous, a mighty warrior and a
+wise counsellor."
+
+
+SOHRAB
+
+When Rustem had gone Tehmina wept bitterly, but consoled herself with
+the thought that her husband would soon return. After her child was
+born, she devoted herself to the wonderful boy and waited patiently for
+the father that never returned. She remembered the parting words of
+Rustem, and fastened upon the arm of her infant son the magic bracelet
+of his race.
+
+He was a marvelous boy, this son of Rustem and Tehmina. Beautiful in
+face as the moon when it rides the heavens in its fullness, he was
+large, well-formed, with limbs as straight as the arrows of his father.
+He grew at an astonishing rate. When he was but a month old he was as
+tall as any year-old baby; at three years of age he could use the bow,
+the lasso and the club with the skill of a man; at five he was as brave
+as a lion, and at ten not a man in the kingdom was his match in strength
+and agility.
+
+Tehmina, rejoicing in the intelligent, shining face of her boy, had
+named him Sohrab, but as she feared that Rustem might send for his son
+if he knew that he had so promising a one, she sent word to her husband
+that her child was a girl. Disappointed in this, Rustem paid no
+attention to his offspring, who grew up unknown to his parent, and
+himself ignorant of the name of his father.
+
+When Sohrab was about ten years old he began to notice that, unlike the
+other young men, he seemed to have no father. Accordingly he went to his
+mother and questioned her.
+
+"What shall I say," he inquired, "when the young men ask me who is my
+father? Must I always tell them that I do not know? Whose son am I?"
+
+"My son, you ask and you have a right to know. You need feel no shame
+because of your father. He is the mighty Rustem, the greatest of Persian
+warriors, the noblest man that ever lived. But I beg you to tell no one
+lest word should come to Rustem, for I know he would take you from me
+and I should never see you again."
+
+Sohrab was overjoyed to hear of his noble parentage and felt his heart
+swell with pride, for he had heard all his life of the heroic deeds of
+his father.
+
+"Such a thing as this cannot be kept secret," he cried. "Sooner or later
+every one in the world will know that I am Rustem's son. But not now
+will we tell the tale. I will gather a great army of Tartars and make
+war upon Kaoos, the Persian king. When I have defeated him I will set my
+father Rustem upon the throne, and then I will overthrow Afrasiab, King
+of the Turanians, and take his throne myself. There is room in the world
+for but two kings, my father Rustem and myself."
+
+The youthful warrior began his preparations immediately. First he sought
+far and wide for a horse worthy to carry him, and at last succeeded in
+finding a noble animal of the same breed as the famous Raksh. Mounted on
+this splendid steed he rode about and rapidly collected an army of
+devoted followers.
+
+The noise of these preparations spread abroad and soon came to the ears
+of Afrasiab, who saw in this war an opportunity for profit to himself
+and humiliation for Kaoos. Accordingly, he sent offers of assistance to
+Sohrab, who accepted them willingly and received among his followers the
+hosts of the Turanian king.
+
+But Afrasiab was a wily monarch, and sent to Sohrab two astute
+counsellors, Haman and Barman with instructions to watch the young
+leader carefully and to keep from him all knowledge of his father.
+
+"If possible," said the treacherous monarch, "bring the two together and
+let them fight, neither knowing who the other is. Then may Sohrab slay
+his mighty father and we be left to rule the youthful and inexperienced
+son by our superior cunning and wisdom. If on the other hand Rustem
+shall slay his son, his heart will fail him, and he will die in
+despair."
+
+When the army was fully in readiness Sohrab set forth against Persia. In
+his way lay the great White Fort whose chief defender was the mighty
+Hujir. The Persians felt only contempt for the boyish leader and had no
+fear of his great army. As they approached, Hujir rode forth to meet
+them and called aloud in derision.
+
+"Let the mighty Sohrab come forth to meet me alone. I will slay him with
+ease and give his body to the vultures for food."
+
+Undismayed by these threats Sohrab met the doughty Persian and unhorsed
+him in the first encounter. Springing from his horse Sohrab raised his
+sword to strike, but the Persian begged so lustily for quarter that he
+was granted his life, though sent a prisoner to the king.
+
+Among those who watched the defeat of Hujir was Gurdafrid, the daughter
+of the old governor of the White Fort. She was stronger than any warrior
+in the land and fully accustomed to the use of arms. When she became
+aware that Hujir was indeed vanquished she hastily clothed herself in
+full armor, thrust her long hair under her helmet and rode gallantly out
+to meet Sohrab. The girl shot a perfect shower of arrows at Sohrab, but
+all glanced harmlessly from his armor. Seeing that she could not find a
+weak spot in his mail she put her shield in rest and charged valiantly
+at her foe. However, she was no match for her antagonist and was borne
+from her saddle by the fierce lance of her enemy. As she fell, however,
+she drew her sword and severed the spear of Sohrab. Before he could
+change weapons she had mounted her horse and was galloping wildly toward
+the fort with her late antagonist in full pursuit. Long ere the castle
+walls were reached Sohrab overtook her and seized her by the helmet,
+when its fastenings gave way and her long hair fell about her shoulders,
+disclosing the fact that he had been fighting with a woman.
+
+Struck by the beauty of the girl and ashamed that he had been fighting
+with her, Sohrab released her after she had promised that she would make
+no further resistance and that the castle would surrender at his
+approach. The fierce Gurdafrid, however, had no idea of giving up the
+fort, but as soon as she was within, the gates were closed, and she,
+mounting upon the walls, jeered at the waiting Sohrab.
+
+"It is now too late to fight, but when morning comes I will level your
+fort to the earth and leave not one stone upon the other." With these
+words the incensed warrior galloped back to his camp. When in the
+morning he marched his army against the fort he found that his prey had
+escaped, for during the night Gurdafrid had led the whole garrison out
+through a secret passage and had gone to warn King Kaoos of the approach
+of the mighty Sohrab and his powerful army. The allied Tartars and
+Turanians followed as rapidly as they might, but it was some time before
+they could come anywhere near the Persian capital.
+
+What was happening in Persia has been very well told by Alfred J. Church
+in his story of Sohrab and Rustem:
+
+"When King Kaoos heard that there had appeared among the Tartars a
+mighty champion, against whom, such was the strength of his arms, no one
+could stand; how he had overthrown and taken their champion and now
+threatened to overrun and conquer the whole land of Persia, he was
+greatly troubled, and calling a scribe, said to him, 'Sit down and write
+a letter to Rustem.'
+
+"So the scribe sat down and wrote. The letter was this: 'There has
+appeared among the Tartars a great champion, strong as an elephant and
+as fierce as a lion. No one can stand against him. We look to you for
+help. It is of your doing that our warriors hold their heads so high.
+Come, then, with all the speed that you can use, so soon as you shall
+have read this letter. Be it night or day, come at once; do not open
+your mouth to speak; if you have a bunch of roses in your hand do not
+stop to smell it, but come; for the warrior of whom I write is such that
+you only can meet him.'
+
+"King Kaoos sealed the letter and gave it to a warrior named Giv. At the
+same time he said, 'Haste to Rustem. Tarry not on the way; and when you
+are come, do not rest there for an hour. If you arrive in the night,
+depart again the next morning.'
+
+"So Giv departed, and traveled with all his speed, allowing himself
+neither sleep nor food. When he approached Zabulistan, the watchman
+said, 'A warrior comes from Persia riding like the wind.' So Rustem,
+with his chiefs, went out to meet him. When they had greeted each other,
+they returned together to Rustem's palace.
+
+"Giv delivered his message, and handed the king's letter, telling
+himself much more that he had heard about the strength and courage of
+this Tartar warrior. Rustem heard him with astonishment, and said, 'This
+champion is like, you say, to the great San, my grandfather. That such a
+man should come from the free Persians is possible; but that he should
+be among those slaves the Tartars, is past belief. I have myself a
+child, whom the daughter of a Tartar king bore to me; but the child is a
+girl. This, then, that you tell me is passing strange; but for the
+present let us make merry.'
+
+"So they made merry with the chiefs that were assembled in Rustem's
+palace. But after a while Giv said again: 'King Kaoos commanded me,
+saying, "You must not sleep in Zabulistan; if you arrive in the night,
+set out again the next morning. It will go ill with us if we have to
+fight before Rustem comes." It is necessary, then, great hero, that we
+set out in all haste for Persia.'
+
+"Rustem said, 'Do not trouble yourself about this matter. We must all
+die some day. Let us, therefore, enjoy the present. Our lips are dry,
+let us wet them with wine. As to this Tartar, fortune will not always be
+with him. When he sees my standard, his heart will fail him.'
+
+"So they sat, drinking the red wine and singing merry songs, instead of
+thinking of the king and his commands. The next day Rustem passed in the
+same fashion, and the third also. But on the fourth Giv made
+preparations to depart, saying to Rustem, 'If we do not make haste to
+set out, the king will be wroth, and his anger is terrible.'
+
+"Rustem said, 'Do not trouble yourself; no man dares to be wroth with
+me.' Nevertheless, he bade them saddle Raksh and set out with his
+companions.
+
+"When they came near the king's palace, a great company of nobles rode
+out to meet them, and conducted them to the king, and they paid their
+homage to him. But the king turned away from them in a rage. 'Who is
+Rustem,' he cried, 'that he forgets his duty to me, and disobeys my
+commands? If I had a sword in my hand this moment, I would cut off his
+head, as a man cuts an orange in half. Take him, hang him up alive on
+gallows, and never mention his name again in my presence.'
+
+"Giv answered, 'Sir, will you lay hands upon Rustem?' The king burst out
+again in rage against Giv and Rustem, crying to one of his nobles, 'Take
+these two villains and hang them alive on gallows.' And he rose up from
+his throne in fury.
+
+"The noble to whom he had spoken laid his hand upon Rustem, wishing to
+lead him out of the king's presence, lest Kaoos in his rage should do
+him an injury. But Rustem cried out, 'What a king are you! Hang this
+Tartar, if you can, on your gallows. Keep such things for your enemies.
+All the world has bowed itself before me and Raksh, my horse. And
+you--you are king by my grace.'
+
+"Thus speaking, he struck away the hand that the noble had laid upon him
+so fiercely that the man fell headlong to the ground, and he passed over
+his body to go from the presence of the king. And as he mounted on
+Raksh, he cried: 'What is Kaoos that he should deal with me in this
+fashion? It is God who has given me strength and victory, and not he or
+his army. The nobles would have given me the throne of Persia long
+since, but I would not receive it; I kept the right before my eyes.
+Verily, had I not done so, you, Kaoos, would not be sitting upon the
+throne.' Then he turned to the Persians that stood by, and said, 'This
+brave Tartar will come. Look out for yourselves how you may save your
+lives. Me you shall see no more in the land of Persia.'
+
+"The Persians were greatly troubled to hear such words; for they were
+sheep, and Rustem was their shepherd. So the nobles assembled, and said
+to each other: 'The king has forgotten all gratitude and decency. Does
+he not remember that he owes to Rustem his throne--nay, his very life?
+If the gallows be Rustem's reward, what shall become of us?'
+
+"So the oldest among them came and stood before the king, and said: 'O
+king, have you forgotten what Rustem has done for you and this land--how
+he conquered Mazanieran and its king and the White Genius; how he gave
+you back the sight of your eyes? And now you have commanded that he
+shall be hanged alive upon a gallows. Are these fitting words for a
+king?'
+
+"The king listened to the old man, and said: 'You speak well. The words
+of a king should be words of wisdom. Go now to Rustem, and speak good
+words to him, and make him forget my anger.'
+
+"So the old man rode after Rustem, and many of the nobles went with him.
+When they had overtaken him, the old man said, 'You know that the king
+is a wrathful man, and that in his rage he speaks hard words. But you
+know also that he soon repents. But now he is ashamed of what he said.
+And if he has offended, yet the Persians have done no wrong that you
+should thus desert them.'
+
+"Rustem answered, 'Who is the king that I should care for him? My saddle
+is my throne and my helmet is my crown, my corselet is my robe of state.
+What is the king to me but a grain of dust? Why should I fear his anger?
+I delivered him from prison; I gave him back his crown. And now my
+patience is at an end.'
+
+"The old man said, 'This is well. But the king and his nobles will
+think, "Rustem fears this Tartar," and they will say, "If Rustem is
+afraid, what can we do but leave our country?" I pray you therefore not
+to turn your back upon the king, when things are in such a plight. Is it
+well that the Persians should become the slaves of the infidel Tartars?'
+
+"Rustem stood confounded to hear such words. 'If there were fear in my
+heart, then I would tear my soul from my body. But you know that it is
+not; only the king has treated me with scorn.'
+
+"But he perceived that he must yield to the old man's advice. So he went
+back with the nobles.
+
+"As soon as the king saw him, he leaped upon his feet, and said, 'I am
+hard of soul, but a man must grow as God has made him. My heart was
+troubled by the fear of this new enemy. I looked to you for safety, and
+you delayed your coming. Then I spoke in my wrath; but I have repented,
+and my mouth is full of dust.'
+
+"Rustem said, 'It is yours to command, O king, and ours to obey. You are
+the master, and we are the slaves. I am but as one of those who open the
+door for you, if indeed I am worthy to be reckoned among them. And now I
+come to execute your commands.'
+
+"Kaoos said, 'It is well. Now let us feast. To-morrow we will prepare
+for war.'
+
+"So Kaoos, and Rustem, and the nobles feasted till the night had passed
+and the morning came. The next day King Kaoos and Rustem, with a great
+army, began their march."
+
+Matthew Arnold, the great English critic, scholar and poet, has used the
+incidents that follow as the subject of one of his most interesting
+poems. To that poem we will look for a continuation of the story. Arnold
+alters the story at times to suit the needs of his poem, and he often
+employs a slightly different spelling of proper names from that used in
+the above account.
+
+
+
+
+SOHRAB AND RUSTUM
+
+AN EPISODE
+
+_By_ MATTHEW ARNOLD
+
+
+    And the first gray of morning fill'd the east,
+    And the fog rose out of the Oxus[173-1] stream.
+    But all the Tartar camp along the stream
+    Was hush'd, and still the men were plunged in sleep;
+    Sohrab alone, he slept not; all night long
+    He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed;
+    But when the gray dawn stole into his tent,
+    He rose, and clad himself, and girt his sword,
+    And took his horseman's cloak, and left his tent,
+    And went abroad into the cold wet fog,
+    Through the dim camp to Peran-Wisa's[173-2] tent.
+      Through the black Tartar tents he pass'd, which stood
+    Clustering like beehives on the low flat strand
+    Of Oxus, where the summer floods o'erflow
+    When the sun melts the snow in high Pamere;[173-3]
+    Through the black tents he pass'd, o'er that low strand,
+    And to a hillock came, a little back
+    From the stream's brink--the spot where first a boat,
+    Crossing the stream in summer, scrapes the land.
+    The men of former times had crown'd the top
+    With a clay fort; but that was fall'n, and now
+    The Tartars built there Peran-Wisa's tent,
+    A dome of laths, and over it felts were spread.
+    And Sohrab came there, and went in, and stood
+    Upon the thick piled carpets in the tent,
+    And found the old man sleeping on his bed
+    Of rugs and felts, and near him lay his arms.
+    And Peran-Wisa heard him, though the step
+    Was dull'd; for he slept light, an old man's sleep;
+    And he rose quickly on one arm, and said:--
+      "Who art thou? for it is not yet clear dawn.
+    Speak! is there news, or any night alarm?"
+      But Sohrab came to the bedside, and said:--
+    "Thou know'st me, Peran-Wisa! it is I.
+    The sun is not yet risen, and the foe
+    Sleep; but I sleep not; all night long I lie
+    Tossing and wakeful, and I come to thee.
+    For so did King Afrasiab bid me seek
+    Thy counsel and to heed thee as thy son,
+    In Samarcand,[174-4] before the army march'd;
+    And I will tell thee what my heart desires.
+    Thou know'st if, since from Ader-baijan first
+    I came among the Tartars and bore arms,
+    I have still served Afrasiab well, and shown,
+    At my boy's years, the courage of a man.
+
+[Illustration: SOHRAB AND PERAN-WISA]
+
+    This too thou know'st, that while I still bear on
+    The conquering Tartar ensigns through the world,
+    And beat the Persians back on every field,
+    I seek one man, one man, and one alone--
+    Rustum, my father; who I hoped should greet,
+    Should one day greet, upon some well-fought field,
+    His not unworthy, not inglorious son.
+    So I long hoped, but him I never find.
+    Come then, hear now, and grant me what I ask.
+    Let the two armies rest to-day; but I
+    Will challenge forth the bravest Persian lords
+    To meet me man to man; if I prevail,
+    Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall--
+    Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin.
+    Dim is the rumor of a common[175-5] fight,
+    Where host meets host, and many names are sunk;
+    But of a single combat fame speaks clear."
+      He spoke; and Peran-Wisa took the hand
+    Of the young man in his, and sigh'd, and said:--
+      "O Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine!
+    Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs,
+    And share the battle's common chance with us
+    Who love thee, but must press forever first,
+    In single fight incurring single risk,
+    To find a father thou hast never seen?
+    That were far best, my son, to stay with us
+    Unmurmuring; in our tents, while it is war,
+    And when 'tis truce, then in Afrasiab's towns.
+    But, if this one desire indeed rules all,
+    To seek out Rustum--seek him not through fight!
+    Seek him in peace and carry to his arms,
+    O Sohrab, carry an unwounded son!
+    But far hence seek him, for he is not here.
+    For now it is not as when I was young,
+    When Rustum was in front of every fray;
+    But now he keeps apart, and sits at home,
+    In Seistan,[176-6] with Zal, his father old.
+    Whether that[176-7] his own mighty strength at last
+    Feels the abhorr'd approaches of old age,
+    Or in some quarrel with the Persian King.
+    There go!--Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forbodes
+    Danger or death awaits thee on this field.
+    Fain would I know thee safe and well, though lost
+    To us; fain therefore send thee hence, in peace
+    To seek thy father, not seek single fights
+    In vain;--but who can keep the lion's cub
+    From ravening, and who govern Rustum's son?
+    Go, I will grant thee what thy heart desires."
+      So said he, and dropped Sohrab's hand and left
+    His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay;
+    And o'er his chilly limbs his woolen coat
+    He passed, and tied his sandals on his feet,
+    And threw a white cloak round him, and he took
+    In his right hand a ruler's staff, no sword;
+    And on his head he set his sheepskin cap,
+    Black, glossy, curl'd, the fleece of Kara-Kul;
+    And raised the curtain of his tent, and call'd
+    His herald to his side and went abroad.
+      The sun by this had risen, and cleared the fog
+    From the broad Oxus and the glittering sands.
+    And from their tents the Tartar horsemen filed
+    Into the open plain; so Haman bade--
+    Haman, who next to Peran-Wisa ruled
+    The host, and still was in his lusty prime.
+    From their black tents, long files of horse, they stream'd;
+    As when some gray November morn the files,
+    In marching order spread, of long-neck'd cranes
+    Stream over Casbin and the southern slopes
+    Of Elburz, from the Aralian estuaries,
+    Or some frore[177-8] Caspian reed bed, southward bound
+    For the warm Persian seaboard--so they streamed.
+    The Tartars of the Oxus, the King's guard,
+    First, with black sheepskin caps and with long spears;
+    Large men, large steeds; who from Bokhara come
+    And Khiva, and ferment the milk of mares.[177-9]
+    Next, the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south,
+    The Tukas, and the lances of Salore,
+    And those from Attruck and the Caspian sands;
+    Light men and on light steeds, who only drink
+    The acrid milk of camels, and their wells.
+    And then a swarm of wandering horse, who came
+    From far, and a more doubtful service own'd;
+    The Tartars of Ferghana, from the banks
+    Of the Jaxartes, men with scanty beards
+    And close-set skullcaps; and those wilder hordes
+    Who roam o'er Kipchak and the northern waste,
+    Kalmucks and unkempt Kuzzacks, tribes who stray
+    Nearest the Pole, and wandering Kirghizzes,
+    Who come on shaggy ponies from Pamere;
+    These all filed out from camp into the plain.
+    And on the other side the Persians form'd;--
+    First a light cloud of horse, Tartars they seem'd,
+    The Ilyats of Khorassan; and behind,
+    The royal troops of Persia, horse and foot,
+    Marshal'd battalions bright in burnish'd steel.
+    But Peran-Wisa with his herald came,
+    Threading the Tartar squadrons to the front,
+    And with his staff kept back the foremost ranks.
+    And when Ferood, who led the Persians, saw
+    That Peran-Wisa kept the Tartars back,
+    He took his spear, and to the front he came,
+    And check'd his ranks, and fix'd[178-10] them where they stood.
+    And the old Tartar came upon the sand
+    Betwixt the silent hosts, and spake, and said:--
+      "Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!
+    Let there be truce between the hosts to-day,
+    But choose a champion from the Persian lords
+    To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man."
+      As, in the country, on a morn in June,
+    When the dew glistens on the pearled ears,
+    A shiver runs through the deep corn[178-11] for joy--
+    So, when they heard what Peran-Wisa said,
+    A thrill through all the Tartar squadrons ran
+    Of pride and hope for Sohrab, whom they loved.
+      But as a troop of peddlers, from Cabool,
+    Cross underneath the Indian Caucasus,
+    That vast sky-neighboring mountain of milk snow;
+    Crossing so high, that, as they mount, they pass
+    Long flocks of traveling birds dead on the snow,
+    Choked by the air, and scarce can they themselves
+    Slake their parch'd throats with sugar'd mulberries--
+    In single file they move, and stop their breath,
+    For fear they should dislodge the o'erhanging snows--
+
+[Illustration: PERAN-WISA GIVES SOHRAB'S CHALLENGE]
+
+    So the pale Persians held their breath with fear.
+      And to Ferood his brother chiefs came up
+    To counsel; Gudurz and Zoarrah came,
+    And Feraburz, who ruled the Persian host
+    Second, and was the uncle of the King;
+    These came and counsel'd, and then Gudurz said:--
+      "Ferood, shame bids us take their challenge up,
+    Yet champion have we none to match this youth.
+    He has the wild stag's foot, the lion's heart.
+    But Rustum came last night; aloof he sits
+    And sullen, and has pitch'd his tents apart.
+    Him will I seek, and carry to his ear
+    The Tartar challenge, and this young man's name.
+    Haply he will forget his wrath, and fight.
+    Stand forth the while, and take their challenge up."
+    So spake he; and Ferood stood forth and cried:--
+      "Old man, be it agreed as thou hast said!
+    Let Sohrab arm, and we will find a man."
+      He spake: and Peran-Wisa turn'd, and strode
+    Back through the opening squadrons to his tent.
+    But through the anxious Persians Gudurz ran,
+    And cross'd the camp which lay behind, and reach'd
+    Out on the sand beyond it, Rustum's tents.
+    Of scarlet cloth they were, and glittering gay,
+    Just pitch'd; the high pavilion in the midst
+    Was Rustum's and his men lay camp'd around.
+    And Gudurz enter'd Rustum's tent, and found
+    Rustum; his morning meal was done, but still
+    The table stood before him, charged with food--
+    A side of roasted sheep, and cakes of bread,
+    And dark-green melons, and there Rustum sate
+    Listless, and held a falcon on his wrist,
+    And play'd with it; but Gudurz came and stood
+    Before him; and he look'd, and saw him stand,
+    And with a cry sprang up and dropped the bird,
+    And greeted Gudurz with both hands, and said:--
+      "Welcome! these eyes could see no better sight.
+    What news? but sit down first, and eat and drink."
+      But Gudurz stood in the tent door, and said:--
+    "Not now! a time will come to eat and drink,
+    But not to-day; to-day has other needs.
+    The armies are drawn out, and stand at gaze;
+    For from the Tartars is a challenge brought
+    To pick a champion from the Persian lords
+    To fight their champion and thou know'st his name--
+    Sohrab men call him, but his birth is hid.
+    O Rustum, like thy might is this young man's!
+    He has the wild stag's foot, the lion's heart;
+    And he is young, and Iran's chiefs are old,
+    Or else too weak; and all eyes turn to thee.
+    Come down and help us, Rustum, or we lose!"
+      He spoke; but Rustum answer'd with a smile:--
+    "Go to! if Iran's chiefs are old, then I
+    Am older; if the young are weak, the King
+    Errs strangely; for the King, for Kai Khosroo,[181-12]
+    Himself is young, and honors younger men,
+    And lets the aged molder to their graves.
+    Rustum he loves no more, but loves the young--
+    The young may rise at Sohrab's vaunts, not I.
+    For what care I, though all speak Sohrab's fame?
+    For would that I myself had such a son,
+    And not that one slight helpless girl I have--
+    A son so famed, so brave, to send to war,
+    And I to tarry with the snow-hair'd Zal,[181-13]
+    My father, whom the robber Afghans vex,
+    And clip his borders short, and drive his herds,
+    And he has none to guard his weak old age.
+    There would I go, and hang my armor up,
+    And with my great name fence that weak old man,
+    And spend the goodly treasures I have got,
+    And rest my age, and hear of Sohrab's fame,
+    And leave to death the hosts of thankless kings,
+    And with these slaughterous hands draw sword no more."
+      He spoke, and smiled; and Gudurz made reply:--
+    "What then, O Rustum, will men say to this,
+    When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks
+    Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks,
+    Hidest thy face? Take heed lest men should say:
+    'Like some old miser, Rustum hoards his fame,
+    And shuns to peril it with younger men,'"
+      And, greatly moved, then Rustum made reply:--
+    "Oh, Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such words?
+    Thou knowest better words than this to say.
+    What is one more, one less, obscure or famed,
+    Valiant or craven, young or old, to me?
+    Are not they mortal, am not I myself?
+    But who for men of naught would do great deeds?
+    Come, thou shalt see how Rustum hoards his fame!
+    But I will fight unknown, and in plain arms;
+    Let not men say of Rustum, he was match'd
+    In single fight with any mortal man."
+      He spoke, and frown'd; and Gudurz turn'd and ran
+    Back quickly through the camp in fear and joy--
+    Fear at his wrath, but joy that Rustum came.
+    But Rustum strode to his tent door, and call'd
+    His followers in, and bade them bring his arms,
+    And clad himself in steel; the arms he chose
+    Were plain, and on his shield was no device,
+    Only his helm was rich, inlaid with gold,
+    And, from the fluted spine atop, a plume
+    Of horsehair waved, a scarlet horsehair plume.
+    So arm'd, he issued forth; and Ruksh,[183-14] his horse,
+    Follow'd him like a faithful hound at heel--
+    Ruksh, whose renown was noised through all the earth,
+    The horse, whom Rustum on a foray once
+    Did in Bokhara by the river find
+    A colt beneath its dam, and drove him home,
+    And rear'd him; a bright bay, with lofty crest,
+    Dight with a saddlecloth of broider'd green
+    Crusted with gold, and on the ground were work'd
+    All beasts of chase, all beasts which hunters know.
+    So follow'd, Rustum left his tents, and cross'd
+    The camp, and to the Persian host appear'd.
+    And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts
+    Hail'd; but the Tartars knew not who he was.
+    And dear as the wet diver to the eyes
+    Of his pale wife who waits and weeps on shore,
+    By sandy Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf,
+    Plunging all day in the blue waves, at night,
+    Having made up his tale[183-15] of precious pearls,
+    Rejoins her in their hut upon the sands--
+    So dear to the pale Persians Rustum came.
+      And Rustum to the Persian front advanced,
+    And Sohrab arm'd in Haman's tent, and came.
+    And as afield the reapers cut a swath
+    Down through the middle of a rich man's corn,
+    And on each side are squares of standing corn,
+    And in the midst a stubble, short and bare--
+    So on each side were squares of men, with spears
+    Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand.
+    And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast
+    His eyes toward the Tartar tents, and saw
+    Sohrab come forth, and eyed him as he came.
+      As some rich woman, on a winter's morn,
+    Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge
+    Who with numb blacken'd fingers makes her fire--
+    At cock-crow, on a starlit winter's morn,
+    When the frost flowers the whiten'd window-panes--
+    And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts
+    Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum eyed
+    The unknown adventurous youth, who from afar
+    Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth
+    All the most valiant chiefs; long he perused
+    His spirited air, and wonder'd who he was.
+    For very young he seem'd, tenderly rear'd;
+    Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight,
+    Which in a queen's secluded garden throws
+    Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf,
+    By midnight, to a bubbling fountain's sound--
+    So slender Sohrab seem'd, so softly rear'd.[184-16]
+    And a deep pity enter'd Rustum's soul
+    As he beheld him coming; and he stood,
+    And beckon'd to him with his hand, and said:--
+      "O thou young man, the air of heaven is soft,
+    And warm, and pleasant; but the grave is cold!
+    Heaven's air is better than the cold dead grave.
+    Behold me! I am vast, and clad in iron,
+    And tried; and I have stood on many a field
+    Of blood, and I have fought with many a foe--
+    Never was that field lost, or that foe saved.
+    O Sohrab, wherefore wilt thou rush on death?
+    Be govern'd![185-17] quit the Tartar host, and come
+    To Iran, and be as my son to me,
+    And fight beneath my banner till I die!
+    There are no youths in Iran brave as thou."
+      So he spake, mildly; Sohrab heard his voice,
+    The mighty voice of Rustum, and he saw
+    His giant figure planted on the sand,
+    Sole, like some single tower, which a chief
+    Hath builded on the waste in former years
+    Against the robbers; and he saw that head,
+    Streak'd with its first gray hairs;--hope fill'd his soul,
+    And he ran forward and embraced his knees,
+    And clasp'd his hand within his own, and said:--
+      "Oh, by thy father's head! by thine own soul!
+    Art thou not Rustum? speak! art thou not he?"
+      But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth,
+    And turn'd away, and spake to his own soul:--
+      "Ah me, I muse what this young fox may mean!
+    False, wily, boastful, are these Tartar boys.
+    For if I now confess this thing he asks,
+    And hide it not, but say: 'Rustum is here!'
+    He will not yield indeed, nor quit our foes,
+    But he will find some pretext not to fight,
+    And praise my fame, and proffer courteous gifts,
+    A belt or sword perhaps, and go his way.
+    And on a feast tide, in Afrasiab's hall,
+    In Samarcand, he will arise and cry:
+    'I challenged once, when the two armies camp'd
+    Beside the Oxus, all the Persian lords
+    To cope with me in single fight; but they
+    Shrank, only Rustum dared; then he and I
+    Changed gifts, and went on equal terms away.
+    So will he speak, perhaps, while men applaud;
+    Then were the chiefs of Iran shamed through me."
+      And then he turn'd, and sternly spake aloud:--
+    "Rise! wherefore dost thou vainly question thus
+    Of Rustum? I am here, whom thou hast call'd
+    By challenge forth; make good thy vaunt, or yield!
+    Is it with Rustum only thou wouldst fight?
+    Rash boy, men look on Rustum's face and flee!
+    For well I know, that did great Rustum stand
+    Before thy face this day, and were reveal'd,
+    There would be then no talk of fighting more.
+    But being what I am, I tell thee this--
+    Do thou record it in thine inmost soul:
+    Either thou shalt renounce thy vaunt and yield,
+    Or else thy bones shall strew this sand, till winds
+    Bleach them, or Oxus with his summer floods,
+    Oxus in summer wash them all away."
+      He spoke; and Sohrab answer'd, on his feet:--
+    "Art thou so fierce? Thou wilt not fright me so!
+    I am no girl, to be made pale by words.
+    Yet this thou hast said well, did Rustum stand
+    Here on this field, there were no fighting then.
+    But Rustum is far hence, and we stand here.
+    Begin! thou art more vast, more dread than I,
+    And thou art proved, I know, and I am young--
+    But yet success sways with the breath of heaven.
+    And though thou thinkest that thou knowest sure
+    Thy victory, yet thou canst not surely know.
+    For we are all, like swimmers in the sea,
+    Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate,
+    Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall.
+    And whether it will heave us up to land,
+    Or whether it will roll us out to sea,
+    Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death,
+    We know not, and no search will make us know;
+    Only the event will teach us in its hour."
+      He spoke, and Rustum answer'd not, but hurl'd
+    His spear; down from the shoulder, down it came,
+    As on some partridge in the corn a hawk,
+    That long has tower'd in the airy clouds,
+    Drops like a plummet; Sohrab saw it come,
+    And sprang aside, quick as a flash; the spear
+    Hiss'd and went quivering down into the sand,
+    Which it sent flying wide;--then Sohrab threw
+    In turn, and full struck Rustum's shield; sharp rang,
+    The iron plates rang sharp, but turn'd the spear.
+    And Rustum seized his club, which none but he
+    Could wield; an unlopp'd trunk it was, and huge,
+    Still rough--like those which men in treeless plains
+    To build them boats fish from the flooded rivers,
+    Hyphasis or Hydaspes, when, high up
+    By their dark spring, the wind in winter time
+    Hath made in Himalayan forests wrack,
+    And strewn the channels with torn boughs--so huge
+    The club which Rustum lifted now, and struck
+    One stroke; but again Sohrab sprang aside,
+    Lithe as the glancing snake, and the club came
+    Thundering to earth, and leapt from Rustum's hand.
+    And Rustum follow'd his own blow, and fell
+    To his knees, and with his fingers clutch'd the sand;
+    And now might Sohrab have unsheathed his sword,
+    And pierced the mighty Rustum while he lay
+    Dizzy, and on his knees, and choked with sand;
+    But he look'd on, and smiled, nor bared his sword,
+    But courteously drew back, and spoke, and said:--
+      "Thou strik'st too hard! that club of thine will float
+    Upon the summer floods, and not my bones.
+    But rise, and be not wroth! not wroth am I;
+    No, when I see thee, wrath forsakes my soul.
+    Thou say'st, thou art not Rustum; be it so!
+    Who art thou then, that canst so touch my soul?
+    Boy as I am, I have seen battles too--
+    Have waded foremost in their bloody waves,
+    And heard their hollow roar of dying men;
+    But never was my heart thus touch'd before.
+    Are they from Heaven, these softenings of the heart?
+    O thou old warrior, let us yield to Heaven!
+    Come, plant we here in earth our angry spears,
+    And make a truce, and sit upon this sand,
+    And pledge each other in red wine, like friends,
+    And thou shalt talk to me of Rustum's deeds.
+    There are enough foes in the Persian host,
+    Whom I may meet, and strike, and feel no pang;
+    Champions enough Afrasiab has, whom thou
+    Mayst fight; fight _them_, when they confront thy spear!
+    But oh, let there be peace 'twixt thee and me!"
+      He ceased, but while he spake, Rustum had risen,
+    And stood erect, trembling with rage; his club
+    He left to lie, but had regained his spear,
+    Whose fiery point now in his mail'd right hand
+    Blazed bright and baleful, like that autumn star,
+    The baleful sign of fevers; dust had soil'd
+    His stately crest, and dimm'd his glittering arms.
+    His breast heaved, his lips foam'd, and twice his voice
+    Was choked with rage; at last these words broke way:--
+      "Girl! nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands!
+    Curl'd minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words!
+    Fight, let me hear thy hateful voice no more!
+    Thou are not in Afrasiab's gardens now
+    With Tartar girls, with whom thou art wont to dance;
+    But on the Oxus sands, and in the dance
+    Of battle, and with me, who make no play
+    Of war; I fight it out, and hand to hand.
+    Speak not to me of truce, and pledge, and wine!
+    Remember all thy valor; try thy feints
+    And cunning! all the pity I had is gone;
+    Because thou hast shamed me before both the hosts
+    With thy light skipping tricks, and thy girl's wiles."
+
+      He spoke, and Sohrab kindled at his taunts,
+    And he too drew his sword; at once they rush'd
+    Together, as two eagles on one prey
+    Come rushing down together from the clouds,
+    One from the east, one from the west; their shields
+    Dash'd with a clang together, and a din
+    Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters
+    Make often in the forest's heart at morn,
+    Of hewing axes, crashing trees--such blows
+    Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail'd.
+    And you would say that sun and stars took part
+    In that unnatural[189-18] conflict; for a cloud
+    Grew suddenly in heaven, and dark'd the sun
+    Over the fighters' heads; and a wind rose
+    Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain,
+    And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp'd the pair.
+    In gloom they twain were wrapp'd, and they alone;
+    For both the onlooking hosts on either hand
+    Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure,
+    And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream.
+    But in the gloom they fought, with bloodshot eyes
+    And laboring breath; first Rustum struck the shield
+    Which Sohrab held stiff out; the steel-spiked spear
+    Rent the tough plates, but fail'd to reach the skin,
+    And Rustum pluck'd it back with angry groan.
+    Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum's helm,
+    Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest
+    He shore away, and that proud horsehair plume,
+    Never till now defiled, sank to the dust;
+    And Rustum bow'd his head; and then the gloom
+    Grew blacker, thunder rumbled in the air,
+    And lightnings rent the cloud; and Ruksh, the horse,
+    Who stood at hand, utter'd a dreadful cry;--
+    No horse's cry was that, most like the roar
+    Of some pain'd desert lion, who all day
+    Hath trail'd the hunter's javelin in his side,
+    And comes at night to die upon the sand.
+    The two hosts heard that cry, and quaked for fear,
+    And Oxus curdled as it cross'd his stream.
+    But Sohrab heard, and quail'd not, but rush'd on,
+    And struck again; and again Rustum bow'd
+    His head; but this time all the blade, like glass,
+    Sprang in a thousand shivers on the helm,
+    And in the hand the hilt remain'd alone.
+    Then Rustum raised his head; his dreadful eyes
+    Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear,
+    And shouted: "Rustum!"--Sohrab heard that shout,
+    And shrank amazed: back he recoil'd one step,
+    And scann'd with blinking eyes the advancing form;
+    And then he stood bewilder'd, and he dropp'd
+    His covering shield, and the spear pierced his side.[191-19]
+    He reel'd, and, staggering back, sank to the ground;
+    And then the gloom dispersed, and the wind fell,
+
+[Illustration: THE SPEAR RENT THE TOUGH PLATES]
+
+    And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all
+    The cloud; and the two armies saw the pair--
+    Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet,
+    And Sohrab, wounded, on the bloody sand.
+      Then, with a bitter smile, Rustum began:--
+    "Sohrab, thou thoughtest in thy mind to kill
+    A Persian lord this day, and strip his corpse,
+    And bear thy trophies to Afrasiab's tent;
+    Or else that the great Rustum would come down
+    Himself to fight, and that thy wiles would move
+    His heart to take a gift, and let thee go;
+    And then that all the Tartar host would praise
+    Thy courage or thy craft, and spread thy fame,
+    To glad thy father in his weak old age.
+    Fool, thou art slain, and by an unknown man!
+    Dearer to the red jackals shalt thou be
+    Than to thy friends, and to thy father old."
+      And, with a fearless mien, Sohrab replied:--
+    "Unknown thou art; yet thy fierce vaunt is vain.
+    Thou dost not slay me, proud and boastful man!
+    No! Rustum slays me, and this filial heart.
+    For were I match'd with ten such men as thee,
+    And I were that which till to-day I was,
+    They should be lying here, I standing there.
+    But that beloved name unnerved my arm--
+    That name, and something, I confess, in thee,
+    Which troubles all my heart, and made my shield
+    Fall; and thy spear transfix'd an unarm'd foe.
+    And now thou boastest, and insult'st my fate.
+    But hear thou this, fierce man, tremble to hear:
+    The mighty Rustum shall avenge my death!
+    My father, whom I seek through all the world,
+    He shall avenge my death, and punish thee!"
+      As when some hunter in the spring hath found
+    A breeding eagle sitting on her nest,
+    Upon the craggy isle of a hill lake,
+    And pierced her with an arrow as she rose,
+    And follow'd her to find her where she fell
+    Far off;--anon her mate comes winging back
+    From hunting, and a great way off descries
+    His huddling young left sole;[193-20] at that, he checks
+    His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps
+    Circles above his eyry, with loud screams
+    Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she
+    Lies dying, with the arrow in her side,
+    In some far stony gorge out of his ken,
+    A heap of fluttering feathers--never more
+    Shall the lake glass[193-21] her, flying over it;
+    Never the black and dripping precipices
+    Echo her stormy scream as she sails by--
+    As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his loss,
+    So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood
+    Over his dying son, and knew him not.
+      But, with a cold incredulous voice, he said:--
+    "What prate is this of fathers and revenge?
+    The mighty Rustum never had a son."
+      And, with a failing voice, Sohrab replied:--
+    "Ah yes, he had! and that lost son am I.
+    Surely the news will one day reach his ear,
+    Reach Rustum, where he sits, and tarries long,
+    Somewhere, I know not where, but far from here;
+    And pierce him like a stab, and make him leap
+    To arms, and cry for vengeance upon thee.
+    Fierce man, bethink thee, for an only son!
+    What will that grief, what will that vengeance be?
+    Oh, could I live till I that grief had seen!
+    Yet him I pity not so much, but her,
+    My mother, who in Ader-baijan dwells
+    With that old king, her father, who grows gray
+    With age, and rules over the valiant Koords.
+    Her most I pity, who no more will see
+    Sohrab returning from the Tartar camp,
+    With spoils and honor, when the war is done.
+    But a dark rumor will be bruited up,
+    From tribe to tribe, until it reach her ear;
+    And then will that defenseless woman learn
+    That Sohrab will rejoice her sight no more,
+    But that in battle with a nameless foe,
+    By the far-distant Oxus, he is slain."
+    He spoke; and as he ceased, he wept aloud,
+    Thinking of her he left, and his own death.
+      He spoke; but Rustum listen'd, plunged in thought.
+    Nor did he yet believe it was his son
+    Who spoke, although he call'd back names he knew;
+    For he had had sure tidings that the babe,
+    Which was in Ader-baijan born to him,
+    Had been a puny girl, no boy at all--
+    So that sad mother sent him word, for fear
+    Rustum should seek the boy, to train in arms.
+    And so he deem'd that either Sohrab took,
+    By a false boast, the style of Rustum's son;
+    Or that men gave it him, to swell his fame.
+    So deem'd he: yet he listen'd, plunged in thought;
+    And his soul set to grief, as the vast tide
+    Of the bright rocking Ocean sets to shore
+    At the full moon; tears gather'd in his eyes;
+    For he remember'd his own early youth,
+    And all its bounding rapture; as, at dawn,
+    The shepherd from his mountain lodge descries
+    A far, bright city, smitten by the sun,
+    Through many rolling clouds--so Rustum saw
+    His youth; saw Sohrab's mother, in her bloom;
+    And that old king, her father, who loved well
+    His wandering guest, and gave him his fair child
+    With joy; and all the pleasant life they led,
+    They three, in that long-distant summer time--
+    The castle, and the dewy woods, and hunt
+    And hound, and morn on those delightful hills
+    In Ader-baijan. And he saw that youth,
+    Of age and looks to be his own dear son,[195-22]
+    Piteous and lovely, lying on the sand,
+    Like some rich hyacinth which by the scythe
+    Of an unskillful gardener has been cut,
+    Mowing the garden grassplots near its bed,
+    And lies, a fragrant tower of purple bloom,
+    On the mown, dying grass--so Sohrab lay,
+    Lovely in death, upon the common sand.
+    And Rustum gazed on him with grief, and said:--
+      "O Sohrab, thou indeed art such a son
+    Whom Rustum, wert thou his, might well have loved!
+    Yet here thou errest, Sohrab, or else men
+    Have told thee false--thou art not Rustum's son.
+    For Rustum had no son; one child he had--
+    But one--a girl; who with her mother now
+    Plies some light female task, nor dreams of us--
+    Of us she dreams not, nor of wounds, nor war."
+      But Sohrab answer'd him in wrath; for now
+    The anguish of the deep-fix'd spear grew fierce,
+    And he desired to draw forth the steel,
+    And let the blood flow free, and so to die--
+    But first he would convince his stubborn foe;
+    And, rising sternly on one arm, he said:--
+      "Man, who art thou who dost deny my words?
+    Truth sits upon the lips of dying men,
+    And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.
+    I tell thee, prick'd upon this arm I bear
+    That seal which Rustum to my mother gave,
+    That she might prick it on the babe she bore."[196-23]
+      He spoke: and all the blood left Rustum's cheeks,
+    And his knees totter'd, and he smote his hand
+    Against his breast, his heavy mailed hand,
+    That the hard iron corselet clank'd aloud;
+    And to his heart he press'd the other hand,
+    And in a hollow voice he spake, and said:--
+      "Sohrab, that were a proof which could not lie!
+    If thou show this, then art thou Rustum's son."
+      Then, with weak hasty fingers, Sohrab loosed
+    His belt, and near the shoulder bared his arm,
+    And show'd a sign in faint vermilion points
+    Prick'd; as a cunning workman, in Pekin,
+    Pricks with vermilion some clear porcelain vase,
+    An emperor's gift--at early morn he paints,
+    And all day long, and, when night comes, the lamp
+    Lights up his studious forehead and thin hands--
+    So delicately prick'd the sign appear'd
+    On Sohrab's arm, the sign of Rustum's seal.
+    It was that griffin,[196-24] which of old rear'd Zal,
+    Rustum's great father, whom they left to die,
+    A helpless babe, among the mountain rocks;
+    Him that kind creature found, and rear'd and loved--
+    Then Rustum took it for his glorious sign.
+    And Sohrab bared that image on his arm,
+    And himself scann'd it long with mournful eyes,
+    And then he touch'd it with his hand, and said:--
+      "How say'st thou? Is that sign the proper sign
+    Of Rustum's son, or of some other man's?"
+      He spoke; but Rustum gazed, and gazed, and stood
+    Speechless; and then he utter'd one sharp cry:
+    "O boy--thy father!" and his voice choked there.
+    And then a dark cloud pass'd before his eyes,
+    And his head swam, and he sank down to earth.
+    But Sohrab crawl'd to where he lay, and cast
+    His arms about his neck, and kiss'd his lips,
+    And with fond faltering fingers stroked his cheeks,
+    Trying to call him back to life; and life
+    Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes,
+    And they stood wide with horror; and he seized
+    In both his hands the dust which lay around,
+    And threw it on his head, and smirch'd his hair,--
+    His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms;
+    And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast,
+    And his sobs choked him; and he clutch'd his sword,
+    To draw it, and forever let life out.
+    But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands,
+    And with a soothing voice he spake, and said:--
+      "Father, forbear! for I but meet to-day
+    The doom which at my birth was written down
+    In heaven, and thou art heaven's unconscious hand.
+    Surely my heart cried out that it was thou,
+    When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too,
+    I know it! but fate trod those promptings down
+    Under its iron heel; fate, fate engaged
+    The strife, and hurl'd me on my father's spear.
+    But let us speak no more of this! I find
+    My father; let me feel that I have found!
+    Come, sit beside me on the sand, and take
+    My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my cheeks,
+    And wash them with thy tears, and say: 'My son!'
+    Quick! quick! for number'd are my sands of life,
+    And swift; for like the lightning to this field
+    I came, and like the wind I go away--
+    Sudden, and swift, and like a passing wind
+    But it was writ in heaven that this should be."
+      So said he, and his voice released the heart
+    Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast
+    His arms round his son's neck, and wept aloud,
+    And kiss'd him. And awe fell on both the hosts,
+    When they saw Rustum's grief; and Ruksh, the horse,
+    With his head bowing to the ground and mane
+    Sweeping the dust, came near, and in mute woe
+    First to the one then to the other moved
+    His head, as if inquiring what their grief
+    Might mean; and from his dark, compassionate eyes,
+    The big warm tears roll'd down, and caked the sand,
+    But Rustum chid him with stern voice, and said:--
+      "Ruksh, now thou grievest; but, O Ruksh, thy feet
+    Should first have rotted on their nimble joints,
+    Or ere they brought thy master to this field!"
+      But Sohrab look'd upon the horse, and said:--
+    "Is this, then, Ruksh? How often, in past days,
+    My mother told me of thee, thou brave steed,
+    My terrible father's terrible horse! and said,
+    That I should one day find thy lord and thee.
+    Come, let me lay my hand upon thy mane!
+    O Ruksh, thou art more fortunate than I;
+    For thou hast gone where I shall never go,
+    And snuff'd the breezes of my father's home.
+    And thou hast trod the sands of Seistan.
+    And seen the River of Helmund, and the Lake
+    Of Zirrah; and the aged Zal himself
+    Has often stroked thy neck, and given thee food,
+    Corn in a golden platter soak'd with wine,
+    And said: 'O Ruksh! bear Rustum well,'--but I
+    Have never known my grandsire's furrow'd face,
+    Nor seen his lofty house in Seistan,
+    Nor slaked my thirst at the clear Helmund stream;
+    But lodged among my father's foes, and seen
+    Afrasiab's cities only, Samarcand,
+    Bokhara, and lone Khiva in the waste,
+    And the black Toorkmun tents; and only drunk
+    The desert rivers, Moorghab and Tejend,
+    Kohik, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep,
+    The northern Sir; and this great Oxus stream,
+    The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die."
+      Then, with a heavy groan, Rustum bewail'd:--
+    "Oh, that its waves were flowing over me!
+    Oh, that I saw its grains of yellow silt
+    Roll tumbling in the current o'er my head!"
+      But, with a grave mild voice, Sohrab replied:--
+    "Desire not that, my father! thou must live.
+    For some are born to do great deeds, and live,
+    As some are born to be obscured, and die.
+    Do thou the deeds I die too young to do,
+    And reap a second glory in thine age;
+    Thou art my father, and thy gain is mine.
+    But come! thou seest this great host of men
+    Which follow me; I pray thee, slay not these!
+    Let me entreat for them; what have they done?
+    They follow'd me, my hope, my fame, my star.
+    Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace.
+    But me thou must bear hence, not send with them,
+    But carry me with thee to Seistan,
+    And place me on a bed, and mourn for me,
+    Thou, and the snow-hair'd Zal, and all thy friends.
+    And thou must lay me in that lovely earth,
+    And heap a stately mound above my bones,[200-25]
+    And plant a far-seen pillar over all.
+    That so the passing horseman on the waste
+    May see my tomb a great way off, and cry:
+    'Sohrab, the mighty Rustum's son, lies there,
+    Whom his great father did in ignorance kill!'
+    And I be not forgotten in my grave."
+      And, with a mournful voice, Rustum replied:--
+    "Fear not! as thou hast said, Sohrab, my son,
+    So shall it be; for I will burn my tents,
+    And quit the host, and bear thee hence with me,
+    And carry thee away to Seistan,
+    And place thee on a bed, and mourn for thee,
+    With the snow-headed Zal, and all my friends.
+    And I will lay thee in that lovely earth,
+    And heap a stately mound above thy bones,
+    And plant a far-seen pillar over all,
+    And men shall not forget thee in thy grave.
+    And I will spare thy host; yea, let them go!
+    Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace!
+    What should I do with slaying any more?
+    For would that all that I have ever slain
+    Might be once more alive; my bitterest foes,
+    And they who were call'd champions in their time,
+    And through whose death I won that fame I have--
+    And I were nothing but a common man,
+    A poor, mean soldier, and without renown,
+    So thou mightest live too, my son, my son!
+    Or rather would that I, even I myself,
+    Might now be lying on this bloody sand,
+    Near death, and by an ignorant stroke of thine,
+    Not thou of mine! and I might die, not thou;
+    And I, not thou, be borne to Seistan;
+    And Zal might weep above my grave, not thine;
+    And say: 'O son, I weep thee not too sore,
+    For willingly, I know, thou met'st thine end!'
+    But now in blood and battles was my youth,
+    And full of blood and battles is my age,
+    And I shall never end this life of blood."
+      Then, at the point of death, Sohrab replied:--
+    "A life of blood indeed, though dreadful man!
+    But thou shalt yet have peace; only not now,
+    Not yet! but thou shalt have it on that day[201-26]
+    When thou shalt sail in a high-masted ship,
+    Thou and the other peers of a Kai Khosroo,
+    Returning home over the salt blue sea,
+    From laying thy dear master in his grave."
+      And Rustum gazed in Sohrab's face, and said:--
+    "Soon be that day, my son, and deep that sea!
+    Till then, if fate so wills, let me endure."
+      He spoke; and Sohrab smiled on him, and took
+    The spear, and drew it from his side, and eased
+    His wound's imperious anguish; but the blood
+    Came welling from the open gash, and life
+    Flow'd with the stream;--all down his cold white side
+    The crimson torrent ran, dim now and soil'd,
+    Like the soil'd tissue of white violets
+    Left, freshly gather'd, on their native bank,
+    By children whom their nurses call with haste
+    Indoors from the sun's eye; his head droop'd low,
+    His limbs grew slack; motionless, white, he lay--
+    White, with eyes closed; only when heavy gasps,
+    Deep heavy gasps quivering through all his frame,
+    Convulsed him back to life, he open'd them,
+    And fix'd them feebly on his father's face;
+    Till now all strength was ebb'd, and from his limbs
+    Unwillingly the spirit fled away,
+    Regretting the warm mansion which it left,
+    And youth, and bloom, and this delightful world.
+      So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab lay dead;
+    And the great Rustum drew his horseman's cloak
+    Down o'er his face, and sate by his dead son.
+    As those black granite pillars, once high-rear'd
+    By Jemshid in Persepolis, to bear
+    His house, now 'mid their broken flights of steps
+    Lie prone, enormous, down the mountain side--
+    So in the sand lay Rustum by his son.
+      And night came down over the solemn waste,
+    And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair,
+    And darken'd all; and a cold fog, with night,
+    Crept from the Oxus. Soon a hum arose,
+    As of a great assembly loosed, and fires
+    Began to twinkle through the fog; for now
+    Both armies moved to camp, and took their meal;
+    The Persians took it on the open sands
+    Southward, the Tartars by the river marge;
+    And Rustum and his son were left alone.
+
+      But the majestic river floated on,
+    Out of the mist and hum of that low land,
+    Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,
+    Rejoicing, through the hush'd Chorasmian waste,
+    Under the solitary moon;--he flow'd
+    Right for the polar star, past Orgunjè,
+    Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begin
+
+[Illustration: RUSTUM SORROWS OVER SOHRAB]
+
+    To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,
+    And split his currents; that for many a league
+    The shorn and parcel'd Oxus strains along
+    Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles--
+    Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had
+    In his high mountain cradle in Pamere,
+    A foil'd circuitous wanderer--till at last
+    The long'd-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
+    His luminous home of waters opens, bright
+    And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars
+    Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.[204-27]
+
+     Matthew Arnold was one of England's purest and greatest men. As
+     scholar, teacher, poet and critic he labored zealously for the
+     betterment of his race and sought to bring them back to a clearer,
+     lovelier spiritual life and to win them from the base and sordid
+     schemes that make only for material success.
+
+     He was born in 1822 and was the son of Doctor Thomas Arnold, the
+     great teacher who was so long headmaster of the famous Rugby
+     school, and whose scholarly and Christian influence is so
+     faithfully brought out in Hughes's ever popular story _Tom Brown's
+     School Days_.
+
+     Matthew Arnold received his preparatory education in his father's
+     school at Rugby, and his college training at Oxford. He was always
+     a student and always active in educational work, as an inspector of
+     schools, and for ten years as professor of poetry at Oxford. He
+     twice visited the United States and both times lectured here. His
+     criticisms of America and Americans were severe, for he saw
+     predominant the spirit of money-getting, the thirst for material
+     prosperity and the absence of spiritual interests. In 1888, while
+     at the house of a friend in Liverpool, he died suddenly and
+     peacefully from an attack of heart disease.
+
+     Arnold was one of the most exacting and critical of English
+     writers, a man who applied to his own works the same severe
+     standards that he set up for others. As a result his writings have
+     become one of the standards of purity and taste in style.
+
+[Illustration: MATTHEW ARNOLD
+
+1822-1888]
+
+     The story of _Sohrab and Rustum_ pleased him, and he enjoyed
+     writing the poem, as may be seen from a letter to his mother,
+     written in 1853. He says:
+
+     "All my spare time has been spent on a poem which I have just
+     finished, and which I think by far the best thing I have yet done,
+     and I think it will be generally liked; though one can never be
+     sure of this. I have had the greatest pleasure in composing it, a
+     rare thing with me, and, as I think, a good test of the pleasure
+     what you write is likely to afford to others. But the story is a
+     very noble and excellent one."
+
+     Two men, both competent to judge, have given at length their
+     opinion of Matthew Arnold's character. So admirable a man deserves
+     to be known by the young, although most of his writings will be
+     understood and appreciated only by persons of some maturity in
+     years. Mr. John Morley says:
+
+     "He was incapable of sacrificing the smallest interest of anybody
+     to his own; he had not a spark of envy or jealousy; he stood well
+     aloof from all the hustlings and jostlings by which selfish men
+     push on; he bore life's disappointments--and he was disappointed in
+     some reasonable hopes--with good nature and fortitude; he cast no
+     burden upon others, and never shrank from bearing his own share of
+     the daily load to the last ounce of it; he took the deepest,
+     sincerest, and most active interest in the well-being of his
+     country and his countrymen."
+
+     Mr. George E. Woodbury in an essay on Arnold remarks concerning the
+     man as shown in his private letters:
+
+     "A nature warm to its own, kindly to all, cheerful, fond of sport
+     and fun, and always fed from pure fountains, and with it a
+     character so founded upon the rock, so humbly serviceable, so
+     continuing in power and grace, must wake in all the responses of
+     happy appreciation and leave the charm of memory."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[173-1] The Oxus, 1300 miles long, is the chief river of Central Asia,
+and one of the boundaries of Persia.
+
+[173-2] Peran-Wisa was the commander of King Afrasiab's troops, a
+Turanian chief who ruled over the many wild Tartar tribes whose men
+composed his army.
+
+[173-3] Pamir or Pamere is a high tableland called by the natives "the
+roof of the world." In it lies the source of the Oxus. Arnold has named
+many places for the purpose of giving an air of reality to the poem. It
+is not necessary to locate them accurately in order to understand the
+poem, and so the notes will refer to them only as the story is made
+clearer by the explanation.
+
+[174-4] Samarcand is a city of Turkistan, now a center of learning and
+of commerce.
+
+[175-5] _Common_ here means _general_. The idea is that little fame
+comes to him who fights in a general combat in which numbers take part.
+What is the real reason for Sohrab's desire to fight in single combat?
+Arnold gives a different reason from that in the _Shah Nameh_. In the
+latter case it is that by defeating their champion Sohrab may frighten
+the Persians into submission.
+
+[176-6] Seistan was the province in which Rustum and his father Zal had
+ruled for many years, subjects of the King of Persia.
+
+[176-7] _Whether that_ and _Or in_ beginning the second line below may
+be understood to read _Either because_ and _Or because of_.
+
+[177-8] _Frore_ means _frozen_.
+
+[177-9] From mares' milk is made koumiss, a favorite fermented drink of
+Tartar tribes.
+
+[178-10] _Fix'd_ means _halted_. He caused his army to remain stationary
+while he rode forward.
+
+[178-11] The _corn_ is grain of some kind, not our maize or Indian corn.
+
+[181-12] Kai Khosroo was one of the Persian kings who lived in the sixth
+century B. C., and is now understood to be Cyrus. He was the grandson of
+Kai Kaoos, in whose reign the _Shah Nameh_ places the episode of Sohrab
+and Rustum. Here as elsewhere Arnold alters the legend to suit his
+convenience and to make the poem more effective. For instance, he
+compresses the combat into a single day, while in the Persian epic, the
+battle lasts three days. This change gives greater vitality and more
+rapid action to the poem.
+
+[181-13] Zal was born with snowy hair, a most unusual thing among the
+black-haired Persians. His father was so angered by the appearance of
+his son that he abandoned the innocent babe in the Elburz mountains,
+where, however, a great bird or griffin miraculously preserved the
+infant and in time returned it to its father, who had repented of his
+hasty action.
+
+[183-14] _Ruksh_, also spelled _Raksh_.
+
+[183-15] _Tale_ means _count_ or _reckoning_. The diver had gathered all
+the pearls required from him for the day.
+
+[184-16] This description by Arnold scarcely tallies with the idea we
+have obtained of the powerful Sohrab from reading the accounts taken
+from the _Shah Nameh_. Arnold's is the more poetic idea, and increases
+the reader's sympathy for Sohrab.
+
+[185-17] _Be governed_, that is, _take my advice_.
+
+[189-18] It is not natural for father and son to fight thus.
+
+[191-19] In the _Shah Nameh_ Rustum overpowers Sohrab and slays him by
+his superior power and skill. Arnold takes the more poetic view that
+Sohrab's arm is powerless when he hears his father's name.
+
+[193-20] _Sole_ means _solitary, alone_.
+
+[193-21] _Glass her_ means _reflect her_ as in a mirror.
+
+[195-22] He sees that this young men, as far as age and appearance are
+concerned, might be a son of his.
+
+[196-23] Again Arnold departs from the Persian tale, in which Sohrab
+wears a bracelet or amulet on his arm. Arnold's work gives a more
+certain identification.
+
+[196-24] The griffin spoken of in note 13.
+
+[200-25] The Persian tradition is that over the spot where Sohrab was
+buried a huge mound, shaped like the hoof of a horse, was erected.
+
+[201-26] It is said that shortly after the death of Sohrab the king
+himself died while on a visit to a famous spring far in the north, and
+as the nobles were returning with his corpse all were lost in a great
+tempest. Unfortunately for Sohrab's prophecy, Persian traditions do not
+include Rustum among the lost.
+
+[204-27] This beautiful stanza makes a peculiarly artistic termination
+to the poem. After the storm and stress of the combat and the
+heart-breaking pathos of Sohrab's death, the reader willingly rests his
+thought on the majestic Oxus that still flows on, unchangeable, but ever
+changing. The suggestion is that after all nature is triumphant, that
+our pains and losses, our most grievous disappointments and greatest
+griefs are but incidents in the great drama of life, and that, though
+like the river Oxus, we for a time become "foiled, circuitous
+wanderers," we at last see before us the luminous home, bright and
+tranquil under the shining stars.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET AND THE PEASANT
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+
+A young man was walking through a forest, and in spite of the approach
+of night, in spite of the mist that grew denser every moment, he was
+walking slowly, paying no heed either to the weather or to the hour.
+
+His dress of green cloth, his buckskin gaiters, and the gun slung across
+his shoulder might have caused him to be taken for a sportsman, had not
+the book that half protruded from his game-bag betrayed the dreamer, and
+proved that Arnold de Munster was less occupied with observing the track
+of wild game than in communing with himself.
+
+For some moments his mind had been filled with thoughts of his family
+and of the friends he had left in Paris. He remembered the studio that
+he had adorned with fantastic engravings, strange paintings, curious
+statuettes; the German songs that his sister had sung, the melancholy
+verses that he had repeated in the subdued light of the evening lamps,
+and the long talks in which every one confessed his inmost feelings, in
+which all the mysteries of thought were discussed and translated into
+impassioned or graceful words! Why had he abandoned these choice
+pleasures to bury himself in the country?
+
+He was aroused at last from his meditations by the consciousness that
+the mist had changed into rain and was beginning to penetrate his
+shooting-coat. He was about to quicken his steps, but in looking around
+him he saw that he had lost his way, and he tried vainly to determine
+the direction he must take. A first attempt only succeeded in
+bewildering him still more. The daylight faded, the rain fell more
+heavily, and he continued to plunge at random into unknown paths.
+
+He had begun to be discouraged, when the sound of bells reached him
+through the leafless trees. A cart driven by a big man in a blouse had
+appeared at an intersecting road and was coming toward the one that
+Arnold had just reached.
+
+Arnold stopped to wait for the man and asked him if he were far from
+Sersberg.
+
+"Sersberg!" repeated the carter; "you don't expect to sleep there
+to-night?"
+
+"Pardon me, but I do," answered the young man.
+
+"At Sersberg?" went on his interlocutor; "you'll have to go by train,
+then! It is six good leagues from here to the gate; and considering the
+weather and the roads, they are equal to twelve."
+
+The young man uttered an exclamation. He had left the château that
+morning and did not think that he had wandered so far; but he had been
+on the wrong path for hours, and in thinking to take the road to
+Sersberg he had continued to turn his back upon it. It was too late to
+make good such an error; so he was forced to accept the shelter offered
+by his new companion, whose farm was fortunately within gunshot.
+
+He accordingly regulated his pace to the carter's and attempted to enter
+into conversation with him; but Moser was not a talkative man and was
+apparently a complete stranger to the young man's usual sensations.
+When, on issuing from the forest, Arnold pointed to the magnificent
+horizon purpled by the last rays of the setting sun, the farmer
+contented himself with a grimace.
+
+"Bad weather for to-morrow," he muttered, drawing his cloak about his
+shoulders.
+
+"One ought to be able to see the entire valley from here," went on
+Arnold, striving to pierce the gloom that already clothed the foot of
+the mountain.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Moser, shaking his head; "the ridge is high enough for
+that. There's an invention for you that isn't good for much."
+
+"What invention?"
+
+"The mountains."
+
+"You would rather have everything level?"
+
+"What a question!" cried the farmer, laughing. "You might as well ask me
+if I would not rather ruin my horses."
+
+"True," said Arnold in a tone of somewhat contemptuous irony. "I had
+forgotten the horses! It is clear that God should have thought
+principally of them when he created the world."
+
+"I don't know as to God," answered Moser quietly, "but the engineers
+certainly made a mistake in forgetting them when they made the roads.
+The horse is the laborer's best friend, monsieur--without disrespect to
+the oxen, which have their value too."
+
+Arnold looked at the peasant. "So you see in your surroundings only the
+advantages you can derive from them?" he asked gravely. "The forest, the
+mountains, the clouds, all say nothing to you? You have never paused
+before the setting sun or at the sight of the woods lighted by the
+stars?"
+
+"I?" cried the farmer. "Do you take me for a maker of almanacs? What
+should I get out of your starlight and the setting sun? The main thing
+is to earn enough for three meals a day and to keep one's stomach warm.
+Would monsieur like a drink of cognac? It comes from the other side of
+the Rhine."
+
+He held out a little wicker-covered bottle to Arnold, who refused by a
+gesture. The positive coarseness of the peasant had rekindled his regret
+and his contempt. Were they really men such as he was, these
+unfortunates, doomed to unceasing labor, who lived in the bosom of
+nature without heeding it and whose souls never rose above the most
+material sensations? Was there one point of resemblance which could
+attest their original brotherhood to such as he? Arnold doubted this
+more and more each moment.
+
+These thoughts had the effect of communicating to his manner a sort of
+contemptuous indifference toward his conductor, to whom he ceased to
+talk. Moser showed neither surprise nor pain and set to whistling an
+air, interrupted from time to time by some brief word of encouragement
+to his horses.
+
+Thus they arrived at the farm, where the noise of the bells announced
+their coming. A young boy and a woman of middle age appeared on the
+threshold.
+
+"Ah, it is the father!" cried the woman, looking back into the house,
+where could be heard the voices of several children, who came running to
+the door with shouts of joy and pressed around the peasant.
+
+"Wait a moment, youngsters," interrupted the father in his big voice as
+he rummaged in the cart and brought forth a covered basket. "Let Fritz
+unharness."
+
+But the children continued to besiege the farmer, all talking at once.
+He bent to kiss them, one after another; then rising suddenly:
+
+"Where is Jean?" he asked with a quickness that had something of
+uneasiness in it.
+
+"Here, father, here," answered a shrill little voice from the farm-house
+door; "mother doesn't want me to go out in the rain."
+
+"Stay where you are," said Moser, throwing the traces on the backs of
+the horses; "I will go to you, little son. Go in, the rest of you, so as
+not to tempt him to come out."
+
+The three children went back to the doorway, where little Jean was
+standing beside his mother, who was protecting him from the weather.
+
+He was a poor little creature, so cruelly deformed that at the first
+glance one could not have told his age or the nature of his infirmity.
+His whole body, distorted by sickness, formed a curved, not to say a
+broken line. His disproportionately large head was sunken between two
+unequally rounded shoulders, while his body was sustained by two little
+crutches; these took the place of the shrunken legs, which could not
+support him.
+
+At the farmer's approach he held out his thin arms with an expression of
+love that made Moser's furrowed face brighten. The father lifted him in
+his strong arms with an exclamation of tender delight.
+
+"Come!" he cried, "hug your father--with both arms--hard! How has he
+been since yesterday?"
+
+The mother shook her head.
+
+"Always the cough," she answered in a low tone.
+
+"It's nothing, father," the child answered in his shrill voice. "Louis
+had drawn me too fast in my wheeled chair; but I am well, very well; I
+feel as strong as a man."
+
+The peasant placed him carefully on the ground, set him upon his little
+crutches, which had fallen, and looked at him with an air of
+satisfaction.
+
+"Don't you think he's growing, wife?" he asked in the tone of a man who
+wishes to be encouraged. "Walk a bit, Jean; walk, boy! He walks more
+quickly and more strongly. It'll all come right, wife; we must only be
+patient."
+
+The farmer's wife made no reply, but her eyes turned toward the feeble
+child with a look of despair so deep that Arnold trembled; fortunately
+Moser paid no heed.
+
+"Come, the whole brood of you," he went on, opening the basket he had
+taken from the cart; "here is something for every one! In line and hold
+out your hands."
+
+The peasant had displayed three small white rolls glazed in the baking;
+three cries of joy burst forth simultaneously and six hands advanced to
+seize the rolls, but they all paused at the word of command.
+
+"And Jean?" asked the childish voices.
+
+"To the devil with Jean," answered Moser gayly; "there is nothing for
+him to-night. Jean shall have his share another time."
+
+But the child smiled and tried to get up to look into the basket. The
+farmer stepped back a pace, took off the cover carefully, and lifting
+his arm with an air of solemnity, displayed before the eyes of all a
+cake of gingerbread garnished with almonds and pink and white
+sugar-plums.
+
+There was a general shout of admiration. Jean himself could not restrain
+a cry of delight; a slight flush rose to his pale face and he held out
+his hands with an air of joyful expectancy.
+
+"Ah, you like it, little mole!" cried the peasant, whose face was
+radiant at the sight of the child's pleasure; "take it, old man, take
+it; it is nothing but sugar and honey."
+
+He placed the gingerbread in the hands of the little hunchback, who
+trembled with happiness, watched him hobble off, and turning to Arnold
+when the sound of the crutches was lost in the house, said with a slight
+break in his voice:
+
+"He is my eldest. Sickness has deformed him a little, but he's a shrewd
+fellow and it only depends upon us to make a gentleman of him."
+
+While speaking he had crossed the first room on the ground-floor and led
+his guest into a species of dining-room, the whitewashed walls of which
+were decorated only with a few rudely colored prints. As he entered,
+Arnold saw Jean seated on the floor and surrounded by his brothers,
+among whom he was dividing the cake given him by his father. But each
+one objected to the size of his portion and wished to lessen it; it
+required all the little hunchback's eloquence to make them accept what
+he had given them. For some time the young sportsman watched this
+dispute with singular interest, and when the children had gone out again
+he expressed his admiration to the farmer's wife.
+
+"It is quite true," she said with a smile and a sigh, "that there are
+times when it seems as though it were a good thing for them to see
+Jean's infirmity. It is hard for them to give up to each other, but not
+one of them can refuse Jean anything; it is a constant exercise in
+kindness and devotion."
+
+"Great virtue, that!" interrupted Moser. "Who could refuse anything to
+such a poor, afflicted little innocent? It's a silly thing for a man to
+say; but, look you, monsieur, that child there always makes me want to
+cry. Often when I am at work in the fields, I begin all at once to think
+about him. I say to myself Jean is ill! or Jean is dead! and then I have
+to find some excuse for coming home to see how it is. Then he is so weak
+and so ailing! If we did not love him more than the others, he would be
+too unhappy."
+
+"Yes," said the mother gently, "the poor child is our cross and our joy
+at the same time. I love all my children, monsieur, but whenever I hear
+the sound of Jean's crutches on the floor, I always feel a rush of
+happiness. It is a sign that the good God has not yet taken our darling
+away from us. It seems to me as though Jean brought happiness to the
+house just like swallows' nests fastened to the windows. If I hadn't him
+to take care of, I should think there was nothing for me to do."
+
+Arnold listened to these naive expressions of tenderness with an
+interest that was mingled with astonishment. The farmer's wife called a
+servant to help set the table; and at Moser's invitation, the young man
+approached the brushwood fire which had been rekindled.
+
+As he was leaning against the smoky mantelpiece, his eye fell upon a
+small black frame that inclosed a withered leaf. Moser noticed it.
+
+"Ah! you are looking at my relic. It's a leaf of the weeping-willow that
+grows down there on the tomb of Napoleon! I got it from a Strasbourg
+merchant who had served in the Old Guard. I wouldn't part with it for a
+hundred crowns."
+
+"Then there is some particular sentiment attached to it?"
+
+"Sentiment, no," answered the peasant; "but I too was discharged from
+the Fourth Regiment of Hussars, a brave regiment, monsieur. There were
+only eight men left of our squadron, so when the Little Corporal passed
+in front of the line he saluted us--yes, monsieur, raised his hat to us!
+That was something to make us ready to die to the last man, look you.
+Ah! he was the father of the soldier!"
+
+Here the peasant began to fill his pipe, looking the while at the black
+frame and the withered leaf. In this reminder of a marvelous destiny
+there was evidently for him a whole romance of youth, emotion, and
+regret. He recalled the last struggles of the Empire, in which he had
+taken part, the reviews held by the emperor, when his mere presence
+aroused confidence in victory; the passing successes of France's famous
+campaign, so soon expiated by the disaster at Waterloo; the departure of
+the vanquished general and his long agony on the rock of Saint Helena.
+
+Arnold respected the old soldier's silent preoccupation and waited until
+he should resume the conversation.
+
+The arrival of supper roused him from his reverie; he drew up a chair
+for his guest and took his place at the opposite side of the table.
+
+"Come! fall to on the soup," he cried brusquely. "I have had nothing
+since morning but two swallows of cognac. I should eat an ox whole
+to-night."
+
+To prove his words, he began to empty the huge porringer of soup before
+him.
+
+For several moments nothing was heard but the clatter of spoons followed
+by that of the knives cutting up the side of bacon served by the
+farmer's wife. His walk and the fresh air had given Arnold himself an
+appetite that made him forget his Parisian daintiness. The supper grew
+gayer and gayer, when all at once the peasant raised his head.
+
+"And Farraut?" he asked. "I have not seen him since my return."
+
+His wife and the children looked at each other without answering.
+
+"Well, what is it?" went on Moser, who saw their embarrassment. "Where
+is the dog? What has happened to him? Why don't you answer, Dorothée?"
+
+"Don't be angry, father," interrupted Jean; "we didn't dare tell you,
+but Farraut went away and has not come back."
+
+"A thousand devils! You should have told me!" cried the peasant,
+striking the table with his fist. "What road did he take?"
+
+"The road to Garennes."
+
+"When was it?"
+
+"After dinner: we saw him go up the little path."
+
+"Something must have happened to him," said Moser, getting up. "The poor
+animal is almost blind and there are sand pits all along the road! Go
+fetch my sheepskin and the lantern, wife. I must find Farraut, dead or
+alive."
+
+Dorothée went out without making any remark either about the hour or the
+weather, and soon reappeared with what her husband had asked for.
+
+"You must think a great deal of this dog," said Arnold, surprised at
+such zeal.
+
+"It is not I," answered Moser, lighting his pipe; "but he did good
+service to Dorothée's father. One day when the old man was on his way
+home from market with the price of his oxen in his pocket, four men
+tried to murder him for his money, and they would have done it if it had
+not been for Farraut; so when the good man died two years ago, he called
+me to his bedside and asked me to care for the dog as for one of his
+children--those were his words. I promised, and it would be a crime not
+to keep one's promise to the dead. Fritz, give me my iron-shod stick. I
+wouldn't have anything happen to Farraut for a pint of my blood. The
+animal has been in the family for twenty years--he knows us all by our
+voices--and he recalls the grandfather. I shall see you again, monsieur,
+and good-night until to-morrow."
+
+Moser wrapped himself in his sheepskin and went out. They could hear the
+sound of his iron-shod stick die away in the soughing of the wind and
+the falling of the rain.
+
+After awhile the farmer's wife offered to conduct Arnold to his quarters
+for the night, but Arnold asked permission to await the return of the
+master of the house, if his return were not delayed too long. His
+interest in the man who had at first seemed to him so vulgar, and in the
+humble family whose existence he had thought to be so valueless,
+continued to increase.
+
+The vigil was prolonged, however, and Moser did not return. The children
+had fallen asleep one after another, and even Jean, who had held out the
+longest, had to seek his bed at last. Dorothée, uneasy, went
+incessantly from the fireside to the door and from the door to the
+fireside. Arnold strove to reassure her, but her mind was excited by
+suspense. She accused Moser of never thinking of his health or of his
+safety; of always being ready to sacrifice himself for others; of being
+unable to see a human being or an animal suffer without risking all to
+relieve it. As she went on with her complaint, which sounded strangely
+like a glorification, her fears grew more vivid; she had a thousand
+gloomy forebodings. The dog had howled all through the previous night;
+an owl had perched upon the roof of the house; it was a Wednesday,
+always an unfortunate day in the family. Her fears reached such a pitch
+at last that the young man volunteered to go in search of her husband,
+and she was about to awaken Fritz to accompany him, when the sound of
+footsteps was heard outside.
+
+"It is Moser!" said the woman, stopping short.
+
+"Oho, there, open quickly, wife," cried the farmer from without.
+
+She ran to draw the bolt, and Moser appeared, carrying in his arms the
+old blind dog.
+
+"Here he is," he said gayly. "God help me! I thought I should never find
+him: the poor brute had rolled to the bottom of the big stone quarry."
+
+"And you went there to get him?" asked Dorothée, horror-stricken.
+
+"Should I have left him at the bottom to find him drowned to-morrow?"
+asked the old soldier. "I slid down the length of the big mountain and I
+carried him up in my arms like a child: the lantern was left behind,
+though."
+
+"But you risked your life, you foolhardy man!" cried Dorothée, who was
+shuddering at her husband's explanation.
+
+The latter shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Ah, bah!" he said with careless gayety; "who risks nothing has nothing;
+I have found Farraut--that's the principal thing. If the grandfather
+sees us from up there, he ought to be satisfied."
+
+This reflection, made in an almost indifferent tone, touched Arnold, who
+held out his hand impetuously to the peasant.
+
+"What you have done was prompted by a good heart," he said with feeling.
+
+"What? Because I have kept a dog from drowning?" answered Moser. "Dogs
+and men--thank God I have helped more than one out of a hole since I was
+born; but I have sometimes had better weather than to-night to do it in.
+Say, wife, there must be a glass of cognac left; bring the bottle here;
+there is nothing that dries you better when you're wet."
+
+Dorothée brought the bottle to the farmer, who drank to his guest's
+health, and then each sought his bed.
+
+The next morning the weather was fine again; the sky was clear, and the
+birds, shaking their feathers, sang on the still dripping trees.
+
+When he descended from the garret, where a bed had been prepared for
+him, Arnold found near the door Farraut, who was warming himself in the
+sun, while little Jean, seated on his crutches, was making him a collar
+of eglantine berries. A little further on, in the first room, the farmer
+was clinking glasses with a beggar who had come to collect his weekly
+tithe; Dorothée was holding his wallet, which she was filling.
+
+"Come, old Henri, one more draught," said the peasant, refilling the
+beggar's glass; "if you mean to finish your round you must take
+courage."
+
+"That one always finds here," said the beggar with a smile; "there are
+not many houses in the parish where they give more, but there is not one
+where they give with such good will."
+
+"Be quiet, will you, Père Henri?" interrupted Moser; "do people talk of
+such things? Drink and let the good God judge each man's actions. You,
+too, have served; we are old comrades."
+
+The old man contented himself with a shake of the head and touched his
+glass to the farmer's; but one could see that he was more moved by the
+heartiness that accompanied the alms than the alms itself.
+
+When he had taken up his wallet again and bade them good-by, Moser
+watched him go until he had disappeared around a bend in the road. Then
+drawing a breath, he said, turning to his guest:
+
+"One more poor old man without a home. You may believe me or not,
+monsieur, but when I see men with shaking heads going about like that,
+begging their bread from door to door, it turns my blood. I should like
+to set the table for them all and touch glasses with them all as I did
+just now with Père Henri. To keep your heart from breaking at such a
+sight, you must believe that there is a world up there where those who
+have not been summoned to the ordinary here will receive double rations
+and double pay."
+
+"You must hold to that belief," said Arnold; "it will support and
+console you. It will be long before I shall forget the hours I have
+passed in your house, and I trust they will not be the last."
+
+"Whenever you choose," said the old soldier; "if you don't find the bed
+up there too hard and if you can digest our bacon, come at your
+pleasure, and we shall always be under obligations to you."
+
+He shook the hand that the young man had extended, pointed out the way
+that he must take, and did not leave the threshold until he had seen his
+guest disappear in the turn of the road.
+
+For some time Arnold walked with lowered head, but upon reaching the
+summit of the hill he turned to take a last backward look, and seeing
+the farm-house chimney, above which curled a light wreath of smoke, he
+felt a tear of tenderness rise to his eye.
+
+"May God always protect those who live under that roof!" he murmured;
+"for where pride made me see creatures incapable of understanding the
+finer qualities of the soul, I have found models for myself. I judged
+the depths by the surface and thought poetry absent because, instead of
+showing itself without, it hid itself in the heart of the things
+themselves; ignorant observer that I was, I pushed aside with my foot
+what I thought were pebbles, not guessing that in these rude stones were
+hidden diamonds."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN HOWARD PAYNE AND "HOME, SWEET HOME"
+
+
+About a hundred years ago, a young man, little more than a boy, was
+drawing large audiences to the theaters of our eastern cities. New York
+received him with enthusiasm, cultured Boston was charmed by his person
+and his graceful bearing, while warm-hearted Baltimore fairly outdid
+herself in hospitality. Until this time five hundred dollars was a large
+sum for a theater to yield in a single night in Baltimore, but people
+paid high premiums to hear the boy actor, and a one-evening audience
+brought in more than a thousand dollars.
+
+About the same time in England another boy actor, Master Betty, was
+creating great excitement, and him they called the Young Roscius, a name
+that was quickly caught up by the admirers of the Yankee youth, who then
+became known as the Young American Roscius.
+
+He was a wonderful boy in every way, was John Howard Payne. One of a
+large family of children, several of whom were remarkably bright, he had
+from his parents the most careful training, though they were not able
+always to give him the advantages they wished. John was born in New York
+City, but early moved with his parents to East Hampton, the most eastern
+town on the jutting southern point of Long Island. Here in the charming
+little village he passed his childhood, a leader among his playmates,
+and a favorite among his elders. His slight form, rounded face,
+beautiful features and graceful bearing combined to attract also the
+marked attention of every stranger who met him.
+
+At thirteen years of age he was at work in New York, and soon was
+discovered to be the editor in secret of a paper called _The Thespian
+Mirror_. The merit of this juvenile sheet attracted the attention of
+many people, and among them of Mr. Seaman, a wealthy New Yorker who
+offered the talented boy an opportunity to go to college free of
+expense. Young Payne gladly accepted the invitation, and proceeded to
+Union College, where he soon became one of the most popular boys in the
+school. His handsome face, graceful manners and elegant delivery were
+met with applause whenever he spoke in public, and a natural taste led
+him to seek every chance for declamation and acting. Even as a child he
+had showed his dramatic ability, and more than once he was urged to go
+upon the stage. But his father refused all offers and kept the boy
+steadily at his work.
+
+When he was seventeen, however, two events occurred which changed all
+his plans. First his mother died, and then his father failed in
+business, and the young man saw that he must himself take up the burdens
+of the family. Accordingly he left college before graduation and began
+his career as an actor.
+
+[Illustration: JOHN HOWARD PAYNE
+
+1791-1852]
+
+His success was immediate and unusual, if we may judge from the words of
+contemporary critics. His first appearance in Boston was on February
+24, 1809, as Douglas in _Young Norval_. In this play occurs the
+speech that countless American boys have declaimed, "On the Grampian
+Hills my father feeds his flocks." Of Payne's rendition a critic says,
+"He had all the skill of a finished artist combined with the freshness
+and simplicity of youth. Great praise, but there are few actors who can
+claim any competition with him." Six weeks later he was playing Hamlet
+there, and his elocution is spoken of as remarkable for its purity, his
+action as suited to the passion he represented, and his performance as
+an exquisite one that delighted his brilliant audience.
+
+    "Upon the stage, a glowing boy appeared
+    Whom heavenly smiles and grateful thunders cheered;
+    Then through the throng delighted murmurs ran.
+    The boy enacts more wonders than a man."
+
+Another, writing about this time, says, "Young Payne was a perfect Cupid
+in his beauty, and his sweet voice, self-possessed yet modest manners,
+wit, vivacity and premature wisdom, made him a most engaging prodigy."
+
+And again, "A more engaging youth could not be imagined; he won all
+hearts by the beauty of his person and his captivating address, the
+premature richness of his mind and his chaste and flowing utterance."
+
+His great successes here led him to go to England, where his popularity
+was not nearly so great, and where the critics pounced upon him
+unmercifully, hurting his feelings beyond repair. Still he succeeded
+moderately both in England and on the Continent, until he turned his
+attention to writing rather than to acting. _Brutus_, a tragedy, is the
+only one of the sixty works which he wrote, translated or adapted, that
+ever is played nowadays. In _Clari, the Maid of Milan_, one of his
+operas, however, appeared a little song that has made the name of John
+Howard Payne eternally famous throughout the world.
+
+_Home, Sweet Home_ had originally four stanzas, but by common consent
+the third and fourth have been dropped because of their inferiority. The
+two remaining ones are sung everywhere with heartfelt appreciation, and
+the air, whatever its origin, has now association only with the words of
+the old home song. Miss Ellen Tree, who sang it in the opera, charmed
+her audience instantly, and in the end won her husband through its
+melody.
+
+In 1823, 100,000 copies were sold, and the publishers made 2,000 guineas
+from it in two years. In fact, it enriched everybody who had anything to
+do with it, except Payne, who sold it originally for £30.
+
+Perhaps the most noteworthy incident connected with the public rendition
+of _Home, Sweet Home_ occurred in Washington at one of the theaters
+where Jenny Lind was singing before an audience composed of the first
+people of our land. In one of the boxes sat the author, then on a visit
+to this country, and a favorite everywhere. The prima donna sang her
+greatest classical music and moved her audience to the wildest applause.
+Then in response to the renewed calls she stepped to the front of the
+stage, turned her face to the box where the poet sat, and in a voice of
+marvelous pathos and power sang:
+
+    "Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
+    Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!
+    A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
+    Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
+        Home, Home! Sweet, sweet Home!
+        There's no place like Home!
+        There's no place like Home!
+
+[Illustration: THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME]
+
+    "An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain!
+    O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
+    The birds singing gaily that came at my call;--
+    Give me them! and the peace of mind dearer than all!
+          Home, Home! Sweet, sweet Home!
+          There's no place like Home!
+          There's no place like Home!"[226-1]
+
+The audience were moved to tears. Even Daniel Webster, stern man of law,
+lost control of himself and wept like a child.
+
+Payne's later life was not altogether a happy one, and he felt some
+resentment against the world, although it may not have been justified.
+He was unmarried, but was no more homeless than most bachelors. He
+exiled himself voluntarily from his own country, and so lost much of the
+delightful result of his own early popularity. He may have been reduced
+to privation and suffering, but it was not for long at a time. Some
+writers have sought to heighten effect by making the author of the
+greatest song of home a homeless wanderer. The truth is that Payne's
+unhappiness was largely the result of his own peculiarities. He was
+given to poetic exaggeration, for there is now known to be little stern
+fact in the following oft-quoted writing of himself:
+
+"How often have I been in the heart of Paris, Berlin, London or some
+other city, and have heard persons singing or hand organs playing _Sweet
+Home_ without having a shilling to buy myself the next meal or a place
+to lay my head! The world has literally sung my song until every heart
+is familiar with its melody, yet I have been a wanderer from my
+boyhood. My country has turned me ruthlessly from office and in my old
+age I have to submit to humiliation for my bread."
+
+Upon his own request he was appointed United States consul at Tunis, and
+after being removed from that office continued to reside there until his
+death. He was buried in Saint George's Cemetery in Tunis, and there his
+body rested for more than thirty years, until W. W. Corcoran, a wealthy
+resident of Washington, had it disinterred, brought to this country and
+buried in the beautiful Oak Hill Cemetery near Washington. There a white
+marble shaft surmounted by a bust of the poet marks his last home. On
+one side of the shaft is the inscription:
+
+          John Howard Payne,
+      Author of "Home, Sweet Home."
+  Born June 9, 1792. Died April 9, 1852.
+
+On the other side is chiseled this stanza:
+
+    "Sure when thy gentle spirit fled
+    To realms above the azure dome,
+    With outstretched arms God's angels said
+    Welcome to Heaven's Home, Sweet Home."
+
+Much sentiment has been wasted over Payne, who was really not a great
+poet and whose lack of stamina prevented him from grasping the power
+already in his hand. We should remember, too, that the astonishing
+popularity of _Home, Sweet Home_ is doubtless due more to the glorious
+melody of the air, probably composed by some unknown Sicilian, than to
+the wording of the two stanzas.
+
+When we study the verses themselves we see that the first three lines
+are rather fine, but the fourth line is clumsy and matter-of-fact
+compared with the others. In the second stanza "lowly thatched cottage"
+may be a poetic description, but the home longing is not confined to
+people who have lived in thatched cottages. Tame singing birds are
+interesting, but home stands for higher and holier things. All he asks
+for are a thatched cottage, singing birds and peace of mind: a curious
+group of things. The fourth line of that stanza is unmusical and
+inharmonious.
+
+These facts make us see that what really has made the song so dear to us
+is its sweet music and the powerful emotion that seizes us all when we
+think of the home of our childhood.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[226-1] Capitals and punctuation as written by Payne.
+
+
+
+
+AULD LANG SYNE[228-1]
+
+_By_ ROBERT BURNS
+
+
+     NOTE.--The song as we know it is not the first song to bear that
+     title, nor is it entirely original with Robert Burns. It is said
+     that the second and third stanzas were written by him, but that the
+     others were merely revised. In a letter to a friend, written in
+     1793, Burns says, "The air (of _Auld Lang Syne_) is but mediocre;
+     but the following song, the old song of the olden time, which has
+     never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down
+     from an old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air." This
+     refers to the song as we know it, but the friend, a Mr. Thompson,
+     set the words to an old Lowland air which is the one every one now
+     uses.
+
+     At an earlier date Burns wrote to another friend: "Is not the
+     Scottish phrase, _auld lang syne_, exceedingly expressive? There is
+     an old song and tune that has often thrilled through my soul.
+     Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who
+     composed this glorious fragment."
+
+     We cannot be certain that this refers to the exact wording he
+     subsequently set down, for there were at least three versions known
+     at that time.
+
+    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
+      And never brought to min'?
+    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
+      And days o' lang syne?
+
+        _For auld lang syne, my dear,
+          For auld lang syne,
+        We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,[229-2]
+          For auld lang syne._
+
+    We twa[229-3] hae[229-4] run about the braes,[229-5]
+      And pou'd[229-6] the gowans[229-7] fine;
+    But we've wandered mony[229-8] a weary foot
+      Sin'[229-9] auld lang syne.
+            _For auld_, etc.
+
+    We twa hae paidl't[229-10] i' the burn,[229-11]
+      Frae[229-12] mornin' sun till dine;[229-13]
+    But seas between us braid[229-14] hae roared
+      Sin' auld lang syne.
+            _For auld_, etc.
+
+    And here's a hand, my trusty frere,[230-15]
+      And gie's[230-16] a hand o' thine;
+    And we'll tak a right guid[230-17] willie-waught[230-18]
+      For auld lang syne.
+           _For auld_, etc.
+
+[Illustration: FOR AULD LANG SYNE]
+
+    And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,[230-19]
+      And surely I'll be mine;
+    And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
+      For auld lang syne.
+           _For auld_, etc.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[228-1] Literally, _Auld Lang Syne_ means _Old Long-Since_. It is
+difficult to bring out the meaning of the Scotch phrase by a single
+English word. Perhaps _The Good Old Times_ comes as near to it as
+anything. The song gives so much meaning to the Scotch phrase that now
+every man and woman knows what _Auld Lang Syne_ really stands for.
+
+[229-2] That is, _we will drink for the sake of old times_.
+
+[229-3] _Twa_ means _two_.
+
+[229-4] _Hae_ is the Scotch for _have_.
+
+[229-5] A brae is a sloping hillside.
+
+[229-6] _Pou'd_ is a contracted form of _pulled_.
+
+[229-7] Dandelions, daisies and other yellow flowers are called _gowans_
+by the Scotch.
+
+[229-8] _Mony_ is _many_.
+
+[229-9] _Sin'_ is a contraction of _since_.
+
+[229-10] _Paidl't_ means _paddled_.
+
+[229-11] A burn is a brook.
+
+[229-12] _Frae_ is the Scotch word for _from_.
+
+[229-13] _Dine_ means _dinner-time_, _midday_.
+
+[229-14] _Braid_ is the Scotch form of _broad_.
+
+[230-15] _Frere_ means _friend_.
+
+[230-16] _Gie's_ is a contracted form of _give us_.
+
+[230-17] _Guid_ is the Scottish spelling of _good_.
+
+[230-18] A willie-waught is a hearty draught.
+
+[230-19] A pint-stoup is a pint-cup or flagon.
+
+
+
+
+HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD
+
+_By_ ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+
+    Home they brought her warrior dead:
+      She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry:
+    All her maidens, watching, said,
+      "She must weep or she will die."
+
+    Then they praised him, soft and low,
+      Call'd him worthy to be loved,
+    Truest friend and noblest foe;
+      Yet she never spoke nor moved.
+
+    Stole a maiden from her place,
+      Lightly to the warrior stept,
+    Took a face-cloth from the face;
+      Yet she neither moved nor wept.
+
+    Rose a nurse of ninety years,
+      Set his child upon her knee--
+    Like summer tempest came her tears--
+      "Sweet my child, I live for thee."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHARLES DICKENS
+
+
+"To begin my life with the beginning of my life," Dickens makes one of
+his heroes say, "I record that I was born (as I have been informed and
+believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night." Dickens was born on a
+Friday, the date the 7th of February, 1812, the place Landport in
+Portsea, England. The house was a comfortable one, and during Charles's
+early childhood his surroundings were prosperous; for his father, John
+Dickens, a clerk in the navy pay-office, was temporarily in easy
+circumstances. When Charles was but two, the family moved to London,
+taking lodgings for a time in Norfolk Street, Bloomsbury, and finally
+settling in Chatham. Here they lived in comfort, and here Charles gained
+more than the rudiments of an education, his earliest teacher being his
+mother, who instructed him not only in English, but in Latin also. Later
+he became the pupil of Mr. Giles, who seems to have taken in him an
+extraordinary interest.
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES DICKENS
+
+1812-1870]
+
+Indeed, he was a child in whom it was difficult not to take an
+extraordinary interest. Small for his years, and attacked occasionally
+by a sort of spasm which was exceedingly painful, he was not fitted for
+much active exercise; but the _aliveness_ which was apparent in him all
+his life distinguished him now. He was very fond of reading, and in
+_David Copperfield_ he put into the mouth of his hero a description
+of his own delight in certain books. "My father had left a small
+collection of books in a little room upstairs, to which I had access
+(for it adjoined my own), and which nobody else in our house ever
+troubled. From that blessed little room, _Roderick Random_, _Peregrine
+Pickle_, _Humphrey Clinker_, _Tom Jones_, _The Vicar of Wakefield_, _Don
+Quixote_, _Gil Blas_ and _Robinson Crusoe_ came out, a glorious host, to
+keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, ... they, and the _Arabian
+Nights_ and the _Tales of the Genii_--and did me no harm; for whatever
+harm was in some of them was not there for me; I knew nothing of it....
+I have been Tom Jones (a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature) for a
+week together. I have sustained my own idea of Roderick Random for a
+month at a stretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish for a few
+volumes of Voyages and Travels--I forget what, now--that were on those
+shelves; and for days and days I can remember to have gone about my
+region of our house, armed with the center piece out of an old set of
+boot-trees--the perfect realization of Captain Somebody, of the Royal
+British Navy, in danger of being beset by savages, and resolved to sell
+his life at a great price."
+
+Not only did the little Charles read all he could lay hands upon; he
+made up stories, too, which he told to his small playmates, winning
+thereby their wondering admiration. Some of these tales he wrote down,
+and thus he became an author in a small way while he was yet a very
+small boy. His making believe to be the characters out of books shows
+another trait which clung to him all his life--his fondness for
+"play-acting." It was, in fact, often said of the mature Dickens that
+he would have made as good an actor as he was a novelist, and Dickens's
+father seems to have recognized in his little son decided traces of
+ability; for often, when there was company at the house, little Charles,
+with his face flushed and his eyes shining, would be placed on a table
+to sing a comic song, amid the applause of all present.
+
+His early days were thus very happy; but when he was about eleven years
+old, money difficulties beset the family, and they were obliged to move
+to a poor part of London. Mrs. Dickens made persistent efforts to open a
+school for young ladies, but no one ever showed the slightest intention
+of coming. Matters went from bad to worse, and finally Mr. Dickens was
+arrested for debt and taken to the Marshalsea prison. The time that
+followed was a most painful one to the sensitive boy--far more painful,
+it would seem, than to the "Prodigal Father," as Dickens later called
+him. This father, whom Dickens long afterward described, in _David
+Copperfield_, as Mr. Micawber, was, as his son was always most willing
+to testify, a kind, generous man; but he was improvident to the last
+degree; and when in difficulties which would have made melancholy any
+other man, he was able, by the mere force of his rhetoric, to lift
+himself above circumstances or to make himself happy in them.
+
+At length all the family except the oldest sister, who was at school,
+and Charles, went to live in the prison; and Charles was given work in a
+blacking-warehouse of which a relative of his mother's was manager. The
+sufferings which the boy endured at this time were intense. It was not
+only that the work was sordid, monotonous, uncongenial; it was not only
+that his pride was outraged; what hurt him most of all was that he
+should have been "so easily cast away at such an age," and that "no one
+made any sign." He had always yearned for an education; he had always
+felt that he must grow up to be worth something. And to see himself
+condemned, as he felt with the hopelessness of childhood, for life, to
+the society of such boys as he found in the blacking-warehouse, was
+almost more than he could endure. During his later life, prosperous and
+happy, he could scarcely bear to speak, even to his dearest friends, of
+this period of his life.
+
+Though this period of his life seemed to him long, it was not really so,
+for he was not yet thirteen when he was taken from the warehouse and
+sent to school. Once given a chance, he learned rapidly and easily,
+although in all probability the schools to which he went were not of the
+best. After a year or two at school he again began work, but this time
+under more hopeful circumstances. He was, to be sure, but an
+under-clerk--little more than an office-boy in a solicitor's office; but
+at least the surroundings were less sordid and the companions more
+congenial. However, he had no intention of remaining an under-clerk, and
+he set to work to make himself a reporter.
+
+Of his difficulties in mastering shorthand he has written feelingly in
+that novel which contains so much autobiographical material--_David
+Copperfield_. "I bought an approved scheme of the noble art and mystery
+of stenography ... and plunged into a sea of perplexity that brought me,
+in a few weeks, to the confines of distraction. The changes that were
+rung upon dots, which in such a position meant such a thing, and in such
+another position something else, entirely different; the wonderful
+vagaries that were played by circles; the unaccountable consequences
+that resulted from marks like flies' legs, the tremendous effect of a
+curve in the wrong place; not only troubled my waking hours, but
+reappeared before me in my sleep."
+
+When Dickens once made up his mind to do a thing, however, he always
+went through with it, and before so very long he had perfected himself
+in his "art and mystery," and was one of the most rapid and accurate
+reporters in London.
+
+At nineteen he became a reporter of the speeches in Parliament. Before
+taking up his newspaper work, he made an attempt to go upon the stage;
+but it was not long before he found his true vocation, and abandoned all
+thought of the stage as a means of livelihood. In 1833 he published a
+sketch in the _Old Monthly Magazine_, and this was the first of those
+_Sketches by Boz_ which were published at intervals for the next two
+years.
+
+The year 1836 was a noteworthy one for Dickens, for in that year he
+married Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of an associate on the
+_Chronicle_; and in that year began the publication of _The Posthumous
+Papers of the Pickwick Club_. The publication of the first few numbers
+wakened no great enthusiasm, but with the appearance of the fifth
+number, in which Sam Weller is introduced, began that popularity which
+did not decline until Dickens's death. In fact, as one writer has said,
+"In dealing with Dickens, we are dealing with a man whose public success
+was a marvel and almost a monstrosity." Every one, old and young,
+serious and flippant, talked of _Pickwick_, and it was actually
+reported, by no less an authority than Thomas Carlyle, that a solemn
+clergyman, being told that he had not long to live, exclaimed, "Well,
+thank God, _Pickwick_ will be out in ten days anyway!"
+
+_Oliver Twist_ followed, and then _Nicholas Nickleby_; and by this time
+Dickens began to get, what he did not receive from his first work,
+something like his fair share of the enormous profits, so that his
+growing family lived in comfort, if not in luxury. When the _Old
+Curiosity Shop_, and, later, _Barnaby Rudge_, appeared, the number of
+purchasers of the serials rose as high as seventy thousand.
+
+Early in 1842 Dickens and his wife made a journey to America, leaving
+their children in the care of a friend. Shortly after arriving in the
+United States he wrote to a friend, "I can give you no conception of my
+welcome here. There was never a king or emperor upon the earth so
+cheered and followed by crowds, and entertained in public at splendid
+balls and dinners, and waited on by public bodies and deputations of all
+kinds;" and again, "In every town where we stay, though it be only for a
+day, we hold a regular levee or drawing-room, where I shake hands on an
+average with five or six hundred people."
+
+Dickens had come prepared to like America and Americans--and in many
+ways he did like them. But in other ways he was disappointed. He
+ventured to object, in various speeches, to the pirating, in America, of
+English literature, and fierce were the denunciations which this course
+drew upon him. Having fancied that in the republic of America he might
+have at least free speech on a matter which so closely concerned him,
+Dickens resented this treatment, and the Americans resented his
+resentment. However, it was with the kindliest feelings toward the many
+friends he had made in the United States, and with the most out-spoken
+admiration for many American institutions that he left for England. The
+publication of his _American Notes_ and of _Martin Chuzzlewit_ did not
+tend to reconcile Americans to Dickens; but there seems to have been no
+falling off in the sale of his books in this country.
+
+Dickens's life, like the lives of most literary men, was not
+particularly eventful. It was, however, a constantly busy life. Book
+followed book in rapid succession, and still their popularity grew.
+Sometimes in London, sometimes in Italy or Rome or Switzerland, he
+created those wonderful characters of his which will live as long as the
+English language. The first of the Christmas books, _A Christmas Carol_,
+appeared in 1843, and henceforward one of the things to which people
+looked forward at Yuletide was the publication of a new Dickens
+Christmas story.
+
+One diversion--if diversion it can be called--Dickens allowed himself
+not infrequently, and enjoyed most thoroughly. This was the production,
+sometimes before a selected audience, sometimes in public, of plays, in
+which Dickens himself usually took the chief part. Often these plays
+were given not only in London, but in various parts of the country, as
+benefits for poor authors or actors, or for the widows and families of
+such; and always they were astonishingly successful. It is reported that
+an old stage prompter or property man said one time to Dickens "Lor,
+Mr. Dickens! If it hadn't been for them books, what an actor you would
+have made."
+
+Naturally, a man of Dickens's eminence had as his friends and
+acquaintances many of the foremost men of his time, and a most
+affectionate and delightful friend he was. His letters fall no whit
+below the best of his writing in his novels in their power of
+observation, their brightness, their humorous manner of expression.
+
+In 1849 was begun the publication of _David Copperfield_, Dickens's own
+favorite among his novels. It contains, as has already been said, much
+that is autobiographical, and one of the most interesting facts in
+connection with this phase of it is that there really was, in Dickens's
+young days, a "Dora" whom he worshiped. Years later he met her again,
+and what his feelings on that occasion must have been may be imagined
+when we know that this Dora-grown-older was the original of "Flora" in
+_Little Dorrit_.
+
+The things that Dickens, writing constantly and copiously, found time to
+do are wonderful. One of the matters in which he took great interest and
+an active part was the children's theatricals. These were held each year
+during the Christmas holiday season at Dickens's home, and while his
+children and their friends were the principal actors, Dickens
+superintended the whole, introduced three-quarters of the fun, and
+played grown-up parts, adopting as his stage title the "Modern Garrick."
+
+Though the story of these crowded years is quickly told, the years were
+far from being uneventful in their passing. Occasional sojourns, either
+with his family or with friends, in France and in Italy always made
+Dickens but the more glad to be in his beloved London, where he seemed
+most in his element and where his genius had freest play. This does not
+mean that he did not enjoy France and Italy, or appreciate their
+beauties, but simply that he was always an Englishman--a city
+Englishman. His observations, however, on what he saw in traveling were
+always most acute and entertaining.
+
+His account of his well-nigh unsuccessful attempt to find the house of
+Mr. Lowther, English chargé d'affaires at Naples, with whom he had been
+invited to dine, may be quoted here to show his power of humorous
+description:
+
+"We had an exceedingly pleasant dinner of eight, preparatory to which I
+was near having the ridiculous adventure of not being able to find the
+house and coming back dinnerless. I went in an open carriage from the
+hotel in all state, and the coachman, to my surprise, pulled up at the
+end of the Chiaja.
+
+"'Behold the house' says he, 'of Signor Larthoor!'--at the same time
+pointing with his whip into the seventh heaven, where the early stars
+were shining.
+
+"'But the Signor Larthoor,' returns the Inimitable darling, 'lives at
+Pausilippo.'
+
+"'It is true,' says the coachman (still pointing to the evening star),
+'but he lives high up the Salita Sant' Antonio, where no carriage ever
+yet ascended, and that is the house' (evening star as aforesaid), 'and
+one must go on foot. Behold the Salita Sant' Antonio!'
+
+"I went up it, a mile and a half I should think. I got into the
+strangest places, among the wildest Neapolitans--kitchens,
+washing-places, archways, stables, vineyards--was baited by dogs,
+answered in profoundly unintelligible Neapolitan, from behind lonely
+locked doors, in cracked female voices, quaking with fear; could hear of
+no such Englishman or any Englishman. By-and-by I came upon a
+Polenta-shop in the clouds, where an old Frenchman, with an umbrella
+like a faded tropical leaf (it had not rained for six weeks) was staring
+at nothing at all, with a snuff-box in his hand. To him I appealed
+concerning the Signor Larthoor.
+
+"'Sir,' said he, with the sweetest politeness, 'can you speak French?'
+
+"'Sir,' said I, 'a little.'
+
+"'Sir,' said he, 'I presume the Signor Lootheere'--you will observe that
+he changed the name according to the custom of his country--'is an
+Englishman.'
+
+"I admitted that he was the victim of circumstances and had that
+misfortune.
+
+"'Sir,' said he, 'one word more. _Has_ he a servant with a wooden leg?'
+
+"'Great Heaven, sir,' said I, 'how do I know? I should think not, but it
+is possible.'
+
+"'It is always,' said the Frenchman, 'possible. Almost all the things of
+the world are always possible.'
+
+"'Sir,' said I--you may imagine my condition and dismal sense of my own
+absurdity by this time--'that is true.'
+
+"He then took an immense pinch of snuff, wiped the dust off his
+umbrella, led me to an arch commanding a wonderful view of the Bay of
+Naples, and pointed deep into the earth from which I had mounted.
+
+"'Below there, near the lamp, one finds an Englishman, with a servant
+with a wooden leg. It is always possible that he is the Signor
+Lootheere.'
+
+"I had been asked at six, and it was now getting on for seven. I went
+down again in a state of perspiration and misery not to be described,
+and without the faintest hope of finding the place. But as I was going
+down to the lamp, I saw the strangest staircase up a dark corner, with a
+man in a white waistcoat (evidently hired) standing on the top of it
+fuming. I dashed in at a venture, found it was the place, made the most
+of the whole story, and was indescribably popular."
+
+"Indescribably popular" Dickens was almost every place he went. And in
+1858 there came to him increased popularity by reason of a new venture.
+In this year he began his public readings from his own works, which
+brought him in immense sums of money. Through England, Scotland, Ireland
+and the United States he journeyed, reading, as only he could read,
+scenes humorous and pathetic from his great novels, and everywhere the
+effect was the same.
+
+Descriptive of an evening at Edinburgh, he wrote: "Such a pouring of
+hundreds into a place already full to the throat, such indescribable
+confusion, such a rending and tearing of dresses, and yet such a scene
+of good humor on the whole!... I read with the platform crammed with
+people. I got them to lie down upon it, and it was like some impossible
+tableau or gigantic picnic; one pretty girl in full dress hang on her
+side all night, holding on to one of the legs of my table. And yet from
+the moment I began to the moment of my leaving off, they never missed a
+point, and they ended with a burst of cheers."
+
+Meanwhile Dickens's domestic life had not been happy. He and his wife
+were not entirely congenial in temper, and the incompatibility increased
+with the years, until in 1858 they agreed to live apart. Most of the
+children remained with their father, although they were given perfect
+freedom to visit their mother.
+
+Among Dickens's later novels are the _Tale of Two Cities_, _Great
+Expectations_, which is one of his very best books, and _Our Mutual
+Friend_, which, while as a story it has many faults, yet abounds with
+the humor and fancy which are characteristic of Dickens. In October,
+1869, was begun _Edwin Drood_, which was published like most of its
+predecessors, as a serial. Six numbers appeared, and there the story
+closed; for on June 9, 1870, Charles Dickens died, after an illness of
+but one day, during all of which he was unconscious.
+
+His family desired to have him buried near his home, the Gad's Hill
+which he had admired from his childhood and had purchased in his
+manhood; but the general wish was that he should be laid in Westminster
+Abbey, and to this wish his family felt that it would be wrong to
+object. For days there were crowds of mourners about the grave, shedding
+tears, scattering flowers, testifying to the depth of affection they had
+felt for the man who had given them so many happy hours.
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS CAROL
+
+_By_ CHARLES DICKENS
+
+
+STAVE ONE
+
+_Marley's Ghost_
+
+Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.
+The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the
+undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name
+was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old
+Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
+
+Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there
+is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined,
+myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in
+the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my
+unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You
+will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as
+dead as a door-nail.
+
+Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise?
+Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge
+was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole
+residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge
+was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an
+excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized
+it with an undoubted bargain.
+
+The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started
+from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly
+understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to
+relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died
+before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his
+taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts,
+than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning
+out after dark in a breezy spot--say Saint Paul's Churchyard for
+instance--literally to astonish his son's weak mind.
+
+Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years
+afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was
+known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called
+Scrooge Scrooge and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it
+was all the same to him.
+
+Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a
+squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old
+sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had even struck out
+generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
+The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose,
+shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin
+lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime
+was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his
+own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the
+dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
+
+External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could
+warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than
+he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain
+less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The
+heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the
+advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down"
+handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
+
+Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My
+dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" No beggars
+implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was
+o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to
+such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to
+know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into
+doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they
+said, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"
+
+But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his
+way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep
+its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge.
+
+Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christmas
+Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak,
+biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court
+outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts,
+and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The City
+clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already: it had
+not been light all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the
+neighboring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The
+fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense
+without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses
+opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down,
+obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by,
+and was brewing on a large scale.[247-1]
+
+The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye
+upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was
+copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was
+so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't
+replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so
+surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that
+it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his
+white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which
+effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he failed.
+
+"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. It was
+the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this
+was the first intimation he had of his approach.
+
+"Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!"
+
+He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this
+nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and
+handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.
+
+"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean
+that, I am sure."
+
+"I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry?
+What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."
+
+"Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be
+dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."
+
+Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said,
+"Bah!" again; and followed it up with "Humbug."
+
+"Don't be cross, uncle," said the nephew.
+
+"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I live in such a world
+of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What's
+Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time
+for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for
+balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen
+months presented dead against you? If I could work my will," said
+Scrooge, indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas'
+on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a
+stake of holly through his heart. He should!"
+
+"Uncle!" pleaded the nephew.
+
+"Nephew!" returned the uncle, sternly, "keep Christmas in your own way,
+and let me keep it in mine."
+
+"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep it."
+
+"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much good may it do you!
+Much good it has ever done you!"
+
+"There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I
+have not profited, I dare say," returned the nephew: "Christmas among
+the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it
+has come round--apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and
+origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that--as a good
+time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know
+of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one
+consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people
+below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and
+not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore,
+uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I
+believe that it _has_ done me good, and _will_ do me good; and I say,
+God bless it!"
+
+The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded: becoming immediately
+sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the
+last frail spark for ever.
+
+"Let me hear another sound from _you_," said Scrooge, "and you'll keep
+your Christmas by losing your situation. You're quite a powerful
+speaker, Sir," he added, turning to his nephew. "I wonder you don't go
+into Parliament."
+
+"Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us to-morrow."
+
+Scrooge said that he would see him--yes, indeed he did. He went the
+whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that
+extremity first.
+
+"But why?" cried Scrooge's nephew. "Why?"
+
+"Why did you get married?" said Scrooge.
+
+"Because I fell in love."
+
+"Because you fell in love!" growled Scrooge, as if that were the only
+one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. "Good
+afternoon!"
+
+"Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give
+it as a reason for not coming now?"
+
+"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.
+
+"I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be
+friends?"
+
+"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.
+
+"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never
+had any quarrel to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial
+in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humour to the last.
+So A Merry Christmas, uncle!"
+
+"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
+
+"And A Happy New Year!"
+
+"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
+
+His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He
+stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on the
+clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for he returned
+them cordially.
+
+"There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge; who overheard him: "my
+clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking
+about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam."[251-2]
+
+This lunatic, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, had let two other people
+in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with
+their hats off, in Scrooge's office. They had books and papers in their
+hands, and bowed to him.
+
+"Scrooge and Marley's, I believe," said one of the gentlemen, referring
+to his list. "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr.
+Marley?"
+
+"Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years," Scrooge replied. "He died
+seven years ago, this very night."
+
+"We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving
+partner," said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.
+
+It certainly was; for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous
+word "liberality," Scrooge frowned, and shook his head, and handed the
+credentials back.
+
+"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman,
+taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirable that we should make
+some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at
+the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries;
+hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, Sir."
+
+"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.
+
+"And the Union workhouses?"[252-3] demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in
+operation?"
+
+"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could say they were
+not."
+
+"The Treadmill[252-4] and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?" said
+Scrooge.
+
+"Both very busy, Sir."
+
+"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had
+occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooge. "I'm very
+glad to hear it."
+
+"Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind
+or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman, "a few of us are
+endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and
+means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all
+others, when want is keenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What shall I
+put you down for?"
+
+"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
+
+"You wish to be anonymous?"
+
+"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "Since you ask me what I wish,
+gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas,
+and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the
+establishments I have mentioned: they cost enough: and those who are
+badly off must go there."
+
+"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."
+
+"If they would rather die," said Scrooge, "they had better do it, and
+decrease the surplus population. Besides--excuse me--I don't know that."
+
+"But you might know it," observed the gentleman.
+
+"It's not my business," Scrooge returned. "It's enough for a man to
+understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's.
+Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!"
+
+Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the
+gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion
+of himself, and in more facetious temper than was usual with him.
+
+Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that the people ran about
+with flaring links,[253-5] proffering their services to go before horses
+in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a
+church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at Scrooge
+out of a gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the
+hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards
+as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold
+became intense. In the main street at the corner of the court, some
+labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in
+a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered:
+warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture.
+The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly
+congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shop
+where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows,
+made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades
+became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to
+impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had
+anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion
+House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a
+Lord Mayor's household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had
+fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and
+bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up to-morrow's pudding in his
+garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.
+
+Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. If the good
+Saint Dunstan[254-6] had but nipped the Evil Spirit's nose with a touch
+of such weather as that, instead of using his familiar weapons, then
+indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. The owner of one scant
+young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by
+dogs, stooped down at Scrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas
+carol: but at the first sound of
+
+    "God bless you, merry gentlemen!
+    May nothing you dismay!"[254-7]
+
+Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer
+fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial
+frost.
+
+At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With an
+ill-will Scrooge dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the
+fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his
+candle out, and put on his hat.
+
+[Illustration: THE CLERK SMILED FAINTLY]
+
+"You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge.
+
+"If quite convenient, Sir."
+
+"It's not convenient," said Scrooge, "and it's not fair. If I was to
+stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?"
+
+The clerk smiled faintly.
+
+"And yet," said Scrooge, "you don't think _me_ ill-used, when I pay a
+day's wages for no work."
+
+The clerk observed that it was only once a year.
+
+"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of
+December!" said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. "But I
+suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next
+morning!"
+
+The clerk promised that he would; and Scrooge walked out with a growl.
+The office was closed in a twinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends
+of his white comforter dangling below his waist (for he boasted no
+great-coat), went down a slide on Cornhill, at the end of a lane of
+boys, twenty times, in honour of its being Christmas Eve, and then ran
+home to Camden Town as hard as he could pelt, to play at
+blindman's-buff.
+
+Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and
+having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the rest of the evening
+with his banker's-book, went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had
+once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of
+rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little
+business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run
+there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other
+houses, and have forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, and
+dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Scrooge, the other rooms
+being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrooge,
+who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and
+frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house, that it seemed
+as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the
+threshold. Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular
+about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also
+a fact, that Scrooge had seen it, night and morning, during his whole
+residence in that place; also that Scrooge had as little of what is
+called fancy about him as any man in the City of London, even
+including--which is a bold word--the corporation, aldermen, and livery.
+Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought
+on Marley, since his last mention of his seven-years' dead partner that
+afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it
+happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in
+the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change,
+not a knocker, but Marley's face.
+
+Marley's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in
+the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a
+dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as
+Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly
+forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air;
+and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless.
+That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to
+be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part of
+its own expression.
+
+As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.
+
+To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of
+a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from infancy, would
+be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned
+it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle.
+
+He _did_ pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the door;
+and he _did_ look cautiously behind it first, as if he half expected to
+be terrified with the sight of Marley's pigtail sticking out into the
+hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws
+and nuts that held the knocker on; so he said "Pooh, pooh!" and closed
+it with a bang.
+
+The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above,
+and every cask in the wine-merchant's cellars below, appeared to have a
+separate peal of echoes of its own. Scrooge was not a man to be
+frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall,
+and up the stairs, slowly too, trimming his candle as he went.
+
+You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and-six up a good old flight
+of stairs, or through a bad young Act of Parliament; but I mean to say
+you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise,
+with the splinter-bar[258-8] towards the wall, and the door towards the
+balustrades: and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that, and
+room to spare; which is perhaps the reason why Scrooge thought he saw a
+locomotive hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half-a-dozen
+gas-lamps out of the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well, so
+you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip.
+
+Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that: darkness is cheap, and
+Scrooge liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through
+his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of
+the face to desire to do that.
+
+Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody under
+the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and
+basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel (Scrooge had a cold in his
+head) upon the hob. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody
+in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude
+against the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire-guard, old shoes, two
+fish-baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.
+
+Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in;
+double-locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against
+surprise, he took off his cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers,
+and his nightcap; and sat down before the fire to take his gruel.
+
+It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such a bitter night. He was
+obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could extract
+the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. The fireplace
+was an old one, built by some Dutch merchant long ago, and paved all
+round with quaint Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures.
+There were Cains and Abels, Pharaoh's daughters, Queens of Sheba,
+angelic messengers descending through the air on clouds like
+feather-beds, Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting off to sea in
+butter-boats, hundreds of figures, to attract his thoughts; and yet that
+face of Marley, seven years dead, came like the ancient Prophet's rod,
+and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at
+first, with power to shape some picture on its surface, from the
+disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy of
+old Marley's head on every one.
+
+"Humbug!" said Scrooge; and walked across the room.
+
+After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head back in the
+chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that
+hung in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a
+chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great
+astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked,
+he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that
+it scarcely made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every
+bell in the house. This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute,
+but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together.
+They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some
+person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant's
+cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted
+houses were described as dragging chains.
+
+The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the
+noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then
+coming straight towards his door.
+
+"It's humbug still!" said Scrooge. "I won't believe it."
+
+His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the
+heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming
+in, the flame leaped up, as though it cried "I know him! Marley's
+Ghost!" and fell again.
+
+The same face: the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat,
+tights and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail,
+and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was
+clasped about his middle. It was long, and wound about him like a tail;
+and it was made (for Scrooge observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys,
+padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body
+was transparent; so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his
+waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.
+
+Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no bowels[261-9], but he
+had never believed it until now.
+
+No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom through
+and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling
+influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the
+folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not
+observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his
+senses.
+
+"How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. "What do you want
+with me?"
+
+"Much!"--Marley's voice, no doubt about it.
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"Ask me who I _was_."
+
+"Who _were_ you then?" said Scrooge, raising his voice. "You're
+particular--for a shade." He was going to say "_to_ a shade," but
+substituted this, as more appropriate.
+
+"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley."
+
+"Can you--can you sit down?" asked Scrooge, looking doubtfully at him.
+
+"I can."
+
+"Do it then."
+
+Scrooge asked the question, because he didn't know whether a ghost so
+transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair; and felt
+that in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the
+necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the Ghost sat down on the
+opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used to it.
+
+"You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost.
+
+"I don't," said Scrooge.
+
+"What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?"
+
+"I don't know," said Scrooge.
+
+"Why do you doubt your senses?"
+
+"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder
+of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef,
+a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.
+There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"
+
+Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in
+his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be
+smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his
+terror; for the spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.
+
+[Illustration: "IN LIFE I WAS YOUR PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY"]
+
+To sit staring at those fixed, glazed eyes in silence for a moment,
+would play, Scrooge felt, the very deuce with him. There was something
+very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernal
+atmosphere of its own. Scrooge could not feel it himself, but this was
+clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, its
+hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapour
+from an oven.
+
+"You see this toothpick?" said Scrooge, returning quickly to the charge,
+for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a
+second, to divert the vision's stony gaze from himself.
+
+"I do," replied the Ghost.
+
+"You are not looking at it," said Scrooge.
+
+"But I see it," said the Ghost, "notwithstanding."
+
+"Well!" returned Scrooge. "I have but to swallow this, and be for the
+rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own
+creation. Humbug, I tell you--humbug!"
+
+At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such
+a dismal and appalling noise, that Scrooge held on tight to his chair,
+to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his
+horror, when, the phantom taking off the bandage round its head, as if
+it were too warm to wear indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its
+breast!
+
+Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.
+
+"Mercy!" he said. "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"
+
+"Man of the worldly mind!" replied the Ghost, "do you believe in me or
+not?"
+
+"I do," said Scrooge. "I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and
+why do they come to me?"
+
+"It is required of every man," the Ghost returned, "that the spirit
+within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and
+wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do
+so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world--oh, woe is
+me!--and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth,
+and turned to happiness!"
+
+Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain, and wrung its
+shadowy hands.
+
+"You are fettered," said Scrooge, trembling. "Tell me why?"
+
+"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link
+by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my
+own free will I bore it. Is its pattern strange to _you_?"
+
+Scrooge trembled more and more.
+
+"Or would you know," pursued the Ghost, "the weight and length of the
+strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this,
+seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a
+ponderous chain!"
+
+Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding
+himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he
+could see nothing.
+
+"Jacob," he said, imploringly. "Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak
+comfort to me, Jacob."
+
+"I have none to give," the Ghost replied. "It comes from other regions,
+Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of
+men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more, is all
+permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere.
+My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house--mark me!--in life my
+spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole
+and weary journeys lie before me!"
+
+It was a habit with Scrooge, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his
+hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he
+did so now, but without lifting his eyes, or getting off his knees. "You
+must have been very slow about it, Jacob," Scrooge observed, in a
+business-like manner, though with humility and deference.
+
+"Slow!" the Ghost repeated.
+
+"Seven years dead," mused Scrooge. "And travelling all the time!"
+
+"The whole time," said the Ghost. "No rest, no peace. Incessant torture
+of remorse."
+
+"You travel fast?" said Scrooge.
+
+"On the wings of the wind," replied the Ghost.
+
+"You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,"
+said Scrooge.
+
+The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so
+hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have
+been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.
+
+"Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed," cried the phantom, "not to
+know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this
+earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible
+is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly
+in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too
+short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of
+regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was
+I! Oh! such was I!"
+
+"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," faltered Scrooge,
+who now began to apply this to himself.
+
+"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. "Mankind was my
+business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy,
+forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my
+trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my
+business!"
+
+It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all
+its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.
+
+"At this time of the rolling year," the spectre said, "I suffer most.
+Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down,
+and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a
+poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have
+conducted _me_?"
+
+Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this
+rate, and began to quake exceedingly.
+
+"Hear me!" cried the Ghost. "My time is nearly gone."
+
+"I will," said Scrooge. "But don't be hard upon me! Don't be flowery,
+Jacob! Pray!"
+
+"How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may
+not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day."
+
+It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered, and wiped the
+perspiration from his brow.
+
+"That is no light part of my penance," pursued the Ghost. "I am here
+to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my
+fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer."
+
+"You were always a good friend to me," said Scrooge. "Thank'ee!"
+
+"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by Three Spirits."
+
+Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had done.
+
+"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob," he demanded, in a
+faltering voice.
+
+"It is."
+
+"I--I think I'd rather not," said Scrooge.
+
+"Without their visits," said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to shun the
+path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow, when the bell tolls one."
+
+"Couldn't I take 'em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?" hinted
+Scrooge.
+
+"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon
+the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate.
+Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember
+what has passed between us!"
+
+When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the
+table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrooge knew this, by the
+smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the
+bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural
+visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over
+and about its arm.
+
+The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took, the
+window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it
+was wide open. It beckoned Scrooge to approach, which he did. When they
+were within two paces of each other, Marley's Ghost held up its hand,
+warning him to come no nearer. Scrooge stopped.
+
+Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear: for on the raising of
+the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent
+sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and
+self-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in
+the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.
+
+Scrooge followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked
+out.
+
+The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in
+restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains
+like Marley's Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments) were
+linked together; none were free. Many had been personally known to
+Scrooge in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost,
+in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to his ankle,
+who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an
+infant, whom it saw below upon a door-step. The misery with them all
+was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters,
+and had lost the power for ever.
+
+Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he
+could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the
+night became as it had been when he walked home.
+
+Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had
+entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands,
+and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say "Humbug!" but stopped at
+the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the
+fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull
+conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of
+repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon
+the instant.
+
+
+STAVE TWO
+
+_The First of the Three Spirits_
+
+When Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could
+scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his
+chamber. He was endeavoring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes,
+when the chimes of a neighboring church struck the four quarters. So he
+listened for the hour.
+
+To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and
+from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve!
+It was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must
+have got into the works. Twelve!
+
+He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this most preposterous
+clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve; and stopped.
+
+"Why, it isn't possible," said Scrooge, "that I can have slept through a
+whole day and far into another night. It isn't possible that anything
+has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at noon!"
+
+The big idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped
+his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the
+sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see
+very little then. All he could make out was, that it was still very
+foggy and extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running
+to and fro, and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have
+been if night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the
+world. This was a great relief, because "three days after sight of this
+First of Exchange pay to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge or his order," and so
+forth, would have become a mere United States' security if there were no
+days to count by.
+
+Scrooge went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought it over
+and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought,
+the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavoured not to think, the
+more he thought. Marley's Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he
+resolved within himself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream,
+his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first
+position, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, "Was
+it a dream or not?"
+
+Scrooge lay in this state until the chimes had gone three quarters more,
+when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warned him of a
+visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the
+hour was passed; and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than
+go to Heaven, this was perhaps the wisest resolution in his power.
+
+The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must
+have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it
+broke upon his listening ear.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"A quarter past," said Scrooge, counting.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"Half-past!" said Scrooge.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"A quarter to it," said Scrooge.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"The hour itself," said Scrooge, triumphantly, "and nothing else!"
+
+He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a deep,
+dull, hollow, melancholy One. Light flashed up in the room upon the
+instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.
+
+The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the
+curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which
+his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and
+Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face
+to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am
+now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.
+
+It was a strange figure--like a child: yet not so like a child as like
+an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the
+appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a
+child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its
+back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in
+it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and
+muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength.
+Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper
+members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white; and round its waist
+was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a
+branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction
+of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But
+the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there
+sprang a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and
+which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a
+great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.
+
+Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasing steadiness,
+was _not_ its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and glittered
+now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, at
+another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated in its
+distinctness: being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with
+twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a
+body: of which dissolving parts, no outline would be visible in the
+dense gloom wherein they melted away. And in the very wonder of this, it
+would be itself again; distinct and clear as ever.
+
+"Are you the Spirit, Sir, whose coming was foretold to me?" asked
+Scrooge.
+
+"I am!"
+
+The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so
+close beside him, it were at a distance.
+
+"Who, and what are you?" Scrooge demanded.
+
+"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
+
+"Long past?" inquired Scrooge, observant of its dwarfish stature.
+
+"No. Your past."
+
+Perhaps, Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have
+asked him; but he had a special desire to see the Spirit in his cap;
+and begged him to be covered.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the Ghost, "would you so soon put out, with worldly
+hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those
+whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole trains of years
+to wear it low upon my brow!"
+
+Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend, and then made
+bold to inquire what business brought him there.
+
+"Your welfare!" said the Ghost.
+
+Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that
+a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The
+spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately: "Your
+reclamation, then. Take heed!"
+
+It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the
+arm.
+
+"Rise! and walk with me!"
+
+It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the
+hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the
+thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in
+his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon
+him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to
+be resisted. He rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the
+window, clasped its robe in supplication.
+
+"I am a mortal," Scrooge remonstrated, "and liable to fall."
+
+"Bear but a touch of my hand _there_," said the Spirit, laying it upon
+his heart, "and you shall be upheld in more than this!"
+
+As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon
+an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely
+vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist
+had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow
+upon the ground.
+
+"Good Heaven!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked
+about him. "I was bred in this place. I was a boy here!"
+
+The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been
+light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old man's sense
+of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odors floating in the air,
+each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and
+cares long, long forgotten!
+
+"Your lip is trembling," said the Ghost. "And what is that upon your
+cheek?"
+
+Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a
+pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would.
+
+"You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit.
+
+"Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervor--"I could walk it blindfold."
+
+"Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!" observed the Ghost.
+"Let us go on."
+
+They walked along the road; Scrooge recognizing every gate, and post,
+and tree; until a little market-town appeared in the distance, with its
+bridge, its church, and winding river. Some shaggy ponies now were seen
+trotting towards them with boys upon their backs, who called to other
+boys in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All these boys were
+in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad fields were
+so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.
+
+"These are but shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost.
+"They have no consciousness of us."
+
+The jocund travellers came on; and as they came, Scrooge knew and named
+them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them! Why
+did his cold eye glisten, and his heart leap up as they went past! Why
+was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry
+Christmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several
+homes! What was merry Christmas to Scrooge? Out upon merry Christmas!
+What good had it ever done to him?
+
+"The school is not quite deserted," said the Ghost. "A solitary child,
+neglected by his friends, is left there still."
+
+Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed.
+
+They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached
+a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock-surmounted
+cupola, on the roof, and a bell hanging in it. It was a large house, but
+one of broken fortunes; for the spacious offices were little used, their
+walls were damp and mossy, their windows broken, and their gates
+decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables; and the coach-houses
+and sheds were overrun with grass. Nor was it more retentive of its
+ancient state, within; for entering the dreary hall, and glancing
+through the open doors of many rooms, they found them poorly furnished,
+cold, and vast. There was an earthy savour in the air, a chilly bareness
+in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up
+by candle-light, and not too much to eat.
+
+They went, the Ghost and Scrooge, across the hall, to a door at the back
+of the house. It opened before them, and disclosed a long, bare,
+melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and
+desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire; and
+Scrooge sat down upon a form, and wept to see his poor forgotten self as
+he had used to be.
+
+Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice
+behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the
+dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent
+poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a
+clicking in the fire, but fell upon the heart of Scrooge with softening
+influence, and gave a freer passage to his tears.
+
+The spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to his younger self,
+intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man in foreign garments: wonderfully
+real and distinct to look at: stood outside the window, with an axe
+stuck in his belt, and leading an ass laden with wood by the bridle.
+
+"Why, it's Ali Baba!"[277-10] Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy. "It's dear
+old honest Ali Baba! Yes, yes, I know! One Christmas time, when yonder
+solitary child was left here all alone, he _did_ come, for the first
+time, just like that. Poor boy! And Valentine," said Scrooge, "and his
+wild brother, Orson; there they go! And what's his name, who was put
+down in his drawers, asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don't you see him!
+And the Sultan's Groom turned upside down by the Genii; there he is upon
+his head! Serve him right. I'm glad of it. What business had _he_ to be
+married to the Princess!"
+
+To hear Scrooge expending all the earnestness of his nature on such
+subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between laughing and crying; and
+to see his heightened and excited face; would have been a surprise to
+his business friends in the City, indeed.
+
+"There's the Parrot!" cried Scrooge. "Green body and yellow tail, with a
+thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of his head; there he is!
+Poor Robin Crusoe, he called him, when he came home again after sailing
+round the island. 'Poor Robin Crusoe, where have you been, Robin
+Crusoe?' The man thought he was dreaming, but he wasn't. It was the
+Parrot, you know. There goes Friday, running for his life to the little
+creek! Halloa! Hoop! Halloo!"
+
+Then, with a rapidity of transition very foreign to his usual character,
+he said, in pity for his former self, "Poor boy!" and cried again.
+
+"I wish," Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking
+about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: "but it's too late now."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the Spirit.
+
+"Nothing," said Scrooge. "Nothing. There was a boy singing a Christmas
+Carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something:
+that's all."
+
+The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved its hand: saying as it did so,
+"Let us see another Christmas!"
+
+Scrooge's former self grew larger at the words, and the room became a
+little darker and more dirty. The panels shrank, the windows cracked;
+fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling, and the naked laths were
+shown instead; but how all this was brought about, Scrooge knew no more
+than you do. He only knew that it was quite correct; that everything had
+happened so; that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had
+gone home for the jolly holidays.
+
+He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly. Scrooge
+looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of his head, glanced
+anxiously towards the door.
+
+It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came darting
+in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing him,
+addressed him as her "Dear, dear brother."
+
+"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the child, clapping
+her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home,
+home!"
+
+"Home, little Fan?" returned the boy.
+
+"Yes!" said the child, brimful of glee. "Home, for good and all. Home,
+for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that
+home's like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was
+going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might
+come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring
+you. And you're to be a man!" said the child, opening her eyes, "and are
+never to come back here; but first, we're to be together all the
+Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world."
+
+"You are quite a woman, little Fan!" exclaimed the boy.
+
+She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his head; but
+being too little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him.
+Then she began to drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door;
+and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.
+
+A terrible voice in the hall cried, "Bring down Master Scrooge's box,
+there!" and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself, who glared on
+Master Scrooge with a ferocious condescension, and threw him into a
+dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him
+and his sister into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlor that
+ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial and
+terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced
+a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake,
+and administered instalments of those dainties to the young people: at
+the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of
+"something" to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman,
+but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he had rather not.
+Master Scrooge's trunk being by this time tied on to the top of the
+chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster good-bye right willingly; and
+getting into it, drove gaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels
+dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the
+evergreens like spray.
+
+"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered," said
+the Ghost. "But she had a large heart!"
+
+"So she had," cried Scrooge. "You're right. I'll not gainsay it, Spirit.
+God forbid!"
+
+"She died a woman," said the Ghost, "and had, as I think, children."
+
+[Illustration: IN THE BEST PARLOR]
+
+"One child," Scrooge returned.
+
+"True," said the Ghost. "Your nephew!"
+
+Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, "Yes."
+
+Although they had but that moment left the school behind them, they were
+now in the busy thoroughfares of a city, where shadowy passengers
+passed and repassed; where shadowy carts and coaches battled for the
+way, and all the strife and tumult of a real city were. It was made
+plain enough, by the dressing of the shops, that here, too, it was
+Christmas time again; but it was evening, and the streets were lighted
+up.
+
+The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked Scrooge if he
+knew it.
+
+"Know it!" said Scrooge. "Was I apprenticed here?"
+
+They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh wig, sitting
+behind such a high desk, that if he had been two inches taller he must
+have knocked his head against the ceiling, Scrooge cried in great
+excitement:
+
+"Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it's Fezziwig alive again!"
+
+Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which
+pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his
+capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his
+organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat,
+jovial voice:
+
+"Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"
+
+Scrooge's former self, now grown a young man, came briskly in,
+accompanied by his fellow-'prentice.
+
+"Dick Wilkins, to be sure!" said Scrooge to the Ghost. "Bless me, yes.
+There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear,
+dear!"
+
+"You ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night. Christmas Eve,
+Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up," cried old
+Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack
+Robinson!"
+
+You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged into
+the street with the shutters--one, two, three--had 'em up in their
+places--four, five, six--barred 'em and pinned 'em--seven, eight,
+nine--and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like
+race horses.
+
+"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk, with
+wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room
+here! Hilli-ho, Dick; Chirrup, Ebenezer!"
+
+Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or
+couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in
+a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from
+public life for ever more; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps
+were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire, and the warehouse was as
+snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to
+see upon a winter's night.
+
+In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and
+made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came
+Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Miss
+Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose
+hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the
+business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the
+cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy
+from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his
+master; trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one,
+who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all
+came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some
+awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and
+everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once, hands half round
+and back again the other way; down the middle and up again, round and
+round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always
+turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again as soon
+as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help
+them. When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his
+hands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" and the fiddler plunged
+his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose.
+But scorning rest upon his reappearance, he instantly began again,
+though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been
+carried home, exhausted, on a shutter; and he were a bran-new man
+resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish.
+
+There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and
+there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold
+Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were
+mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came
+after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler (an artful, dog, mind! The
+sort of man who knew his business better than you or I could have told
+it him!) struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley."[284-11] Then old Fezziwig
+stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too; with a good
+stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of
+partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who _would_
+dance, and had no notion of walking.
+
+[Illustration: THE FIDDLER STRUCK UP "SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY"]
+
+But if they had been twice as many: ah, four times: old Fezziwig would
+have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to _her_, she
+was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not
+high praise, tell me higher, and I'll use it. A positive light appeared
+to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance
+like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would
+become of 'em next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all
+through the dance; advance and retire, hold hands with your partner; bow
+and curtsey; corkscrew; thread-the-needle, and back again to your place;
+Fezziwig "cut"--cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs,
+and came upon his feet again without a stagger.
+
+When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs.
+Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side the door, and shaking
+hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him
+or her a Merry Christmas.
+
+When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they did the same to
+them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to
+their beds; which were under a counter in the back-shop.
+
+During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like a man out of his
+wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He
+corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and
+underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright
+faces of his former self and Dick were turned from them, that he
+remembered the Ghost, and became conscious that it was looking full upon
+him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.
+
+"A small matter," said the Ghost, "to make these silly folks so full of
+gratitude."
+
+"Small!" echoed Scrooge.
+
+The spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were
+pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when he had done so,
+said,
+
+"Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money:
+three or four, perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?"
+
+"It isn't that," said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking
+unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. "It isn't that,
+Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our
+service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power
+lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it
+is impossible to add and count 'em up: what then? The happiness he
+gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune."
+
+He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the Ghost.
+
+"Nothing particular," said Scrooge.
+
+"Something, I think?" the Ghost insisted.
+
+"No," said Scrooge. "No. I should like to be able to say a word or two
+to my clerk just now! That's all."
+
+His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish;
+and Scrooge and the Ghost again stood side by side in the open air.
+
+"My time grows short," observed the Spirit. "Quick!"
+
+This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he could see, but
+it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw himself. He was
+older now; a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and
+rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care
+and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye,
+which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of
+the growing tree would fall. He was not alone, but sat by the side of a
+fair young girl in a mourning dress; in whose eyes there were tears,
+which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas
+Past.
+
+"It matters little," she said, softly. "To you, very little. Another
+idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to
+come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve."
+
+"What idol has displaced you?" he rejoined.
+
+"A golden one."
+
+"This is the even-handed dealing of the world!" he said. "There is
+nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it
+professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!"
+
+"You fear the world too much," she answered, gently. "All your other
+hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid
+reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until
+the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?"
+
+"What then?" he retorted. "Even if I have grown so much wiser, what
+then? I am not changed towards you."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Am I?"
+
+"Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and
+content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly
+fortune by our patient industry. You _are_ changed. When it was made,
+you were another man."
+
+"I was a boy," he said impatiently.
+
+"Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are," she
+returned. "I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in
+heart, is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how
+keenly I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I
+_have_ thought of it, and can release you."
+
+"Have I ever sought release?"
+
+"In words, no. Never."
+
+"In what, then?"
+
+"In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of
+life; another Hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of
+any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us,"
+said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; "tell me,
+would you seek me out and try to win me now? Ah, no!"
+
+He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of
+himself. But he said with a struggle, "You think not."
+
+"I would gladly think otherwise if I could," she answered, "Heaven
+knows! When _I_ have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and
+irresistible it must be.
+
+"But if you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe
+that you would choose a dowerless girl--you who, in your very confidence
+with her, weigh everything by Gain: or, choosing her, if for a moment
+you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not
+know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I
+release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you once were."
+
+He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she resumed.
+
+"You may--the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will--have
+pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the
+recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it
+happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have
+chosen!"
+
+She left him, and they parted.
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge, "show me no more! Conduct me home. Why do you
+delight to torture me?"
+
+"One shadow more!" exclaimed the Ghost.
+
+"No more!" cried Scrooge. "No more. I don't wish to see it. Show me no
+more!"
+
+But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and forced him
+to observe what happened next.
+
+They were in another scene and place; a room, not very large or
+handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a beautiful
+young girl, so like the last that Scrooge believed it was the same,
+until he saw _her_, now a comely matron, sitting opposite her daughter.
+The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous, for there were more
+children there than Scrooge in his agitated state of mind could count;
+and, unlike the celebrated herd in the poem, they were not forty
+children conducting themselves like one, but every child was conducting
+itself like forty. The consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but
+no one seemed to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed
+heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to
+mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most
+ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them! Though I
+never could have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn't for the wealth of all
+the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the
+precious little shoe, I wouldn't have plucked it off, God bless my soul!
+to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold
+young brood; I couldn't have done it; I should have expected my arm to
+have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And
+yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to have
+questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the
+lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose
+waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in
+short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest
+license of a child, and yet been man enough to know its value.
+
+But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush immediately
+ensued that she with laughing face and plundered dress was borne towards
+it the centre of a flushed and boisterous group, just in time to greet
+the father, who came home attended by a man laden with Christmas toys
+and presents. Then the shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught
+that was made on the defenceless porter! The scaling him with chairs for
+ladders to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels,
+hold on tight by his cravat, hug him around the neck, pommel his back,
+and kick his legs in irrepressible affection! The shouts of wonder and
+delight with which the development of every package was received! The
+terrible announcement that the baby had been taken in the act of putting
+a doll's frying-pan into his mouth, and was more than suspected of
+having swallowed a fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter! The
+immense relief of finding this a false alarm! The joy, and gratitude,
+and ecstasy! They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by
+degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlour, and by
+one stair at a time, up to the top of the house; where they went to bed,
+and so subsided.
+
+And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of
+the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down, with her
+and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such
+another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have
+called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his
+life, his sight grew very dim indeed.
+
+"Belle," said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, "I saw an
+old friend of yours this afternoon."
+
+"Who was it?"
+
+"Guess!"
+
+"How can I? Tut, don't I know?" she added in the same breath, laughing
+as he laughed. "Mr. Scrooge."
+
+"Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window; and as it was not shut
+up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His
+partner lies upon the point of death, I hear; and there he sat alone.
+Quite alone in the world, I do believe."
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge in a broken voice, "remove me from this place."
+
+"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the
+Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me!"
+
+"Remove me!" Scrooge exclaimed, "I cannot bear it!"
+
+He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him with a face
+in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it
+had shown him, wrestled with it.
+
+"Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!"
+
+In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the Ghost
+with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort
+of its adversary, Scrooge observed that its light was burning high and
+bright; and dimly connecting that with its influence over him, he seized
+the extinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its
+head.
+
+The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered its
+whole form; but though Scrooge pressed it down with all his force, he
+could not hide the light, which streamed from under it, in an unbroken
+flood upon the ground.
+
+He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible
+drowsiness; and further, of being in his own bedroom. He gave the cap a
+parting squeeze, in which his hand relaxed; and had barely time to reel
+to bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep.
+
+
+STAVE THREE
+
+_The Second of the Three Spirits_
+
+Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in
+bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasion to be told
+that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. He felt that he was
+restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial
+purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to
+him through Jacob Marley's intervention. But, finding that he turned
+uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this
+new spectre would draw back, he put them every one aside with his own
+hands, and lying down again, established a sharp lookout all round the
+bed. For he wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its
+appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise and made nervous.
+
+Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being
+acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to the
+time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by
+observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to
+manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a
+tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing
+for Scrooge quite as hardily as this, I don't mind calling on you to
+believe that he was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances,
+and that nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have astonished him
+very much.
+
+Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means
+prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the bell struck One, and
+no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five
+minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came.
+All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and centre of a blaze
+of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the
+hour; and which, being only light, was more alarming than a dozen
+ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at;
+and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an
+interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the
+consolation of knowing it. At last, however, he began to think--as you
+or I would have thought at first; for it is always the person not in the
+predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would
+unquestionably have done it too--at last, I say, he began to think that
+the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining
+room, from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea
+taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his
+slippers to the door.
+
+The moment Scrooge's hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by
+his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.
+
+It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone
+a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with
+living green, that it looked a perfect grove, from every part of which,
+bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe,
+and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had been
+scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as
+that dull petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Scrooge's time, or
+Marley's, or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the
+floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
+brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages,
+mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red hot chestnuts,
+cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense
+twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim
+with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch there sat a
+jolly Giant, glorious to see; who bore a glowing torch, in shape not
+unlike Plenty's horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light on
+Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door.
+
+"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! and know me better, man!"
+
+Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before this Spirit. He was
+not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though the Spirit's eyes were
+clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.
+
+"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. "Look upon me!"
+
+Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple deep green robe,
+or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the
+figure, that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be
+warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet, observable beneath the
+ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no
+other covering than a holly wreath set here and there with shining
+icicles. Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as its genial
+face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its
+unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was
+an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was
+eaten up with rust.
+
+[Illustration: UPON THIS COUCH THERE SAT A JOLLY GIANT]
+
+"You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimed the Spirit.
+
+"Never," Scrooge made answer to it.
+
+"Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family; meaning
+(for I am very young) my elder brothers born in these later years?"
+pursued the Phantom.
+
+"I don't think I have," said Scrooge. "I am afraid I have not. Have you
+had many brothers, Spirit?"
+
+"More than eighteen hundred," said the Ghost.
+
+"A tremendous family to provide for!" muttered Scrooge.
+
+The Ghost of Christmas Present rose.
+
+"Spirit," said Scrooge submissively, "conduct me where you will. I went
+forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working
+now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it."
+
+"Touch my robe!"
+
+Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.
+
+Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
+brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch,
+all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, the
+hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning,
+where (for the weather was severe) the people made a rough, but brisk
+and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement
+in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses: whence
+it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the
+road below, and splitting into artificial little snowstorms.
+
+The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker,
+contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with
+the dirtier snow upon the ground; which last deposit had been ploughed
+up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and waggons; furrows
+that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds of times where the great
+streets branched off, and made intricate channels, hard to trace, in the
+thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest
+streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen,
+whose heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty atoms, as if all
+the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, caught fire, and were
+blazing away to their dear hearts' content. There was nothing very
+cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet there was an air of
+cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer
+sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain.
+
+For, the people who were shovelling away on the housetops were jovial
+and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now
+and then exchanging a facetious snowball--better-natured missile far
+than many a wordy jest--laughing heartily if it went right and not less
+heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers' shops were still half open,
+and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round
+pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly
+old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in
+their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced broad-girthed
+Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish
+Friars; and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as
+they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were
+pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were
+bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle
+from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they
+passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in
+their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings
+ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins,[300-12]
+squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons,
+and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently
+entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten
+after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these
+choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded
+race, appeared to know that there was something going on; and, to a
+fish, went gasping round and round their little world in slow and
+passionless excitement.
+
+The Grocers'! oh the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters
+down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone
+that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that
+the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters
+were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended
+scents of tea, and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the
+raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the
+sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious,
+the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the
+coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that
+the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in
+modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything
+was good to eat and in its Christmas dress: but the customers were all
+so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they
+tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets
+wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back
+to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes in the best
+humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh
+that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind
+might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for
+Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.
+
+But soon the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, and
+away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and
+with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores
+of by-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people carrying
+their dinner to the bakers' shops. The sight of these poor revellers
+appeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge
+beside him in a baker's[301-13] doorway, and taking off the covers as
+their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch.
+And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there
+were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled with each
+other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good
+humour was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel
+upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was!
+
+In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and yet there was
+a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their
+cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker's oven; where the
+pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.
+
+"Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?"
+asked Scrooge.
+
+"There is. My own."
+
+"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"To any kindly given. To a poor one most."
+
+"Why to a poor one most?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"Because it needs it most."
+
+"Spirit," said Scrooge, after a moment's thought, "I wonder you, of all
+the beings in the many worlds about us, should desire to cramp these
+people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment."
+
+"I!" cried the Spirit.
+
+"You would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day,
+often the only day on which they can be said to dine at all," said
+Scrooge. "Wouldn't you?"
+
+"I!" cried the Spirit.
+
+"You seek to close these places on the seventh day?" said Scrooge. "And
+it comes to the same thing."
+
+"I seek!" exclaimed the Spirit.
+
+"Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at least in
+that of your family," said Scrooge.
+
+"There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit, "who lay
+claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will,
+hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange
+to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember
+that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us."
+
+Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible, as they had
+been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable quality
+of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at the baker's), that
+notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to any
+place with ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as
+gracefully and like a supernatural creature, as it was possible he could
+have done in any lofty hall.
+
+And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing off this
+power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and
+his sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge's
+clerk's; for there he went, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his
+robe; and on the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to
+bless Bob Cratchit's dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think
+of that! Bob had but fifteen "bob"[303-14] a week himself; he pocketed
+on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian name; and yet the Ghost
+of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house!
+
+Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a
+twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a
+goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda
+Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master
+Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and
+getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob's private
+property, conferred upon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his
+mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to
+show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits,
+boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they
+had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in
+luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onion, these young Cratchits danced about
+the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not
+proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the
+slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let
+out and peeled.
+
+"What has ever got your precious father then?" said Mrs. Cratchit. "And
+your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day by
+half-an-hour!"
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing as she spoke.
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
+_such_ a goose, Martha!"
+
+"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.
+
+"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl, "and
+had to clear away this morning, mother!"
+
+[Illustration: BOB AND TINY TIM]
+
+"Well! Never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
+
+"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
+
+So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least
+three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before
+him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look
+seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a
+little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!
+
+"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
+
+"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
+
+Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the
+copper.
+
+"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart's content.
+
+"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him,
+because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember
+upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see."
+
+Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
+
+His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool before the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs--as
+if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby--compounded
+some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and
+round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.
+
+Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing
+hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss
+Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob
+took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young
+Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and
+mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest
+they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At
+last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a
+breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the
+carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did,
+and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of
+delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the
+two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and
+feebly cried "Hurrah!"
+
+[Illustration: THERE NEVER WAS SUCH A GOOSE]
+
+There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was
+such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness,
+were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by the apple-sauce and
+mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family;
+indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small
+atom of a bone upon the dish) they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet
+everyone had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were
+steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now, the plates being
+changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous
+to bear witnesses--to take the pudding up and bring it in.
+
+Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard,
+and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at
+which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.
+
+Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell
+like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and
+a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to
+that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon-ball so hard and firm blazing in half of half-a-quartern of
+ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.
+
+Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind,
+she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat
+heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.
+
+At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass. Two
+tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.
+
+These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed:
+
+"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!" Which all the
+family re-echoed.
+
+"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
+
+He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before, "tell
+me if Tiny Tim will live."
+
+"I see a vacant seat," replied the Ghost, "in the poor chimney-corner,
+and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows
+remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die."
+
+"No, no," said Scrooge. "Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared."
+
+"If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my
+race," returned the Ghost, "will find him here. What then? If he be
+like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."
+
+Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and
+was overcome with penitence and grief.
+
+"Man," said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear
+that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and
+Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It
+may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit
+to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! to hear the
+insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry
+brothers in the dust!"
+
+Scrooge bent before the Ghost's rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon
+the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.
+
+"Mr. Scrooge!" said Bob; "I'll give you Mr. Scrooge, the Founder of the
+Feast!"
+
+"The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. "I
+wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and
+I hope he'd have a good appetite for it."
+
+"My dear," said Bob, "the children! Christmas Day."
+
+"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure," said she, "on which one drinks
+the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr.
+Scrooge. You know he is, Robert! Nobody knows it better than you do,
+poor fellow!"
+
+"My dear," was Bob's mild answer, "Christmas Day."
+
+"I'll drink his health for your sake and the day's," said Mrs. Cratchit,
+"not for his. Long life to him! A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
+He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!"
+
+The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their
+proceedings which had no heartiness in it. Tiny Tim drank it last of
+all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the
+family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which
+was not dispelled for full five minutes.
+
+After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from
+the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchit
+told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which
+would bring in, if obtained, full five-and-six-pence[311-15] weekly. The
+two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter's being a
+man of business; and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from
+between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular
+investments he should favour when he came into the receipt of that
+bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's,
+then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she
+worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for
+a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also how
+she had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and how the lord
+"was much about as tall as Peter;" at which Peter pulled up his collars
+so high that you couldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All
+this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and
+bye-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow,
+from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well
+indeed.
+
+There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsome family;
+they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being waterproof;
+their clothes were scanty; and Peter might have known, and very likely
+did, the inside of a pawnbroker's. But, they were happy, grateful,
+pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they
+faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit's
+torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny
+Tim, until the last.
+
+By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and as
+Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the
+roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, and all sorts of rooms, was
+wonderful. Here, the flickering of the blaze showed preparations for a
+cozy dinner, with hot plates baking through and through before the fire,
+and deep red curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness.
+There, all the children of the house were running out into the snow to
+meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the
+first to greet them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of
+guests assembling; and there a group of handsome girls, all hooded and
+fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some near
+neighbor's house; where, woe upon the single man who saw them
+enter--artful witches; well they knew it--in a glow!
+
+But if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way to
+friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was at home to
+give them welcome when they got there, instead of every house expecting
+company, and piling up its fires half-chimney high. Blessings on it, how
+the Ghost exulted! How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its
+capacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, its
+bright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach! The very
+lamp-lighter, who ran on before dotting the dusky street with specks of
+light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed out
+loudly as the Spirit passed: though little kenned the lamp-lighter that
+he had any company but Christmas!
+
+And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they stood upon a
+bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of rude stone were cast
+about, as though it were the burial-place of giants; and water spread
+itself wheresoever it listed, or would have done so, but for the frost
+that held it prisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse,
+rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery
+red, which glared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye,
+and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of
+darkest night.
+
+"What place is this?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"A place where miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,"
+returned the Spirit. "But they know me. See!"
+
+A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advanced
+towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a
+cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and
+woman, with their children and their children's children, and another
+generation beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire.
+The old man, in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind
+upon the barren waste, was singing them a Christmas song; it had been a
+very old song when he was a boy; and from time to time they all joined
+in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got
+quite blithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigour sank
+again.
+
+The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, and
+passing on above the moor, sped whither? Not to sea? To sea. To
+Scrooge's horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightful
+range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the
+thundering of water, as it rolled, and roared, and raged among the
+dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.
+
+Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some leagues or so from shore,
+on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, there
+stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of seaweed clung to its base,
+and storm-birds--born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of the
+water--rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed.
+
+But even here, two men who watched the light had made a fire, that
+through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of
+brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands over the rough
+table at which they sat, they wished each other Merry Christmas in their
+can of grog; and one of them, the elder, too, with his face all damaged
+and scarred with hard weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might
+be, struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale in itself.
+
+Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heavy sea--on, on--until,
+being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a
+ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the lookout in the
+bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their
+several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or
+had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of
+some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And
+every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder
+word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared
+to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for
+at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.
+
+It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of
+the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the
+lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose depths were secrets as
+profound as Death: it was a great surprise to Scrooge, while thus
+engaged to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to
+Scrooge to recognize it as his own nephew's, and to find himself in a
+bright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his
+side, and looking at that same nephew with approving affability.
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed Scrooge's nephew. "Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blest
+in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew, all I can say is, I should like to
+know him too. Introduce him to me, and I'll cultivate his acquaintance.
+
+It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there
+is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so
+irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Scrooge's
+nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and
+twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge's
+niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled
+friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out, lustily.
+
+"Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!" cried Scrooge's
+nephew. "He believed it too!"
+
+"More shame for him, Fred!" said Scrooge's niece, indignantly. Bless
+those women; they never do anything by halves. They are always in
+earnest.
+
+She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled,
+surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made
+to be kissed--and no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about
+her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the
+sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature's head.
+Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but
+satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory!
+
+"He's a comical old fellow," said Scrooge's nephew, "that's the truth;
+and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their
+own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him."
+
+"I'm sure he is very rich, Fred," hinted Scrooge's niece. "At least you
+always tell _me_ so."
+
+"What of that, my dear!" said Scrooge's nephew. "His wealth is of no use
+to him. He don't do any good with it. He don't make himself comfortable
+with it. He hasn't the satisfaction of thinking--ha, ha, ha!--that he is
+ever going to benefit Us with it."
+
+"I have no patience with him," observed Scrooge's niece.
+
+Scrooge's niece's sister, and all the other ladies, expressed the same
+opinion.
+
+"Oh, I have!" said Scrooge's nephew. "I am sorry for him; I couldn't be
+angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself,
+always. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come
+and dine with us. What's the consequence! He don't lose much of a
+dinner----"
+
+"Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner," interrupted Scrooge's
+niece. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have
+been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the
+dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight.
+
+"Well! I'm very glad to hear it," said Scrooge's nephew, "because I
+haven't any great faith in these young housekeepers. What do _you_ say,
+Topper?"
+
+Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge's niece's sisters,
+for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right
+to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge's niece's
+sister--the plump one with the lace tucker: not the one with the
+roses--blushed.
+
+"Do go on, Fred," said Scrooge's niece, clapping her hands. "He never
+finishes what he begins to say! He is such a ridiculous fellow!"
+
+Scrooge's nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to
+keep the infection off, though the plump sister tried hard to do it with
+aromatic vinegar, his example was unanimously followed.
+
+"I was only going to say," said Scrooge's nephew, "that the consequence
+of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I
+think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm.
+I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own
+thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean
+to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for
+I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can't help
+thinking better of it--I defy him--if he finds me going there, in good
+temper, year after year, and saying, 'Uncle Scrooge, how are you?' If it
+only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds, _that's_
+something; and I think I shook him yesterday."
+
+It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking Scrooge. But
+being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at,
+so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment,
+and passed the bottle joyously.
+
+After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew
+what they were about, when they sang a Glee or Catch, I can assure you;
+especially Topper, who could growl away in the bass like a good one, and
+never swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over
+it. Scrooge's niece played well upon the harp; and played among other
+tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing: you might learn to whistle it
+in two minutes), which had been familiar to the child who fetched
+Scrooge from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost
+of Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the things
+that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; he softened more and more;
+and thought that if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he
+might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with
+his own hands, without resorting to the sexton's spade that buried Jacob
+Marley.[319-16]
+
+But they didn't devote the whole evening to music. After a while they
+played at forfeits; for it is good to be children sometimes, and never
+better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.
+Stop! There was first a game at blind-man's buff. Of course there was.
+And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes
+in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between him and
+Scrooge's nephew: and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The
+way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker, was an outrage
+on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling
+over the chairs, bumping up against the piano, smothering himself among
+the curtains, wherever she went, there went he. He always knew where the
+plump sister was. He wouldn't catch anybody else. If you had fallen up
+against him, as some of them did, and stood there; he would have made a
+feint of endeavoring to seize you, which would have been an affront to
+your understanding; and would instantly have sidled off in the direction
+of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn't fair; and it
+really was not. But when at last he caught her; when, in spite of all
+her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her
+into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was most
+execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his pretending that it
+was necessary to touch her head-dress, and further to assure himself of
+her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain
+chain about her neck; was vile, monstrous! No doubt she told him her
+opinion of it, when, another blind man being in office, they were so
+very confidential together, behind the curtains.
+
+Scrooge's niece was not one of the blind-man's buff party, but was made
+comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where
+the Ghost and Scrooge were close behind her. But she joined in the
+forfeits, and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the
+alphabet.[320-17] Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was
+very great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge's nephew, beat her sisters
+hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as Topper could have told you.
+There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all
+played, and so did Scrooge, for, wholly forgetting in the interest he
+had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he
+sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed
+quite right, too; for the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted
+not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge: blunt as he took it
+in his head to be.
+
+The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon
+him with such favor, that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay
+until the guests departed. But this the Spirit said could not be done.
+
+"Here is a new game," said Scrooge. "One half-hour, Spirit, only one!"
+
+It is a game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's nephew had to think of
+something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their
+questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to
+which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an
+animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an
+animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and
+lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show
+of, and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a menagerie, and was
+never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a
+bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every
+fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar
+of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to
+get up off the sofa and stamp.
+
+At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:
+
+"I have found it out. I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!"
+
+"What is it?" cried Fred.
+
+"It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"
+
+Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though
+some objected that the reply to "Is it a bear?" ought to have been
+"Yes;" inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have
+diverted their thoughts from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had
+any tendency that way.
+
+"He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure," said Fred, "and it
+would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled
+wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I say, 'Uncle Scrooge!'"
+
+"Well! Uncle Scrooge!" they cried.
+
+"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is!"
+said Scrooge's nephew. "He wouldn't take it from me, but may he have it,
+nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!"
+
+Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that
+he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked
+them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time. But the
+whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his
+nephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.
+
+Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they visited, but
+always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside sick-beds, and they
+were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by
+struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty,
+and it was rich. In almshouse, hospital, and jail, in misery's every
+refuge, where vain man in his little brief authority had not made fast
+the door, and barred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught
+Scrooge his precepts.
+
+It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts
+of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into
+the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while
+Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older,
+clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it,
+until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the
+Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that his hair
+was gray.
+
+"Are spirits' lives so short?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"My life upon this globe is very brief," replied the Ghost. "It ends
+to-night."
+
+"To-night!" cried Scrooge.
+
+"To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near."
+
+The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.
+
+"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Scrooge, looking
+intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not
+belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts! Is it a foot or a
+claw!"
+
+"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the Spirit's
+sorrowful reply. "Look here."
+
+From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched,
+abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and
+clung upon the outside of its garment.
+
+"Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!" exclaimed the Ghost.
+
+They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but
+prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have
+filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a
+stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted
+them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat
+enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no
+degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the
+mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and
+dread.
+
+Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he
+tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves,
+rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.
+
+"Spirit! are they yours?" Scrooge could say no more.
+
+"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they
+cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This
+girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all
+beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom,
+unless the writing be erased. Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching out
+its hand towards the city. "Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for
+your factious purposes, and make it worse! And bide the end!"
+
+"Have they no refuge or resource?" cried Scrooge.
+
+"Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on him for the last
+time with his own words. "Are there no workhouses?"
+
+The bell struck twelve.
+
+Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last
+stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old Jacob
+Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and
+hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.
+
+
+STAVE FOUR
+
+_The Last of the Spirits_
+
+The Phantom slowly, gravely approached. When it came near him, Scrooge
+bent down upon his knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit
+moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.
+
+It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its
+face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched
+hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure
+from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was
+surrounded.
+
+He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him, and that
+its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more,
+for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.
+
+"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" said
+Scrooge.
+
+The Spirit answered not, but pointed downward with its hand.
+
+"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened,
+but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge pursued. "Is that so,
+Spirit?"
+
+The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its
+folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer
+he received.
+
+Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge feared the
+silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found
+that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit
+paused a moment, as observing his condition, and giving him time to
+recover.
+
+But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague
+uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were
+ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his
+own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great
+heap of black.
+
+"Ghost of the Future!" he exclaimed, "I fear you more than any Spectre I
+have seen. But, as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope
+to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you
+company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?"
+
+It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.
+
+"Lead on!" said Scrooge. "Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is
+precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!"
+
+The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in
+the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him
+along.
+
+They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather seemed to
+spring up about them, and encompass them of its own act. But there they
+were, in the heart of it; on 'Change, amongst the merchants; who hurried
+up and down, and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed in
+groups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with
+their great gold seals; and so forth, as Scrooge had seen them often.
+
+The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men. Observing
+that the hand was pointed to them, Scrooge advanced to listen to their
+talk.
+
+"No," said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, "I don't know much
+about it, either way. I only know he's dead."
+
+"When did he die?" inquired another.
+
+"Last night, I believe."
+
+"Why, what was the matter with him?" asked a third, taking a vast
+quantity of snuff out of a very large snuffbox. "I thought he'd never
+die."
+
+"God knows," said the first, with a yawn.
+
+"What has he done with his money?" asked a red-faced gentleman with a
+pendulous excrescence on the end of his nose, that shook like the gills
+of a turkey-cock.
+
+"I haven't heard," said the man with the large chin, yawning again.
+"Left it to his Company, perhaps. He hasn't left it to _me_. That's all
+I know."
+
+This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.
+
+"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral," said the same speaker; "for
+upon my life I don't know of anybody to go to it. Suppose we make up a
+party and volunteer?"
+
+"I don't mind going if a lunch is provided," observed the gentleman with
+the excrescence on his nose. "But I must be fed, if I make one."
+
+Another laugh.
+
+"Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all," said the first
+speaker, "for I never wear black gloves, and I never eat lunch. But I'll
+offer to go, if anybody else will. When I come to think of it, I'm not
+at all sure that I wasn't his most particular friend; for we used to
+stop and speak whenever we met. Bye, bye!"
+
+Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed with other groups.
+Scrooge knew the men, and looked towards the Spirit for an explanation.
+
+The Phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two persons
+meeting. Scrooge listened again, thinking that the explanation might lie
+here.
+
+He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of business: very
+wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a point always of standing
+well in their esteem--in a business point of view, that is; strictly in
+a business point of view.
+
+"How are you?" said one.
+
+"How are you?" returned the other.
+
+"Well!" said the first. "Old Scratch has got his own at last, hey?"
+
+"So I am told," returned the second. "Cold, isn't it?"
+
+"Seasonable for Christmas time. You're not a skater, I suppose?"
+
+"No. No. Something else to think of. Good morning!" Not another word.
+That was their meeting, their conversation, and their parting.
+
+Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the Spirit should
+attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial; but feeling
+assured that they must have some hidden purpose, he set himself to
+consider what it was likely to be. They could scarcely be supposed to
+have any bearing on the death of Jacob, his old partner, for that was
+Past, and this Ghost's province was the Future. Nor could he think of
+any one immediately connected with himself, to whom he could apply them.
+But nothing doubting that to whomsoever they applied they had some
+latent moral for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure up every
+word he heard, and everything he saw; and especially to observe the
+shadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectation that the
+conduct of his future self would give him the clue he missed, and would
+render the solution of these riddles easy.
+
+[Illustration: "SO I AM TOLD," RETURNED THE SECOND]
+
+He looked about in that very place for his own image; but another man
+stood in his accustomed corner, and though the clock pointed to his
+usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness of himself among
+the multitudes that poured in through the Porch. It gave him little
+surprise, however; for he had been revolving in his mind a change of
+life, and thought and hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carried out
+in this.
+
+Quiet and dark, beside him stood the Phantom, with its outstretched
+hand. When he roused himself from his thoughtful quest, he fancied from
+the turn of the hand, and its situation in reference to himself, that
+the Unseen Eyes were looking at him keenly. It made him shudder and feel
+very cold.
+
+They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the town,
+where Scrooge had never penetrated before, although he recognized its
+situation, and its bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow; the shops
+and houses wretched; the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly.
+Alleys and archways, like so many cesspools, disgorged their offences of
+smell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling streets; and the whole
+quarter reeked with crime, with filth, and misery.
+
+Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed, beetling
+shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and
+greasy offal, were bought. Upon the floor within, were piled up heaps of
+rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse
+iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinise were bred
+and hidden in mountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and
+sepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the wares he dealt in, by a
+charcoal-stove, made of old bricks, was a grey-haired rascal, nearly
+seventy years of age; who had screened himself from the cold air
+without, by a frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters, hung upon a
+line; and smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement.
+
+Scrooge and the Phantom came into the presence of this man, just as a
+woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But she had scarcely
+entered, when another woman, similarly laden, came in too; and she was
+closely followed by a man in faded black, who was no less startled by
+the sight of them, than they had been upon the recognition of each
+other. After a short period of blank astonishment, in which the old man
+with the pipe had joined them, they all three burst into a laugh.
+
+"Let the charwoman alone to be the first!" cried she who had entered
+first. "Let the laundress alone to be the second; and let the
+undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look here, old Joe, here's a
+chance! If we haven't all three met here without meaning it!"
+
+"You couldn't have met in a better place," said old Joe, removing his
+pipe from his mouth. "Come into the parlour. You were made free of it
+long ago, you know; and the other two ain't strangers. Stop till I shut
+the door of the shop. Ah! How it skreeks! There an't such a rusty bit of
+metal in the place as its own hinges, I believe; and I'm sure there's no
+such old bones here, as mine. Ha, ha! We're all suitable to our calling,
+we're well matched. Come into the parlour. Come into the parlour."
+
+The parlour was the space behind the screen of rags. The old man raked
+the fire together with an old stair-rod, and having trimmed his smoky
+lamp (for it was night), with the stem of his pipe, put it in his mouth
+again.
+
+While he did this, the woman who had already spoken, threw her bundle on
+the floor, and sat down in a flaunting manner on a stool; crossing her
+elbows on her knees, and looking with a bold defiance at the other two.
+
+"What odds then! What odds, Mrs. Dilber?" said the woman. "Every person
+has a right to take care of themselves. _He_ always did!"
+
+"That's true, indeed!" said the laundress. "No man more so."
+
+"Why, then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; who's the
+wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's coats, I suppose?"
+
+"No, indeed!" said Mrs. Dilber and the man together. "We should hope
+not."
+
+"Very well, then!" cried the woman. "That's enough. Who's the worse for
+the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose."
+
+"No, indeed," said Mrs. Dilber, laughing.
+
+"If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, a wicked old screw,"
+pursued the woman, "why wasn't he natural in his lifetime? If he had
+been, he'd have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with
+Death, instead of lying gasping out his last there, alone by himself."
+
+"It's the truest word that ever was spoke," said Mrs. Dilber. "It's a
+judgment on him."
+
+"I wish it was a little heavier one," replied the woman; "and it should
+have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have laid my hands on
+anything else. Open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of
+it. Speak out plain. I'm not afraid to be the first, nor afraid for
+them to see it. We knew pretty well that we were helping ourselves,
+before we met here, I believe. It's no sin. Open the bundle, Joe."
+
+But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this; and the man in
+faded black, mounting the breach first, produced _his_ plunder. It was
+not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil-case, a pair of sleeve-buttons,
+and a brooch of no great value, were all. They were severally examined
+and appraised by old Joe, who chalked the sums he was disposed to give
+for each, upon the wall, and added them up into a total when he found
+there was nothing more to come.
+
+"That's your account," said Joe, "and I wouldn't give another sixpence,
+if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who's next?"
+
+Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing apparel, two
+old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots.
+Her account was stated on the wall in the same manner.
+
+"I always give too much to ladies. It's a weakness of mine, and that's
+the way I ruin myself," said old Joe. "That's your account. If you asked
+me for another penny, and made it an open question, I'd repent of being
+so liberal and knock off half-a-crown."
+
+"And now undo _my_ bundle, Joe," said the first woman.
+
+Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening it,
+and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged out a large and heavy
+roll of some dark stuff.
+
+"What do you call this?" said Joe. "Bed-curtains!"
+
+"Ah!" returned the woman, laughing and leaning forward on her crossed
+arms. "Bed-curtains!"
+
+"You don't mean to say you took 'em down, rings and all, with him lying
+there?" said Joe.
+
+"Yes I do," replied the woman. "Why not?"
+
+"You were born to make your fortune," said Joe, "and you'll certainly do
+it."
+
+"I certainly shan't hold my hand, when I can get anything in it by
+reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as He was, I promise you,
+Joe," returned the woman coolly. "Don't drop that oil upon the blankets,
+now."
+
+"His blankets?" asked Joe.
+
+"Whose else's do you think?" replied the woman. "He isn't likely to take
+cold without 'em, I dare say."
+
+"I hope he didn't die of anything catching? Eh?" said old Joe, stopping
+in his work, and looking up.
+
+"Don't you be afraid of that," returned the woman. "I an't so fond of
+his company that I'd loiter about him for such things, if he did. Ah!
+you may look through that shirt till your eyes ache; but you won't find
+a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a fine
+one too. They'd have wasted it, if it hadn't been for me."
+
+"What do you call wasting of it?" asked old Joe.
+
+"Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure," replied the woman with
+a laugh. "Somebody was fool enough to do it, but I took it off again. If
+calico an't good enough for such a purpose, it isn't good enough for
+anything. He can't look uglier than he did in that one."
+
+Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat grouped about
+their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by the old man's lamp, he
+viewed them with a detestation and disgust, which could hardly have
+been greater, though they had been obscene demons, marketing the corpse
+itself.
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed the same woman, when old Joe, producing a flannel bag
+with money in it, told out their several gains upon the ground. "This is
+the end of it, you see! He frightened every one away from him when he
+was alive, to profit us when he was dead! Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge, shuddering from head to foot. "I see, I see. The
+case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now.
+Merciful Heaven, what is this!"
+
+He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now he almost
+touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed: on which, beneath a ragged
+sheet, there lay a something covered up, which, though it was dumb,
+announced itself in awful language.
+
+The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with any accuracy,
+though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse,
+anxious to know what kind of room it was.
+
+A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and
+on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the
+body of this man.
+
+Scrooge glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady hand was pointed to the
+head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of
+it, the motion of a finger upon Scrooge's part, would have disclosed the
+face. He thought of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to
+do it; but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the
+spectre at his side.
+
+Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress
+it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy
+dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not
+turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is
+not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not
+that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open,
+generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a
+man's. Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the
+wound, to sow the world with life immortal!
+
+No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge's ears, and yet he heard them
+when he looked upon the bed. He thought, if this man could be raised up
+now, what would be his foremost thoughts? Avarice, hard dealing, griping
+cares? They have brought him to a rich end, truly!
+
+He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a woman, or a child, to
+say that he was kind to me in this or that, and for the memory of one
+kind word I will be kind to him. A cat was tearing at the door, and
+there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What _they_
+wanted in the room of death, and why they were so restless and
+disturbed, Scrooge did not dare to think.
+
+"Spirit!" he said, "this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I shall not
+leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!"
+
+Still the Ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the head.
+
+"I understand you," Scrooge returned, "and I would do it, if I could.
+But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the power."
+
+Again it seemed to look upon him.
+
+"If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this
+man's death," said Scrooge, quite agonized, "show that person to me,
+Spirit, I beseech you!"
+
+The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for a moment, like a wing;
+and withdrawing it, revealed a room by daylight, where a mother and her
+children were.
+
+She was expecting some one, and with anxious eagerness; for she walked
+up and down the room; started at every sound; looked out from the
+window; glanced at the clock; tried, but in vain, to work with her
+needle; and could hardly bear the voices of the children in their play.
+
+At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried to the door,
+and met her husband; a man whose face was careworn and depressed, though
+he was young. There was a remarkable expression in it now; a kind of
+serious delight of which he felt ashamed, and which he struggled to
+repress.
+
+He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for him by the fire;
+and when she asked him faintly what news (which was not until after a
+long silence) he appeared embarrassed how to answer.
+
+"Is it good," she said, "or bad?"--to help him.
+
+"Bad," he answered.
+
+"We are quite ruined?"
+
+"No. There is hope yet, Caroline."
+
+"If _he_ relents," she said, amazed, "there is! Nothing is past hope, if
+such a miracle has happened."
+
+"He is past relenting," said her husband. "He is dead."
+
+She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke truth; but she was
+thankful in her soul to hear it, and she said so, with clasped hands.
+She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and was sorry; but the first was
+the emotion of her heart.
+
+"What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of last night, said to me,
+when I tried to see him and obtain a week's delay; and what I thought
+was a mere excuse to avoid me; turns out to have been quite true. He was
+not only very ill, but dying, then."
+
+"To whom will our debt be transferred?"
+
+"I don't know. But before that time we shall be ready with the money;
+and even though we were not, it would be bad fortune indeed to find so
+merciless a creditor in his successor. We may sleep to-night with light
+hearts, Caroline!"
+
+Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children's
+faces, hushed, and clustered round to hear what they so little
+understood, were brighter; and it was a happier house for this man's
+death; The only emotion that the Ghost could show him, caused by the
+event, was one of pleasure.
+
+"Let me see some tenderness connected with a death," said Scrooge; "or
+that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever
+present to me."
+
+The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet;
+and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself,
+but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor Bob Cratchit's house;
+the dwelling he had visited before; and found the mother and the
+children seated round the fire.
+
+Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as statues
+in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a book before him.
+The mother and her daughter were engaged in sewing. But surely they were
+very quiet!
+
+"'And He took a child, and set him in the midst of them.'"
+
+Where had Scrooge heard those words? He had not, dreamed them. The boy
+must have read them out, as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why
+did he not go on?
+
+The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up to her
+face.
+
+"The colour hurts my eyes," she said.
+
+The colour? Ah, poor Tiny Tim!
+
+"They're better now again," said Cratchit's wife. "It makes them weak by
+candlelight; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes
+home, for the world. It must be near his time."
+
+"Past it rather," Peter answered, shutting up his book. "But I think
+he's walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings,
+mother."
+
+They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady cheerful
+voice, that only faltered once:
+
+"I have known him walk with--I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon
+his shoulder, very fast indeed."
+
+"And so have I," cried Peter. "Often."
+
+"And so have I," exclaimed another. So had all.
+
+"But he was very light to carry," she resumed, intent upon her work,
+"and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble--no trouble. And
+there is your father at the door!"
+
+She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforter--he had
+need of it, poor fellow--came in. His tea was ready for him on the hob,
+and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then the two young
+Cratchits got upon his knees and laid, each child, a little cheek
+against his face, as if they said, "Don't mind it, father. Don't be
+grieved!"
+
+Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family.
+He looked at the work upon the table, and praised the industry and speed
+of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long before Sunday he
+said.
+
+"Sunday! You went to-day then, Robert?" said his wife.
+
+"Yes, my dear," returned Bob. "I wish you could have gone. It would have
+done you good to see how green a place it is. But you'll see it often. I
+promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little, little
+child!" cried Bob. "My little child!"
+
+He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could have helped
+it, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they
+were.
+
+He left the room, and went upstairs into the room above, which was
+lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close
+beside the child, and there were signs of some one having been there,
+lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and
+composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what
+had happened, and went down again quite happy.
+
+They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother working
+still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of Mr. Scrooge's
+nephew, whom he had scarcely seen but once, and who, meeting him in the
+street that day, and seeing that he looked a little--"just a little down
+you know," said Bob, inquired what had happened to distress him. "On
+which," said Bob, "for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever
+heard, I told him. 'I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit,' he said,
+'and heartily sorry for your good wife.' By the bye, how he ever knew
+_that_, I don't know."
+
+"Knew what, my dear?"
+
+"Why, that you were a good wife," replied Bob.
+
+"Everybody knows that!" said Peter.
+
+"Very well observed, my boy!" cried Bob. "I hope they do. 'Heartily
+sorry,' he said, 'for your good wife. If I can be of service to you in
+any way,' he said, giving me his card, 'that's where I live. Pray come
+to me.' Now, it wasn't," cried Bob, "for the sake of anything he might
+be able to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that this was quite
+delightful. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt
+with us."
+
+"I'm sure he's a good soul!" said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"You would be surer of it, my dear," returned Bob, "if you saw and spoke
+to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised, mark what I say, if he got
+Peter a better situation."
+
+"Only hear that, Peter," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"And then," cried one of the girls, "Peter will be keeping company with
+some one, and setting up for himself."
+
+"Get along with you!" retorted Peter, grinning.
+
+"It's just as likely as not," said Bob, "one of these days; though
+there's plenty of time for that, my dear. But however and whenever we
+part from one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny
+Tim--shall we--or this first parting that there was among us?"
+
+"Never, father!" cried they all.
+
+"And I know," said Bob, "I know, my dears, that when we recollect how
+patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we
+shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in
+doing it."
+
+"No, never, father!" they all cried again.
+
+"I am very happy," said little Bob, "I am very happy!"
+
+Mrs. Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two young
+Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shook hands. Spirit of Tiny
+Tim, thy childish essence was from God!
+
+"Spectre," said Scrooge, "something informs me that our parting moment
+is at hand. I know it, but I know not how. Tell me what man that was
+whom we saw lying dead?"
+
+The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him, as before--though at a
+different time, he thought: indeed, there seemed no order in these
+latter visions, save that they were in the Future--into the resorts of
+business men, but showed him not himself. Indeed, the Spirit did not
+pause, but went straight on, as to the end just now desired, until
+besought by Scrooge to tarry for a moment.
+
+"This court," said Scrooge, "through which we hurry now, is where my
+place of occupation is, and has been for a length of time. I see the
+house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days to come!"
+
+The Spirit stopped; the hand was pointed elsewhere.
+
+"The house is yonder," Scrooge exclaimed, "Why do you point away?"
+
+The inexorable finger underwent no change.
+
+Scrooge hastened to the window of his office, and looked in. It was an
+office still, but not his. The furniture was not the same, and the
+figure in the chair was not himself. The Phantom pointed as before. He
+joined it once again, and wondering why and whither he had gone,
+accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round
+before entering.
+
+A churchyard. Here, then, the wretched man whose name he had now to
+learn, lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy place. Walled in by
+houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation's death,
+not life; choked up with too much burying; fat with repleted appetite. A
+worthy place!
+
+The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One. He advanced
+towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he
+dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.
+
+"Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point," said Scrooge,
+"answer me one question. Are these shadows of the things that Will be,
+or are they shadows of things that May be, only?"
+
+Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.
+
+"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in,
+they must lead," said Scrooge. "But if the courses be departed from, the
+ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!"
+
+The Spirit was immovable as ever.
+
+Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the
+finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name,
+EBENEZER SCROOGE.
+
+[Illustration: HE READ HIS OWN NAME]
+
+"Am _I_ that man who lay upon the bed?" he cried, upon his knees.
+
+The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.
+
+"No, Spirit! Oh no, no!"
+
+The finger still was there.
+
+"Spirit!" he cried, tight clutching at its robe, "hear me! I am not the
+man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this
+intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope!"
+
+For the first time the hand appeared to shake.
+
+"Good Spirit," he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it:
+"Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may
+change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!"
+
+The kind hand trembled.
+
+"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I
+will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all
+Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they
+teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"
+
+In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but
+he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger
+yet, repulsed him.
+
+Holding up his hands in one last prayer to have his fate reversed, he
+saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrank, collapsed,
+and dwindled down into a bedpost.
+
+
+STAVE FIVE
+
+_The End of It_
+
+Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his
+own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make
+amends in!
+
+"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Scrooge
+repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of all Three shall
+strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley! Heaven and the Christmas Time be
+praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob, on my knees!"
+
+He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his
+broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing
+violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with
+tears.
+
+"They are not torn down," cried Scrooge, folding one of his bed-curtains
+in his arms, "they are not torn down, rings and all. They are here: I am
+here: the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled.
+They will be. I know they will!"
+
+His hands were busy with his garments all this time: turning them inside
+out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making
+them parties to every kind of extravagance.
+
+"I don't know what to do!" cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the
+same breath; and making a perfect Laocoön[346-18] of himself with his
+stockings. "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am
+as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry
+Christmas to everybody! A Happy New Year to all the world. Hallo here!
+Whoop! Hallo!"
+
+He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing there:
+perfectly winded.
+
+"There's the saucepan that the gruel was in!" cried Scrooge, starting
+off again, and frisking round the fireplace. "There's the door, by which
+the Ghost of Jacob Marley entered! There's the corner where the Ghost of
+Christmas Present sat! There's the window where I saw the wandering
+Spirits! It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was
+a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long
+line of brilliant laughs!
+
+"I don't know what day of the month it is!" said Scrooge. "I don't know
+how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a
+baby. Never mind. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop!
+Hallo here!"
+
+He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the
+lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer, ding, dong,
+bell. Bell, dong, ding, hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!
+
+Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no
+mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood
+to dance to; golden sunlight; heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry
+bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!
+
+"What's to-day?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday
+clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.
+
+"EH?" returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.
+
+[Illustration: HE STOOD BY THE WINDOW--GLORIOUS!]
+
+"What's to-day, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge.
+
+"To-day!" replied the boy. "Why, CHRISTMAS DAY."
+
+"It's Christmas Day!" said Scrooge to himself. "I haven't missed it. The
+Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like.
+Of course they can. Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!"
+"Hallo!" returned the boy.
+
+"Do you know the poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the
+corner?" Scrooge inquired.
+
+"I should hope I did," replied the lad.
+
+"An intelligent boy!" said Scrooge. "A remarkable boy! Do you know
+whether they've sold the prize turkey that was hanging up there? Not the
+little prize turkey: the big one?"
+
+"What, the one as big as me?" returned the boy.
+
+"What a delightful boy!" said Scrooge. "It's a pleasure to talk to him.
+Yes, my buck!"
+
+"It's hanging there now," replied the boy.
+
+"Is it?" said Scrooge. "Go and buy it."
+
+"Walk-ER!"[349-19] exclaimed the boy.
+
+"No, no," said Scrooge, "I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell 'em to
+bring it here, that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come
+back with the man, and I'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in
+less than five minutes, and I'll give you half-a-crown!"
+
+The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand at a trigger
+who could have got a shot off half so fast.
+
+"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's!" whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands,
+and splitting with a laugh. "He shan't know who sends it. It's twice the
+size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller[349-20] never made such a joke as sending
+it to Bob's will be!"
+
+The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write
+it he did, somehow, and went downstairs to open the street door, ready
+for the coming of the poulterer's man. As he stood there, waiting his
+arrival, the knocker caught his eye.
+
+"I shall love it, as long as I live!" cried Scrooge, patting it with his
+hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it
+has in its face! It's a wonderful knocker!--Here's the turkey. Hallo!
+Whoop! How are you! Merry Christmas!"
+
+It _was_ a turkey! He could never have stood upon his legs, that bird.
+He would have snapped 'em short off in a minute, like sticks of
+sealing-wax.
+
+"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town," said Scrooge. "You
+must have a cab."
+
+The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid
+for the turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the
+chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by
+the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and
+chuckled till he cried.
+
+Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake very much;
+and shaving requires attention, even when you don't dance while you are
+at it. But if he had cut the end of his nose off, he would have put a
+piece of sticking-plaster over it, and been quite satisfied.
+
+He dressed himself "all in his best," and at last got out into the
+streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them
+with the Ghost of Christmas Present; and walking with his hands behind
+him, Scrooge regarded every one with a delighted smile. He looked so
+irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured
+fellows said, "Good morning, Sir! A Merry Christmas to you!" And Scrooge
+said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard,
+those were the blithest in his ears.
+
+He had not gone far, when coming on towards him he beheld the portly
+gentleman, who had walked into his counting-house the day before and
+said, "Scrooge and Marley's, I believe?" It sent a pang across his heart
+to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but
+he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it.
+
+"My dear Sir," said Scrooge, quickening his pace, and taking the old
+gentleman by both his hands. "How do you do? I hope you succeeded
+yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry Christmas to you, Sir!"
+
+"Mr. Scrooge?"
+
+"Yes," said Scrooge. "That is my name, and I fear it may not be pleasant
+to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the
+goodness"--here Scrooge whispered in his ear.
+
+"Lord bless me," cried the gentleman, as if his breath were gone. "My
+dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?"
+
+"If you please," said Scrooge. "Not a farthing less. A great many
+back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that
+favour?"
+
+"My dear Sir," said the other, shaking hands with him. "I don't know
+what to say to such munifi----"
+
+"Don't say anything, please," retorted Scrooge. "Come and see me. Will
+you come and see me?"
+
+"I will!" cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant to do it.
+
+"Thank'ee," said Scrooge. "I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty
+times. Bless you!"
+
+He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people
+hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned
+beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the
+windows; and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had
+never dreamed that any walk--that anything--could give him so much
+happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his steps towards his nephew's
+house. He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the courage to go
+up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it.
+
+"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Scrooge to the girl. Nice girl!
+Very.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Where is he, my love?" said Scrooge.
+
+"He's in the dining-room, Sir, along with mistress. I'll show you
+upstairs, if you please."
+
+"Thank'ee. He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand already on the
+dining-room lock. "I'll go in here, my dear."
+
+He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were
+looking at the table (which was spread out in great array); for these
+young housekeepers are always nervous on such points, and like to see
+that everything is right.
+
+"Fred!" said Scrooge.
+
+Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started! Scrooge had
+forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with the
+footstool, or he wouldn't have done it, on any account.
+
+"Why bless my soul!" cried Fred, "who's that?"
+
+"It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in,
+Fred?"
+
+Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off. He was at home in
+five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same.
+So did Topper when _he_ came. So did the plump sister, when _she_ came.
+So did every one when _they_ came. Wonderful party, wonderful games,
+wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!
+
+But he was early at the office next morning. Oh he was early there. If
+he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! That
+was the thing he had set his heart upon.
+
+And he did it; yes he did! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter
+past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time.
+Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the
+Tank. His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comforter too. He
+was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his pen, as if he were
+trying to overtake nine o'clock.
+
+"Hallo!" growled Scrooge in his accustomed voice as near as he could
+feign it. "What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"
+
+"I am very sorry, Sir," said Bob. "I _am_ behind my time."
+
+"You are?" repeated Scrooge. "Yes. I think you are. Step this way, Sir,
+if you please."
+
+"It's only once a year, Sir," pleaded Bob, appearing from the Tank. "It
+shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, Sir."
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Scrooge. "I am not going to
+stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore," he continued,
+leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that
+he staggered back into the Tank again: "and therefore I am about to
+raise your salary!"
+
+Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary
+idea of knocking Scrooge down with it; holding him; and calling to the
+people in the court for help and a strait-waist-coat.
+
+"A Merry Christmas, Bob!" said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could
+not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. "A merrier Christmas,
+Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year! I'll raise
+your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will
+discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of
+smoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle
+before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more;
+and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second father. He became as
+good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city
+knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old
+world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them
+laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that
+nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did
+not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as
+these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they
+should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less
+attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for
+him.
+
+[Illustration: "A MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOB!"]
+
+He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total
+Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him,
+that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the
+knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny
+Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[247-1] The fogs of London are famous. A genuine London fog seems not
+like the heavy gray mist which we know as a fog, but, as Dickens says,
+like "palpable brown air." So dense is this brown air at times that all
+traffic is obliged to cease, for not even those best acquainted with the
+geography of the city can find their way about.
+
+[251-2] _Bedlam_ is the name of a famous asylum for lunatics, in London.
+In former times the treatment of the inmates was far from humane, but at
+the present time the management is excellent, and a large proportion of
+the inmates are cured.
+
+[252-3] Workhouses are establishments where paupers are cared for, a
+certain amount of labor being expected from those who are able.
+
+[252-4] In England formerly there existed a device for the punishment of
+prisoners which was known as the _treadmill_. A huge wheel, usually in
+the form of a long hollow cylinder, was provided with steps about its
+circumference, and made to revolve by the weight of the prisoner as he
+moved from step to step.
+
+[253-5] Links are torches made of tow and pitch. In the days before the
+invention of street lights, they were in common use in England, and they
+are still seen during the dense London fogs.
+
+[254-6] Saint Dunstan was an English archbishop and statesman who lived
+in the tenth century.
+
+[254-7] This is one of the best-known and oftenest-sung of Christmas
+carols. In many parts of England, parties of men and boys go about for
+several nights before Christmas singing carols before people's houses.
+These troops of singers are known as "waits."
+
+[258-8] The splinter-bar is the cross-bar of a vehicle, to which the
+traces of the horses are fastened.
+
+[261-9] There is a play on the word _bowels_ here. What Scrooge had
+heard said of Marley was that he had no bowels of compassion--that is,
+no pity.
+
+[277-10] Scrooge sees and recognizes the heroes of the books which had
+been almost his only comforters in his neglected childhood.
+
+[284-11] "Sir Roger de Coverley" is the English name for the
+old-fashioned country-dance which is called in the United States the
+"Virginia Reel."
+
+[300-12] Biffins are an excellent variety of apples raised in England.
+
+[301-13] _Baker's_ here does not mean exactly what it means with us. In
+England the poorer people often take their dinners to a baker's to be
+cooked.
+
+[303-14] A _bob_, in English slang, is a shilling.
+
+[311-15] _Five-and-sixpence_ means five shillings and sixpence, or about
+$1.32.
+
+[319-16] In what sense has Scrooge "resorted to the sexton's spade that
+buried Jacob Marley" to cultivate the kindnesses of life?
+
+[320-17] "I love my love" is an old game of which there are several
+slightly different forms. The player says "I love my love with an _A_
+because he's--," giving some adjective beginning with _A_; "I hate him
+with an _A_ because he's--; I took him to--and fed him on--," all the
+blanks being filled with words beginning with _A_. This is carried out
+through the whole alphabet.
+
+[346-18] The Laocoön is a famous ancient statue of a Trojan priest,
+Laocoön, and his two sons, struggling in the grip of two monstrous
+serpents. You have doubtless seen pictures of the group. Dickens's
+figure gives us a humorously exaggerated picture of Scrooge and his
+stockings.
+
+[349-19] This is a slang expression, used to express incredulity. It has
+somewhat the same meaning as the slang phrase heard in the United
+States--"Over the left."
+
+[349-20] Joe Miller was an English comedian who lived from 1684 to 1738.
+The year after his death there appeared a little book called _Joe
+Miller's Jests_. These stories and jokes, however, were not written by
+Miller.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS IN OLD TIME
+
+_By_ Sir Walter Scott
+
+
+    Heap on more wood![356-1]--the wind is chill;
+    But let it whistle as it will,
+    We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
+    Each age has deem'd the new-born year
+    The fittest time for festal cheer:[356-2]
+    And well our Christian sires of old
+    Loved when the year its course had roll'd,
+    And brought blithe Christmas back again,
+    With all his hospitable train.[356-3]
+    Domestic and religious rite[356-4]
+    Gave honor to the holy night;
+    On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;[356-5]
+    On Christmas Eve the mass[356-6] was sung:
+    That only night in all the year,
+    Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.[356-7]
+    The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen;[356-8]
+
+    The hall was dress'd with holly green;
+    Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
+    To gather in the mistletoe.[357-9]
+    Then open'd wide the baron's hall
+    To vassal,[357-10] tenant,[357-11] serf,[357-12] and all;
+    Power laid his rod of rule aside,[357-13]
+    And ceremony doff'd his pride.[357-14]
+    The heir, with roses in his shoes,[357-15]
+    That night might village partner choose;[357-16]
+    The lord, underogating,[357-17] share
+    The vulgar game of "post and pair."[357-18]
+    All hail'd, with uncontroll'd delight
+    And general voice, the happy night,
+    That to the cottage, as the crown,
+    Brought tidings of Salvation down.[357-19]
+
+    The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
+    Went roaring up the chimney wide;
+    The huge hall-table's oaken face,
+    Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace,
+    Bore then upon its massive board
+    No mark to part the squire and lord.[358-20]
+    Then was brought in the lusty brawn,[358-21]
+    By old blue-coated serving-man;
+    Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high,
+    Crested with bays and rosemary.[358-22]
+    Well can the green-garb'd ranger[358-23] tell,
+    How, when, and where, the monster fell;
+    What dogs before his death he tore,
+    And all the baiting of the boar.[358-24]
+    The wassail[358-25] round, in good brown bowls,
+    Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls.[358-26]
+
+    There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by
+    Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;[358-27]
+    Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce,
+    At such high tide, her savory goose.
+    Then came the merry maskers in,
+    And carols roar'd with blithesome din:
+    If unmelodious was the song,
+    It was a hearty note, and strong.
+    Who lists may in their mumming see
+    Traces of ancient mystery;[359-28]
+    White shirts supplied the masquerade,
+    And smutted cheeks the visors made;--[359-29]
+    But, O! what maskers, richly dight,
+    Can boast of bosoms, half so light![359-30]
+    England was merry England, when
+    Old Christmas brought his sports again.
+    'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale;
+    'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
+    A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
+    The poor man's heart through half the year.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[356-1] Is there a stove or a fireplace in the room where the poet sees
+Christmas kept?
+
+[356-2] What is cheer? What is festal cheer?
+
+[356-3] What is a "train"? How could it be called a hospitable train?
+Whose train was it?
+
+[356-4] What is a rite?
+
+[356-5] What bells were rung?
+
+[356-6] What is a mass?
+
+[356-7] What is a _stoled_ priest? What is a chalice? What did the
+priest do when he reared the chalice?
+
+[356-8] The kirtle was a dress-skirt or outer petticoat. _Sheen_ means
+_gay_ or _bright_.
+
+[357-9] What is mistletoe? Is there anything peculiar in its habits of
+growth? What did they want of it? What custom is still said to follow
+the use of mistletoe at Christmastime?
+
+[357-10] A vassal was one of the followers of the baron and paid for
+protection or for lands he held by fighting in the baron's troops or
+rendering some other service.
+
+[357-11] A tenant held lands or houses, for which he paid some form of
+rent.
+
+[357-12] A serf was a slave.
+
+[357-13] At Christmastime even the powerful were willing to cease from
+ruling and join with the common people.
+
+[357-14] Instead of grand ceremonies, everybody joined in simple
+amusements, without pride or prejudice.
+
+[357-15] Who was the heir? What was he heir to? Why did he have roses in
+his shoes?
+
+[357-16] Was he permitted to dance with village maidens at any other
+time?
+
+[357-17] Without losing any of his dignity.
+
+[357-18] An old-fashioned game of cards.
+
+[357-19] Who brought the tidings of Salvation? To whom was it brought?
+Who was "the crown"?
+
+[358-20] A lord was one who had power and authority, while a squire was
+merely an attendant upon a lord.
+
+[358-21] Brawn, in England, is a preparation of meat, generally sheep's
+head, pig's head, hock of beef, or boar's meat, boiled and seasoned, and
+run into jelly moulds.
+
+[358-22] What are bays? What is rosemary? Why should the boar's head be
+called _crested_? Where was it? Why was it there? Why does the poet say
+it _frowned_ on high?
+
+[358-23] Who was a ranger? What did he do? Do you see any reason for his
+being green-garbed?
+
+[358-24] What is meant by _baiting_? Who tore the dogs? Why did he tear
+them? What made the monster fall?
+
+[358-25] Wassail (_wossil_): the liquor in which they drank their
+toasts, and which signified the good cheer of Christmastime.
+
+[358-26] Moves about; that is, the liquor in good brown bowls was
+merrily passed along the table from hand to hand.
+
+[358-27] What was near the sirloin? How many kinds of meat were there on
+the table? Is anything mentioned besides meat? Do you suppose they had
+other things to eat? Did they have bread and vegetables?
+
+[359-28] In the _mumming_ or acting of these maskers could be seen
+traces of the ancient mystic plays in which religious lessons were given
+in plays that were acted with the approval of the church.
+
+[359-29] Did the maskers have rich costumes? What did they wear over
+their faces? How did they conceal their clothing?
+
+[359-30] Does the poet think that rich maskers would enjoy their
+pleasure as much as the old-fashioned Christmas merrymakers?
+
+
+
+
+ELEGY
+
+WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
+
+_By_ THOMAS GRAY
+
+
+     NOTE.--A mournful song written to express grief at the loss of some
+     friend or relative, and at the same time to praise the dead person,
+     is known as an elegy. Sometimes the word has a wider meaning, and
+     includes a poem which expresses the same ideas but applies them to
+     a class of people rather than to an individual. Such a poem is not
+     so personal, and for that very reason it will be appreciated by a
+     larger number of readers. Gray's _Elegy_ is of the latter class--is
+     perhaps the one great poem of that class; for in all probability
+     more people have loved it and found in its gentle sadness, its
+     exquisite phraseology and its musical lines more genuine charm than
+     in any similar poem in the language.
+
+     To one who already loves it, any comments on the poem may at first
+     thought seem like desecration, but, on the other hand, there is so
+     much more in the _Elegy_ than appears at first glance that it is
+     worth while to read it in the light of another's eyes. Not a few
+     persons find some enjoyment in reading, but fall far short of the
+     highest pleasure because of their failure really to comprehend the
+     meaning of certain words and forms of expression. For that reason,
+     notes are appended where they may be needed. A good reader is never
+     troubled by notes at the bottom of the page. If they are of no
+     interest or benefit to him, he knows it with a glance and passes on
+     with his reading. If the note is helpful, he gathers the
+     information and returns to his reading, beginning not at the word
+     from which the reference was made, but at the beginning of the
+     sentence or stanza; then he loses nothing by going to the footnote.
+
+    The curfew[361-1] tolls the knell[361-2] of parting day,
+      The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
+    The plowman homeward plods his weary way
+      And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
+
+[Illustration: HOMEWARD PLODS HIS WEARY WAY]
+
+    Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
+      And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
+    Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
+      And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;[361-3]
+
+    Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower[362-4]
+      The moping owl does to the moon complain
+    Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
+      Molest her ancient solitary reign.[362-5]
+
+    Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
+      Where heaves the turf in many a mold'ring heap,
+    Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+      The rude[362-6] forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+    The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
+      The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
+    The cock's shrill clarion,[362-7] or the echoing horn,
+      No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.[362-8]
+
+    For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
+      Or busy housewife ply her evening care;[362-9]
+    No children run to lisp their sire's return,[363-10]
+      Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
+
+    Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
+      Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe[363-11] has broke;
+    How jocund[363-12] did they drive their team a-field!
+      How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
+
+    Let not Ambition[363-13] mock their useful toil,
+      Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
+    Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
+      The short and simple annals of the poor.
+
+    The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+      And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+    Await[363-14] alike th' inevitable hour:
+      The paths of glory lead but to the grave.[363-15]
+
+    Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
+      If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
+    Where, through the long-drawn aisle[364-16] and fretted vault,
+      The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
+
+    Can storied urn or animated bust[364-17]
+      Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
+    Can Honour's voice provoke[364-18] the silent dust,
+      Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
+
+    Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
+      Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;[364-19]
+    Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
+      Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.[364-20]
+
+    But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
+      Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;[364-21]
+    Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
+      And froze the genial current of the soul.
+
+    Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+      The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
+    Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+      And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+    Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
+      The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
+    Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest--
+      Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.[365-22]
+
+    Th' applause[365-23] of listening senates to command
+      The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
+    To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
+      And read their history in a nation's eyes,
+
+    Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone
+      Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
+    Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,[365-24]
+      And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;
+
+    The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide
+      To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
+    Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
+      With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.[366-25]
+
+    Far from the madding[366-26] crowd's ignoble strife,
+      Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
+    Along the cool, sequestered vale of life
+      They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
+
+    Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect
+      Some frail memorial[366-27] still erected nigh,
+    With uncouth[366-28] rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
+      Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
+
+    Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,
+      The place of fame and elegy supply;
+    And many a holy text around she strews,
+      That teach the rustic moralist to die.[366-29]
+
+    For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
+      This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
+    Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
+      Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind?[367-30]
+
+    On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
+      Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
+    E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
+      E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
+
+    For thee,[367-31] who, mindful of th' unhonored dead,
+      Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
+    If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
+      Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
+
+    Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
+      "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn,
+    Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
+      To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
+
+    "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
+      That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
+    His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
+      And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
+
+    "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
+      Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;
+    Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
+      Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
+
+    "One morn I missed him from the customed hill,
+      Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree.
+    Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
+      Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
+
+    "The next, with dirges due,[368-32] in sad array,
+      Slow through the church way path we saw him borne.--
+    Approach and read, for thou canst read, the lay
+      Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."[368-33]
+
+
+THE EPITAPH
+
+    Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,
+      A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown:
+    Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
+      And Melancholy marked him for her own.
+
+    Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
+      Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
+    He gave to Misery, all he had, a tear,
+      He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
+
+    No farther seek his merits to disclose,
+      Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
+    (There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
+      The bosom of his Father and his God.
+
+[Illustration: THE COUNTRY CHURCHYARD]
+
+     Thomas Gray was born in London on the twenty-sixth of December,
+     1716, and received his education at Cambridge, where he lived most
+     of his quiet life and where he died in 1771. He was a small and
+     graceful man with handsome features and rather an effeminate
+     appearance, always dressed with extreme care. The greater part of
+     his life was spent in neatly furnished rooms among his books, for
+     he was a hard student, and became noted as one of the first
+     scholars of his time. Among his friends he was witty and
+     entertaining, but among strangers, quiet and reserved, almost
+     timid. He loved his mother devotedly, and after her death he kept
+     her dress neatly folded in his trunk, always by him. Innocent,
+     well-meaning, gentle and retiring, he drew many warm friends to
+     him, though his great learning and his fondness for giving
+     information made many people think him something of a prig.
+
+     It might be considered a weakness in the _Elegy_ that it drifts
+     into an elegy on the writer, who becomes lost in the pathos of his
+     own sad end. Yet, knowing the man as we do, we can understand his
+     motives and forgive the seeming selfishness. He is not the only
+     poet whose own sorrows, real or imaginary, were his greatest
+     inspiration.
+
+     The metre of the _Elegy_ had been used, before Gray's time, by Sir
+     John Davies for his _Immortality of the Soul_, Sir William Davenant
+     in his _Gondibert_, and Dryden in his _Annus Mirabilis_, and
+     others; but in no instance so happily as here by Gray. In the
+     _Elegy_ the quatrain has not the somewhat disjunctive and isolating
+     effect that it has in some other works where there is continuous
+     argument or narrative that should run on with as few metrical
+     hindrances as possible. It is well adapted to convey a series of
+     solemn reflections, and that is its work in the _Elegy_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[361-1] In some of our American towns and cities a curfew bell is rung
+as a signal that the children must leave the streets and go to their
+homes. Many years ago it was the custom in English villages to ring a
+bell at nightfall as a signal for people to cover their fires with ashes
+to preserve till morning, and as a signal for bed. The word _curfew_, in
+fact, is from the French, and means _cover fire_.
+
+[361-2] The word _knell_ suggests death, and gives the first mournful
+note to the poem.
+
+[361-3] The sheep are shut up for the night in the _folds_ or pens. What
+are the _tinklings_? Why should they be called _drowsy_?
+
+[362-4] The poem is supposed to have been written in the yard of
+Stoke-Pogis church, a little building with a square tower, the whole
+covered with a riotous growth of ivy vines. The church is in the
+country, not many miles from Windsor Castle; and even to this day the
+beautiful landscape preserves the rural charms it had in Gray's time. We
+must not suppose that Gray actually sat in the churchyard and wrote his
+lines. As a matter of fact, he was a very careful and painstaking
+writer, and for eight years was at work on this poem, selecting each
+word so that it should express just the shade of meaning he wanted and
+give the perfect melody he sought. However, he did begin the poem at
+Stoke in October or November of 1742 and continued it there in November,
+1749; but it was finished in Cambridge in June, 1750.
+
+[362-5] _Reign_ here means _dominion_ or _possessions_. Why is the bird
+called a _moping_ owl? Why is her reign _solitary_? What word is
+understood after _such_ in the third line of this stanza?
+
+[362-6] _Rude_ means _uneducated_, _uncultured_, not _ill-mannered_.
+
+[362-7] A clarion is a loud, clear-sounding trumpet.
+
+[362-8] In the church are the tombs of the wealthy and titled of the
+neighborhood, and in the building and on the walls are monuments that
+tell the virtues of the lordly dead. It is outside, however, under the
+sod, in their narrow cells, that the virtuous poor, the real subjects of
+the poet's thoughts, lie in quiet slumbers.
+
+[362-9] What evening cares has the busy housewife? Was she making the
+clothes of her children, knitting, mending, darning, after the supper
+dishes were put away?
+
+[363-10] Where were the children? Were they waiting for their father's
+return? To whom would they run to tell of his coming?
+
+[363-11] The _glebe_ is the turf. Why should it be called _stubborn_?
+
+[363-12] _Jocund_ means _joyful_.
+
+[363-13] The word _Ambition_ begins with a capital letter because Gray
+speaks of ambition as though it were a person. The line means, "Let not
+ambitious persons speak lightly of the work the rude forefathers did."
+
+[363-14] The inevitable hour (death) alike awaits the boast of heraldry,
+the pomp of power, and all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave.
+
+[363-15] This is perhaps the most famous stanza in the poem. The
+following story is told of General Wolfe as he was leading his troops to
+the daring assault on Quebec in 1759: "At past midnight, when the
+heavens were hung black with clouds, and the boats were floating
+silently back with the tide to the intended landing-place at the chosen
+ascent to the Plains of Abraham, he repeated in low tones to the
+officers around him this touching stanza of Gray's _Elegy_. 'Now,
+gentlemen,' said Wolfe, 'I would rather be the author of that poem than
+the possessor of the glory of beating the French to-morrow!' He fell the
+next day, and expired just as the shouts of the victory of the English
+fell upon his almost unconscious ears."
+
+[364-16] Now, an aisle is the passageway between the pews or the seats
+in a church or other public hall: in the poem it means the passageways
+running to the sides of the main body of the church.
+
+[364-17] A storied urn is an urn-shaped monument on which are inscribed
+the virtues of the dead. Why should a _bust_ be called _animated_? What
+is the _mansion_ of _the fleeting breath_?
+
+[364-18] In this instance _provoke_ means what it originally meant in
+the Latin language; namely, _call forth_.
+
+[364-19] The line means, "Some heart once filled with the heavenly
+inspiration."
+
+[364-20] A poet or musician is said to sing, and the lyre is the
+instrument with which the ancients accompanied their songs. _To wake to
+ecstasy the living lyre_ is to write the noblest poetry, to sing the
+most inspired songs.
+
+[364-21] The books of the ancients were rolls of manuscripts. Did any of
+those persons resting in this neglected spot ever write great poetry,
+rule empires or sing inspiring songs? If not, what prevented them from
+doing such things if they had the ability?
+
+[365-22] At first this stanza was written thus:
+
+    "Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast
+    The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
+    Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest;
+    Some Caesar guiltless of his country's blood."
+
+It is interesting to notice that at his first writing Gray selected
+three of the famous men of antiquity, but in his revision he substituted
+the names of three of his own countrymen. Who were Hampden, Milton and
+Cromwell?
+
+[365-23] The three stanzas beginning at this point make but one
+sentence. Turned into prose the sentence would read: "Their lot forbade
+them to command the applause of listening senates, to despise the
+threats of pain and ruin, to scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, and
+read their history in a nation's eyes: their lot not only circumscribed
+their growing virtues but confined their crimes as well; it forbade them
+to wade through slaughter to a throne and shut the gates of mercy on
+mankind, to hide the struggling pangs of conscious truth, to quench the
+blushes of ingenuous shame, and to heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
+with incense kindled at the Muse's flame."
+
+[365-24] This line means that they could not become rulers by fighting
+and killing their fellowmen as Napoleon did not long afterward.
+
+[366-25] Many of the English poets wrote in praise of the wealthy and
+titled in order to be paid or favored by the men they flattered. Gray
+thinks that such conduct is disgraceful, and rejoices that the rude
+forefathers of the hamlet were prevented from writing poetry for such an
+end. The Greeks thought poetry was inspired by one of the Muses, and
+genius is often spoken as a flame.
+
+[366-26] _Madding_ means _excited_ or _raging_.
+
+[366-27] The _frail memorials_ were simple headstones, similar to those
+one may see in any country graveyard in America. On such headstones may
+often be seen _shapeless sculpture_ that would almost provoke a smile,
+were it not for its pathetic meaning. A picture of Stoke-Pogis
+churchyard shows many stories of the ordinary type.
+
+[366-28] The rhymes were _uncouth_ in the sense that they were unlearned
+and unpolished.
+
+[366-29] What facts were inscribed on the headstones? _Elegy_ here means
+_praise_. Where were the texts strewn? Why were the texts called _holy?_
+What was the nature of the texts? Can you think of one that might have
+been used?
+
+[367-30] This is one of the difficult stanzas, and there is some dispute
+as to its exact meaning, owing to the phrase, _to dumb forgetfulness a
+prey_. Perhaps the correct meaning is shown in the following prose
+version: "For who has ever died (resigned this pleasing, anxious being,
+left the warm precincts of this cheerful day), a prey to dumb
+forgetfulness, and cast not one longing, lingering look behind?"
+
+[367-31] _Thee_ refers to the poet, Gray himself. The remainder of the
+poem is personal. Summed up briefly it means that perhaps a sympathetic
+soul may some day come to inquire as to the poet's fate, and will be
+told by some hoary-headed swain a few of the poet's habits, and then
+will have pointed out to him the poet's own grave, on which may be read
+his epitaph.
+
+[368-32] _Due_ means _appropriate_ or _proper_.
+
+[368-33] As first written, the poem contained the following stanza,
+placed before the epitaph; but in the final revision Gray rejected it as
+unworthy. It seems a very critical taste that would reject such lines as
+these:
+
+    "There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year,
+      By hands unseen are show'rs of violets found:
+    The redbreast loves to build and warble there,
+      And little footsteps lightly print the ground."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SHIPWRECK[371-1]
+
+_By_ ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+
+I went down, and drank my fill; and then came up, and got a blink at the
+moon; and then down again. They say a man sinks the third time for good.
+I cannot be made like other folk, then, for I would not like to write
+how often I went down or how often I came up again. All the while, I was
+being hurled along, and beaten upon and choked, and then swallowed
+whole; and the thing was so distracting to my wits, that I was neither
+sorry nor afraid.
+
+Presently, I found I was holding to a spar, which helped me somewhat.
+And then all of a sudden I was in quiet water, and began to come to
+myself.
+
+It was the spare yard I had got hold of, and I was amazed to see how far
+I had traveled from the brig. I hailed her, indeed; but it was plain she
+was already out of cry. She was still holding together; but whether or
+not they had yet launched the boat, I was too far off and too low down
+to see.
+
+[Illustration: I FOUND I WAS HOLDING TO A SPAR]
+
+While I was hailing the brig, I spied a tract of water lying between us,
+where no great waves came, but which yet boiled white all over and
+bristled in the moon with rings and bubbles. Sometimes the whole tract
+swung to one side, like the tail of a live serpent; sometimes, for a
+glimpse, it would all disappear and then boil up again. What it was I
+had no guess, which for the time increased my fear of it; but I now know
+it must have been the roost or tide-race, which had carried me away so
+fast and tumbled me about so cruelly, and at last, as if tired of that
+play, had flung out me and the spare yard upon its landward margin.
+
+I now lay quite becalmed, and began to feel that a man can die of cold
+as well as of drowning. The shores of Earraid were close in; I could see
+in the moonlight the dots of heather and the sparkling of the mica in
+the rocks.
+
+"Well," thought I to myself, "if I cannot get as far as that, it's
+strange."
+
+I had no skill of swimming; but when I laid hold upon the yard with both
+arms, and kicked out with both feet, I soon began to find that I was
+moving. Hard work it was, and mortally slow; but in about an hour of
+kicking and splashing, I had got well in between the points of a sandy
+bay surrounded by low hills.
+
+The sea was here quite quiet; there was no sound of any surf; the moon
+shone clear, and I thought in my heart I had never seen a place so
+desert and desolate. But it was dry land; and when at last it grew so
+shallow that I could leave the yard and wade ashore upon my feet, I
+cannot tell if I was more tired or more grateful. Both at least, I was;
+tired as I never was before that night; and grateful to God, as I trust
+I have been often, though never with more cause.
+
+With my stepping ashore, I began the most unhappy part of my adventures.
+It was half-past twelve in the morning, and though the wind was broken
+by the land, it was a cold night. I dared not sit down (for I thought I
+should have frozen), but took off my shoes and walked to and fro upon
+the sand, barefoot and beating my breast with infinite weariness. There
+was no sound of man or cattle; not a cock crew, though it was about the
+hour of their first waking; only the surf broke outside in the distance,
+which put me in mind of my perils. To walk by the sea at that hour of
+the morning, and in a place so desert-like and lonesome, struck me with
+a kind of fear.
+
+As soon as the day began to break, I put on my shoes and climbed a
+hill--the ruggedest scramble I ever undertook--falling, the whole way
+between big blocks of granite or leaping from one to another. When I got
+to the top the dawn was come. There was no sign of the brig, which must
+have been lifted from the reef and sunk. The boat, too, was nowhere to
+be seen. There was never a sail upon the ocean; and in what I could see
+of the land, was neither house nor man.
+
+I was afraid to think what had befallen my ship-mates, and afraid to
+look longer at so empty a scene. What with my wet clothes and weariness,
+and my belly that now began to ache with hunger, I had enough to trouble
+me without that. So I set off eastward along the south coast, hoping to
+find a house where I might warm myself, and perhaps get news of those I
+had lost. And at the worst, I considered the sun would soon rise and dry
+my clothes.
+
+After a little, my way was stopped by a creek or inlet of the sea, which
+seemed to run pretty deep into the land; and as I had no means to get
+across, I must needs change my direction to go about the end of it. It
+was still the roughest kind of walking; indeed the whole, not only of
+Earraid, but of the neighboring part of Mull (which they call the Ross)
+is nothing but a jumble of granite rocks with heather in among. At first
+the creek kept narrowing as I had looked to see; but presently to my
+surprise it began to widen out again. At this I scratched my head, but
+had still no notion of the truth; until at last I came to a rising
+ground, and it burst upon me all in a moment that I was cast upon a
+little, barren isle, and cut off on every side by the salt seas.
+
+Instead of the sun rising to dry me, it came on to rain, with a thick
+mist; so that my case was lamentable.
+
+I stood in the rain, and shivered, and wondered what to do, till it
+occurred to me that perhaps the creek was fordable. Back I went to the
+narrowest point, and waded in. But not three yards from shore, I plunged
+in head over ears; and if ever I was heard of more it was rather by
+God's grace than my own prudence. I was no wetter (for that could hardly
+be), but I was all the colder for this mishap; and having lost another
+hope, was the more unhappy.
+
+And now, all at once, the yard came in my head. What had carried me
+through the roost, would surely serve to cross this little quiet creek
+in safety. With that I set off, undaunted, across the top of the isle,
+to fetch and carry it back. It was a weary tramp in all ways, and if
+hope had not buoyed me up, I must have cast myself down and given up.
+Whether with the sea salt, or because I was growing fevered, I was
+distressed with thirst, and had to stop, as I went, and drink the peaty
+water out of the hags.
+
+I came to the bay at last, more dead than alive; and at the first
+glance, I thought the yard was something further out than when I left
+it. In I went, for the third time, into the sea. The sand was smooth and
+firm and shelved gradually down; so that I could wade out till the water
+was almost to my neck and the little waves splashed into my face. But at
+that depth my feet began to leave me and I durst venture no farther. As
+for the yard, I saw it bobbing very quietly some twenty feet in front of
+me.
+
+I had borne up well until this last disappointment; but at that I came
+ashore, and flung myself down upon the sands and wept.
+
+The time I spent upon the island is still so horrible a thought to me,
+that I must pass it lightly over. In all the books I have read of people
+cast away, they had either their pockets full of tools, or a chest of
+things would be thrown upon the beach along with them, as if on purpose.
+My case was very different. I had nothing in my pockets but money; and
+being inland bred, I was as much short of knowledge as of means.
+
+I knew indeed that shell-fish were counted good to eat; and among the
+rocks of the isle I found a great plenty of limpets, which at first I
+could scarcely strike from their places, not knowing quickness to be
+needful. There were, besides, some of the little shells that we call
+buckies; I think periwinkle is the English name. Of these two I made my
+whole diet, devouring them cold and raw as I found them; and so hungry
+was I, that at first they seemed to me delicious.
+
+Perhaps they were out of season, or perhaps there was something wrong in
+the sea about my island. But at least I had no sooner eaten my first
+meal than I was seized with giddiness and retching, and lay for a long
+time no better than dead. A second trial of the same food (indeed I had
+no other) did better with me and revived my strength. But as long as I
+was on the island, I never knew what to expect when I had eaten;
+sometimes all was well, and sometimes I was thrown into a miserable
+sickness; nor could I ever distinguish what particular fish it was that
+hurt me.
+
+All day it streamed rain; the island ran like a sop, there was no dry
+spot to be found; and when I lay down that night, between two boulders
+that made a kind of roof, my feet were in a bog.
+
+The second day, I crossed the island to all sides. There was no one part
+of it better than another; it was all desolate and rocky; nothing living
+on it but game birds which I lacked the means to kill, and the gulls
+which haunted the outlying rocks in a prodigious number. But the creek,
+or straits, that cut off the isle from the main land of the Ross, opened
+out on the north into a bay, and the bay again opened into the Sound of
+Iona; and it was the neighborhood of this place that I chose to be my
+home; though if I had thought upon the very name of home in such a spot,
+I must have burst out crying.
+
+I had good reasons for my choice. There was in this part of the isle a
+little hut of a house like a pig's hut, where fishers used to sleep when
+they came there upon their business; but the turf roof of it had fallen
+entirely in; so that the hut was of no use to me, and gave me less
+shelter than my rocks. What was more important, the shell-fish on which
+I lived grew there in great plenty; when the tide was out I could gather
+a peck at a time: and this was doubtless a convenience. But the other
+reason went deeper. I had become in no way used to the horrid solitude
+of the isle, but still looked round me on all sides (like a man that was
+hunted) between fear and hope that I might see some human creature
+coming. Now, from a little up the hillside over the bay, I could catch a
+sight of the great, ancient church and the roofs of the people's houses
+in Iona. And on the other hand, over the low country of the Ross, I saw
+smoke go up, morning and evening, as if from a homestead in a hollow of
+the land.
+
+I used to watch this smoke, when I was wet and cold, and had my head
+half turned with loneliness; and think of the fireside and the company,
+till my heart burned. It was the same with the roofs of Iona.
+Altogether, this sight I had of men's homes and comfortable lives,
+although it put a point on my own sufferings, yet it kept hope alive,
+and helped me to eat my raw shell-fish (which had soon grown to be a
+disgust) and saved me from the sense of horror I had whenever I was
+quite alone with dead rocks, and fowls, and the rain, and the cold sea.
+
+I say it kept hope alive; and indeed it seemed impossible that I should
+be left to die on the shores of my own country, and within view of a
+church tower and the smoke of men's houses. But the second day passed;
+and though as long as the light lasted I kept a bright lookout for boats
+on the sound or men passing on the Ross, no help came near me. It still
+rained; and I turned in to sleep, as wet as ever and with a cruel sore
+throat, but a little comforted, perhaps, by having said good-night to my
+next neighbors, the people of Iona.
+
+Charles the Second declared a man could stay out doors more days in the
+year in the climate of England than in any other. This was very like a
+king with a palace at his back and changes of dry clothes. But he must
+have had better luck than I had on that miserable isle. It was the
+height of the summer; yet it rained for more than twenty-four hours, and
+did not clear until the afternoon of the third day.
+
+This was the day of incidents. In the morning I saw a red deer, a buck
+with a fine spread of antlers, standing in the rain on the top of the
+island; but he had scarce seen me rise from under my rock, before he
+trotted off upon the other side. I supposed he must have swum the
+straits; though what should bring any creature to Earraid, was more than
+I could fancy.
+
+A little later, as I was jumping about after my limpets, I was startled
+by a guinea piece, which fell upon a rock in front of me and glanced off
+into the sea. When the sailors gave me my money again, they kept back
+not only about a third of the whole sum, but my father's leather purse;
+so that from that day out, I carried my gold loose in a pocket with a
+button. I now saw there must be a hole, and clapped my hand to the place
+in a great hurry. But this was to lock the stable door after the steed
+was stolen. I had left the shore at Queensferry with near on fifty
+pounds; now I found no more than two guinea pieces and a silver
+shilling.
+
+It is true I picked up a third guinea a little after, where it lay
+shining on a piece of turf. That made a fortune of three pounds and four
+shillings, English money, for a lad, the rightful heir of an estate, and
+now starving on an isle at the extreme end of the wild Highlands.
+
+This state of my affairs dashed me still further; and indeed my plight
+on that third morning was truly pitiful. My clothes were beginning to
+rot; my stockings in particular were quite worn through, so that my
+shanks went naked; my hands had grown quite soft with the continual
+soaking; my throat was very sore, my strength had much abated, and my
+heart so turned against the horrid stuff I was condemned to eat, that
+the very sight of it came near to sicken me.
+
+And yet the worst was not yet come.
+
+There is a pretty high rock on the northwest of Earraid, which (because
+it had a flat top and overlooked the sound) I was much in the habit of
+frequenting; not that ever I stayed in one place, save when asleep, my
+misery giving me no rest. Indeed, I wore myself down with continual and
+aimless goings and comings in the rain.
+
+As soon, however, as the sun came out, I lay down on the top of that
+rock to dry myself. The comfort of the sunshine is a thing I cannot
+tell. It set me thinking hopefully of my deliverance, of which I had
+begun to despair; and I scanned the sea and the Ross with a fresh
+interest.
+
+On the south of my rock, a part of the island jutted out and hid the
+open ocean, so that a boat could thus come quite near me upon that side,
+and I be none the wiser.
+
+Well, all of a sudden, a coble[381-2] with a brown sail and a pair of
+fishers aboard of it, came flying round that corner of the isle, bound
+for Iona. I shouted out, and then fell on my knees on the rock and
+reached up my hands and prayed to them. They were near enough to hear--I
+could even see the color of their hair; and there was no doubt but they
+observed me, for they cried out in the Gaelic tongue and laughed. But
+the boat never turned aside, and flew on, right before my eyes, for
+Iona.
+
+I could not believe such wickedness, and ran along the shore from rock
+to rock, crying on them piteously; even after they were out of reach of
+my voice, I still cried and waved to them; and when they were quite
+gone, I thought my heart would have burst. All the time of my troubles,
+I wept only twice. Once, when I could not reach the oar; and now, the
+second time, when these fishers turned a deaf ear to my cries. But this
+time I wept and roared like a wicked child, tearing up the turf with my
+nails and grinding my face in the earth. If a wish would kill men, those
+two fishers would never have seen morning; and I should likely have died
+upon my island.
+
+When I was a little over my anger, I must eat again, but with such
+loathing of the mess as I could now scarcely control. Sure enough, I
+should have done as well to fast, for my fishes poisoned me again. I had
+all my first pains; my throat was so sore I could scarce swallow; I had
+a fit of strong shuddering, which clucked my teeth together; and there
+came on me that dreadful sense of illness, which we have no name for
+either in Scotch or English. I thought I should have died, and made my
+peace with God, forgiving all men, even my uncle and the fishers; and as
+soon as I had thus made up my mind to the worst, clearness came upon me:
+I observed the night was falling dry; my clothes were dried a good deal;
+truly, I was in a better case than ever before since I had landed on the
+isle; and so I got to sleep at last, with a thought of gratitude.
+
+The next day (which was the fourth of this horrible life of mine) I
+found my bodily strength run very low. But the sun shone, the air was
+sweet, and what I managed to eat of the shell-fish agreed well with me
+and revived my courage.
+
+I was scarce back on my rock (where I went always the first thing after
+I had eaten) before I observed a boat coming down the sound and with her
+head, as I thought, in my direction.
+
+I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly; for I thought these men
+might have thought better of their cruelty and be coming back to my
+assistance. But another disappointment such as yesterday's was more than
+I could bear. I turned my back, accordingly, upon the sea, and did not
+look again till I had counted many hundreds. The boat was still heading
+for the island. The next time I counted the full thousand, as slowly as
+I could, my heart beating so as to hurt me. And then it was out of all
+question. She was coming straight to Earraid!
+
+I could no longer hold myself back, but ran to the seaside and out, from
+one rock to another, as far as I could go. It is a marvel I was not
+drowned; for when I was brought to a stand at last, my legs shook under
+me, and my mouth was so dry, I must wet it with the sea water before I
+was able to shout.
+
+All this time the boat was coming on; and now I was able to perceive it
+was the same boat and the same two men as yesterday. This I knew by
+their hair, which the one had of a bright yellow and the other black.
+But now there was a third man along with them, who looked to be of a
+better class.
+
+As soon as they were come within easy speech, they let down their sail
+and lay quiet. In spite of my supplications, they drew no nearer in, and
+what frightened me most of all, the new man tee-hee'd with laughter as
+he talked and looked at me.
+
+Then he stood up in the boat and addressed me a long while, speaking
+fast and with many wavings of his hand. I told him I had no Gaelic; and
+at this he became very angry, and I began to suspect he thought he was
+talking English. Listening very close, I caught the word, "whateffer,"
+several times; but all the rest was Gaelic, and might have been Greek
+and Hebrew for me.
+
+"Whateffer," said I, to show him I had caught a word.
+
+"Yes, yes--yes, yes," says he, and then he looked at the other men, as
+much as to say, "I told you I spoke English," and began again as hard as
+ever in the Gaelic.
+
+This time I picked out another word, "tide." Then I had a flash of hope.
+I remembered he was always waving his hand toward the mainland of the
+Ross.
+
+"Do you mean when the tide is out----?" I cried, and could not finish.
+
+"Yes, yes," said he. "Tide."
+
+At that I turned tail upon their boat (where my adviser had once more
+begun to tee-hee with laughter), leaped back the way I had come, from
+one stone to another, and set off running across the isle as I had never
+run before. In about half an hour I came out upon the shores of the
+creek; and, sure enough, it was shrunk into a little trickle of water,
+through which I dashed, not above my knees, and landed with a shout on
+the main island.
+
+A sea-bred boy would not have stayed a day on Earraid; which is only
+what they call a tidal islet; and except in the bottom of the neaps, can
+be entered and left twice in every twenty-four hours, either dry-shod,
+or at the most by wading. Even I, who had the tide going out and in
+before me in the bay, and even watched for the ebbs, the better to get
+my shell-fish--even I (I say), if I had sat down to think, instead of
+raging at my fate, must have soon guessed the secret and got free. It
+was no wonder the fishers had not understood me. The wonder was rather
+that they had ever guessed my pitiful illusion, and taken the trouble to
+come back. I had starved with cold and hunger on that island for close
+upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I might have left my bones
+there, in pure folly.
+
+And even as it was, I had paid for it pretty dear, not only in past
+sufferings, but in my present case; being clothed like a beggar-man,
+scarce able to walk, and in great pain of my sore throat.
+
+I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of both; and I believe
+they both get paid in the end; but the fools first.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[371-1] This selection is from _Kidnapped_, the story of a young man,
+David Balfour by name, who, by the treachery of an uncle who has usurped
+David's right to the family estate and fortune, is taken by force on
+board a brig bound for the Carolinas in North America. In the Carolinas,
+according to the compact made between David's uncle and the captain of
+the brig, David is to be sold. He is saved from this fate by the sinking
+of the brig. The selection as here given begins at the point where David
+is washed from the deck into the sea. The Island of Earraid is a small,
+unimportant island off the coast of Scotland.
+
+[381-2] A coble is a small boat used in fishing.
+
+
+
+
+ELEPHANT HUNTING
+
+_By_ ROUALEYN GORDON CUMMING
+
+
+     NOTE.--Mr. Cumming, a native of Scotland, was always passionately
+     fond of hunting. Even in boyhood he devoted most of his time to
+     sports of the field, and showed a great fondness for all forms of
+     natural history.
+
+     For a time he served in the English army in India, and hunted the
+     big game of those regions. However, he was not satisfied with this,
+     and after a visit to Newfoundland, which was more disappointing to
+     him, he went to Africa and there spent five adventurous years
+     hunting and exploring.
+
+     Throughout this time he kept a journal of his exploits and
+     adventures, and it is from this journal that he wrote his _A
+     Hunter's Life Among Lions, Elephants and Other Wild Animals of
+     South Africa_, from which the following selection is taken. We may
+     judge from his account that he did not find Africa as disappointing
+     as India and Newfoundland had proved.
+
+     His style is not that of a literary man, but he has the happy
+     faculty of presenting things in a very vivid manner, so that we are
+     willing to make some allowance for faults in style. He was
+     conscious of his weakness in this matter, and partially explained
+     it by saying, "The hand, wearied all day with the grasping of a
+     rifle, is not the best suited for wielding the pen."
+
+On the 25th, at dawn of day, we inspanned, and trekked about five hours
+in a northeasterly course, through a boundless open country sparingly
+adorned with dwarfish old trees. In the distance the long-sought
+mountains of Bamangwato at length loomed blue before me. We halted
+beside a glorious fountain, which at once made me forget all the cares
+and difficulties I had encountered in reaching it. The name of this
+fountain was Massouey, but I at once christened it "the Elephant's own
+Fountain." This was a very remarkable spot on the southern borders of
+endless elephant forests, at which I had at length arrived. The fountain
+was deep and strong, situated in a hollow at the eastern extremity of an
+extensive vley,[386-1] and its margin was surrounded by a level stratum
+of solid old red sandstone. Here and there lay a thick layer of soil
+upon the rock, and this was packed flat with the fresh spoor of
+elephants. Around the water's edge the very rock was worn down by the
+gigantic feet which for ages had trodden there.
+
+The soil of the surrounding country was white and yellow sand, but
+grass, trees, and bushes were abundant. From the borders of the fountain
+a hundred well-trodden elephant foot-paths led away in every direction,
+like the radii of a circle. The breadth of these paths was about three
+feet; those leading to the northward and east were the most frequented,
+the country in those directions being well wooded. We drew up the wagons
+on a hillock on the eastern side of the water. This position commanded a
+good view of any game that might approach to drink. I had just cooked my
+breakfast, and commenced to feed, when I heard my men exclaim, "Almagtig
+keek de ghroote clomp cameel;" and, raising my eyes from the
+sassaby[386-2] stew, I beheld a truly beautiful and very unusual scene.
+
+From the margin of the fountain there extended an open level vley,
+without a tree or bush, that stretched away about a mile to the
+northward, where it was bounded by extensive groves of wide-spreading
+mimosas. Up the middle of the vley stalked a troop of ten colossal
+giraffes, flanked by two large herds of blue wildebeests and zebras,
+with an advanced guard of pallahs. They were all coming to the fountain
+to drink, and would be within rifle-shot of the wagons before I could
+finish my breakfast. I, however, continued to swallow my food with the
+utmost expedition, having directed my men to catch and saddle Colesberg.
+In a few minutes the giraffes were slowly advancing within two hundred
+yards, stretching their graceful necks, and gazing in wonder at the
+unwonted wagons.
+
+Grasping my rifle, I now mounted Colesberg, and rode slowly toward them.
+They continued gazing at the wagons until I was within one hundred yards
+of them, when, whisking their long tails over their rumps, they made off
+at an easy canter. As I pressed upon them they increased their pace; but
+Colesberg had much the speed of them, and before we proceeded half a
+mile I was riding by the shoulder of the dark-chestnut old bull, whose
+head towered high above the rest. Letting fly at the gallop, I wounded
+him behind the shoulder; soon after which I broke him from the herd, and
+presently, going ahead of him, he came to a stand. I then gave him a
+second bullet, somewhere near the first. These two shots had taken
+effect, and he was now in my power, but I would not lay him low so far
+from camp; so, having waited until he had regained his breath, I drove
+him half way back toward the wagons. Here he became obstreperous; so,
+loading one barrel, and pointing my rifle toward the clouds, I shot him
+in the throat, when, rearing high, he fell backward and expired.
+
+This was a magnificent specimen of the giraffe, measuring upward of
+eighteen feet in height. I stood for nearly half an hour engrossed in
+the contemplation of his extreme beauty and gigantic proportions; and,
+if there had been no elephants, I could have exclaimed, like Duke
+Alexander of Gordon when he killed the famous old stag with seventeen
+tine, "Now I can die happy." But I longed for an encounter with the
+noble elephants, and I thought little more of the giraffe than if I had
+killed a gemsbok or an eland.
+
+In the afternoon I removed my wagons to a correct distance from the
+fountain, and drew them up among some bushes about four hundred yards to
+leeward of the water. In the evening I was employed in manufacturing
+hardened bullets for the elephants, using a composition of one of pewter
+to four of lead; and I had just completed my work, when we heard a troop
+of elephants splashing and trumpeting in the water. This was to me a
+joyful sound; I slept little that night.
+
+On the 26th I arose at earliest dawn, and, having fed four of my horses,
+proceeded with Isaac to the fountain to examine the spoor of the
+elephants which had drunk there during the night. A number of the paths
+contained fresh spoor of elephants of all sizes, which had gone from the
+fountain in different directions. We reckoned that at least thirty of
+these gigantic quadrupeds had visited the water during the night.
+
+We hastily returned to camp, where, having breakfasted, I saddled up,
+and proceeded to take up the spoor of the largest bull elephant,
+accompanied by after-riders and three of the guides to assist in
+spooring. I was also accompanied by my dogs. Having selected the spoor
+of a mighty bull, the Bechuanas went ahead and I followed them. It was
+extremely interesting and exciting work. The footprint of this elephant
+was about two feet in diameter, and was beautifully visible in the soft
+sand. The spoor at first led us for about three miles in an easterly
+direction, along one of the sandy foot-paths, without a check. We then
+entered a very thick forest, and the elephant had gone a little out of
+the path to smash some trees, and to plow up the earth with his tusks.
+He soon, however, again took the path, and held along it for several
+miles.
+
+We were on rather elevated ground, with a fine view of a part of the
+Bamangwato chain of mountains before us. Here the trees were large and
+handsome, but not strong enough to resist the inconceivable strength of
+the mighty monarchs of these forests. Almost every tree had half its
+branches broken short by them, and at every hundred yards I came upon
+entire trees, and these the largest in the forest, uprooted clean out of
+the ground, or broken short across their stems. I observed several large
+trees placed in an inverted position, having their roots uppermost in
+the air. Our friend had here halted, and fed for a long time upon a
+large, wide-spreading tree, which he had broken short across within a
+few feet of the ground. After following the spoor some distance further
+through the dense mazes of the forest, we got into ground so thickly
+trodden by elephants that we were baffled in our endeavors to trace the
+spoor any further; and after wasting several hours in attempting by
+casts to take up the proper spoor, we gave it up, and with a sorrowful
+heart I turned my horse's head toward camp.
+
+Having reached the wagons, while drinking my coffee I reviewed the whole
+day's work, and felt much regret at my want of luck in my first day's
+elephant hunting, and I resolved that night to watch the water, and try
+what could be done with elephants by night shooting. I accordingly
+ordered the usual watching-hole to be constructed, and, having placed my
+bedding in it, repaired thither shortly after sundown. I had lain about
+two hours in the hole, when I heard a low rumbling noise like distant
+thunder, caused (as the Bechuanas affirmed) by the bowels of the
+elephants which were approaching the fountain. I lay on my back, with my
+mouth open, attentively listening, and could hear them plowing up the
+earth with their tusks. Presently they walked up to the water, and
+commenced drinking within fifty yards of me.
+
+They approached with so quiet a step that I fancied it was the footsteps
+of jackals which I had heard, and I was not aware of their presence
+until I heard the water, which they had drawn up in their trunks and
+were pouring into their mouths, dropping into the fountain. I then
+peeped from my sconce with a beating heart, and beheld two enormous bull
+elephants, which looked like two great castles, standing before me. I
+could not see very distinctly, for there was only starlight. Having lain
+on my breast some time taking my aim, I let fly at one of the
+elephants, using the Dutch rifle carrying six to the pound. The ball
+told loudly on his shoulder, and, uttering a loud cry, he stumbled
+through the fountain, when both made off in different directions.
+
+All night large herds of zebras and blue wildebeests capered around me,
+coming sometimes within a few yards. Several parties of rhinoceroses
+also made their appearance. I felt a little apprehensive that lions
+might visit the fountain, and every time that hyaenas or jackals lapped
+the water I looked forth, but no lions appeared. At length I fell into a
+sound sleep, nor did I awake until the bright star of morn had shot far
+above the eastern horizon.
+
+Before proceeding further with my narrative, it may here be interesting
+to make a few remarks on the African elephant and his habits. The
+elephant is widely diffused through the vast forests, and is met with in
+herds of various numbers. The male is very much larger than the female,
+consequently much more difficult to kill. He is provided with two
+enormous tusks. These are long, tapering, and beautifully arched; their
+length averages from six to eight feet, and they weigh from sixty to a
+hundred pounds each. In the vicinity of the equator the elephants attain
+to a greater size than to the southward; and I am in the possession of a
+pair of tusks of the African bull elephant, the larger of which measures
+ten feet nine inches in length, and weighs one hundred and seventy-three
+pounds. The females, unlike Asiatic elephants in this respect, are
+likewise provided with tusks. Old bull elephants are found singly or in
+pairs, or consorting together in small herds, varying from six to twenty
+individuals. The younger bulls remain for many years in the company of
+their mothers, and these are met together in large herds of from twenty
+to a hundred individuals. The food of the elephant consists of the
+branches, leaves, and roots of trees, and also of a variety of bulbs, of
+the situation of which he is advised by his exquisite sense of smell. To
+obtain these he turns up the ground with his tusks, and whole acres may
+be seen thus plowed up. Elephants consume an immense quantity of food,
+and pass the greater part of the day and night in feeding. Like the
+whale in the ocean, the elephant on land is acquainted with, and roams
+over, wide and extensive tracts. He is extremely particular in always
+frequenting the freshest and most verdant districts of the forest; and
+when one district is parched and barren, he will forsake it for years,
+and wander to great distances in quest of better pasture.
+
+The elephant entertains an extraordinary horror of man, and a child can
+put a hundred of them to flight by passing at a quarter of a mile to
+windward; and when thus disturbed, they go a long way before they halt.
+It is surprising how soon these sagacious animals are aware of the
+presence of a hunter in their domains. When one troop has been attacked,
+all the other elephants frequenting the district are aware of the fact
+within two or three days, when they all forsake it, and migrate to
+distant parts, leaving the hunter no alternative but to inspan his
+wagons, and remove to fresh ground. This constitutes one of the greatest
+difficulties which a skilful elephant-hunter encounters. Even in the
+most remote parts, which may be reckoned the headquarters of the
+elephant, it is only occasionally, and with inconceivable toil and
+hardship, that the eye of the hunter is cheered by the sight of one.
+Owing to habits peculiar to himself, the elephant is more inaccessible,
+and much more rarely seen, than any other game quadruped, excepting
+certain rare antelopes. They choose for their resort the most lonely and
+secluded depths of the forest, generally at a very great distance from
+the rivers and fountains at which they drink. In dry and warm weather
+they visit these waters nightly, but in cool and cloudy weather they
+drink only once every third or fourth day. About sundown the elephant
+leaves his distant midday haunt, and commences his march toward the
+fountain, which is probably from twelve to twenty miles distant. This he
+generally reaches between the hours of nine and midnight, when, having
+slaked his thirst and cooled his body by spouting large volumes of water
+over his back with his trunk, he resumes the path to his forest
+solitudes. Having reached a secluded spot, I have remarked that
+full-grown bulls lie down on their broad-sides, about the hour of
+midnight, and sleep for a few hours. The spot which they usually select
+is an ant-hill, and they lie around it with their backs resting against
+it; these hills, formed by the white ants, are from thirty to forty feet
+in diameter at their base. The mark of the under tusk is always deeply
+imprinted in the ground, proving that they lie upon their sides. I never
+remarked that females had thus lain down, and it is only in the more
+secluded districts that the bulls adopt this practice; for I observed
+that, in districts where the elephants were liable to frequent
+disturbance, they took repose standing on their legs beneath some shady
+tree.
+
+Having slept, they then proceed to feed extensively. Spreading out from
+one another, and proceeding in a zigzag course, they smash and destroy
+all the finest trees in the forest which happen to lie in their course.
+The number of goodly trees which a herd of bull elephants will thus
+destroy is utterly incredible. They are extremely capricious, and on
+coming to a group of five or six trees, they break down not unfrequently
+the whole of them, when, having perhaps only tasted one or two small
+branches, they pass on and continue their wanton work of destruction. I
+have repeatedly ridden through forests where the trees thus broken lay
+so thick across one another that it was almost impossible to ride
+through the district, and it is in situations such as these that
+attacking the elephant is attended with most danger. During the night
+they will feed in open plains and thinly-wooded districts, but as day
+dawns they retire to the densest covers within reach, which nine times
+in ten are composed of the impracticable wait-a-bit thorns, and here
+they remain drawn up in a compact herd during the heat of the day. In
+remote districts, however, and in cool weather, I have known herds to
+continue pasturing throughout the whole day.
+
+The appearance of the wild elephant is inconceivably majestic and
+imposing. His gigantic height and colossal bulk, so greatly surpassing
+all other quadrupeds, combined with his sagacious disposition and
+peculiar habits, impart to him an interest in the eyes of the hunter
+which no other animal can call forth. The pace of the elephant, when
+undisturbed, is a bold, free, sweeping step; and from the peculiar
+spongy formation of his foot, his tread is extremely light and
+inaudible, and all his movements are attended with a peculiar gentleness
+and grace. This, however, only applies to the elephant when roaming
+undisturbed in his jungle; for, when roused by the hunter, he proves the
+most dangerous enemy, and far more difficult to conquer than any other
+beast of the chase.
+
+On the 27th, as day dawned, I left my shooting-hole, and proceeded to
+inspect the spoor of my wounded elephant. After following it for some
+distance I came to an abrupt hillock, and fancying that from the summit
+a good view might be obtained of the surrounding country, I left my
+followers to seek the spoor while I ascended. I did not raise my eyes
+from the ground until I had reached the highest pinnacle of rock. I then
+looked east, and, to my inexpressible gratification, beheld a troop of
+nine or ten elephants quietly browsing within a quarter of a mile of me.
+I allowed myself only one glance at them, and then rushed down to warn
+my followers to be silent. A council of war was hastily held, the result
+of which was my ordering Isaac to ride hard to camp, with instructions
+to return as quickly as possible, accompanied by Kleinboy, and to bring
+me my dogs, the large Dutch rifle, and a fresh horse. I once more
+ascended the hillock to feast my eyes upon the enchanting sight before
+me, and, drawing out my spy-glass, narrowly watched the motions of the
+elephants. The herd consisted entirely of females, several of which were
+followed by small calves.
+
+Presently on reconnoitering the surrounding country, I discovered a
+second herd, consisting of five bull elephants, which were quietly
+feeding about a mile to the northward. The cows were feeding toward a
+rocky ridge that stretched away from the base of the hillock on which I
+stood. Burning with impatience to commence the attack, I resolved to try
+the stalking system with these, and to hunt the troop of bulls with dogs
+and horses. Having thus decided, I directed the guides to watch the
+elephants from the summit of the hillock, and with a beating heart I
+approached them. The ground and wind favoring me, I soon gained the
+rocky ridge toward which they were feeding. They were now within one
+hundred yards, and I resolved to enjoy the pleasure of watching their
+movements for a little before I fired. They continued to feed slowly
+toward me, breaking the branches from the trees with their trunks, and
+eating the leaves and tender shoots. I soon selected the finest in the
+herd, and kept my eye on her in particular. At length two of the troop
+had walked slowly past at about sixty yards, and the one which I had
+selected was feeding with two others, on a thorny tree before me.
+
+My hand was now as steady as the rock on which it rested; so, taking a
+deliberate aim, I let fly at her head a little behind the eye. She got
+it hard and sharp, just where I aimed, but it did not seem to affect her
+much. Uttering a loud cry, she wheeled about, when I gave her the second
+ball close behind the shoulder. All the elephants uttered a strange
+rumbling noise, and made off in a line to the northward at a brisk,
+ambling pace, their huge, fan-like ears flapping in the ratio of their
+speed. I did not wait to load, but ran back to the hillock to obtain a
+view. On gaining its summit the guides pointed out the elephants; they
+were standing in a grove of shady trees, but the wounded one was some
+distance behind with another elephant, doubtless its particular friend,
+who was endeavoring to assist it. These elephants had probably never
+before heard the report of a gun, and, having neither seen nor smelt me,
+they were unaware of the presence of man, and did not seem inclined to
+go any further. Presently my men hove in sight, bringing the dogs and
+when these came up, I waited some time before commencing the attack,
+that the dogs and horses might recover their wind. We then rode slowly
+toward the elephants, and had advanced within two hundred yards of them,
+when, the ground being open, they observed us, and made off in an
+easterly direction; but the wounded one immediately dropped astern, and
+the next moment was surrounded by the dogs, which, barking angrily,
+seemed to engross her attention.
+
+[Illustration: WITH BEATING HEART I APPROACHED A VIEW]
+
+Having placed myself between her and the retreating troop, I dismounted
+to fire within forty yards of her, in open ground. Colesberg was
+extremely afraid of the elephants, and gave me much trouble, jerking my
+arm when I tried to fire. At length I let fly; but, on endeavoring to
+regain my saddle, Colesberg declined to allow me to mount; and when I
+tried to lead him, and run for it, he only backed toward the wounded
+elephant. At this moment I heard another elephant close behind; and on
+looking about, I beheld the "friend," with uplifted trunk, charging down
+upon me at top speed, shrilly trumpeting, and following an old black
+pointer name Schwart, that was perfectly deaf, and trotted along before
+the enraged elephant quite unaware of what was behind him. I felt
+certain that she would have either me or my horse. I, however,
+determined not to relinquish my steed, but to hold on by the bridle. My
+men, who of course kept at a safe distance, stood aghast with their
+mouths open, and for a few seconds my position was certainly not an
+enviable one. Fortunately, however, the dogs took off the attention of
+the elephants; and just as they were upon me, I managed to spring into
+the saddle, where I was safe. As I turned my back to mount, the
+elephants were so very near that I really expected to feel one of their
+trunks lay hold of me. I rode up to Kleinboy for my double-barreled
+two-grooved rifle; he and Isaac were pale and almost speechless with
+fright. Returning to the charge, I was soon once more alongside, and,
+firing from the saddle, I sent another brace of bullets into the wounded
+elephant. Colesberg was extremely unsteady, and destroyed the
+correctness of my aim.
+
+The friend now seemed resolved to do some mischief, and charged me
+furiously, pursuing me to a distance of several hundred yards. I
+therefore deemed it proper to give her a gentle hint to act less
+officiously, and, accordingly, having loaded, I approached within thirty
+yards, and gave it her sharp, right and left, behind the shoulder, upon
+which she at once made off with drooping trunk, evidently with a mortal
+wound. I never recur to this my first day's elephant shooting without
+regretting my folly in contenting myself with securing only one
+elephant. The first was now dying, and could not leave the ground, and
+the second was also mortally wounded, and I had only to follow and
+finish her; but I foolishly allowed her to escape, while I amused myself
+with the first, which kept walking backward, and standing by every tree
+she passed. Two more shots finished her: on receiving them, she tossed
+her trunk up and down two or three times, and, falling on her broadside
+against a thorny tree, which yielded like grass, before her enormous
+weight, she uttered a deep, hoarse cry and expired. This was a very
+handsome old cow elephant, and was decidedly the best in the troop. She
+was in excellent condition, and carried a pair of long and perfect
+tusks.
+
+I was in high spirits at my success, and felt so perfectly satisfied
+with having killed one, that, although it was still early in the day,
+and my horses were fresh, I allowed the troop of five bulls to remain
+unmolested, foolishly trusting to fall in with them next day. How little
+did I then know of the habits of elephants, or the rules to be adopted
+in hunting them, or deem it probable I should never see them more!
+
+Having knee-haltered our horses, we set to work with our knives and
+assagais to prepare the skull for the hatchet, in order to cut out the
+tusks, nearly half the length of which, I may mention, is imbedded in
+bone sockets in the fore part of the skull. To cut out the tusks of a
+cow elephant requires barely one-fifth of the labor requisite to cut out
+those of a bull; and when the sun went down, we had managed by our
+combined efforts to cut out one of the tusks of my first elephant, with
+which we triumphantly returned to camp, having left the guides in charge
+of the carcass, where they volunteered to take up their quarters for the
+night. On reaching my wagons I found Johannus and Carollus in a happy
+state of indifference to all passing events: they were both very drunk,
+having broken into my wine-cask and spirit-case.
+
+On the 28th I arose at an early hour, and, burning with anxiety to look
+forth once more from the summit of the hillock which the day before
+brought me such luck, I made a hasty breakfast, and rode thither with
+after-riders and my dogs. But, alas! I had allowed the golden
+opportunity to slip. This day I sought in vain; and although I often
+again ascended to the summit of my favorite hillock in that and in the
+succeeding year, my eyes were destined never again to hail from it a
+troop of elephants.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[386-1] A vley is a swamp or morass.
+
+[386-2] The sassaby is a large African antelope, resembling the
+hartbeest, but having regularly curved horns.
+
+
+
+
+SOME CLEVER MONKEYS[402-*]
+
+_By_ THOMAS BELT
+
+
+On the dryer ridges near the Artigua River, a valuable timber tree, the
+"nispera," as it is called by the native, is common. It grows to a great
+size, and its timber is almost indestructible; so that we used it in the
+construction of all our permanent works. White ants do not eat it, nor,
+excepting when first cut, and before it is barked, do any of the
+wood-boring beetles. It bears a round fruit about the size of an apple,
+hard and heavy when green, and at this time is much frequented by the
+large yellowish-brown spider-monkey, which roams over the tops of the
+trees in bands of from ten to twenty. Sometimes they lay quiet until I
+was passing underneath, when, shaking a branch of the nispera tree, they
+would send down a shower of the hard round fruit; but fortunately I was
+never struck by them. As soon as I looked up, they would commence
+yelping and barking, and putting on the most threatening gestures,
+breaking off pieces of branches and letting them fall, and shaking off
+more fruit, but never throwing anything, simply letting it fall. Often,
+when on lower trees, they would hang from the branches two or three
+together, holding on to each other and to the branch with their fore
+feet and long tail, whilst their hind feet hung down, all the time
+making threatening gestures and cries.
+
+Sometimes a female would be seen carrying a young one on its back, to
+which it clung with legs and tail, the mother making its way along the
+branches, and leaping from tree to tree, apparently but little
+encumbered with its baby. A large black and white eagle is said to prey
+upon them, but I never saw one, although I was constantly falling in
+with troops of the monkeys. Don Francisco Velasquez, one of our
+officers, told me that one day he heard a monkey crying out in the
+forest for more than two hours, and at last, going out to see what was
+the matter, he saw a monkey on a branch and an eagle beside it trying to
+frighten it to turn its back, when it would have seized it. The monkey,
+however, kept its face to its foe, and the eagle did not care to engage
+with it in this position, but probably would have tired it out.
+Velasquez fired at the eagle, and frightened it away. I think it likely,
+from what I have seen of the habits of this monkey, that they defend
+themselves from its attack by keeping two or three together, thus
+assisting each other, and that it is only when the eagle finds one
+separated from its companions that it dares to attack it.
+
+Sometimes, but more rarely, a troop of the white-faced cebus monkey
+would be fallen in with, rapidly running away, throwing themselves from
+tree to tree. This monkey feeds also partly on fruit, but is incessantly
+on the look-out for insects, examining the crevices in trees and
+withered leaves, seizing the largest beetles and munching them up with
+the greatest relish. It is also very fond of eggs and young birds, and
+must play havoc among the nestlings. Probably owing to its carnivorous
+habits, its flesh is not considered so good by monkey eaters as that of
+the fruit-feeding spider-monkey.
+
+It is a very intelligent and mischievous animal. I kept one for a long
+time as a pet, and was much amused with its antics. At first, I had it
+fastened with a light chain; but it managed to open the links and escape
+several times, and then made straight for the fowls' nests, breaking
+every egg it could get hold of. Generally, after being a day or two
+loose, it would allow itself to be caught again. I tried tying it up
+with a cord, and afterwards with a rawhide thong, but had to nail the
+end, as it could loosen any knot in a few minutes. It would sometimes
+entangle itself around a pole to which it was fastened, and then unwind
+the coils again with the greatest discernment. Its chain allowed it to
+swing down below the verandah, but it could not reach to the ground.
+
+Sometimes, when there was a brood of young ducks about, it would hold
+out a piece of bread in one hand and, when it had tempted a duckling
+within reach, seize it by the other, and kill it with a bite in the
+breast. There was such an uproar amongst the fowls on these occasions,
+that we soon knew what was the matter, and would rush out and punish
+Mickey (as we called him) with a switch; so that he was ultimately cured
+of his poultry-killing propensities. One day, when whipping him, I held
+up the dead duckling in front of him, and at each blow of the light
+switch told him to take hold of it, and at last, much to my surprise, he
+did so, taking it and holding it tremblingly in one hand.
+
+[Illustration: A CEBUS MONKEY]
+
+He would draw things towards him with a stick, and even use a swing for
+the same purpose. It had been put up for the children, and could be
+reached by Mickey, who now and then indulged himself with a swing on it.
+One day, I had put down some bird skins on a chair to dry, far beyond,
+as I thought, Mickey's reach; but, fertile in expedients, he took the
+swing and launched it towards the chair, and actually managed to knock
+the skins off in the return of the swing, so as to bring them within his
+reach. He also procured some jelly that was set out to cool in the same
+way. Mickey's actions were very human like. When any one came near to
+fondle him, he never neglected the opportunity of pocket-picking. He
+would pull out letters, and quickly take them from their envelopes.
+Anything eatable disappeared into his mouth immediately. Once he
+abstracted a small bottle of turpentine from the pocket of our medical
+officer. He drew the cork, held it first to one nostril, then to the
+other, made a wry face, recorked it, and returned it to the doctor.
+
+One day, when he got loose, he was detected carrying off the cream-jug
+from the table, holding it upright with both hands, and trying to move
+off on his hind limbs. He gave the jug up without spilling a drop, all
+the time making an apologetic chuckle he often used when found out in
+any mischief, and which always meant, "I know I have done wrong, but
+don't punish me; in fact, I did not mean to do it--it was accidental."
+Whenever, however, he saw he was going to be punished, he would change
+his tone to a shrill, threatening note, showing his teeth, and trying to
+intimidate. He had quite an extensive vocabulary of sounds, varying from
+a gruff bark to a shrill whistle; and we could tell by them, without
+seeing him, when it was he was hungry, eating, frightened, or menacing;
+doubtless, one of his own species would have understood various minor
+shades of intonation and expression that we, not entering into his
+feelings and wants, passed over as unintelligible.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[402-*] This selection is taken from _The Naturalist in Nicaragua_.
+
+
+
+
+POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC
+
+
+     NOTE.--In the time of Benjamin Franklin, almanacs were a very
+     popular form of literature. Few of the poorer people could afford
+     newspapers, but almost every one could afford an almanac once a
+     year; and the anecdotes and scraps of information which these
+     contained in addition to their regular contents, were read and
+     re-read everywhere.
+
+     In 1732, Franklin began the publication of an almanac. For
+     twenty-five years, under the assumed name of Richard Saunders, he
+     issued it annually. He himself says of it:
+
+     "I endeavored to make it both entertaining and useful; and it
+     accordingly came to be in such demand that I reaped considerable
+     profit from it, vending annually nearly ten thousand. And observing
+     that it was generally read, scarce any neighborhood in the province
+     being without it, I considered it as a proper vehicle for conveying
+     instruction among the common people, who bought scarcely any other
+     books; I therefore filled all the little spaces that occurred
+     between the remarkable days in the calendar with proverbial
+     sentences, chiefly such as inculcated industry and frugality as a
+     means of procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being
+     more difficult for a man in want to act always honestly as, to use
+     here one of the proverbs, it is hard for an empty sack to stand
+     upright.
+
+     "These proverbs, which contain the wisdom of many ages and nations,
+     I assembled and formed into a connected discourse, prefixed to the
+     almanac of 1757, as the harangue of a wise old man to the people
+     attending an auction. The bringing all these scattered counsels
+     thus into a focus enabled them to make greater impression. The
+     piece, being universally approved, was copied in all the newspapers
+     of the continent and reprinted in Britain on a broadside, to be
+     stuck up in houses; two translations were made of it in French and
+     great numbers bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis
+     among their poor parishioners and tenants. In Pennsylvania, as it
+     discouraged useless expense in foreign superfluities, some thought
+     it had its share of influence in producing that growing plenty of
+     money which was observable for several years after its
+     publication."
+
+THE PREFACE FOR THE YEAR 1757
+
+Courteous Reader: I have heard that nothing gives an author so great
+pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted by other learned
+authors. This pleasure I have seldom enjoyed. For though I have been, if
+I may say it without vanity, an eminent author of almanacs annually now
+for a full quarter of a century, my brother authors in the same way, for
+what reason I know not, have ever been very sparing in their applauses,
+and no other author has taken the least notice of me; so that did not my
+writings produce me some solid pudding, the great deficiency of praise
+would have quite discouraged me.
+
+I concluded at length that the people were the best judges of my merit,
+for they buy my works; and besides, in my rambles, where I am not
+personally known I have frequently heard one or other of my adages
+repeated, with _as Poor Richard says_ at the end of it. This gave me
+some satisfaction, as it showed not only that my instructions were
+regarded, but discovered likewise some respect for my authority; and I
+own that to encourage the practice of remembering and repeating those
+sentences, I have sometimes quoted myself with great gravity.
+
+Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I am
+going to relate to you. I stopped my horse lately where a great number
+of people were collected at a vendue[409-1] of merchants' goods. The
+hour of sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the
+times; and one of the company called to a plain, clean old man with
+white locks, "Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the times? Won't
+these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we ever be able to
+pay them? What would you advise us to do?" Father Abraham stood up and
+replied: "If you would have my advice, I will give it you in short; for,
+'a word to the wise is enough,'[409-2] and 'many words won't fill a
+bushel,'[409-3] as Poor Richard says." They all joined, desiring him to
+speak his mind, and gathering round him he proceeded as follows:
+
+Friends and neighbors, the taxes are indeed very heavy, and if those
+laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might
+more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more
+grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our IDLENESS,
+three times as much by our PRIDE, and four times as much by our FOLLY;
+and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us by
+allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and
+something may be done for us. "God helps them that help themselves," as
+Poor Richard says in his almanac of 1733.
+
+It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people
+one-tenth part of their TIME, to be employed in its service, but
+idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that is spent in
+absolute sloth or doing of nothing, with that which is spent in idle
+employments or amusements that amount to nothing. Sloth, by bringing on
+diseases, absolutely shortens life. "Sloth, like rust, consumes faster
+than labor wears; while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard
+says. "But dost thou love life? then do not squander time, for that's
+the stuff life is made of," as Poor Richard says.
+
+How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep? forgetting that
+"the sleeping fox catches no poultry," and that "there will be sleeping
+enough in the grave," as Poor Richard says. If time be of all things the
+most precious, "wasting of time must be," as Poor Richard says, "the
+greatest prodigality;" since, as he elsewhere tells us, "lost time is
+never found again," and what we call "time enough! always proves little
+enough." Let us, then, up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by
+diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. "Sloth makes all things
+difficult, but industry all things easy," as Poor Richard says; and "he
+that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his
+business at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon
+overtakes him," as we read in Poor Richard; who adds, "drive thy
+business! let not that drive thee!" and
+
+    "Early to bed and early to rise
+    Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise."
+
+[Illustration: "THE SLEEPING FOX CATCHES NO POULTRY"]
+
+So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these
+times better if we bestir ourselves. "Industry need not wish," as Poor
+Richard says, and "he that lives on hope will die fasting." "There are
+no gains without pains; then help, hands! for I have no lands;" or, if I
+have, they are smartly taxed. And as Poor Richard likewise observes, "he
+that hath a trade hath an estate, and he that hath a calling hath an
+office of profit and honor;" but then the trade must be worked at and
+the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will
+enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious we shall never starve;
+for, as Poor Richard says, "at the working-man's house hunger looks in,
+but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for
+"industry pays debt, while despair increaseth them."
+
+What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left
+you a legacy, "diligence is the mother of good luck," as Poor Richard
+says, and "God gives all things to industry."
+
+    "Then plow deep while sluggards sleep,
+    And you shall have corn to sell and to keep,"
+
+says Poor Dick. Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how
+much you may be hindered to-morrow; which makes Poor Richard say, "one
+to-day is worth two to-morrows;" and further, "have you somewhat to do
+to-morrow? Do it to-day!"
+
+If you were a servant would you not be ashamed that a good master should
+catch you idle? Are you, then, your own master? "Be ashamed to catch
+yourself idle," as Poor Dick says. When there is so much to be done for
+yourself, your family, your country, and your gracious king, be up by
+peep of day! "Let not the sun look down and say, 'Inglorious here he
+lies!'" Handle your tools without mittens! remember that "the cat in
+gloves catches no mice!" as Poor Richard says.
+
+'Tis true there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but
+stick to it steadily and you will see great effects; for "constant
+dropping wears away stones;" and "by diligence and patience the mouse
+ate in two the cable;" and "little strokes fell great oaks," as Poor
+Richard says in his almanac, the year I cannot just now remember.
+
+Methinks I hear some of you say, "Must a man afford himself no leisure?"
+I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says, "employ thy time
+well if thou meanest to gain leisure;" and "since thou art not sure of a
+minute, throw not away an hour!" Leisure is time for doing something
+useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man
+never; so that, as Poor Richard says, "a life of leisure and a life of
+laziness are two things." Do you imagine that sloth will afford you more
+comfort than labor? No! for, as Poor Richard says, "trouble springs from
+idleness and grievous toil from needless ease." "Many, without labor,
+would live by their wits only, but they'll break for want of stock;"
+whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. "Fly pleasure
+and they'll follow you;" "the diligent spinner has a large shift;" and
+
+    "Now I have a sheep and a cow,
+    Everybody bids me good-morrow."
+
+All which is well said by Poor Richard. But with our industry we must
+likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs
+with our own eyes and not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard
+says,
+
+    "I never saw an oft-removed tree
+    Nor yet an oft-removed family
+    That throve so well as those that settled be."
+
+And again, "three removes are as bad as a fire"; and again, "keep thy
+shop and thy shop will keep thee"; and again, "if you would have your
+business done, go; if not, send." And again
+
+    "He that by the plow would thrive,
+    Himself must either hold or drive."
+
+And again, "the eye of the master will do more work than both his
+hands;" and again, "want of care does us more damage than want of
+knowledge;" and again, "not to oversee workmen is to leave them your
+purse open."
+
+Trusting too much to others' care is the ruin of many; for, as the
+almanac says, "in the affairs of this world men are saved, not by faith,
+but by the want of it;" but a man's own care is profitable; for, saith
+Poor Dick, "learning is to the studious and riches to the careful;" as
+well as "power to the bold" and "heaven to the virtuous." And further,
+"if you would have a faithful servant and one that you like, serve
+yourself."
+
+And again, he adviseth to circumspection and care, even in the smallest
+matters; because sometimes "a little neglect may breed great mischief;"
+adding, "for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the
+horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost;" being
+overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for the want of a little care
+about a horseshoe nail!
+
+So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business;
+but to these we must add frugality if we would make our industry more
+certainly successful. "A man may," if he knows not how to save as he
+goes "keep his nose all his life to the grindstone and die not worth a
+groat at last." "A fat kitchen makes a lean will," as Poor Richard
+says; and
+
+    "Many estates are spent in the getting,
+    Since women for tea[415-4] forsook spinning and knitting,
+    And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting."
+
+If you would be wealthy, says he in another almanac, "think of saving as
+well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her
+outgoes are greater than her incomes."
+
+Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not have so much
+cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families;
+for, as Poor Dick says,
+
+    "Women and wine, game and deceit,
+    Make the wealth small and the wants great."
+
+And further, "what maintains one vice would bring up two children." You
+may think, perhaps, that a little tea or a little punch now and then, a
+diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little more
+entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember what
+Poor Richard says, "many a little makes a mickle"; and further, "beware
+of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship"; and again,
+
+    "Who dainties love shall beggars prove";
+
+and moreover, "fools make feasts and wise men eat them."
+
+Here are you all got together at this vendue of fineries and
+knick-knacks. You call them goods; but if you do not take care they
+will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and
+perhaps they may for less than they cost; but if you have no occasion
+for them they must be dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says: "Buy
+what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy
+necessaries." And again, "at a great pennyworth pause awhile." He means
+that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only and not real; or the bargain
+by straitening thee in thy business may do thee more harm than good. For
+in another place he says, "many have been ruined by buying good
+pennyworths."
+
+Again, Poor Richard says, "'tis foolish to lay out money in a purchase
+of repentance;" and yet this folly is practiced every day at vendues for
+want of minding the almanac.
+
+"Wise men," as Poor Richard says, "learn by others' harm; fools scarcely
+by their own;" but _Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum_.[416-5]
+Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, has gone with a hungry
+belly and half-starved his family. "Silks and satins, scarlets and
+velvets," as Poor Richard says, "put out the kitchen fire." These are
+not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called the
+conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to
+have them! The artificial wants of mankind thus become more numerous
+than the natural; and as Poor Dick says, "for one poor person there are
+a hundred indigent."
+
+By these and other extravagances the genteel are reduced to poverty and
+forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through
+industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it
+appears plainly that "a plowman on his legs is higher than a gentleman
+on his knees," as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small
+estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; they think, "'tis
+day and will never be night;" that "a little to be spent out of so much
+is not worth minding" (a child and a fool, as Poor Richard says, imagine
+twenty shillings and twenty years can never be spent); but "always
+taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the
+bottom." Then, as Poor Dick says, "when the well's dry they know the
+worth of water." But this they might have known before if they had taken
+his advice. "If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow
+some;" for "he that goes a-borrowing goes a sorrowing," and indeed so
+does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it in again.
+
+Poor Dick further advises and says:
+
+    "Fond pride of dress is, sure, a very curse;
+    Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse."
+
+And again, "pride is as loud a beggar as want and a great deal more
+saucy." When you have bought one fine thing you must buy ten more, that
+your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, "'tis easier
+to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it." And
+'tis as true folly for the poor to ape the rich as for the frog to swell
+in order to equal the ox.
+
+    "Great estates may venture more,
+    But little boats should keep near shore."
+
+'Tis, however, a folly soon punished; for "pride that dines on vanity
+sups on contempt," as Poor Richard says. And in another place, "pride
+breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy."
+
+And after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for which so
+much is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot promote health or ease
+pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy; it
+hastens misfortune.
+
+    "What is a butterfly? At best
+    He's but a caterpillar drest,
+    The gaudy fop's his picture just,"
+
+as Poor Richard says.
+
+But what madness must it be to run into debt for these superfluities! We
+are offered by the terms of this vendue six months' credit; and that,
+perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare
+the ready money and hope now to be fine without it. But ah! think what
+you do when you run in debt: you give to another power over your
+liberty. If you cannot pay at the time you will be ashamed to see your
+creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor,
+pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your veracity and
+sink into base, downright lying; for, as Poor Richard says, "the second
+vice is lying, the first is running into debt;" and again, to the same
+purpose, "lying rides upon debt's back;" whereas a free-born Englishman
+ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any man living. But
+poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. "'Tis hard for an
+empty bag to stand upright!" as Poor Richard truly says. What would you
+think of that prince or the government who should issue an edict
+forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of
+imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you are free, have a
+right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach
+of your privileges and such a government tyrannical? And yet you are
+about to put yourself under such tyranny when you run in debt for such
+dress! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of
+your liberty by confining you in jail for life or to sell you for a
+servant if you should not be able to pay him. When you have got your
+bargain you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but "creditors," Poor
+Richard tells us, "have better memories than debtors;" and in another
+place says, "creditors are a superstitious set, great observers of set
+days and times."
+
+The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before
+you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the
+term which at first seemed so long will, as it lessens, appear extremely
+short. Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his
+shoulders. "Those have a short Lent," saith Poor Richard, "who owe money
+to be paid at Easter." Then since, as he says, "the borrower is a slave
+to the lender and the debtor to the creditor," disdain the chain,
+preserve your freedom, and maintain your independence. Be industrious
+and free; be frugal and free. At present, perhaps, you may think
+yourself in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little
+extravagance without injury; but
+
+    "For age and want, save while you may;
+    No morning sun lasts a whole day."
+
+As Poor Richard says, gain may be temporary and uncertain; but ever
+while you live expense is constant and certain; and "'tis easier to
+build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel," as Poor Richard says; so,
+"rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt."
+
+    "Get what you can, and what you get hold;
+    'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold,"[420-6]
+
+as Poor Richard says: and when you have got the philosopher's stone,
+sure, you will no longer complain of bad times or the difficulty of
+paying taxes.
+
+This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do not
+depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence,
+though excellent things, for they may all be blasted without the
+blessing of Heaven; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not
+uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and
+help them. Remember Job suffered and was afterward prosperous.
+
+And now, to conclude, "experience keeps a dear school, but fools will
+learn in no other, and scarce in that;" for it is true, "we may give
+advice, but we cannot give conduct," as Poor Richard says. However,
+remember this: "they that won't be counseled can't be helped," as Poor
+Richard says; and further, that "if you will not hear reason she'll
+surely rap your knuckles."
+
+Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it and
+approved the doctrine, and immediately practiced the contrary, just as
+if it had been a common sermon. For the vendue opened and they began to
+buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his cautions and their own fear
+of taxes. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my almanacs and
+digested all I had dropped on those topics during the course of
+twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired
+any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I
+was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he
+ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made of the sense of
+all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the echo
+of it, and though I had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat,
+I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, if thou
+wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine. I am, as ever,
+thine to serve thee.
+
+  RICHARD SAUNDERS.
+
+  _July 7th, 1757._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[409-1] A vendue is an auction.
+
+[409-2] Very few of the proverbs which Franklin made use of in his
+almanacs were original with him. As he said in his comment, they
+represented "the wisdom of many ages and nations."
+
+[409-3] This is similar to that other proverbial expression--"Fine words
+butter no parsnips."
+
+[415-4] Tea at this time was expensive and regarded as a luxury.
+
+[416-5] He's a lucky fellow who is made prudent by other men's perils.
+
+[420-6] The philosopher's stone, so called; a mineral having the power
+of turning base metals into gold.
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE ROGERS CLARK
+
+
+One of the most remarkable men of Revolutionary times was George Rogers
+Clark, and his exploits read more like those of the hero of some novel
+than like the deeds of a simple soldier and patriot.
+
+In early boyhood and youth he acquired the rather scanty education which
+was then considered necessary for a child of fairly well-to-do parents,
+but he never applied himself so closely to his books as to lose his love
+for the woods and streams of the wild country that surrounded him. He
+became a surveyor, and among the wonders and trials of the wilderness
+lost much of the little polish he had acquired. But he learned the
+woods, the mountain passes and the river courses, and became fully
+acquainted with the wild human denizens of the forests. His six feet of
+muscular body, his courage and his fierce passions fitted him to lead
+men and to overawe his enemies, red or white. He had "red hair and a
+black penetrating eye," two gifts that marked him among the adventurous
+men who were finding their way across the Alleghanies. He tried farming,
+but succeeded better as a fighter in those fierce conflicts with Indians
+and border desperadoes which gave to Kentucky the name of "Dark and
+Bloody Ground."
+
+In 1777, after the breaking out of the Revolution, there were several
+French settlements lying to the north of the Ohio and scattered from
+Detroit to the Mississippi. Among these were Mackinac, Green Bay,
+Prairie du Chien, Vincennes, Kaskaskia and Cahokia. The English were in
+possession of all these and held them usually by a single commanding
+officer and a very small garrison. The French inhabitants had made
+friends with the Indians, and in many instances had intermarried with
+them. Moreover, while they were submissive to the British they were by
+no means attached to them and were apparently quite likely to submit
+with equal willingness to the Americans should they succeed in the
+struggle. This was what Clark understood so thoroughly that he early
+became possessed of the idea that it would be a comparatively simple
+matter to secure to the United States all that promising land lying
+between the Alleghanies, the Ohio and the Mississippi.
+
+The jealousy that existed between Pennsylvania and Virginia over an
+extension westward made it extremely difficult for Clark to get aid from
+the Colonies or even from Virginia, his native state. However, he
+succeeded in interesting Patrick Henry, then governor of Virginia, and
+preserving the greatest secrecy, he set about recruiting his forces.
+
+It was a desperate undertaking, and the obstacles, naturally great, were
+made infinitely more trying by the fact that he could tell none of his
+men the real purpose for which they were enlisting. By May, 1778,
+however, he had secured one hundred and fifty backwoodsmen from the
+western reaches of Virginia. With these he started on his venturous
+undertaking.
+
+Reuben Gold Thwaites, in his _How George Rogers Clark Won the
+Northwest_, describes the volunteers as follows:
+
+"There was of course no attempt among them at military uniform, officers
+in no wise being distinguished from men. The conventional dress of
+eighteenth-century borderers was an adaptation to local conditions,
+being in part borrowed from the Indians. Their feet were encased in
+moccasins. Perhaps the majority of the corps had loose, thin trousers of
+homespun or buckskin, with a fringe of leather thongs down each outer
+seam of the legs; but many wore only leggings of leather, and were as
+bare of knee and thigh as a Highland clansman; indeed, many of the
+pioneers were Scotch-Irish, some of whom had been accustomed to this
+airy costume in the mother-land. Common to all were fringed hunting
+shirts or smocks, generally of buckskin--a picturesque, flowing garment
+reaching from neck to knees, and girded about the waist by a leathern
+belt, from which dangled the tomahawk and scalping-knife. On one hip
+hung the carefully scraped powder horn; on the other, a leather sack,
+serving both as game-bag and provision-pouch, although often the folds
+of the shirt, full and ample above the belt, were the depository for
+food and ammunition. A broad-brimmed felt hat, or a cap of fox-skin or
+squirrel-skin, with the tail dangling behind, crowned the often tall and
+always sinewy frontiersman. His constant companion was his home-made
+flint-lock rifle--a clumsy, heavy weapon, so long that it reached to the
+chin of the tallest man, but unerring in the hands of an expert
+marksman, such as was each of these backwoodsmen.
+
+"They were rough in manners and in speech. Among them, we must confess,
+were men who had fled from the coast settlements because no longer to be
+tolerated in a law-abiding community. There were not lacking mean,
+brutal fellows, whose innate badness had on the untrammelled frontier
+developed into wickedness. Many joined Clark for mere adventure, for
+plunder and deviltry. The majority, however, were men of good parts, who
+sought to protect their homes at whatever peril--sincere men, as large
+of heart as they were of frame, many of them in later years developing
+into citizens of a high type of effectiveness in a frontier
+commonwealth. As a matter of history, most of them proved upon this
+expedition to be heroes worthy of the fame they won and the leader whom
+they followed."
+
+Early in June Clark had reached the falls in the Ohio at the present
+city of Louisville, and here on an island commanding the falls he built
+a block house and planted some corn. Here he left the weak and
+dissatisfied members of his company, and having been joined by a few
+Kentucky volunteers, he resumed his journey down the river. His first
+goal was Kaskaskia on the Mississippi, and after a long and perilous
+journey, the latter part across the country, he captured the post by
+surprise, seizing the French commandant of the English garrison in an
+upper room of his own house. He had little difficulty in winning the
+confidence of the French settlers, who then willingly transferred their
+loyalty to the new Republic that claimed to be their friend.
+
+A different situation developed with the Indians, but after skilful
+treatment and a long interview with representatives of the many tribes
+he succeeded in winning their friendship, or at least a quiet
+neutrality. In the meantime, Father Gibault, an active, friendly French
+priest, had crossed the country and induced the inhabitants of Vincennes
+to raise the American flag. Clark sent Captain Helm to take charge of
+the fort and to lead the French militia.
+
+Clark's ambition was to capture Detroit, but so great were the
+difficulties besetting him that he was compelled to winter at Kaskaskia
+with insufficient forces, struggling to keep peace and to hold the
+country he had so successfully seized. In January, a month after the
+event happened, Clark heard that Hamilton had recaptured Vincennes for
+the British and was preparing to advance on Kaskaskia. Had Hamilton been
+prompt in his actions and proceeded at once against Clark he might
+easily have driven the latter from Kaskaskia and secured to the British
+the wonderful Northwest territory. His delays, however, gave Clark time
+to gather a larger force and to show his wonderful power as a leader and
+his skill as a military campaigner.
+
+Few men could have accomplished what Clark did, for few have either the
+ability or the devotion. "I would have bound myself seven years a
+Slave," he says, "to have had five hundred troops." Nothing, however,
+deterred him. He built a large barge or galley, mounted small cannon
+upon it and manned it with a crew of forty men. This was dispatched to
+patrol the Ohio, and if possible to get within ten leagues of Vincennes
+on the Wabash. It was Clark's determination not to wait for attack from
+the British but to surprise Hamilton in his own fort. It required almost
+superhuman power to gather the men necessary from the motley crowds at
+Kaskaskia and from other posts on the river, but the day after the
+"Willing" (for so he named his barge) sailed, he moved out of Kaskaskia,
+with a hundred and seventy men following him, to march the two hundred
+and thirty miles across the wintry wilderness to Vincennes. How he fared
+and how he accomplished his desire you may read in the selection from
+his journal.
+
+Clark's activity did not end with the capture of Vincennes, but that was
+the most remarkable of his long series of military achievements. No more
+heroic man ever lived, and few Americans have left such a memory for
+high patriotism, self-sacrifice and wonderful achievement. His
+accomplishments are unparalleled in the history of the Mississippi
+valley, and the youth of the region may well be proud that to such a man
+they are indebted for their right to live in the United States.
+
+Unfortunately, Clark's later years were not in keeping with his early
+character. He felt that his country was ungrateful to him, the liquor
+habit mastered him, he was mixed up in unfortunate political deals with
+France, and at last sank into poverty and was almost forgotten. It is
+said that once when in his latter years the State of Virginia sent him a
+sword in token of their appreciation of his services, he angrily thrust
+the sword into the ground and broke the blade with his crutch, while he
+cried out: "When Virginia needed a sword I gave her one. She sends me
+now a toy. I want bread!"
+
+He lived until 1818, and then died at his sister's house near
+Louisville, and was buried at Cave Hill Cemetery in that city.
+
+
+
+
+THE CAPTURE OF VINCENNES[428-1]
+
+_By_ GEORGE ROGERS CLARK[428-2]
+
+
+Everything being ready, on the 5th of February, after receiving a
+lecture and absolution from the priest, we crossed the Kaskaskia River
+with one hundred and seventy men, marched about three miles and
+encamped, where we lay until the 7th, and set out. The weather wet (but
+fortunately not cold for the season) and a great part of the plains
+under water several inches deep. It was very difficult and fatiguing
+marching. My object was now to keep the men in spirits. I suffered them
+to shoot game on all occasions, and feast on it like Indian war-dancers,
+each company by turns inviting the others to their feasts, which was the
+case every night, as the company that was to give the feast was always
+supplied with horses to lay up a sufficient store of wild meat in the
+course of the day, myself and principal officers putting on the
+woodsmen, shouting now and then, and running as much through the mud and
+water as any of them.
+
+Thus, insensibly, without a murmur, were those men led on to the banks
+of the Little Wabash, which we reached on the 13th, through incredible
+difficulties, far surpassing anything that any of us had ever
+experienced. Frequently the diversions of the night wore off the
+thoughts of the preceding day. We formed a camp on a height which we
+found on the bank of the river, and suffered our troops to amuse
+themselves.
+
+I viewed this sheet of water for some time with distrust; but, accusing
+myself of doubting, I immediately set to work, without holding any
+consultation about it, or suffering anybody else to do so in my
+presence; ordered a pirogue to be built immediately, and acted as though
+crossing the water would be only a piece of diversion. As but few could
+work at the pirogue at a time, pains were taken to find diversion for
+the rest to keep them in high spirits. In the evening of the 14th, our
+vessel was finished, manned, and sent to explore the drowned lands, on
+the opposite side of the Little Wabash, with private instructions what
+report to make, and, if possible, to find some spot of dry land. They
+found about half an acre, and marked the trees from thence back to the
+camp, and made a very favorable report.
+
+Fortunately, the 15th happened to be a warm, moist day for the season.
+The channel of the river where we lay was about thirty yards wide. A
+scaffold was built on the opposite shore (which was about three feet
+under water), and our baggage ferried across, and put on it. Our horses
+swam across, and received their loads at the scaffold, by which time the
+troops were also brought across, and we began our march through the
+water.
+
+By evening we found ourselves encamped on a pretty height, in high
+spirits, each party laughing at the other, in consequence of something
+that had happened in the course of this ferrying business, as they
+called it. A little antic drummer afforded them great diversion by
+floating on his drum, etc. All this was greatly encouraged; and they
+really began to think themselves superior to other men, and that neither
+the rivers nor the seasons could stop their progress. Their whole
+conversation now was concerning what they would do when they got about
+the enemy. They now began to view the main Wabash as a creek, and made
+no doubt but such men as they were could find a way to cross it. They
+wound themselves up to such a pitch that they soon took Post Vincennes,
+divided the spoil, and before bedtime were far advanced on their route
+to Detroit. All this was, no doubt, pleasing to those of us who had more
+serious thoughts.
+
+We were now convinced that the whole of the low country on the Wabash
+was drowned, and that the enemy could easily get to us, if they
+discovered us, and wished to risk an action; if they did not, we made no
+doubt of crossing the river by some means or other. Even if Captain
+Rogers, with our galley, did not get to his station agreeable to his
+appointment, we flattered ourselves that all would be well, and marched
+on in high spirits.
+
+The last day's march through the water was far superior to anything the
+Frenchmen[431-3] had an idea of. They were backward in speaking; said
+that the nearest land to us was a small league called the Sugar Camp, on
+the bank of the [river?]. A canoe was sent off, and returned without
+finding that we could pass. I went in her myself, and sounded the water;
+found it deep as to my neck. I returned with a design to have the men
+transported on board the canoes to the Sugar Camp, which I knew would
+spend the whole day and ensuing night, as the vessels would pass slowly
+through the bushes. The loss of so much time, to men half-starved, was a
+matter of consequence. I would have given now a great deal for a day's
+provision or for one of our horses. I returned but slowly to the troops,
+giving myself time to think.
+
+On our arrival, all ran to hear what was the report. Every eye was fixed
+on me. I unfortunately spoke in a serious manner to one of the officers.
+The whole were alarmed without knowing what I said. I viewed their
+confusion for about one minute, whispered to those near me to do as I
+did: immediately put some water in my hand, poured on powder, blackened
+my face, gave the war-whoop, and marched into the water without saying a
+word. The party gazed, and fell in, one after another, without saying a
+word, like a flock of sheep. I ordered those near me to begin a favorite
+song of theirs. It soon passed through the line, and the whole went on
+cheerfully. I now intended to have them transported across the deepest
+part of the water; but, when about waist deep, one of the men informed
+me that he thought he felt a path. We examined, and found it so, and
+concluded that it kept on the highest ground, which it did; and, by
+taking pains to follow it we got to the Sugar Camp without the least
+difficulty, where there was about half an acre of dry ground, at least
+not under water, where we took up our lodging.
+
+The Frenchmen that we had taken on the river appeared to be uneasy at
+our situation. They begged that they might be permitted to go in the two
+canoes to town in the night. They said that they would bring from their
+own houses provisions, without a possibility of any persons knowing it;
+that some of our men should go with them as a surety of their good
+conduct; that it was impossible we could march from that place till the
+water fell, for the plain was too deep to march. Some of the [officers?]
+believed that it might be done. I would not suffer it. I never could
+well account for this piece of obstinacy, and give satisfactory reasons
+to myself or anybody else why I denied a proposition apparently so easy
+to execute and of so much advantage; but something seemed to tell me
+that it should not be done, and it was not done.
+
+The most of the weather that we had on this march was moist and warm for
+the season. This was the coldest night we had. The ice, in the morning,
+was from one-half to three-quarters of an inch thick near the shores and
+in still water. The morning was the finest we had on our march. A little
+after sunrise I lectured the whole. What I said to them I forgot, but it
+may be easily imagined by a person that could possess my affections for
+them at that time. I concluded by informing them that passing the plain
+that was then in full view and reaching the opposite woods would put an
+end to their fatigue, that in a few hours they would have a sight of
+their long-wished-for object, and immediately stepped into the water
+without waiting for any reply. A huzza took place.
+
+[Illustration: CLARK TOOK THE LEAD]
+
+As we generally marched through the water in a line, before the third
+entered I halted, and called to Major Bowman, ordering him to fall in
+the rear with twenty-five men, and put to death any man who refused to
+march, as we wished to have no such person among us. The whole gave a
+cry of approbation, and on we went. This was the most trying of all the
+difficulties we had experienced. I generally kept fifteen or twenty of
+the strongest men next myself, and judged from my own feelings what must
+be that of others. Getting about the middle of the plain, the water
+about mid-deep, I found myself sensibly failing; and, as there were no
+trees nor bushes for the men to support themselves by, I feared that
+many of the most weak would be drowned.
+
+I ordered the canoes to make the land, discharge their loading, and play
+backward and forward with all diligence, and pick up the men; and, to
+encourage the party, sent some of the strongest men forward, with
+orders, when they got to a certain distance, to pass the word back that
+the water was getting shallow, and when getting near the woods to cry
+out, 'Land!' This stratagem had its desired effect. The men, encouraged
+by it, exerted themselves almost beyond their abilities; the weak
+holding by the stronger.
+
+The water never got shallower, but continued deepening. Getting to the
+woods, where the men expected land, the water was up to my shoulders;
+but gaining the woods was of great consequence. All the low men and the
+weakly hung to the trees, and floated on the old logs until they were
+taken off by the canoes. The strong and tall got ashore and built
+fires. Many would reach the shore, and fall with their bodies half in
+the water, not being able to support themselves without it.
+
+This was a delightful dry spot of ground of about ten acres. We soon
+found that the fires answered no purpose, but that two strong men taking
+a weaker one by the arms was the only way to recover him; and, being a
+delightful day, it soon did. But, fortunately, as if designed by
+Providence, a canoe of Indian squaws and children was coming up to town,
+and took through part of this plain as a nigh way. It was discovered by
+our canoes as they were out after the men. They gave chase, and took the
+Indian canoe, on board of which was near half a quarter of a buffalo,
+some corn, tallow, kettles, and other provisions. This was a grand
+prize, and was invaluable. Broth was immediately made, and served out to
+the most weakly with great care. Most of the whole got a little; but a
+great many gave their part to the weakly, jocosely saying something
+cheering to their comrades. This little refreshment and fine weather by
+the afternoon gave new life to the whole.
+
+Crossing a narrow deep lake in the canoes, and marching some distance,
+we came to a copse of timber called the Warrior's Island. We were now in
+full view of the fort and town, not a shrub between us, at about two
+miles distance. Every man now feasted his eyes, and forgot that he had
+suffered anything, saying that all that had passed was owing to good
+policy and nothing but what a man could bear; and that a soldier had no
+right to think, etc.,--passing from one extreme to another, which is
+common in such cases.
+
+It was now we had to display our abilities. The plain between us and the
+town was not a perfect level. The sunken grounds were covered with water
+full of ducks. We observed several men out on horseback, shooting them,
+within a half mile of us, and sent out as many of our active young
+Frenchmen to decoy and take one of these men prisoner in such a manner
+as not to alarm the others, which they did. The information we got from
+this person was similar to that which we got from those we took on the
+river, except that of the British having that evening completed the wall
+of the fort, and that there were a good many Indians in town.
+
+Our situation was now truly critical,--no possibility of retreating in
+case of defeat, and in full view of a town that had, at this time,
+upward of six hundred men in it,--troops, inhabitants, and Indians. The
+crew of the galley, though not fifty men, would have been now a
+reënforcement of immense magnitude to our little army (if I may so call
+it), but we would not think of them. We were now in the situation that I
+had labored to get ourselves in. The idea of being made prisoner was
+foreign to almost every man, as they expected nothing but torture from
+the savages, if they fell into their hands. Our fate was now to be
+determined, probably in a few hours. We knew that nothing but the most
+daring conduct would insure success.
+
+I knew that a number of the inhabitants wished us well, that many were
+lukewarm to the interest of either, and I also learned that the grand
+chief, the Tobacco's son, had but a few days before openly declared, in
+council with the British, that he was a brother and friend to the Big
+Knives. These were favorable circumstances; and, as there was but
+little probability of our remaining until dark undiscovered, I
+determined to begin the career immediately, and wrote the following
+placard to the inhabitants:--
+
+     "TO THE INHABITANTS OF POST VINCENNES:
+
+     "_Gentlemen:_--Being now within two miles of your village, with my
+     army, determined to take your fort this night, and not being
+     willing to surprise you, I take this method to request such of you
+     as are true citizens and willing to enjoy the liberty I bring you
+     to remain still in your houses; and those, if any there be, that
+     are friends to the king will instantly repair to the fort, and join
+     the hair-buyer[437-4] general, and fight like men. And, if any such
+     as do not go to the fort shall be discovered afterward, they may
+     depend on severe punishment. On the contrary, those who are true
+     friends to liberty may depend on being well treated; and I once
+     more request them to keep out of the streets. For every one I find
+     in arms on my arrival I shall treat him as an enemy.
+
+     "(Signed)     G. R. CLARK."
+
+I had various ideas on the supposed results of this letter. I knew that
+it could do us no damage, but that it would cause the lukewarm to be
+decided, encourage our friends, and astonish our enemies.
+
+We anxiously viewed this messenger until he entered the town, and in a
+few minutes could discover by our glasses some stir in every street that
+we could penetrate into, and great numbers running or riding out into
+the commons, we supposed, to view us, which was the case. But what
+surprised us was that nothing had yet happened that had the appearance
+of the garrison being alarmed,--no drum nor gun. We began to suppose
+that the information we got from our prisoners was false, and that the
+enemy already knew of us, and were prepared.
+
+A little before sunset we moved, and displayed ourselves in full view of
+the town, crowds gazing at us. We were plunging ourselves into certain
+destruction or success. There was no midway thought of. We had but
+little to say to our men, except inculcating an idea of the necessity of
+obedience, etc. We knew they did not want encouraging, and that anything
+might be attempted with them that was possible for such a
+number,--perfectly cool, under proper subordination, pleased with the
+prospect before them, and much attached to their officers. They all
+declared that they were convinced that an implicit obedience to orders
+was the only thing that would insure success, and hoped that no mercy
+would be shown the person that should violate them. Such language as
+this from soldiers to persons in our station must have been exceedingly
+agreeable.
+
+We moved on slowly in full view of the town; but, as it was a point of
+some consequence to us to make ourselves appear as formidable, we, in
+leaving the covert that we were in, marched and counter-marched in such
+a manner that we appeared numerous. In raising volunteers in the
+Illinois, every person that set about the business had a set of colors
+given him, which they brought with them to the amount of ten or twelve
+pairs. These were displayed to the best advantage; and, as the low
+plain we marched through was not a perfect level, but had frequent
+risings in it seven or eight feet higher than the common level (which
+was covered with water), and as these risings generally run in an
+oblique direction to the town, we took the advantage of one of them,
+marching through the water under it, which completely prevented our
+being numbered. But our colors showed considerably above the heights, as
+they were fixed on long poles procured for the purpose, and at a
+distance made no despicable appearance; and, as our young Frenchmen had,
+while we lay on the Warrior's Island, decoyed and taken several fowlers
+with their horses, officers were mounted on these horses, and rode
+about, more completely to deceive the enemy.
+
+In this manner we moved, and directed our march in such a way as to
+suffer it to be dark before we had advanced more than half-way to the
+town. We then suddenly altered our direction, and crossed ponds where
+they could not have suspected us, and about eight o'clock gained the
+heights back of the town. As there was yet no hostile appearance, we
+were impatient to have the cause unriddled. Lieutenant Bayley was
+ordered, with fourteen men, to march and fire on the fort. The main body
+moved in a different direction, and took possession of the strongest
+part of the town.
+
+The firing now commenced on the fort, but they did not believe it was an
+enemy until one of their men was shot down through a port, as drunken
+Indians frequently saluted the fort after night. The drums now sounded,
+and the business fairly commenced on both sides. Re-enforcements were
+sent to the attack of the garrison, while other arrangements were
+making in town.
+
+We now found that the garrison had known nothing of us; that, having
+finished the fort that evening, they had amused themselves at different
+games, and had just retired before my letter arrived, as it was near
+roll-call. The placard being made public, many of the inhabitants were
+afraid to show themselves out of the houses for fear of giving offence,
+and not one dare give information. Our friends flew to the commons and
+other convenient places to view the pleasing sight. This was observed
+from the garrison, and the reason asked, but a satisfactory excuse was
+given; and, as a part of the town lay between our line of march and the
+garrison, we could not be seen by the sentinels on the walls.
+
+Captain W. Shannon and another being some time before taken prisoners by
+one of their [scouting parties], and that evening brought in, the party
+had discovered at the Sugar Camp some signs of us. They supposed it to
+be a party of observation that intended to land on the height some
+distance below the town. Captain Lamotte was sent to intercept them. It
+was at him the people said they were looking, when they were asked the
+reason of their unusual stir.
+
+Several suspected persons had been taken to the garrison; among them was
+Mr. Moses Henry. Mrs. Henry went, under the pretense of carrying him
+provisions, and whispered him the news and what she had seen. Mr. Henry
+conveyed it to the rest of his fellow-prisoners, which gave them much
+pleasure, particularly Captain Helm, who amused himself very much
+during the siege, and, I believe, did much damage.
+
+Ammunition was scarce with us, as the most of our stores had been put on
+board of the galley. Though her crew was but few, such a reënforcement
+to us at this time would have been invaluable in many instances. But,
+fortunately, at the time of its being reported that the whole of the
+goods in the town were to be taken for the king's use (for which the
+owners were to receive bills), Colonel Legras, Major Bosseron, and
+others had buried the greatest part of their powder and ball. This was
+immediately produced, and we found ourselves well supplied by those
+gentlemen.
+
+The Tobacco's son, being in town with a number of warriors, immediately
+mustered them, and let us know that he wished to join us, saying that by
+morning he would have a hundred men. He received for answer that we
+thanked for his friendly disposition; and, as we were sufficiently
+strong ourselves, we wished him to desist, and that we would counsel on
+the subject in the morning; and, as we knew that there were a number of
+Indians in and near the town that were our enemies, some confusion might
+happen if our men should mix in the dark, but hoped that we might be
+favored with his counsel and company during the night, which was
+agreeable to him.
+
+The garrison was soon completely surrounded, and the firing continued
+without intermission (except about fifteen minutes a little before day)
+until about nine o'clock the following morning. It was kept up by the
+whole of the troops, joined by a few of the young men of the town, who
+got permission, except fifty men kept as a reserve.
+
+I had made myself fully acquainted with the situation of the fort and
+town and the parts relative to each. The cannon of the garrison was on
+the upper floors of strong blockhouses at each angle of the fort, eleven
+feet above the surface, and the ports so badly cut that many of our
+troops lay under the fire of them within twenty or thirty yards of the
+walls. They did no damage, except to the buildings of the town, some of
+which they much shattered; and their musketry, in the dark, employed
+against woodsmen covered by houses, palings, ditches, the banks of the
+river, etc., was but of little avail, and did no injury to us except
+wounding a man or two.
+
+As we could not afford to lose men, great care was taken to preserve
+them, sufficiently covered, and to keep up a hot fire in order to
+intimidate the enemy as well as to destroy them. The embrasures of their
+cannon were frequently shut, for our riflemen, finding the true
+direction of them, would pour in such volleys when they were opened that
+the men could not stand to the guns. Seven or eight of them in a short
+time got cut down. Our troops would frequently abuse the enemy, in order
+to aggravate them to open their ports and fire their cannon, that they
+might have the pleasure of cutting them down with their rifles, fifty of
+which, perhaps, would be levelled the moment the port flew open; and I
+believe that, if they had stood at their artillery, the greater part of
+them would have been destroyed in the course of the night, as the
+greater part of our men lay within thirty yards of the walls, and in a
+few hours were covered equally to those within the walls, and much more
+experienced in that mode of fighting.
+
+Sometimes an irregular fire, as hot as possible, was kept up from
+different directions for a few minutes, and then only a continual
+scattering fire at the ports as usual; and a great noise and laughter
+immediately commenced in different parts of the town, by the reserved
+parties, as if they had only fired on the fort a few minutes for
+amusement, and as if those continually firing at the fort were only
+regularly relieved. Conduct similar to this kept the garrison constantly
+alarmed. They did not know what moment they might be stormed or [blown
+up?], as they could plainly discover that we had flung up some
+entrenchments across the streets, and appeared to be frequently very
+busy under the bank of the river, which was within thirty feet of the
+walls.
+
+The situation of the magazine we knew well. Captain Bowman began some
+works in order to blow it up, in the case our artillery should arrive;
+but, as we knew that we were daily liable to be overpowered by the
+numerous bands of Indians on the river, in case they had again joined
+the enemy (the certainty of which we were unacquainted with), we
+resolved to lose no time, but to get the fort in our possession as soon
+as possible. If the vessel did not arrive before the ensuing night, we
+resolved to undermine the fort, and fixed on the spot and plan of
+executing this work, which we intended to commence the next day.
+
+The Indians of different tribes that were inimical had left the town and
+neighborhood. Captain Lamotte continued to hover about it in order, if
+possible, to make his way good into the fort. Parties attempted in vain
+to surprise him. A few of his party were taken, one of which was
+Maisonville, a famous Indian partisan. Two lads had captured him, tied
+him to a post in the street, and fought from behind him as a breastwork,
+supposing that the enemy would not fire at them for fear of killing him,
+as he would alarm them by his voice. The lads were ordered, by an
+officer who discovered them at their amusement, to untie their prisoner,
+and take him off to the guard, which they did, but were so inhuman as to
+take part of his scalp on the way. There happened to him no other
+damage.
+
+As almost the whole of the persons who were most active in the
+department of Detroit were either in the fort or with Captain Lamotte, I
+got extremely uneasy for fear that he would not fall into our power,
+knowing that he would go off, if he could not get into the fort in the
+course of the night. Finding that, without some unforeseen accident, the
+fort must inevitably be ours, and that a reënforcement of twenty men,
+although considerable to them, would not be of great moment to us in the
+present situation of affairs, and knowing that we had weakened them by
+killing or wounding many of their gunners, after some deliberation, we
+concluded to risk the reënforcement in preference of his going again
+among the Indians. The garrison had at least a month's provisions; and,
+if they could hold out, in the course of that time he might do us much
+damage.
+
+A little before day the troops were withdrawn from their positions about
+the fort, except a few parties of observation, and the firing totally
+ceased. Orders were given, in case of Lamotte's approach, not to alarm
+or fire on him without a certainty of killing or taking the whole. In
+less than a quarter of an hour, he passed within ten feet of an officer
+and a party that lay concealed. Ladders were flung over to them; and, as
+they mounted them, our party shouted. Many of them fell from the top of
+the walls,--some within, and others back; but, as they were not fired
+on, they all got over, much to the joy of their friends. But, on
+considering the matter, they must have been convinced that it was a
+scheme of ours to let them in, and that we were so strong as to care but
+little about them or the manner of their getting into the garrison.
+
+The firing immediately commenced on both sides with double vigor; and I
+believe that more noise could not have been made by the same number of
+men. Their shouts could not be heard for the fire-arms; but a continual
+blaze was kept around the garrison, without much being done, until about
+daybreak, when our troops were drawn off to posts prepared for them,
+about sixty or seventy yards from the fort. A loophole then could
+scarcely be darkened but a rifle-ball would pass through it. To have
+stood to their cannon would have destroyed their men, without a
+probability of doing much service. Our situation was nearly similar. It
+would have been imprudent in either party to have wasted their men,
+without some decisive stroke required it.
+
+Thus the attack continued until about nine o'clock on the morning of the
+24th. Learning that the two prisoners they had brought in the day before
+had a considerable number of letters with them, I supposed it an express
+that we expected about this time, which I knew to be of the greatest
+moment to us, as we had not received one since our arrival in the
+country; and, not being fully acquainted with the character of our
+enemy, we were doubtful that those papers might be destroyed, to prevent
+which I sent a flag [with a letter] demanding the garrison.[446-5]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The firing then commenced warmly for a considerable time; and we were
+obliged to be careful in preventing our men from exposing themselves too
+much, as they were now much animated, having been refreshed during the
+flag. They frequently mentioned their wishes to storm the place, and put
+an end to the business at once. The firing was heavy through every crack
+that could be discovered in any part of the fort. Several of the
+garrison got wounded, and no possibility of standing near the
+embrasures. Toward the evening a flag appeared with the following
+proposals:--
+
+     "Lieutenant-governor Hamilton proposes to Colonel Clark a truce for
+     three days, during which time he promises there shall be no
+     defensive works carried on in the garrison, on condition that
+     Colonel Clark shall observe, on his part, a like cessation of any
+     defensive work,--that is, he wishes to confer with Colonel Clark as
+     soon as can be, and promises that whatever may pass between them
+     two and another person mutually agreed upon to be present shall
+     remain secret till matters be finished, as he wishes that, whatever
+     the result of the conference may be, it may tend to the honor and
+     credit of each party. If Colonel Clark makes a difficulty of coming
+     into the fort, Lieutenant-governor Hamilton will speak to him by
+     the gate.
+
+       "(Signed) HENRY HAMILTON.
+     "24th February, 1779."
+
+I was at a great loss to conceive what reason Lieutenant-governor
+Hamilton could have for wishing a truce of three days on such terms as
+he proposed. Numbers said it was a scheme to get me into their
+possession. I had a different opinion and no idea of his possessing such
+sentiments, as an act of that kind would infallibly ruin him. Although
+we had the greatest reason to expect a reënforcement in less than three
+days, that would at once put an end to the siege, I yet did not think it
+prudent to agree to the proposals, and sent the following answer:--
+
+     "Colonel Clark's compliments to Lieutenant-governor Hamilton, and
+     begs leave to inform him that he will not agree to any terms other
+     than Mr. Hamilton's surrendering himself and garrison prisoners at
+     discretion. If Mr. Hamilton is desirous of a conference with
+     Colonel Clark, he will meet him at the church with Captain Helm.
+
+       "(Signed) G. R. C.
+     "February 24th, 1779."
+
+We met at the church, about eighty yards from the fort,
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton, Major Hay, superintendent of Indian
+affairs, Captain Helm, their prisoner, Major Bowman, and myself. The
+conference began. Hamilton produced terms of capitulation, signed, that
+contained various articles, one of which was that the garrison should be
+surrendered on their being permitted to go to Pensacola on parole. After
+deliberating on every article, I rejected the whole.
+
+He then wished that I would make some proposition. I told him that I had
+no other to make than what I had already made,--that of his surrendering
+as prisoners at discretion. I said that his troops had behaved with
+spirit; that they could not suppose that they would be worse treated in
+consequence of it; that, if he chose to comply with the demand, though
+hard, perhaps the sooner the better; that it was in vain to make any
+proposition to me; that he, by this time, must be sensible that the
+garrison would fall; that both of us must [view?] all blood spilt for
+the future by the garrison as murder; that my troops were already
+impatient, and called aloud for permission to tear down and storm the
+fort. If such a step was taken, many, of course, would be cut down; and
+the result of an enraged body of woodsmen breaking in must be obvious to
+him. It would be out of the power of an American officer to save a
+single man.
+
+Various altercation took place for a considerable time. Captain Helm
+attempted to moderate our fixed determination. I told him he was a
+British prisoner; and it was doubtful whether or not he could, with
+propriety, speak on the subject. Hamilton then said that Captain Helm
+was from that moment liberated, and might use his pleasure. I informed
+the Captain that I would not receive him on such terms; that he must
+return to the garrison, and await his fate. I then told
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton that hostilities should not commence until
+five minutes after the drums gave the alarm.
+
+[Illustration: WE MET AT THE CHURCH]
+
+We took our leave, and parted but a few steps, when Hamilton stopped,
+and politely asked me if I would be so kind as to give him my reasons
+for refusing the garrison any other terms than those I had offered. I
+told him I had no objections in giving him my real reasons, which were
+simply these: that I knew the greater part of the principal Indian
+partisans of Detroit were with him; that I wanted an excuse to put them
+to death or otherwise treat them as I thought proper; that the cries of
+the widows and the fatherless on the frontiers, which they had
+occasioned, now required their blood from my hand; and that I did not
+choose to be so timorous as to disobey the absolute commands of their
+authority, which I looked upon to be next to divine; that I would rather
+lose fifty men than not to empower myself to execute this piece of
+business with propriety; that, if he chose to risk the massacre of his
+garrison for their sakes, it was his own pleasure; and that I might,
+perhaps, take it into my head to send for some of those widows to see it
+executed.
+
+Major Hay paying great attention, I had observed a kind of distrust in
+his countenance, which in a great measure influenced my conversation
+during this time. On my concluding, "Pray, sir," said he, "who is it
+that you call Indian partisans?" "Sir," I replied, "I take Major Hay to
+be one of the principal." I never saw a man in the moment of execution
+so struck as he appeared to be,--pale and trembling, scarcely able to
+stand. Hamilton blushed, and, I observed, was much affected at his
+behavior. Major Bowman's countenance sufficiently explained his disdain
+for the one and his sorrow for the other.
+
+Some moments elapsed without a word passing on either side. From that
+moment my resolutions changed respecting Hamilton's situation. I told
+him that we would return to our respective posts; that I would
+reconsider the matter, and let him know the result. No offensive
+measures should be taken in the meantime. Agreed to; and we parted. What
+had passed being made known to our officers, it was agreed that we
+should moderate our resolutions.
+
+That afternoon the following articles were signed and the garrison
+surrendered:
+
+I. Lieutenant-governor Hamilton engages to deliver up to Colonel Clark,
+Fort Sackville, as it is at present, with all the stores, etc.
+
+II. The garrison are to deliver themselves as prisoners of war, and
+march out with their arms and accoutrements, etc.
+
+III. The garrison to be delivered up at ten o'clock tomorrow.
+
+IV. Three days time to be allowed the garrison to settle their accounts
+with the inhabitants and traders of this place.
+
+V. The officers of the garrison to be allowed their necessary baggage,
+etc.
+
+Signed at Post St. Vincent (Vincennes), 24th of February, 1779.
+
+Agreed for the following reasons: the remoteness from succor; the state
+and quantity of provisions, etc.; unanimity of officers and men in its
+expediency; the honorable terms allowed; and, lastly, the confidence in
+a generous enemy.
+
+  (Signed) HENRY HAMILTON,
+    _Lieut.-Gov. and Superintendent._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The business being now nearly at an end, troops were posted in several
+strong houses around the garrison and patrolled during the night to
+prevent any deception that might be attempted. The remainder on duty
+lay on their arms, and for the first time for many days past got some
+rest.
+
+During the siege, I got only one man wounded. Not being able to lose
+many, I made them secure themselves well. Seven were badly wounded in
+the fort through ports.
+
+Almost every man had conceived a favorable opinion of
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton,--I believe what affected myself made some
+impression on the whole; and I was happy to find that he never deviated,
+while he stayed with us, from that dignity of conduct that became an
+officer in his situation. The morning of the 25th approaching,
+arrangements were made for receiving the garrison [which consisted of
+seventy-nine men], and about ten o'clock it was delivered in form; and
+everything was immediately arranged to the best advantage.[452-7]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[428-1] The first permanent settlement in Indiana was made on the Wabash
+River 117 miles southwest of the present city of Indianapolis. On what
+was originally the location of a prominent Indian village, the French
+established a fort in 1702, and it was generally known as _The Post_. In
+1736 the name of Vinsenne, an early commandant of the post, was applied
+to the little settlement, and this name later came to be written
+_Vincennes_, in its present form.
+
+The English took the place in 1763; in 1778 the weak English garrison
+was driven out by the forerunners of George Rogers Clark, who from
+Kaskaskia sent Captain Helm to take charge. The same winter Captain Helm
+and the one soldier who constituted his garrison were compelled to
+surrender to the British General, Hamilton, who had come from Detroit to
+recapture the fort. It was in the following February that Clark made the
+final capture as told in these memoirs. Thereafter Vincennes belonged to
+Virginia, who ceded it to the United States in 1783. Vincennes was the
+capital of Indiana territory from 1801 to 1816.
+
+[428-2] The selection is taken from General Clark's Memoirs.
+
+[431-3] These were men from Vincennes whom Clark had taken from canoes
+and from whom he obtained much information, although it was not given
+with perfect willingness.
+
+[437-4] It was said with some show of justice that General Hamilton had
+paid the Indians a bounty on the scalps of American settlers. His course
+in many ways had aroused the bitterest hatred among the colonists, and
+especially among the "Big Knives."
+
+[446-5] The letter addressed to Lieutenant-governor Hamilton read as
+follows:
+
+"SIR:--In order to save yourself from the impending storm that now
+threatens you, I order you immediately to surrender yourself, with all
+your garrison, stores, etc. For, if I am obliged to storm, you may
+depend on such treatment as is justly due to a murderer. Beware of
+destroying stores of any kind or any papers or letters that are in your
+possession, or hurting one house in town: for, by heavens! if you do,
+there shall be no mercy shown you.
+
+  (Signed)  G. R. CLARK."
+
+In reply the British officer sent the following:
+
+"Lieutenant-governor Hamilton begs leave to acquaint Colonel Clark that
+he and his garrison are not disposed to be awed into any action unworthy
+British subjects."
+
+[452-7] Clark was a man of action, not a scholar; and the errors of
+which his writings are full may well be overlooked, so full of interest
+is what he says. The selections above have been slightly changed,
+principally, however, in spelling and the use of capital letters.
+
+Hamilton was sent in irons to Virginia and was kept in close
+confinement, at Williamsburg, till nearly the end of the Revolution.
+Washington wrote, as a reason for not exchanging the British prisoner,
+that he "had issued proclamations and approved of practices, which were
+marked with cruelty towards the people that fell into his hands, such as
+inciting the Indians to bring in scalps, putting prisoners in irons, and
+giving men up to be the victims of savage barbarity."
+
+
+
+
+THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK
+
+_Adapted from_ EDGAR A. POE
+
+
+     NOTE.--The ingeniousness of the idea in this story marks it as
+     Poe's, though it lacks some of the characteristics which we expect
+     to find in everything that came from the brain of that most unusual
+     writer. Many of his poems and many of his most famous stories, such
+     as _Ligeia_, _The Fall of the House of Usher_, _Eleanora_ and _The
+     Masque of the Red Death_, have a fantastic horror about them which
+     is scarcely to be found in the writings of any other man. _The Gold
+     Bug_, which is included in Volume IX of this series is a
+     characteristic example of another type of Poe's stories; it shows
+     at its best his marvelous inventive power.
+
+     _Three Sundays in a Week_, as given here, has been abridged
+     somewhat, though nothing that is essential to the story has been
+     omitted.
+
+"You hard-hearted, dunder-headed, obstinate, rusty, crusty, musty,
+fusty, old savage!" said I, in fancy, one afternoon, to my granduncle,
+Rumgudgeon, shaking my fist at him in imagination. Only in imagination.
+The fact is, some trivial difference did exist, just then, between what
+I said and what I had not the courage to say--between what I did and
+what I had half a mind to do.
+
+The old porpoise, as I opened the drawing-room door, was sitting with
+his feet upon the mantelpiece, making strenuous efforts to accomplish a
+ditty.
+
+"My _dear_ uncle," said I, closing the door gently and approaching him
+with the blandest of smiles, "you are always so very kind and
+considerate, and have evinced your benevolence in so many--so very many
+ways--that--that I feel I have only to suggest this little point to you
+once more to make sure of your full acquiescence."
+
+"Hem!" said he, "good boy! go on!"
+
+"I am sure, my dearest uncle (you confounded old rascal!) that you have
+no design really and seriously to oppose my union with Kate. This is
+merely a joke of yours, I know--ha! ha! ha!--how very pleasant you are
+at times."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" said he, "curse you! yes!"
+
+"To be sure--of course! I knew you were jesting. Now, uncle, all that
+Kate and myself wish at present, is that you would oblige us--as regards
+the _time_--you know, uncle--in short, when will it be most convenient
+for yourself that the wedding shall--shall come off, you know?"
+
+"Come off, you scoundrel! what do you mean by that?--Better wait till it
+goes on."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!--he! he! he!--oh, that's good--oh, that's capital--such a
+wit! But all we want, just now, you know, uncle, is that you should
+indicate the time precisely."
+
+"Ah!--precisely?"
+
+"Yes, uncle--that is, if it would be quite agreeable to yourself."
+
+"Wouldn't it answer, Bobby, if I were to leave it at random--sometime
+within a year or so, for example?--_must_ I say precisely?"
+
+"_If_ you please, uncle--precisely."
+
+"Well, then, Bobby, my boy--you're a fine fellow, aren't you?--since you
+_will_ have the exact time, I'll--why, I'll oblige you for once."
+
+"Dear uncle!"
+
+[Illustration: "WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY"]
+
+"Hush, sir!" (drowning my voice)--"I'll oblige you for once. You shall
+have my consent--and the _plum_, we mustn't forget the plum--let me see!
+When shall it be? To-day's Sunday--isn't it! Well, then, you shall be
+married precisely--_precisely_, now mind!--_when three Sundays come
+together in a week_! Do you hear me, sir! What are you gaping at? I say,
+you shall have Kate and her plum when three Sundays come together in a
+week--but not _till_ then--you young scapegrace--not _till_ then, if I
+die for it. You know me--_I'm a man of my word_--_now be off_!" Here he
+grinned at me viciously, and I rushed from the room in despair.
+
+A very "fine old English gentleman" was my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, but,
+unlike him of the song, he had his weak points. He was a little, pursy,
+pompous, passionate, semi-circular somebody, with a red nose, a thick
+skull, a long purse, and a strong sense of his own consequence. With the
+best heart in the world, he contrived, through a predominate whim of
+contradiction, to earn for himself, among those who only knew him
+superficially, the character of a curmudgeon. Like many excellent
+people, he seemed possessed with a spirit of tantalization, which might
+easily, at a casual glance, be mistaken for malevolence. To every
+request, a positive "No!" was his immediate answer; but in the end--in
+the long, long end--there were exceedingly few requests which he
+refused. Against all attacks upon his purse he made the most sturdy
+defence; but the amount extorted from him at last, was generally in
+direct ratio with the length of the siege and the stubbornness of the
+resistance. In charity, no one gave more liberally, or with a worse
+grace.
+
+For the fine arts, especially for the belles-lettres, he entertained a
+profound contempt. Thus my own inkling for the Muses had excited his
+entire displeasure. He assured me one day, when I asked him for a new
+copy of Horace, that the translation of "_Poeta nascitur, non
+fit_"[456-1] was "a nasty poet for nothing fit"--a remark which I took
+in high dudgeon. His repugnance to the "humanities" had, also, much
+increased of late, by an accidental bias in favor of what he supposed to
+be natural science. Somebody had accosted him in the street, mistaking
+him for a no less personage than Doctor Dubble L. Dee, the lecturer upon
+quack physics. This set him off at a tangent; and just at the epoch of
+this story, my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, was accessible and pacific only
+upon the points which happened to chime in with the hobby he was riding.
+
+I had lived with the old gentleman all my life. My parents in dying had
+bequeathed me to him as a rich legacy. I believe the old villain loved
+me as his own child--nearly if not quite as well as he loved Kate--but
+it was a dog's existence that he led me after all. From my first year
+until my fifth, he obliged me with very regular floggings. From five to
+fifteen, he threatened me, hourly, with the House of Correction. From
+fifteen to twenty not a day passed in which he did not promise to cut me
+off with a shilling. I was a sad dog it is true, but then it was a part
+of my nature--a point of my faith.
+
+In Kate, however, I had a firm friend, and I knew it. She was a good
+girl, and told me very sweetly that I might have her (plum and all)
+whenever I could badger my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, into the necessary
+consent. Poor girl! she was barely fifteen, and without this consent her
+little amount in the funds was not come-at-able until five immeasurable
+summers had "dragged their slow length along." What then to do? In vain
+we besieged the old gentleman with importunities. It would have stirred
+the indignation of Job himself to see how much like an old mouser he
+behaved to us two little mice. In his heart he wished for nothing more
+ardently than our union. He had made up his mind to this all along. In
+fact he would have given ten thousand pounds from his own pocket (Kate's
+plum was _her own_) if he could have invented anything like an excuse
+for complying with our very natural wishes. But then we had been so
+imprudent as to broach the matter ourselves. Not to oppose it under
+the circumstances, I sincerely believe, was not in his power.
+
+[Illustration: "IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND"]
+
+My granduncle was, after his own fashion, a man of his word, no doubt.
+The spirit of his vows he made no scruple of setting at naught, but the
+letter was a bond inviolable. Now it was this peculiarity in his
+disposition of which Kate's ingenuity enabled us one fine day, not long
+after our interview in the drawing-room, to take a very unexpected
+advantage.
+
+It happened then--so the Fates ordered it--that among the naval
+acquaintances of my betrothed were two gentlemen who had just set foot
+upon the shores of England, after a year's absence, each, in foreign
+travel. In company with these gentlemen, Kate and I, preconcertedly,
+paid uncle Rumgudgeon a visit on the afternoon of Sunday, October the
+tenth--just three weeks after the memorable decision which had so
+cruelly defeated our hopes. For about half an hour the conversation ran
+upon ordinary topics; but at last we contrived, quite naturally, to give
+it the following turn:
+
+_Capt. Pratt._ "Well, I have been absent just one year. Just one year
+to-day, as I live--let me see! yes!--this is October the tenth. You
+remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, I called this day year, to bid you good-bye.
+And by the way, it does seem something like a coincidence, does it
+not--that our friend, Captain Smitherton, has been absent exactly a year
+also, a year to-day?"
+
+_Smitherton._ "Yes! just one year to a fraction. You will remember, Mr.
+Rumgudgeon, that I called with Captain Pratt on this very day last year,
+to pay my parting respects."
+
+_Uncle._ "Yes, yes, yes--I remember it very well--very queer indeed!
+Both of you gone just one year. A very strange coincidence indeed! Just
+what Doctor Dubble L. Dee would denominate an extraordinary concurrence
+of events. Doctor Dub--"
+
+_Kate_ (_interrupting_). "To be sure papa, it _is_ something strange;
+but then Captain Pratt and Captain Smitherton didn't go altogether the
+same route, and that makes a difference you know."
+
+_Uncle._ "I don't know any such thing, you hussy! How should I? I think
+it only makes the matter more remarkable. Doctor Dubble L. Dee--"
+
+_Kate._ "Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round Cape Horn, and Captain
+Smitherton doubled the Cape of Good Hope."
+
+_Uncle._ "Precisely! the one went east and the other went west, you
+jade, and they have both gone quite round the world. By the bye, Doctor
+Dub--"
+
+_Myself_ (_hurriedly_). "Captain Pratt, you must come and spend the
+evening with us to-morrow--you and Smitherton--you can tell us all about
+your voyage, and we'll have a game of whist, and--"
+
+_Pratt._ "Whist, my dear fellow--you forget. To-morrow will be Sunday.
+Some other evening--"
+
+_Kate._ "Oh, no, fie!--Robert's not _quite_ so bad as that. _To-day's_
+Sunday."
+
+_Uncle._ "To be sure--to be sure."
+
+_Pratt._ "I beg both your pardons--but I can't be so much mistaken. I
+know to-morrow's Sunday, because--"
+
+_Smitherton_ (_much surprised_). "What _are_ you all thinking about?
+Wasn't _yesterday_ Sunday, I should like to know?"
+
+_All._ "Yesterday, indeed! you _are_ out!"
+
+_Uncle._ "To-day's Sunday, I say--don't I know?"
+
+_Pratt._ "Oh, no!--to-morrow's Sunday."
+
+_Smitherton._ "You are _all_ mad--every one of you. I am as positive
+that yesterday was Sunday as I am that I sit upon this chair."
+
+_Kate_ (_jumping up eagerly_). "I see it--I see it all. Papa, this is a
+judgment upon you, about--about you know what. Let me alone, and I'll
+explain it all in a minute. It's a very simple thing, indeed. Captain
+Smitherton says that yesterday was Sunday: so it was; he is right.
+Cousin Bobby, and papa and I, say that to-day is Sunday: so it is, we
+are right. Captain Pratt maintains that to-morrow will be Sunday: so it
+will, he is right, too. The fact is, we are all right, and thus _three
+Sundays have come together in a week_."
+
+_Smitherton_ (_after a pause_). "By the bye, Pratt, Kate has us
+completely. What fools we two are! Mr. Rumgudgeon, the matter stands
+thus: the earth, you know, is twenty-four thousand miles in
+circumference. Now this globe turns upon its own axis--revolves--spins
+around--these twenty-four thousand miles of extent, going from west to
+east, in precisely twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr.
+Rumgudgeon?"
+
+_Uncle._ "To be sure--to be sure. Doctor Dub--"
+
+_Smitherton_ (_drowning his voice_). "Well sir, that is at the rate of
+one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail from this position
+a thousand miles east. Of course I anticipate the rising of the sun here
+at London by just one hour. I see the sun rise one hour before you do.
+Proceeding, in the same direction, yet another thousand miles, I
+anticipate the rising by two hours--another thousand, and I anticipate
+it by three hours, and so on, until I go entirely round the globe, and
+back to this spot, when having gone twenty-four thousand miles east, I
+anticipate the rising of the London sun by no less than twenty-four
+hours; that is to say, I am a day _in advance_ of your time. Understand,
+eh?"
+
+_Uncle._ "But Dubble L. Dee--"
+
+_Smitherton_ (_speaking very loud_). "Captain Pratt, on the contrary,
+when he had sailed a thousand miles west of this position, was an hour,
+and when he had sailed twenty-four thousand miles west was twenty-four
+hours, or one day, _behind_ the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday
+was Sunday--thus with you, to-day is Sunday--and thus with Pratt,
+to-morrow will be Sunday. And what is more, Mr. Rumgudgeon, it is
+positively clear that that we are _all right_; for there can be no
+philosophical reason assigned why the idea of one of us should have
+preference over that of the other."
+
+_Uncle._ "My eyes!--well, Kate--well Bobby!--this _is_ a judgment upon
+me as you say. But I am a man of my word--_mark that_! You shall have
+her, my boy (plum and all), when you please. Done up, by Jove! Three
+Sundays in a row! I'll go and take Dubble L. Dee's opinion upon _that_."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[456-1] A poet is born, not made.
+
+
+
+
+THE MODERN BELLE
+
+_By_ STARK
+
+
+    She sits in a fashionable parlor,
+      And rocks in her easy chair;
+    She is clad in silks and satins,
+      And jewels are in her hair;
+    She winks and giggles and simpers,
+      And simpers and giggles and winks;
+    And though she talks but little,
+      'Tis a good deal more than she thinks.
+
+    She lies abed in the morning
+      Till nearly the hour of noon,
+    Then comes down snapping and snarling
+      Because she was called so soon;
+    Her hair is still in papers,
+      Her cheeks still fresh with paint,--
+    Remains of her last night's blushes,
+      Before she intended to faint.
+
+    She dotes upon men unshaven,
+      And men with "flowing hair;"
+    She's eloquent over mustaches,
+      They give such a foreign air.
+    She talks of Italian music,
+      And falls in love with the moon;
+    And, if a mouse were to meet her,
+      She would sink away in a swoon.
+
+    Her feet are so very little,
+      Her hands are so very white,
+    Her jewels so very heavy,
+      And her head so very light;
+    Her color is made of cosmetics
+      (Though this she will never own),
+    Her body is made mostly of cotton,
+      Her heart is made wholly of stone.
+
+    She falls in love with a fellow
+      Who swells with a foreign air;
+    He marries her for her money,
+      She marries him for his hair!
+    One of the very best matches,--
+      Both are well mated in life;
+    _She's got a fool for a husband,
+      He's got a fool for a wife_!
+
+
+
+
+WIDOW MACHREE
+
+_By_ SAMUEL LOVER
+
+
+    Widow machree, it's no wonder you frown,--
+        Och hone! widow machree;
+    Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown,--
+        Och hone! widow machree.
+      How altered your air,
+      With that close cap you wear,--
+      'Tis destroying your hair,
+        Which should be flowing free;
+      Be no longer a churl
+      Of its black silken curl,--
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+
+    Widow machree, now the summer is come,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,
+    When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum?
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+      See the birds go in pairs,
+      And the rabbits and hares;
+      Why, even the bears
+        Now in couples agree;
+      And the mute little fish,
+      Though they can't spake, they wish,--
+        Och hone! widow machree.
+
+[Illustration: FAITH, I WISH YOU'D TAKE ME!]
+
+    Widow machree, and when winter comes in,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,--
+    To be poking the fire all alone is a sin,
+        Och hone! widow machree.
+      Sure the shovel and tongs
+      To each other belongs,
+      And the kettle sings songs
+        Full of family glee;
+      While alone with your cup
+      Like a hermit you sup,
+      Och hone! widow machree.
+
+    And how do you know, with the comforts I've towld,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,--
+    But you're keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld,
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+      With such sins on your head,
+      Sure your peace would be fled;
+      Could you sleep in your bed
+        Without thinking to see
+      Some ghost or some sprite,
+      That would wake you each night,
+        Crying "Och hone! widow machree!"
+
+    Then take my advice, darling widow machree,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,--
+    And with my advice, Faith, I wish you'd take me,
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+      You'd have me to desire
+      Then to stir up the fire;
+      And sure hope is no liar
+        In whispering to me,
+      That the ghosts would depart
+      When you'd me near your heart,--
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+
+
+
+
+LIMESTONE BROTH
+
+_By_ GERALD GRIFFIN
+
+
+"My father went once upon a time about the country, in the idle season,
+seeing if he could make a penny at all by cutting hair or setting
+rashurs or pen-knives, or any other job that would fall in his way.
+
+Weel an' good--he was one day walking alone in the mountains of Kerry,
+without a ha'p'ny in his pocket (for though he traveled afoot, it cost
+him more than he earned), an' knowing there was but little love for a
+County Limerick man in the place where he was, an' being half perished
+with the hunger, an' evening drawing nigh, he didn't know well what to
+do with himself till morning.
+
+Very good--he went along the wild road; an' if he did, he soon sees a
+farmhouse at a little distance o' one side--a snug-looking place, with
+the smoke curling up out of the chimney, an' all tokens of good living
+inside. Well, some people would live where a fox would starve.
+
+What do you think did my father do? He wouldn't beg (a thing one of our
+people never done yet, thank heaven!) an' he hadn't the money to buy a
+thing, so what does he do? He takes up a couple o' the big limestones
+that were lying in the road, in his two hands, an' away with him to the
+house.
+
+[Illustration: HE SOON SEES A FARMHOUSE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE]
+
+'Lord save all here!' says he, walking in the door.
+
+'And you kindly,' says they.
+
+'I'm come to you,' says he, this way, looking at the two limestones, 'to
+know would ye let me make a little limestone broth over your fire, until
+I'll make my dinner?'
+
+'Limestone broth!' says they to him again: 'what's that, _aroo_?'
+
+'Broth made of limestone,' says he; 'what else?'
+
+'We never heard of such a thing,' says they.
+
+'Why, then, you may hear it now,' says he, 'an' see it also, if you'll
+gi' me a pot an' a couple o' quarts o' soft water.'
+
+'You can have it an' welcome,' says they.
+
+So they put down the pot an' the water, an' my father went over an' tuk
+a chair hard by the pleasant fire for himself, an' put down his two
+limestones to boil, an' kept stirrin' them round like stir-about.
+
+Very good--well, by-an'-by, when the wather began to boil--''Tis
+thickening finely,' says my father; 'now if it had a grain o' salt at
+all, 'twould be a great improvement to it.'
+
+'Raich down the salt-box, Nell,' says the man o' the house to his wife.
+So she did.
+
+'Oh, that's the very thing, just,' says my father, shaking some of it
+into the pot. So he stirred it again a while, looking as sober as a
+minister. By-an'-by he takes the spoon he had stirring it an' tastes it.
+
+'It is very good now,' says he, 'altho' it wants something yet.'
+
+'What is it?' says they.
+
+'Oyeh, wisha nothin',' says he; 'maybe 't is only fancy o' me.'
+
+'If it's anything we can give you,' says they, 'you're welcome to it.'
+
+''Tis very good as it is,' says he; 'but when I'm at home, I find it
+gives it a fine flavor just to boil a little knuckle o' bacon, or mutton
+trotters, or anything that way along with it.'
+
+'Raich hether that bone o' sheep's head we had at dinner yesterday,
+Nell,' says the man o' the house.
+
+'Oyeh, don't mind it,' says my father; 'let it be as it is.'
+
+'Sure if it improves it, you may as well,' says they.
+
+'Baithershin!' says my father, putting it down.
+
+So after boiling it a good piece longer, ''Tis fine limestone broth,'
+says he, 'as ever was tasted, and if a man had a few piatez,' says he,
+looking at a pot o' them that was smoking in the chimney corner, 'he
+couldn't desire a better dinner.'
+
+They gave him the piatez, and he made a good dinner of themselves and
+the broth, not forgetting the bone, which he polished equal to chaney
+before he let it go. The people themselves tasted it, an' tho't it as
+good as any mutton broth in the world."
+
+
+
+
+THE KNOCKOUT
+
+_Adapted From The Autobiography of_ DAVY CROCKETT
+
+
+One day as I was walking through the woods, I came to a clearing on a
+hillside, and as I climbed the slope I was startled by loud, profane and
+boisterous voices which seemed to proceed from a thick cover of
+undergrowth about two hundred yards in advance of me.
+
+"You kin, kin you?"
+
+"Yes I kin and I'm able to do it! Boo-oo-oo!--O wake snakes, brimstone
+and fire! Don't hold me, Nick Stoval; the fight's made up and I'll jump
+down your throat before you kin say 'quit.'"
+
+"Now Nick, don't hold him! Just let the wildcat come, and I'll tame him.
+Ned'll see me a fair fight, won't you Ned?"
+
+"O yes, I'll see you a fair fight; blast my old shoes if I don't."
+
+"That's sufficient, as Tom Haines said when he saw the elephant; now let
+him come."
+
+Thus they went on with countless oaths and with much that I could not
+distinctly hear. In mercy's name, I thought, what a band of ruffians is
+at work here. I quickened my gait and had come nearly opposite the thick
+grove, whence the noises proceeded, when my eye caught, indistinctly
+through the foliage of the scrub oaks and hickories that intervened,
+glimpses of a man or men who seemed to be in a violent struggle.
+Occasionally, too, I could catch those deep-drawn, emphatic oaths which
+men utter when they deal heavy blows in conflict. As I was hurrying to
+the spot, I saw the combatants fall to the ground, and after a short
+struggle I saw the uppermost one (for I could not see the others) make a
+heavy plunge with both his thumbs. At the same instant I heard a cry in
+the accent of keenest torture--"Enough, my eye is out."
+
+For a moment I stood completely horror-struck. The accomplices in this
+brutal deed had apparently all fled at my approach, for not a one was to
+be seen.
+
+"Now blast your corn-shucking soul," said the victor, a lad of about
+eighteen, as he arose from the ground, "come cuttin' your shines 'bout
+me agin next time I come to the court-house will you? Get your owl-eye
+in agin if you kin."
+
+At this moment he saw me for the first time. He looked frightened and
+was about to run away when I called out--"Come back, you brute, and help
+me relieve the poor critter you have ruined forever."
+
+Upon this rough salutation he stopped, and with a taunting curl of the
+nose, replied. "You needn't kick before you're spurred. There an't
+nobody here nor han't been, nuther. I was just seeing how I could have
+fout." So saying, he pointed to his plow, which stood in the corner of
+the fence about fifty yards from the battle ground. Would any man in his
+senses believe that a rational being could make such a fool of himself?
+All that I had heard and seen was nothing more nor less than a rehearsal
+of a knock-down and drag-out fight in which the young man had played all
+the parts for his own amusement. I went to the ground from which he had
+risen, and there were the prints of his two thumbs plunged up to the
+balls in the mellow earth, and the ground around was broken up as if two
+stags had been fighting on it.
+
+As I resumed my journey, I laughed outright at this adventure, for it
+reminded me of Andrew Jackson's attack on the United States bank. He had
+magnified it into a monster and then began to swear and gouge until he
+thought he had the monster on his back, and when the fight was over and
+he got up to look for his enemy, he could find none anywhere.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE COUNTRY SQUIRE
+
+_Translated From The Spanish of_ THOMAS YRIARTE
+
+
+    A country squire of greater wealth than wit
+      (For fools are often blessed with fortune's smile),
+    Had built a splendid house and furnished it
+                  In splendid style.
+
+    "One thing is wanting," said a friend; "for though
+      The rooms are fine, the furniture profuse,
+    You lack a library, dear sir, for show,
+                  If not for use."
+
+    "'Tis true, but zounds!" replied the squire with glee,
+      "The lumber-room in yonder northern wing
+    (I wonder I ne'er thought of it) will be
+                  The very thing.
+
+    "I'll have it fitted up without delay
+      With shelves and presses of the newest mode,
+    And rarest wood, befitting every way
+                  A squire's abode.
+
+    "And when the whole is ready, I'll dispatch
+      My coachman--a most knowing fellow--down
+    To buy me, by admeasurement, a batch
+                  Of books in town."
+
+    But ere the library was half supplied
+      With all its pomps of cabinet and shelf,
+    The booby squire repented him, and cried
+                  Unto himself:
+
+    "This room is much more roomy than I thought;
+      Ten thousand volumes hardly would suffice
+    To fill it, and would cost, however bought,
+                  A plaguey price.
+
+[Illustration: THE SQUIRE'S LIBRARY]
+
+    "Now, as I only want them for their looks,
+      It might, on second thoughts, be just as good,
+    And cost me next to nothing, if the books
+                  Were made of wood.
+
+    "It shall be so, I'll give the shaven deal
+      A coat of paint--a colorable dress,
+    To look like calf or vellum and conceal
+                  Its nakedness.
+
+    "And, gilt and lettered with the author's name,
+      Whatever is most excellent and rare
+    Shall be, or seem to be ('tis all the same),
+                  Assembled there."
+
+    The work was done, the simulated hoards
+      Of wit and wisdom round the chamber stood,
+    In binding some; and some, of course, in _boards_
+                  Where all were wood.
+
+    From bulky folios down to slender twelves
+      The choicest tomes, in many an even row
+    Displayed their lettered backs upon the shelves,
+                  A goodly show.
+
+    With such a stock as seemingly surpassed
+      The best collections ever formed in Spain,
+    What wonder if the owner grew at last
+                  Supremely vain?
+
+    What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf
+      And conned their titles, that the squire began,
+    Despite his ignorance, to think himself
+                  A learned man?
+
+    Let every amateur, who merely looks
+      To backs and binding, take the hint, and sell
+    His costly library--_for painted books
+                  Would serve as well_.
+
+     Poetry means more to us and we get more enjoyment from reading it
+     when we understand some of the difficulties that the poet has in
+     writing it and can recognize those things which make it poetry in
+     form.
+
+     For instance, you will notice in the poem which we have just read
+     that every stanza has four lines; that, in printing, the first and
+     third lines begin close to the margin, while the second and fourth
+     lines begin a little farther in on the page--that is, they are
+     _indented_. Now if you will look at the ends of the lines you will
+     see that the words with which the first and third lines terminate
+     are in rhyme, and that the words with which the second and fourth
+     lines terminate are in rhyme. In other words, the indentation at
+     beginning of lines in poetry calls attention to the rhymes.
+
+     It is true throughout _The Country Squire_ that every pair of lines
+     taken alternately ends in rhymes which are perfect or nearly so.
+     Now a perfect rhyme is one in which the two rhyming syllables are
+     both accented, the vowel sound and the consonants which follow the
+     vowels are identical, and the sounds preceding the vowel are
+     different. For instance, the words _smile_ and _style_ rhyme. Both
+     of these are monosyllables and hence accented. The vowel sound is
+     the long sound of _i_; the consonant sound of _l_ follows. The
+     sounds preceding the _i_ are similar but not identical, represented
+     by _sm_ in the first case and _st_ in the second. In the fifth
+     stanza the first line ends with the word _dispatch_, the third with
+     the word _batch_. This rhyme is perfect, because the accent on the
+     word _dispatch_ is naturally on the second syllable. In the ninth
+     stanza the word _dress_ is made to rhyme with _nakedness_. This is
+     not strictly perfect, for the natural accent of _nakedness_ is on
+     the first syllable.
+
+     It may be interesting for beginners to work out the rhyme scheme of
+     a poem and write it down. This is very easily done. Take the first
+     stanza in _The Country Squire_. Represent the rhyming syllable of
+     the first line by _a_, the rhyming syllable of the second line by
+     _b_. It follows then that the rhyming syllable of the third line
+     must be represented by _a_, and the rhyming syllable of the fourth
+     line by _b_. Writing these letters in succession we have the
+     nonsense word _abab_, which will always stand for stanzas of this
+     kind. If you are interested in this turn to the studies at the end
+     of the next poem, _To My Infant Son_.
+
+
+
+
+TO MY INFANT SON
+
+_By_ Thomas Hood
+
+
+    Thou happy, happy elf!
+    (But stop, first let me kiss away that tear,)
+    Thou tiny image of myself!
+    (My love, he's poking peas into his ear,)
+    Thou merry, laughing sprite,
+    With spirits, feather light,
+    Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin;
+    (My dear, the child is swallowing a pin!)
+
+    Thou little tricksy Puck!
+    With antic toys so funnily bestuck,
+    Light as the singing bird that rings the air,--
+    (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)
+    Thou darling of thy sire!
+    (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire!)
+      Thou imp of mirth and joy!
+    In love's dear chain so bright a link,
+      Thou idol of thy parents;--(Drat the boy!
+    There goes my ink.)
+
+      Thou cherub, but of earth;
+    Fit playfellow for fairies, by moonlight pale,
+      In harmless sport and mirth,
+    (That dog will bite him, if he pulls his tail!)
+      Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey
+    From every blossom in the world that blows,
+      Singing in youth's Elysium ever sunny,--
+    (Another tumble! That's his precious nose!)
+
+    Thy father's pride and hope!
+    (He'll break that mirror with that skipping rope!)
+    With pure heart newly stamped from nature's mint,
+    (Where did he learn that squint?)
+    Thou young domestic dove!
+    (He'll have that ring off with another shove,)
+
+[Illustration: "THERE GOES MY INK!"]
+
+    Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest!
+    (Are these torn clothes his best?)
+    Little epitome of man!
+    (He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan,)
+    Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life,
+    (He's got a knife!)
+
+    Thou enviable being!
+    No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,
+      Play on, play on,
+      My elfin John!
+    Toss the light ball, bestride the stick,--
+    (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)
+      With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,
+    Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,
+    With many a lamb-like frisk!
+      (He's got the scissors snipping at your gown!)
+    Thou pretty opening rose!
+    (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)
+    Balmy and breathing music like the south
+    (He really brings my heart into my mouth!)
+    Bold as a hawk, yet gentle as the dove;
+    (I'll tell you what, my love,
+    I cannot write unless he's sent above.)
+
+     The stanzas of this poem vary considerably in length, but it will
+     be interesting to examine them according to the plans suggested at
+     the end of the preceding poem, _The Country Squire_. The first
+     stanza here has eight lines, the first four of them rhyming
+     alternately in pairs, the next four in couplets. If now we apply
+     the plan that is suggested for writing out the rhyme scheme, the
+     word for the first stanza is _ababccdd_.
+
+     The second stanza has ten lines. Its rhyme scheme is evidently
+     quite different, for here the first six lines rhyme in couplets and
+     the last four alternately in pairs. The word to represent such a
+     scheme is _aabbccdede_.
+
+     Can you write out the words which will represent the rhyme scheme
+     in the other stanzas in this poem?
+
+     Find the other poems in this book and write out the rhyme scheme
+     for them. Notice that in most poems the stanzas have the same
+     number of lines, and that the rhyme scheme of one stanza is just
+     like that of another. Take the other books in this series and turn
+     to the poems, find what an endless variety of rhymes there is and
+     how the scheme differs in different poems.
+
+
+
+
+PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES
+
+
+NOTE.--The pronunciation of difficult words is indicated by respelling
+them phonetically. _N_ is used to indicate the French nasal sound; _K_
+the sound of _ch_ in German; _ü_ the sound of the German _ü_, and French
+_u_; _ö_ the sound of _ö_ in foreign languages.
+
+  ALGIDUS, _al´ ji dus_
+
+  ANJOU, _oN´´ zhoo´_
+
+  ATHELSTANE, _ath´ el stane_
+
+  BANGWEOLO, _bang´´ we o´ lo_
+
+  BECHUANALAND, _beck´´ oo ah´ na land_
+
+  BOIS-GUILBERT, BRIAN DE, _bwah geel bayr´_, _bre oN´ deh_
+
+  CEDRIC, _ked´ rick_, or _sed´ rick_
+
+  CHALDEA, _kal de´ ah_
+
+  CHARGÉ D'AFFAIRES, _shahr´´ zhay´ daf fayr´_
+
+  CHIAJA, _kyah´ ya_
+
+  FALERII, _fah le´ ry i_
+
+  FRONT-DE-BOEUF, _froN deh beuf´_
+
+  GIBAULT, _zhee bo´_
+
+  KHIVA, _ke´ vah_
+
+  LIGEIA, _li je´ yah_
+
+  MAISONVILLE, _may´´ zoN veel´_
+
+  MALVOISIN, _mal vwah saN´_
+
+  MARESCHAL, _mahr´ shal_
+
+  MASSOUEY, _mas su´ y_
+
+  NAOMI, _nay o´ mi_
+
+  NGAMI, _ngah´ me_
+
+  NICARAGUA, _nee´´ kar ah´ gwah_
+
+  ONEIDA, _o ni´ dah_
+
+  PSALMS, _sahms_
+
+  RAKSH, _rahksh_
+
+  ROWENA, _ro e´ na_
+
+  RUSTUM, _roos´ tum_
+
+  SAGA, _say´ gah_
+
+  SEIUS, _se´ yus_
+
+  SEISTAN, _says´ tahn_
+
+  SENNACHERIB, _sen nak´ e rib_
+
+  SOHRAB, _so´ rahb_
+
+  TARPEIAN, _tahr pe´ yan_
+
+  TONGRES, _toN´ gr´_
+
+  VELASQUEZ, _vay lahs´ kayth_
+
+  VENEZUELA, _ven e zwe´ lah_
+
+  VINCENNES, _vin senz´_
+
+  YRIARTE, _e re ahr´ tay_
+
+  ZOUCHE, _zooch_
+
+
+
+
+   ix  Babocck changed to Babcock
+  Plate facing p. 30  Abbottsford changed to Abbotsford
+   37  glady changed to gladly
+   45  Saxon, Rowena. changed to Saxon, Rowena."
+   60  avow-himself changed to avow himself
+   76  occupy. "Ladies," changed to occupy. Ladies,"
+   86  puting changed to putting
+  106  burden?" changed to burden?
+  108  landingplace changed to landing-place
+  161  carelessnesss changed to carelessness
+  172  "It is yours changed to 'It is yours
+  174  Aber-baijan changed to Ader-baijan
+  182  Gudruz changed to Gudurz
+  196, fn. 23  indentification changed to identification
+  221  Engand changed to England
+  264  its breast!" changed to its breast!
+  308  with Chrismas holly changed to with Christmas holly
+  345  hear me! changed to "hear me!
+  352  footsool changed to footstool
+  356  Chrismas Eve the mass changed to Christmas Eve the mass
+  363, fn. 13  line means. changed to line means,
+  363, fn. 15  ascent to to changed to ascent to
+  363, fn. 15  Now. gentlemen changed to Now, gentlemen
+  368  woful-wan changed to woeful-wan
+  432  well acount for changed to well account for
+  451  and patroled during changed to and patrolled during
+  452  bady changed to badly
+  460  Why, papa changed to "Why, papa
+
+  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling
+
+  blindman's-buff / blind-man's buff
+  candle-light / candlelight
+  eye-brows / eyebrows
+  farm-house / farmhouse
+  fellow-men / fellowmen
+  fore-feet / forefeet
+  home-made / homemade
+  house-tops / housetops
+  look-out / lookout
+  on-looking / onlooking
+  plow-man / plowman
+  sea-weed / seaweed
+  snuff-box / snuffbox
+  to-morrow / tomorrow
+  wild-cat / wildcat
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6, by 
+Charles H. Sylvester
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6, by 
+Charles H. Sylvester
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6
+
+Author: Charles H. Sylvester
+
+Release Date: June 19, 2007 [EBook #21864]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND, VOL. 6 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Julia Miller, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div style="background-color: #EEE; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;">
+<p class="center"><b>Transcriber&rsquo;s&nbsp;Note</b></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A <a href="#trans_note">list</a> of these changes
+is found at the end of the text. Inconsistencies in spelling and
+hyphenation have been maintained. A <a href="#trans_note">list</a> of inconsistently spelled and
+hyphenated words is found at the end of the text. The original book used both
+numerical and symbolic footnote markers. This version follows the
+original usage.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<a href="images/image01-full.jpg"><img src="images/image01.jpg" width="600" height="432" alt="A knight on horseback is approaching the sea. A castle is visible in the background and there are ships on the sea." title="Endpaper" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 295px;">
+<a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a><a href="images/image02-full.jpg"><img src="images/image02.jpg" width="295" height="400" alt="Two knights have met in a joust and the loser is falling to the ground." title="The Tournament" /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap">The Tournament</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image03.png" width="400" height="143" alt="Journeys Through Bookland" title="Journeys Through Bookland" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em;">
+A NEW AND ORIGINAL<br />
+PLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE<br />
+WORLD&#8217;S BEST LITERATURE<br />
+FOR CHILDREN</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em;"><em>BY</em><br />
+<span style="margin-top: 1.5em;">CHARLES H. SYLVESTER</span><br />
+<em>Author of English and American Literature</em></p>
+
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em;">VOLUME SIX<br />
+<em>New Edition</em></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/image04.png" width="100" height="113" alt="Colophon" title="Colophon" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="margin-top: 2em;">
+Chicago<br />
+BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY<br />
+PUBLISHERS</p>
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="titlepage">Copyright, 1922<br />
+BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table of contents">
+<tr>
+  <td></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="right"><span style="font-size: smaller;">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#HORATIUS">Horatius</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Lord Macaulay</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#HORATIUS">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER">Lord Ullin&#8217;s Daughter</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Thomas Campbell</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER">23</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#SIR_WALTER_SCOTT">Sir Walter Scott</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Grace E. Sellon</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#SIR_WALTER_SCOTT">26</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_TOURNAMENT">The Tournament</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Sir Walter Scott</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_TOURNAMENT">38</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_RAINBOW">The Rainbow</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Thomas Campbell</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_RAINBOW">91</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_LION_AND_THE_MISSIONARY">The Lion and the Missionary</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>David Livingstone</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_LION_AND_THE_MISSIONARY">93</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_MOSS_ROSE">The Moss Rose</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Translated from Krummacher</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_MOSS_ROSE">98</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#FOUR_DUCKS_ON_A_POND">Four Ducks on a Pond</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>William Allingham</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#FOUR_DUCKS_ON_A_POND">98</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#RAB_AND_HIS_FRIENDS">Rab and His Friends</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>John Brown, M.D.</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#RAB_AND_HIS_FRIENDS">99</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#ANNIE_LAURIE">Annie Laurie</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>William Douglas</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#ANNIE_LAURIE">119</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_BLIND_LASSIE">The Blind Lassie</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>T. C. Latto</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_BLIND_LASSIE">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#BOYHOOD">Boyhood</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Washington Allston</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#BOYHOOD">122</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#SWEET_AND_LOW">Sweet and Low</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Alfred Tennyson</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#SWEET_AND_LOW">122</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#CHILDHOOD">Childhood</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Donald G. Mitchell</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHILDHOOD">124</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_BUGLE_SONG">The Bugle Song</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Alfred Tennyson</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_BUGLE_SONG">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#FROM_THE_IMITATION_OF_CHRIST">The Imitation of Christ</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Thomas &agrave; Kempis</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#FROM_THE_IMITATION_OF_CHRIST">134</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB">The Destruction of Sennacherib</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Lord Byron</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB">141</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#RUTH">Ruth</a></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#RUTH">143</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_VISION_OF_BELSHAZZAR">The Vision of Belshazzar</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Lord Byron</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_VISION_OF_BELSHAZZAR">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#SOHRAB_AND_RUSTEM">Sohrab and Rustem</a></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#SOHRAB_AND_RUSTEM">157</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#SOHRAB_AND_RUSTUM">Sohrab and Rustum</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Matthew Arnold</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#SOHRAB_AND_RUSTUM">173</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_POET_AND_THE_PEASANT">The Poet and the Peasant</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Emile Souvestre</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_POET_AND_THE_PEASANT">206</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#JOHN_HOWARD_PAYNE_AND_HOME_SWEET_HOME"><span class="smcap">John Howard Payne and</span> <em>Home, Sweet Home</em></a></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#JOHN_HOWARD_PAYNE_AND_HOME_SWEET_HOME">221</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#AULD_LANG_SYNE">Auld Lang Syne</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Robert Burns</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#AULD_LANG_SYNE">228</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD">Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Alfred Tennyson</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD">231</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#CHARLES_DICKENS">Charles Dickens</a></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHARLES_DICKENS">232</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#A_CHRISTMAS_CAROL">A Christmas Carol</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Charles Dickens</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#A_CHRISTMAS_CAROL">244</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#CHRISTMAS_IN_OLD_TIME">Christmas in Old Time</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Sir Walter Scott</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHRISTMAS_IN_OLD_TIME">356</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#ELEGY">Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Thomas Gray</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#ELEGY">360</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_SHIPWRECK">The Shipwreck</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Robert Louis Stevenson</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_SHIPWRECK">371</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#ELEPHANT_HUNTING">Elephant Hunting</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Roualeyn Gordon Cumming</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#ELEPHANT_HUNTING">385</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#SOME_CLEVER_MONKEYS">Some Clever Monkeys</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Thomas Belt</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#SOME_CLEVER_MONKEYS">402</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#POOR_RICHARDS_ALMANAC">Poor Richard&#8217;s Almanac</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Benjamin Franklin</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#POOR_RICHARDS_ALMANAC">407</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#GEORGE_ROGERS_CLARK">George Rogers Clark</a></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#GEORGE_ROGERS_CLARK">422</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_CAPTURE_OF_VINCENNES">The Capture of Vincennes</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>George Rogers Clark</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_CAPTURE_OF_VINCENNES">428</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THREE_SUNDAYS_IN_A_WEEK">Three Sundays in a Week</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Edgar Allan Poe</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THREE_SUNDAYS_IN_A_WEEK">453</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_MODERN_BELLE">The Modern Belle</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Stark</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_MODERN_BELLE">463</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#WIDOW_MACHREE">Widow Machree</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Samuel Lover</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#WIDOW_MACHREE">464</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span><a href="#LIMESTONE_BROTH">Limestone Broth</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Gerald Griffin</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#LIMESTONE_BROTH">467</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_KNOCKOUT">The Knock-Out</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Davy Crockett</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_KNOCKOUT">471</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#THE_COUNTRY_SQUIRE">The Country Squire</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Thomas Yriarte</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_COUNTRY_SQUIRE">474</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#TO_MY_INFANT_SON">To My Infant Son</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Thomas Hood</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#TO_MY_INFANT_SON">478</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap" style="padding-top: 1em;"><a href="#PRONUNCIATION_OF_PROPER_NAMES">Pronunciation of Proper Names</a></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr" style="padding-top: 1em;"><a href="#PRONUNCIATION_OF_PROPER_NAMES">481</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="titlepage">For Classification of Selections, see General Index, at end of Volume X</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="list of illustrations">
+<tr>
+  <td></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="right"><span style="font-size: smaller;">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#frontispiece"><span class="smcap">The Tournament</span></a> (Color Plate)</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Donn P. Crane</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#frontispiece"><span class="smcap">Frontispiece</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image05">The Long Array of Helmets Bright</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image05">5</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image06">&#8220;Lie There,&#8221; He Cried, &#8220;Fell Pirate&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image06">13</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image07">Horatio in His Harness, Halting Upon One Knee</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image07">21</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image09">&#8220;Boatman, Do Not Tarry&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image09">24</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#image10"><span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott</span></a> (Halftone)</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image10">26</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#image11"><span class="smcap">Abbotsford</span></a> (Color Plate)</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image11">30</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image12">Throng Going To the Lists</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. <a name="corr1" id="corr1"></a>Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image12">41</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image13">The Disinherited Knight Unhorses Bryan</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image13">59</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image14">The Armour Makers</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image14">69</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image15">Prince John Throws Down the Truncheon</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image15">85</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image16">Rowena Crowning Disinherited Knight</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image16">89</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image18">&#8220;Rab, Ye Thief!&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image18">103</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image19">James Buried His Wife</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image19">117</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image20">She Reaches Down to Dip Her Toe</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image20">125</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image21">Poor Tray is Dead</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image21">132</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image22">&#8220;Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image22">145</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image23">Ruth Gleaning</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image23">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image25">The Writing on the Wall</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Louis Grell</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image25">155</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#image27"><span class="smcap">Sohrab and Peran-Wisa</span></a> (Color Plate)</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Louis Grell</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image27">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image28">Peran-Wisa Gives Sohrab&#8217;s Challenge</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image28">179</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image29">The Spear Rent the Tough Plates</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image29">191</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image30">Rustum Sorrows Over Sohrab</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image30">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#image31"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold</span></a> (Halftone)</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image31">204</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#image32"><span class="smcap">John Howard Payne</span></a> (Halftone)</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image32">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image33">There Is No Place Like Home</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image33">225</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image34">For Auld Lang Syne</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image34">230</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#image36"><span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span></a> (Halftone)</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image36">232</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image37">The Clerk Smiled Faintly</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image37">255</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image38">&#8220;In Life I Was Your Partner, Jacob Marley&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image38">263</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image39">In the Best Parlor</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image39">281</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image40">The Fiddler Struck up &#8220;Sir Roger de Coverley&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image40">285</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image41">Upon the Couch There Sat a Jolly Giant</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image41">297</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#image42"><span class="smcap">Bob and Tiny Tim</span></a> (Color Plate)</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Hazel Frazee</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image42">304</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image43">There Never Was Such a Goose</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image43">307</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image44">&#8220;So I Am Told,&#8221; Returned the Second</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image45">329</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image45">He Read His Own Name</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image45">344</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image46">He Stood by the Window&mdash;Glorious!</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image46">348</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image47">&#8220;A Merry Christmas, Bob!&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image47">355</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span><a href="#image49">Homeward Plods His Weary Way</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image49">361</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image50">The Country Churchyard</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image50">369</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image51">I Found I Was Holding to a Spar</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image51">372</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image52">With Beating Heart I Approached a View</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image52">397</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image54">A Cebus Monkey</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image54">405</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image55">The Sleeping Fox Catches No Poultry</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image55">411</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image56">Clark Took the Lead</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image56">433</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image57">We Met at the Church</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>R. F. Babcock</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image57">449</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image58">&#8220;Well, Then, Bobby, My Boy&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image58">455</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image59">In Kate, However, I Had a Firm Friend</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image59">458</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image60">&#8220;Faith, I Wish You&#8217;d Take Me!&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image60">465</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image61">He Soon Sees a Farmhouse at a Little Distance</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Herbert N. Rudeen</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image61">468</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image63">The Squire&#8217;s Library</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Iris Weddell White</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image63">475</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="smcap"><a href="#image64">&#8220;There Goes My Ink!&#8221;</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><em>Lucille Enders</em></td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#image64">479</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="HORATIUS" id="HORATIUS"></a>HORATIUS</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Lord Macaulay</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;This spirited poem by Lord Macaulay is founded on one of the
+most popular Roman legends. While the story is based on facts, we
+can by no means be certain that all of the details are historical.</p>
+
+<p>According to Roman legendary history, the Tarquins, Lucius
+Tarquinius Priscus and Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, were among the
+early kings of Rome. The reign of the former was glorious, but that
+of the latter was most unjust and tyrannical. Finally the
+unscrupulousness of the king and his son reached such a point that
+it became unendurable to the people, who in 509 B. C. rose in
+rebellion and drove the entire family from Rome. Tarquinius
+Superbus appealed to Lars Porsena, the powerful king of Clusium for
+aid and the story of the expedition against Rome is told in this
+poem.</p></div>
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcapl"><span class="hide">L</span></span><span class="upper">ars Porsena</span> of <span class="nowrap">Clusium<a name="Anchor_1-1" id="Anchor_1-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 1-1" href="#Footnote_1-1" class="fnanchor">1-1</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">By the Nine <span class="nowrap">Gods<a name="Anchor_1-2" id="Anchor_1-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 1-2" href="#Footnote_1-2" class="fnanchor">1-2</a></span> he swore</span><br />
+That the great house of Tarquin<br />
+<span class="i1">Should suffer wrong no more.</span><br />
+By the Nine Gods he swore it,<br />
+<span class="i1">And named a trysting day,</span><br />
+And bade his messengers ride forth<br />
+East and west and south and north,<br />
+<span class="i1">To summon his array.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>East and west and south and north<br />
+<span class="i1">The messengers ride fast,</span><br />
+And tower and town and cottage<br />
+<span class="i1">Have heard the trumpet&#8217;s blast.</span><br />
+Shame on the false Etruscan<br />
+<span class="i1">Who lingers in his home,</span><br />
+When Porsena of Clusium<br />
+<span class="i1">Is on the march for Rome.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The horsemen and the footmen<br />
+<span class="i1">Are pouring in amain</span><br />
+From many a stately market-place;<br />
+<span class="i1">From many a fruitful plain.</span><br />
+From many a lonely hamlet,<br />
+<span class="i1">Which, hid by beech and pine,</span><br />
+Like an eagle&#8217;s nest, hangs on the crest<br />
+<span class="i1">Of purple Apennine;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem" style="letter-spacing: 0.5em;">&nbsp;* * * * * * * *</p>
+
+<p class="poem">There be thirty chosen prophets,<br />
+<span class="i1">The wisest of the land,</span><br />
+Who alway by Lars Porsena<br />
+<span class="i1">Both morn and evening stand:</span><br />
+Evening and morn the Thirty<br />
+<span class="i1">Have turned the verses o&#8217;er,</span><br />
+Traced from the right on linen <span class="nowrap">white<a name="Anchor_2-3" id="Anchor_2-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 2-3" href="#Footnote_2-3" class="fnanchor">2-3</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">By mighty seers of yore.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And with one voice the Thirty<br />
+<span class="i1">Have their glad answer given:</span><br />
+&#8220;Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;<br />
+<span class="i1">Go forth, beloved of Heaven:</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>Go, and return in glory<br />
+<span class="i1">To Clusium&#8217;s royal dome;</span><br />
+And hang round <span class="nowrap">Nurscia&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_3-4" id="Anchor_3-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 3-4" href="#Footnote_3-4" class="fnanchor">3-4</a></span> altars<br />
+<span class="i1">The golden shields of Rome.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And now hath every city<br />
+<span class="i1">Sent up her <span class="nowrap">tale<a name="Anchor_3-5" id="Anchor_3-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 3-5" href="#Footnote_3-5" class="fnanchor">3-5</a></span> of men:</span><br />
+The foot are fourscore thousand,<br />
+<span class="i1">The horse are thousand ten.</span><br />
+Before the gates of <span class="nowrap">Sutrium<a name="Anchor_3-6" id="Anchor_3-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 3-6" href="#Footnote_3-6" class="fnanchor">3-6</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Is met the great array.</span><br />
+A proud man was Lars Porsena<br />
+<span class="i1">Upon the trysting day.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">For all the Etruscan armies<br />
+<span class="i1">Were ranged beneath his eye,</span><br />
+And many a banished Roman,<br />
+<span class="i1">And many a stout ally;</span><br />
+And with a mighty following<br />
+<span class="i1">To join the muster came</span><br />
+The Tusculan Mamilius,<br />
+<span class="i1">Prince of the <span class="nowrap">Latian<a name="Anchor_3-7" id="Anchor_3-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 3-7" href="#Footnote_3-7" class="fnanchor">3-7</a></span> name.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But by the yellow Tiber<br />
+<span class="i1">Was tumult and affright:</span><br />
+From all the spacious <span class="nowrap">champaign<a name="Anchor_3-8" id="Anchor_3-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 3-8" href="#Footnote_3-8" class="fnanchor">3-8</a></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span><span class="i1">To Rome men took their flight.</span><br />
+A mile around the city,<br />
+<span class="i1">The throng stopped up the ways;</span><br />
+A fearful sight it was to see<br />
+<span class="i1">Through two long nights and days.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">For aged folks on crutches,<br />
+<span class="i1">And women great with child,</span><br />
+And mothers sobbing over babes<br />
+<span class="i1">That clung to them and smiled,</span><br />
+And sick men borne in litters<br />
+<span class="i1">High on the necks of slaves,</span><br />
+And troops of sunburnt husbandmen<br />
+<span class="i1">With reaping-hooks and staves,</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And droves of mules and asses<br />
+<span class="i1">Laden with skins of wine,</span><br />
+And endless flocks of goats and sheep,<br />
+<span class="i1">And endless herds of kine,</span><br />
+And endless trains of wagons<br />
+<span class="i1">That creaked beneath the weight</span><br />
+Of corn-sacks and of household goods,<br />
+<span class="i1">Choked every roaring gate.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Now, from the rock <span class="nowrap">Tarpeian<a name="Anchor_4-9" id="Anchor_4-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 4-9" href="#Footnote_4-9" class="fnanchor">4-9</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Could the wan burghers spy</span><br />
+The line of blazing villages<br />
+<span class="i1">Red in the midnight sky.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>The Fathers of the <span class="nowrap">City,<a name="Anchor_5-10" id="Anchor_5-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 5-10" href="#Footnote_5-10" class="fnanchor">5-10</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">They sat all night and day,</span><br />
+For every hour some horseman came<br />
+<span class="i1">With tidings of dismay.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">To eastward and to westward<br />
+<span class="i1">Have spread the Tuscan bands;</span><br />
+Nor house nor fence nor dovecote<br />
+<span class="i1">In Crustumerium stands.</span><br />
+Verbenna down to <span class="nowrap">Ostia<a name="Anchor_5-11" id="Anchor_5-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 5-11" href="#Footnote_5-11" class="fnanchor">5-11</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Hath wasted all the plain;</span><br />
+Astur hath stormed <span class="nowrap">Janiculum,<a name="Anchor_5-12" id="Anchor_5-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 5-12" href="#Footnote_5-12" class="fnanchor">5-12</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">And the stout guards are slain.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="nowrap">Iwis,<a name="Anchor_5-13" id="Anchor_5-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 5-13" href="#Footnote_5-13" class="fnanchor">5-13</a></span> in all the Senate,<br />
+<span class="i1">There was no heart so bold,</span><br />
+But sore it ached, and fast it beat,<br />
+<span class="i1">When that ill news was told.</span><br />
+Forthwith up rose the <span class="nowrap">Consul,<a name="Anchor_5-14" id="Anchor_5-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 5-14" href="#Footnote_5-14" class="fnanchor">5-14</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Uprose the Fathers all;</span><br />
+In haste they girded up their gowns,<br />
+<span class="i1">And hied them to the wall.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">They held a council standing<br />
+<span class="i1">Before the River-Gate;</span><br />
+Short time was there, ye well may guess,<br />
+<span class="i1">For musing or debate.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>Out spake the Consul roundly:<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;The bridge must straight go down;</span><br />
+For since Janiculum is lost,<br />
+<span class="i1">Naught else can save the town.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Just then a scout came flying,<br />
+<span class="i1">All wild with haste and fear;</span><br />
+&#8220;To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:<br />
+<span class="i1">Lars Porsena is here.&#8221;</span><br />
+On the low hills to westward<br />
+<span class="i1">The Consul fixed his eye,</span><br />
+And saw the swarthy storm of dust<br />
+<span class="i1">Rise fast along the sky.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And nearer fast and nearer<br />
+<span class="i1">Doth the red whirlwind come;</span><br />
+And louder still and still more loud,<br />
+From underneath that rolling cloud,<br />
+Is heard the trumpet&#8217;s war-note proud,<br />
+<span class="i1">The trampling, and the hum.</span><br />
+And plainly and more plainly<br />
+<span class="i1">Now through the gloom appears,</span><br />
+Far to left and far to right,<br />
+In broken gleams of dark-blue light,<br />
+The long array of helmets bright,<br />
+<span class="i1">The long array of spears.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And plainly, and more plainly<br />
+<span class="i1">Above that glimmering line,</span><br />
+Now might ye see the banners<br />
+<span class="i1">Of twelve fair cities shine;</span><br />
+But the banner of proud Clusium<br />
+<span class="i1">Was highest of them all,</span><br />
+The terror of the Umbrian,<br />
+<span class="i1">The terror of the Gaul.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>Fast by the royal standard,<br />
+<span class="i1">O&#8217;erlooking all the war,</span><br />
+Lars Porsena of Clusium<br />
+<span class="i1">Sat in his ivory car.</span><br />
+By the right wheel rode Mamilius,<br />
+<span class="i1">Prince of the Latian name,</span><br />
+And by the left false <span class="nowrap">Sextus,<a name="Anchor_7-15" id="Anchor_7-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 7-15" href="#Footnote_7-15" class="fnanchor">7-15</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">That wrought the deed of shame.</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image05" id="image05"></a><a href="images/image05-full.png"><img src="images/image05.png" width="250" height="197" alt="Two Romans conversing on the battlements of a fort." title="THE LONG ARRAY OF HELMETS BRIGHT" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE LONG ARRAY OF HELMETS BRIGHT</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">But when the face of Sextus<br />
+<span class="i1">Was seen among the foes,</span><br />
+A yell that bent the firmament<br />
+<span class="i1">From all the town arose.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>On the house-tops was no woman<br />
+<span class="i1">But spat toward him and hissed,</span><br />
+No child but screamed out curses,<br />
+<span class="i1">And shook its little fist.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But the Consul&#8217;s brow was sad,<br />
+<span class="i1">And the Consul&#8217;s speech was low,</span><br />
+And darkly looked he at the wall,<br />
+<span class="i1">And darkly at the foe.</span><br />
+&#8220;Their van will be upon us<br />
+<span class="i1">Before the bridge goes down;</span><br />
+And if they once may win the bridge,<br />
+<span class="i1">What hope to save the town?&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Then out spake brave Horatius,<br />
+<span class="i1">The Captain of the Gate:</span><br />
+&#8220;To every man upon this earth<br />
+<span class="i1">Death cometh soon or late.</span><br />
+And how can man die better<br />
+<span class="i1">Than facing fearful odds,</span><br />
+For the ashes of his fathers,<br />
+<span class="i1">And the temples of his gods,</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;And for the tender mother<br />
+<span class="i1">Who dandled him to rest,</span><br />
+And for the wife who nurses<br />
+<span class="i1">His baby at her breast,</span><br />
+And for the holy maidens<br />
+<span class="i1">Who feed the eternal <span class="nowrap">flame,<a name="Anchor_8-16" id="Anchor_8-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 8-16" href="#Footnote_8-16" class="fnanchor">8-16</a></span></span><br />
+To save them from false Sextus<br />
+<span class="i1">That wrought the deed of shame?</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>&#8220;Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,<br />
+<span class="i1">With all the speed ye may;</span><br />
+I, with two more to help me,<br />
+<span class="i1">Will hold the foe in play.</span><br />
+In yon strait path a thousand<br />
+<span class="i1">May well be stopped by three.</span><br />
+Now who will stand on either hand,<br />
+<span class="i1">And keep the bridge with me?&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Then out spake Spurius Lartius;<br />
+<span class="i1">A Ramnian proud was he:</span><br />
+&#8220;Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,<br />
+<span class="i1">And keep the bridge with thee.&#8221;</span><br />
+And out spake strong Herminius;<br />
+<span class="i1">Of Titian blood was he:</span><br />
+&#8220;I will abide on thy left side,<br />
+<span class="i1">And keep the bridge with thee.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Horatius,&#8221; quoth the Consul,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;As thou sayest, so let it be.&#8221;</span><br />
+And straight against that great array<br />
+<span class="i1">Forth went the dauntless Three.</span><br />
+For Romans in Rome&#8217;s quarrel<br />
+<span class="i1">Spared neither land nor gold,</span><br />
+Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,<br />
+<span class="i1">In the brave days of old.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Then none was for a party;<br />
+<span class="i1">Then all were for the state;</span><br />
+Then the great man helped the poor,<br />
+<span class="i1">And the poor man loved the great:</span><br />
+Then lands were fairly portioned;<br />
+<span class="i1">Then spoils were fairly sold:</span><br />
+The Romans were like brothers<br />
+<span class="i1">In the brave days of old.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>Now while the Three were tightening<br />
+<span class="i1">Their harness on their backs,</span><br />
+The Consul was the foremost man<br />
+<span class="i1">To take in hand an axe:</span><br />
+And Fathers mixed with <span class="nowrap">Commons<a name="Anchor_10-17" id="Anchor_10-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 10-17" href="#Footnote_10-17" class="fnanchor">10-17</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,</span><br />
+And smote upon the planks above,<br />
+<span class="i1">And loosed the props below.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Meanwhile the Tuscan army,<br />
+<span class="i1">Right glorious to behold,</span><br />
+Came flashing back the noonday light,<br />
+Rank behind rank, like surges bright<br />
+<span class="i1">Of a broad sea of gold.</span><br />
+Four hundred trumpets sounded<br />
+<span class="i1">A peal of warlike glee,</span><br />
+As that great host, with measured tread,<br />
+And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,<br />
+Rolled slowly towards the bridge&#8217;s head,<br />
+<span class="i1">Where stood the dauntless Three.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The Three stood calm and silent,<br />
+<span class="i1">And looked upon the foes,</span><br />
+And a great shout of laughter<br />
+<span class="i1">From all the vanguard rose;</span><br />
+And forth three chiefs came spurring<br />
+<span class="i1">Before that deep array;</span><br />
+To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,<br />
+And lifted high their shields, and flew<br />
+<span class="i1">To win the narrow way;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>Aunus from green <span class="nowrap">Tifernum,<a name="Anchor_11-18" id="Anchor_11-18"></a><a title="Go to footnote 11-18" href="#Footnote_11-18" class="fnanchor">11-18</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Lord of the Hill of Vines;</span><br />
+And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves<br />
+<span class="i1">Sicken in Ilva&#8217;s mines;</span><br />
+And Picus, long to Clusium<br />
+<span class="i1">Vassal in peace and war,</span><br />
+Who led to fight his Umbrian powers<br />
+From that gray crag where, girt with towers,<br />
+The fortress of Nequinum lowers<br />
+<span class="i1">O&#8217;er the pale waves of Nar.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus<br />
+<span class="i1">Into the stream beneath:</span><br />
+Herminius struck at Seius,<br />
+<span class="i1">And clove him to the teeth:</span><br />
+At Picus brave Horatius<br />
+<span class="i1">Darted one fiery thrust;</span><br />
+And the proud Umbrian&#8217;s gilded arms<br />
+<span class="i1">Clashed in the bloody dust.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Then Ocnus of Falerii<br />
+<span class="i1">Rushed on the Roman Three:</span><br />
+And Lausulus of Urgo,<br />
+<span class="i1">The rover of the sea;</span><br />
+And Aruns of Volsinium,<br />
+<span class="i1">Who slew the great wild boar,</span><br />
+The great wild boar that had his den<br />
+Amidst the reeds of Cosa&#8217;s fen,<br />
+And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,<br />
+<span class="i1">Along Albinia&#8217;s shore.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>Herminius smote down Aruns:<br />
+<span class="i1">Lartius laid Ocnus low:</span><br />
+Right to the heart of Lausulus<br />
+<span class="i1">Horatius sent a blow.</span><br />
+&#8220;Lie there,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;fell pirate!<br />
+<span class="i1">No more, aghast and pale,</span><br />
+From Ostia&#8217;s walls the crowd shall mark<br />
+The track of thy destroying bark.<br />
+No more <span class="nowrap">Campania&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_12-19" id="Anchor_12-19"></a><a title="Go to footnote 12-19" href="#Footnote_12-19" class="fnanchor">12-19</a></span> <span class="nowrap">hinds<a name="Anchor_12-20" id="Anchor_12-20"></a><a title="Go to footnote 12-20" href="#Footnote_12-20" class="fnanchor">12-20</a></span> shall fly<br />
+To woods and caverns when they spy<br />
+<span class="i1">Thy thrice accursed sail.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But now no sound of laughter<br />
+<span class="i1">Was heard among the foes.</span><br />
+A wild and wrathful clamor<br />
+<span class="i1">From all the vanguard rose.</span><br />
+Six spears&#8217; lengths from the entrance<br />
+<span class="i1">Halted that deep array,</span><br />
+And for a space no man came forth<br />
+<span class="i1">To win the narrow way.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But hark! the cry is Astur:<br />
+<span class="i1">And lo! the ranks divide;</span><br />
+And the great Lord of Luna<br />
+<span class="i1">Comes with his stately stride.</span><br />
+Upon his ample shoulders<br />
+<span class="i1">Clangs loud the fourfold shield,</span><br />
+And in his hand he shakes the brand<br />
+<span class="i1">Which none but he can wield.</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;">
+<a name="image06" id="image06"></a><a href="images/image06-full.png"><img src="images/image06.png" width="252" height="397" alt="A battle scene" title="&#8220;LIE THERE,&#8221; HE CRIED, &#8220;FELL PIRATE!&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;LIE THERE,&#8221; HE CRIED, &#8220;FELL PIRATE!&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">He smiled on those bold Romans<br />
+<span class="i1">A smile serene and high;</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"><br />[14]</a></span>He eyed the flinching Tuscans,<br />
+<span class="i1">And scorn was in his eye.</span><br />
+Quoth he, &#8220;The she-wolf&#8217;s <span class="nowrap">litter<a name="Anchor_14-21" id="Anchor_14-21"></a><a title="Go to footnote 14-21" href="#Footnote_14-21" class="fnanchor">14-21</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Stand savagely at bay:</span><br />
+But will ye dare to follow,<br />
+<span class="i1">If Astur clears the way?&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Then, whirling up his broadsword<br />
+<span class="i1">With both hands to the height,</span><br />
+He rushed against Horatius,<br />
+<span class="i1">And smote with all his might.</span><br />
+With shield and blade Horatius<br />
+<span class="i1">Right deftly turned the blow.</span><br />
+The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;<br />
+It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:<br />
+The Tuscans raised a joyful cry<br />
+<span class="i1">To see the red blood flow.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">He reeled, and on Herminius<br />
+<span class="i1">He leaned one breathing-space;</span><br />
+Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds,<br />
+<span class="i1">Sprang right at Astur&#8217;s face.</span><br />
+Through teeth, and skull, and helmet,<br />
+<span class="i1">So fierce a thrust he sped,</span><br />
+The good sword stood a handbreadth out<br />
+<span class="i1">Behind the Tuscan&#8217;s head.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And the great Lord of Luna<br />
+<span class="i1">Fell at that deadly stroke,</span><br />
+As falls on Mount Alvernus<br />
+<span class="i1">A thunder-smitten oak.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>Far o&#8217;er the crashing forest<br />
+<span class="i1">The giant arms lie spread;</span><br />
+And the pale augurs, muttering low,<br />
+<span class="i1">Gaze on the blasted head.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">On Astur&#8217;s throat Horatius<br />
+<span class="i1">Right firmly pressed his heel,</span><br />
+And thrice and four times tugged amain,<br />
+<span class="i1">Ere he wrenched out the steel.</span><br />
+&#8220;And see,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;the welcome,<br />
+<span class="i1">Fair guests, that waits you here!</span><br />
+What noble Lucumo comes next<br />
+<span class="i1">To taste our Roman cheer?&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But at his haughty challenge<br />
+<span class="i1">A sullen murmur ran,</span><br />
+Mingled of wrath and shame and dread,<br />
+<span class="i1">Along that glittering van.</span><br />
+There lacked not men of prowess,<br />
+<span class="i1">Nor men of lordly race;</span><br />
+For all Etruria&#8217;s noblest<br />
+<span class="i1">Were round the fatal place.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But all Etruria&#8217;s noblest<br />
+<span class="i1">Felt their hearts sink to see</span><br />
+On the earth the bloody corpses,<br />
+<span class="i1">In the path the dauntless Three:</span><br />
+And, from the ghastly entrance<br />
+<span class="i1">Where those bold Romans stood,</span><br />
+All shrank, like boys who unaware,<br />
+Ranging the woods to start a hare,<br />
+Come to the mouth of the dark lair<br />
+Where, growling low, a fierce old bear<br />
+<span class="i1">Lies amidst bones and blood.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>Was none who would be foremost<br />
+<span class="i1">To lead such dire attack:</span><br />
+But those behind cried &#8220;Forward!&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">And those before cried &#8220;Back!&#8221;</span><br />
+And backward now and forward<br />
+<span class="i1">Wavers the deep array;</span><br />
+And on the tossing sea of steel,<br />
+To and fro the standards reel;<br />
+And the victorious trumpet-peal<br />
+<span class="i1">Dies fitfully away.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Yet one man for one moment<br />
+<span class="i1">Stood out before the crowd;</span><br />
+Well known was he to all the Three,<br />
+<span class="i1">And they gave him greeting loud.</span><br />
+&#8220;Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!<br />
+<span class="i1">Now welcome to thy home!</span><br />
+Why dost thou stay, and turn away?<br />
+<span class="i1">Here lies the road to Rome.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Thrice looked he at the city;<br />
+<span class="i1">Thrice looked he at the dead;</span><br />
+And thrice came on in fury,<br />
+<span class="i1">And thrice turned back in dread;</span><br />
+And, white with fear and hatred,<br />
+<span class="i1">Scowled at the narrow way</span><br />
+Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,<br />
+<span class="i1">The bravest Tuscans lay.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But meanwhile axe and lever<br />
+<span class="i1">Have manfully been plied;</span><br />
+And now the bridge hangs tottering<br />
+<span class="i1">Above the boiling tide.</span><br />
+&#8220;Come back, come back, Horatius!&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">Loud cried the Fathers all.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>&#8220;Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!<br />
+<span class="i1">Back, ere the ruin fall!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Back darted Spurius Lartius;<br />
+<span class="i1">Herminius darted back:</span><br />
+And, as they passed, beneath their feet<br />
+<span class="i1">They felt the timbers crack.</span><br />
+But when they turned their faces,<br />
+<span class="i1">And on the farther shore</span><br />
+Saw brave Horatius stand alone,<br />
+<span class="i1">They would have crossed once more.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But with a crash like thunder<br />
+<span class="i1">Fell every loosened beam,</span><br />
+And, like a dam, the mighty wreck<br />
+<span class="i1">Lay right athwart the stream;</span><br />
+And a long shout of triumph<br />
+<span class="i1">Rose from the walls of Rome,</span><br />
+As to the highest turret-tops<br />
+<span class="i1">Was splashed the yellow foam.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And, like a horse unbroken<br />
+<span class="i1">When first he feels the rein,</span><br />
+The furious river struggled hard,<br />
+<span class="i1">And tossed his tawny mane,</span><br />
+And burst the curb, and bounded,<br />
+<span class="i1">Rejoicing to be free,</span><br />
+And whirling down, in fierce career,<br />
+Battlement, and plank, and pier,<br />
+<span class="i1">Rushed headlong to the sea.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Alone stood brave Horatius,<br />
+<span class="i1">But constant still in mind;</span><br />
+Thrice thirty thousand foes before,<br />
+<span class="i1">And the broad flood behind.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>&#8220;Down with him!&#8221; cried false Sextus,<br />
+<span class="i1">With a smile on his pale face.</span><br />
+&#8220;Now yield thee,&#8221; cried Lars Porsena,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Now yield thee to our grace.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Round turned he, as not deigning<br />
+<span class="i1">Those craven ranks to see;</span><br />
+Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,<br />
+<span class="i1">To Sextus naught spake he;</span><br />
+But he saw on <span class="nowrap">Palatinus<a name="Anchor_18-22" id="Anchor_18-22"></a><a title="Go to footnote 18-22" href="#Footnote_18-22" class="fnanchor">18-22</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">The white porch of his home;</span><br />
+And he spake to the noble river<br />
+<span class="i1">That rolls by the towers of Rome.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;O Tiber! father <span class="nowrap">Tiber!<a name="Anchor_18-23" id="Anchor_18-23"></a><a title="Go to footnote 18-23" href="#Footnote_18-23" class="fnanchor">18-23</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">To whom the Romans pray,</span><br />
+A Roman&#8217;s life, a Roman&#8217;s arms,<br />
+<span class="i1">Take thou in charge this day!&#8221;</span><br />
+So he spake, and speaking sheathed<br />
+<span class="i1">The good sword by his side,</span><br />
+And with his harness on his back<br />
+<span class="i1">Plunged headlong in the tide.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">No sound of joy or sorrow<br />
+<span class="i1">Was heard from either bank;</span><br />
+But friends and foes in dumb surprise,<br />
+With parted lips and straining eyes,<br />
+<span class="i1">Stood gazing where he sank;</span><br />
+And when above the surges<br />
+<span class="i1">They saw his crest appear,</span><br />
+All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>And even the ranks of Tuscany<br />
+<span class="i1">Could scarce forbear to cheer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But fiercely ran the current,<br />
+<span class="i1">Swollen high by months of rain:</span><br />
+And fast his blood was flowing,<br />
+<span class="i1">And he was sore in pain,</span><br />
+And heavy with his armor,<br />
+<span class="i1">And spent with changing blows:</span><br />
+And oft they thought him sinking,<br />
+<span class="i1">But still again he rose.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Never, I ween, did swimmer,<br />
+<span class="i1">In such an evil case,</span><br />
+Struggle through such a raging flood<br />
+<span class="i1">Safe to the landing-place:</span><br />
+But his limbs were borne up bravely<br />
+<span class="i1">By the brave heart within,</span><br />
+And our good father Tiber<br />
+<span class="i1">Bore bravely up his chin.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Curse on him!&#8221; quoth false Sextus;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Will not the villain drown?</span><br />
+But for this stay, ere close of day<br />
+<span class="i1">We should have sacked the town!&#8221;</span><br />
+&#8220;Heaven help him!&#8221; quoth Lars Porsena,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;And bring him safe to shore;</span><br />
+For such a gallant feat of arms<br />
+<span class="i1">Was never seen before.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And now he feels the bottom;<br />
+<span class="i1">Now on dry earth he stands;</span><br />
+Now round him throng the Fathers<br />
+<span class="i1">To press his gory hands;</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>And now, with shouts and clapping,<br />
+<span class="i1">And noise of weeping loud,</span><br />
+He enters through the River-Gate,<br />
+<span class="i1">Borne by the joyous crowd.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">They gave him of the corn-land,<br />
+<span class="i1">That was of public right,</span><br />
+As much as two strong oxen<br />
+<span class="i1">Could plow from morn till night;</span><br />
+And they made a molten image,<br />
+<span class="i1">And set it up on high,</span><br />
+And there it stands unto this day<br />
+<span class="i1">To witness if I lie.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">It stands in the <span class="nowrap">Comitium,<a name="Anchor_20-24" id="Anchor_20-24"></a><a title="Go to footnote 20-24" href="#Footnote_20-24" class="fnanchor">20-24</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Plain for all folk to see;</span><br />
+Horatius in his harness,<br />
+<span class="i1">Halting upon one knee:</span><br />
+And underneath is written,<br />
+<span class="i1">In letters all of gold,</span><br />
+How valiantly he kept the bridge<br />
+<span class="i1">In the brave days of old.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And still his name sounds stirring<br />
+<span class="i1">Unto the men of Rome,</span><br />
+As the trumpet-blast that cries to them<br />
+<span class="i1">To charge the <span class="nowrap">Volscian<a name="Anchor_20-25" id="Anchor_20-25"></a><a title="Go to footnote 20-25" href="#Footnote_20-25" class="fnanchor">20-25</a></span> home;</span><br />
+And wives still pray to <span class="nowrap">Juno<a name="Anchor_20-26" id="Anchor_20-26"></a><a title="Go to footnote 20-26" href="#Footnote_20-26" class="fnanchor">20-26</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">For boys with hearts as bold</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>As his who kept the bridge so well<br />
+<span class="i1">In the brave days of old.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And in the nights of winter,<br />
+<span class="i1">When the cold north-winds blow,</span><br />
+And the long howling of the wolves<br />
+<span class="i1">Is heard amidst the snow;</span><br />
+When round the lonely cottage<br />
+<span class="i1">Roars loud the tempest&#8217;s din,</span><br />
+And the good logs of Algidus<br />
+<span class="i1">Roar louder yet within:</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;">
+<a name="image07" id="image07"></a><a href="images/image07-full.png"><img src="images/image07.png" width="251" height="199" alt="A statue of a Roman warrior, dressed for battle." title="HORATIUS IN HIS HARNESS, HALTING UPON ONE KNEE" /></a>
+<span class="caption">HORATIUS IN HIS HARNESS, HALTING UPON ONE KNEE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">When the oldest cask is opened,<br />
+<span class="i1">And the largest lamp is lit;</span><br />
+When the chestnuts glow in the embers,<br />
+<span class="i1">And the kid turns on the spit;</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>When young and old in circle<br />
+<span class="i1">Around the firebrands close;</span><br />
+And the girls are weaving baskets,<br />
+<span class="i1">And the lads are shaping bows;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">When the goodman mends his armor,<br />
+<span class="i1">And trims his helmet&#8217;s plume;</span><br />
+When the goodwife&#8217;s shuttle merrily<br />
+<span class="i1">Goes flashing through the loom,&mdash;</span><br />
+With weeping and with laughter<br />
+<span class="i1">Still is the story told,</span><br />
+How well Horatius kept the bridge<br />
+<span class="i1">In the brave days of <span class="nowrap">old.<a name="Anchor_22-27" id="Anchor_22-27"></a><a title="Go to footnote 22-27" href="#Footnote_22-27" class="fnanchor">22-27</a></span></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 107px;">
+<img src="images/image08.png" width="107" height="104" alt="Decorative break" title="Decorative break" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+<p><a name="Footnote_1-1" id="Footnote_1-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_1-1" class="label">1-1</a> Clusium was a powerful town in Etruria.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1-2" id="Footnote_1-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_1-2" class="label">1-2</a> According to the religion of the Etruscans there were
+nine great gods. An oath by them was considered the most binding oath
+that a man could take.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_2-3" id="Footnote_2-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_2-3" class="label">2-3</a> This line shows us that the writing of the Etruscans was
+done backwards, as we should consider it; that is, they wrote from right
+to left instead of from left to right.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3-4" id="Footnote_3-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_3-4" class="label">3-4</a> Nurscia was a city of the Sabines.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3-5" id="Footnote_3-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_3-5" class="label">3-5</a> <em>Tale</em> here means <em>number</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3-6" id="Footnote_3-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_3-6" class="label">3-6</a> Sutrium was an Etruscan town twenty-nine miles from
+Rome.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3-7" id="Footnote_3-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_3-7" class="label">3-7</a> The Latins were an Italian race who, even before the dawn
+of history, dwelt on the plains south of the Tiber. Rome was supposed to
+be a colony of Alba Longa, the chief Latin city, but the Latin peoples
+were in the fourth century brought into complete subjection to Rome.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3-8" id="Footnote_3-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_3-8" class="label">3-8</a> <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Champaign</em>, or <em lang="it" xml:lang="it">campagna</em>, means any open, level tract
+of country. The name is specifically applied to the extensive plains
+about Rome.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_4-9" id="Footnote_4-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_4-9" class="label">4-9</a> A part of the Capitoline, one of the seven hills on which
+Rome is built, was called the Tarpeian Rock, after Tarpeia, daughter of
+an early governor of the citadel on the Capitoline. According to the
+popular legend, when the Sabines came against Rome, Tarpeia promised to
+open the gate of the fortress to them if they would give her what they
+wore on their left arms. It was their jewelry which she coveted, but she
+was punished for her greed and treachery, for when the soldiers had
+entered the fortress they hurled their shields upon her, crushing her to
+death.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5-10" id="Footnote_5-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_5-10" class="label">5-10</a> <em>Fathers of the City</em> was the name given to the members
+of the Roman Senate.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5-11" id="Footnote_5-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_5-11" class="label">5-11</a> Ostia was the port of Rome, situated at the mouth of the
+Tiber.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5-12" id="Footnote_5-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_5-12" class="label">5-12</a> Janiculum is a hill on the west bank of the Tiber at
+Rome. It was strongly fortified, and commanded the approach to Rome.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5-13" id="Footnote_5-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_5-13" class="label">5-13</a> <em>Iwis</em> is an obsolete word meaning <em>truly</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5-14" id="Footnote_5-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_5-14" class="label">5-14</a> When the kings were banished from Rome the people vowed
+that never again should one man hold the supreme power. Two chief rulers
+were therefore chosen, and were given the name of <em>consuls</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_7-15" id="Footnote_7-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_7-15" class="label">7-15</a> Sextus was the son of the last king of Rome. It was a
+shameful deed of his which finally roused the people against the Tarquin
+family.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_8-16" id="Footnote_8-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_8-16" class="label">8-16</a> In the temple of the goddess Vesta a sacred flame was
+kept burning constantly, and it was thought that the consequences to the
+city would be most dire if the fire were allowed to go out. The Vestal
+virgins, priestesses who tended the flame, were held in the highest
+honor.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_10-17" id="Footnote_10-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_10-17" class="label">10-17</a> The Roman people were divided into two classes, the
+patricians, to whom belonged all the privileges of citizenship, and the
+plebeians, who were not allowed to hold office or even to own property.
+Macaulay gives the English name <em>Commons</em> to the plebeians.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_11-18" id="Footnote_11-18"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_11-18" class="label">11-18</a> A discussion as to who these chiefs were, or as to
+where the places mentioned were located, would be profitless. The notes
+attempt to give only such information as will aid in understanding the
+story.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_12-19" id="Footnote_12-19"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_12-19" class="label">12-19</a> <em lang="it" xml:lang="it">Campania</em> is another name for the campagna.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_12-20" id="Footnote_12-20"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_12-20" class="label">12-20</a> <em>Hinds</em> here means <em>peasants</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_14-21" id="Footnote_14-21"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_14-21" class="label">14-21</a> Romulus, the founder of Rome, and Remus, his brother,
+were, according to the legend, rescued and brought up by a she-wolf,
+after they had been cast into the Tiber to die.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_18-22" id="Footnote_18-22"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_18-22" class="label">18-22</a> The Palatine is one of the seven hills of Rome.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_18-23" id="Footnote_18-23"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_18-23" class="label">18-23</a> The Romans personified the Tiber River, and even
+offered prayers to it.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_20-24" id="Footnote_20-24"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_20-24" class="label">20-24</a> The Comitium was the old Roman polling-place, a square
+situated between the Forum and the Senate House.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_20-25" id="Footnote_20-25"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_20-25" class="label">20-25</a> The Volscians were among the most determined of the
+Italian enemies of Rome.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_20-26" id="Footnote_20-26"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_20-26" class="label">20-26</a> Juno was the goddess who was thought of as presiding
+over marriage and the birth of children.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_22-27" id="Footnote_22-27"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_22-27" class="label">22-27</a> You can tell from these last three stanzas, that
+Macaulay is writing his poem, not as an Englishman of the nineteenth
+century, but as if he were a Roman in the days when Rome, though
+powerful, had not yet become the luxurious city which it afterward was.
+That is, he thought of himself as writing in the days of the Republic,
+not in the days of the Empire.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER" id="LORD_ULLINS_DAUGHTER"></a>LORD ULLIN&#8217;S DAUGHTER</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcapa"><span class="hide">A</span></span> <span class="upper">chieftain,</span> to the Highlands bound,<br />
+<span class="i1">Cries, &#8220;Boatman, do not tarry!</span><br />
+And I&#8217;ll give thee a silver pound,<br />
+<span class="i1">To row us o&#8217;er the ferry.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,<br />
+<span class="i1">This dark and stormy water?&#8221;</span><br />
+&#8220;O, I&#8217;m the chief of Ulva&#8217;s isle,<br />
+<span class="i1">And this Lord Ullin&#8217;s daughter.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;And fast before her father&#8217;s men<br />
+<span class="i1">Three days we&#8217;ve fled together,</span><br />
+For should he find us in the glen,<br />
+<span class="i1">My blood would stain the heather.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;His horsemen hard behind us ride;<br />
+<span class="i1">Should they our steps discover,</span><br />
+Then who will cheer my bonny bride<br />
+<span class="i1">When they have slain her lover?&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;I&#8217;ll go, my chief&mdash;I&#8217;m ready;</span><br />
+It is not for your silver bright,<br />
+<span class="i1">But for your winsome lady:</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;And by my word! the bonny bird<br />
+<span class="i1">In danger shall not tarry;</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>So though the waves are raging white,<br />
+<span class="i1">I&#8217;ll row you o&#8217;er the ferry.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 246px;">
+<a name="image09" id="image09"></a><a href="images/image09-full.png"><img src="images/image09.png" width="246" height="293" alt="A man and a woman, under a tree, bidding farewell to the boatman." title="&#8220;BOATMAN, DO NOT TARRY!&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;BOATMAN, DO NOT TARRY!&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">By this the storm grew loud apace,<br />
+<span class="i1">The water-wraith was shrieking;</span><br />
+And in the scowl of heaven each face<br />
+<span class="i1">Grew dark as they were speaking.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But still as wilder blew the wind,<br />
+<span class="i1">And as the night grew drearer,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>Adown the glen rode armed men,<br />
+<span class="i1">Their trampling sounded nearer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;O haste thee, haste!&#8221; the lady cries,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Though tempests round us gather;</span><br />
+I&#8217;ll meet the raging of the skies,<br />
+<span class="i1">But not an angry father.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The boat had left a stormy land,<br />
+<span class="i1">A stormy sea before her,&mdash;</span><br />
+When, oh! too strong for human hand,<br />
+<span class="i1">The tempest gather&#8217;d o&#8217;er her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And still they row&#8217;d amidst the roar<br />
+<span class="i1">Of waters fast prevailing:</span><br />
+Lord Ullin reach&#8217;d that fatal shore,<br />
+<span class="i1">His wrath was changed to wailing.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">For sore dismay&#8217;d, through storm and shade,<br />
+<span class="i1">His child he did discover:&mdash;</span><br />
+One lovely hand she stretch&#8217;d for aid,<br />
+<span class="i1">And one was round her lover.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Come back! come back!&#8221; he cried in grief,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Across this stormy water:</span><br />
+And I&#8217;ll forgive your Highland chief,<br />
+<span class="i1">My daughter!&mdash;oh my daughter!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8217;Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,<br />
+<span class="i1">Return or aid preventing;</span><br />
+The waters wild went o&#8217;er his child,<br />
+<span class="i1">And he was left lamenting.</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="SIR_WALTER_SCOTT" id="SIR_WALTER_SCOTT"></a>SIR WALTER SCOTT</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Grace E. Sellon</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapo"><span class="hide">O</span></span><span class="upper">f</span> the old and honorable families of Scotland there are perhaps none
+more worthy than those from which were descended the parents of Sir
+Walter Scott. In the long line of ancestors on either side were fearless
+knights and bold chiefs of the Scottish Border whose adventures became a
+delightful heritage to the little boy born into the Edinburgh family of
+Scott in 1771. Perhaps his natural liking for strange and exciting
+events would have made him even more eager than other children to be
+told fairy stories and tales of real heroes of his own land. But even
+had this not been so, the way in which he was forced to spend his early
+childhood was such that entertainment of this kind was about all that he
+could enjoy. He was not two years old when, after a brief illness, he
+lost the use of one of his legs and thus became unable to run about as
+before, or even to stand. Soon afterward he was sent to his
+grandfather&#8217;s farm at Sandy-Knowe, where it was thought that the country
+life would help him. There he spent his days in listening to lively
+stories of Scotsmen who had lived in the brave and rollicking fashion of
+Robin Hood, in being read to by his aunt or in lying out among the
+rocks, cared for by his grandfather&#8217;s old shepherd. When thus out of
+doors he found so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> much of interest about him that he could not lie
+still and would try so hard to move himself about that at length he
+became able to rise to his feet and even to walk and run.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<a name="image10" id="image10"></a><a href="images/image10-full.jpg"><img src="images/image10.jpg" width="300" height="400" alt="Portrait of Sir Walter Scott" title="Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832" /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap">Sir Walter Scott<br />
+1771-1832</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Except for his lameness, he grew so well and strong that when he was
+about eight years old he was placed with his brothers in the upper class
+of the Edinburgh grammar school, known as the High School. Though he had
+had some lessons in Latin with a private tutor, he was behind his class
+in this subject, and being a high-spirited and sensitive boy, he felt
+rather keenly this disadvantage. Perhaps the fact that he could not be
+one of the leaders of his class made him careless; at any rate, he could
+never be depended upon to prepare his lesson, and at no time did he make
+a consistently good record. However, he found not a little comfort for
+his failure as a student in his popularity as a storyteller and
+kind-hearted comrade. Among the boys of his own rank in the school he
+won great admiration for his never-ending supply of exciting narratives
+and his willingness to give help upon lessons that he would otherwise
+have left undone.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of three years his class was promoted, and he found the new
+teacher much more to his liking. Indeed, his ability to appreciate the
+meaning and beauty of the Latin works studied became recognized: he
+began to make translations in verse that won praise, and, with a new
+feeling of distinction, he was thus urged on to earnest efforts. After
+leaving this school, he continued his excellent progress in the study of
+Latin for a short time under a teacher in the village of Kelso, where he
+had gone to visit an aunt.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>Meanwhile his hours out of school were spent in ways most pleasing to
+his lively imagination. His lameness did not debar him from the most
+active sports, nor even from the vigorous encounters in which, either
+with a single opponent or with company set against company, the Scotch
+schoolboys defended their reputation as hard fighters. One of these
+skirmishes that made a lasting impression upon Walter Scott he himself
+tells us of, and his biographer, Lockhart, has quoted it in describing
+the hardy boyhood days of the great writer. It frequently happened that
+bands of children from different parts of Edinburgh would wage war with
+each other, fighting with stones and clubs and other like weapons.
+Perhaps the city authorities thought that these miniature battles
+afforded good training: at least the police seem not to have interfered.
+The boys in the neighborhood where Walter lived had formed a company
+that had been given a beautiful standard by a young noblewoman. This
+company fought every week with a band composed of boys of the poorer
+classes. The leader of the latter was a fine-looking young fellow who
+bore himself as bravely as any chieftain. In the midst of a hotly fought
+contest, this boy had all but captured the enemy&#8217;s proudly erected
+standard when he was struck severely to the ground with a cruelly heavy
+weapon. The dismayed companies fled in all directions, and the lad was
+taken to the hospital. In a few days, however, he recovered; and then it
+was that through a friendly baker Walter Scott and his brothers were
+able to get word to their mistreated opponent and to offer a sum of
+money in token of their regret. But Green-breeks, as the young leader<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+had been dubbed, refused to accept this, and said besides that they
+might be sure of his not telling what he knew of the affair in which he
+had been hurt, for he felt it a disgrace to be a talebearer. This
+generous conduct so impressed young Scott and his companions that always
+afterward the fighting was fair.</p>
+
+<p>It must have been with not a little difficulty that this warlike spirit
+was subdued and made obedient to the strict rules observed in the
+Presbyterian home on Sunday. To a boy whose mind was filled with
+stirring deeds of adventure and all sorts of vivid legends and romances,
+the long, gloomy services seemed a tiresome burden. Monday, however,
+brought new opportunities for reading favorite poets and works of
+history and travel, and many were the spare moments through the week
+that were spent thus. The marvelous characters and incidents in
+Spenser&#8217;s <cite>Faerie Queene</cite> were a never-ending source of enjoyment, and
+later Percy&#8217;s <cite>Reliques of Ancient English Poetry</cite> was discovered by the
+young reader with a gladness that made him forget everything else in the
+world. &#8220;I remember well,&#8221; he has written, &#8220;the spot where I read these
+volumes for the first time. It was beneath a huge platanus tree, in the
+ruins of what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbor in the garden
+I have mentioned. The summer day sped onward so fast that,
+notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of
+dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was found still entranced in my
+intellectual banquet. To read and to remember was in this instance the
+same thing, and henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows, and all who
+would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> hearken to me, with tragical recitations from the ballads of
+Bishop Percy. The first time, too, I could scrape a few shillings
+together, which were not common occurrences with me, I bought unto
+myself a copy of these beloved volumes; nor do I believe I ever read a
+book half so frequently, or with half the enthusiasm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After his return from Kelso, Walter was sent to college, but with no
+better results than in the early years at the High School. The Latin
+teacher was so mild in his requirements that it was easy to neglect the
+lessons, and in beginning the study of Greek the boy was again at a
+disadvantage, for nearly all his classmates, unlike himself, knew a
+little of the language. He was scarcely more successful in a private
+course in mathematics, but did well in his classes in moral philosophy.
+History and civil and municipal law completed his list of studies. So
+meager did this education seem that in later years Scott wrote in a
+brief autobiography, &#8220;If, however, it should ever fall to the lot of
+youth to peruse these pages&mdash;let such a reader remember that it is with
+the deepest regret that I recollect in my manhood the opportunities of
+learning which I neglected in my youth: that through every part of my
+literary career I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance:
+and that I would at this moment give half the reputation I have had the
+good fortune to acquire, if by doing so I could rest the remaining part
+upon a sound foundation of learning and science.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="image11" id="image11"></a><a href="images/image11-full.jpg"><img src="images/image11.jpg" width="400" height="258" alt="Large manor house at Abbotsford" title="Abbotsford" /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap"><a name="corr2" id="corr2"></a>Abbotsford</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It had been decided that Walter should follow his father&#8217;s profession,
+that of the law, and accordingly he entered his father&#8217;s office, to
+serve a five<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> years&#8217; apprenticeship. Though it may seem surprising, in
+view of his former indolence, it is true that he gave himself to his
+work with great industry. At the same time, however, he continued to
+read stories of adventure and history and other similar works with as
+much zest as ever, and entered into an agreement with a friend whereby
+each was to entertain the other with original romances. The monotony of
+office duties was also relieved by many trips about the country, in
+which the keenest delight was felt in natural beauties and in the
+historical associations of old ruins and battlefields and other places
+of like interest. Then, too, there were literary societies that advanced
+the young law-apprentice both intellectually and socially. Thus the
+years with his father passed. Then, as he was to prepare himself for
+admission to the bar, he entered law classes in the University of
+Edinburgh, with the result that in 1792 he was admitted into the Faculty
+of Advocates.</p>
+
+<p>The first years of his practice, though not without profit, might have
+seemed dull and irksome to the young lawyer, had not his summers been
+spent in journeys about Scotland in which he came into possession of a
+wealth of popular legends and ballads. It was during one of these
+excursions, made in 1797, that he met the attractive young French woman,
+Charlotte Carpenter, who a few months later became his wife. A previous
+and unfortunate love affair had considerably sobered Scott&#8217;s ardent
+nature, but his friendship and marriage with Miss Carpenter brought him
+much of the happiness of which he had believed himself to have been
+deprived.</p>
+
+<p>The young couple spent their winters in Edin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>burgh and their summers at
+the suburb Lasswade. During the resting time passed in the country
+cottage, Scott found enjoyment in composing poems based upon some of the
+legends and superstitions with which he had become familiar in his
+jaunts among ruined castles and scenes in the Highlands. Some of these
+verses, shown in an offhand manner to James Ballantyne, who was the head
+of a printing establishment in Kelso, met with such favorable
+recognition that Scott was encouraged to lay bare to his friend a plan
+that had been forming in his mind for publishing a great collection of
+Scotch ballads. As a result Scott entered upon the work of editing them
+and by 1803 had published the three volumes of his <cite>Minstrelsy of the
+Scottish Border</cite>. So successful was this venture that shortly afterward
+he began the <cite>Lay of the Last Minstrel</cite>, a lengthy poem in which his
+keen interest in the thrilling history of the Scottish Border found full
+expression. This poem, published in 1805, was heartily welcomed, and
+opened to its author the career for which he was best fitted.</p>
+
+<p>The popularity of the <cite>Lay</cite>, together with the fact that the young poet
+had won no honors as an advocate, doubtless accounts for his retiring
+from the bar in 1806. He had been made sheriff of Selkirkshire in 1799,
+and to the income thus received was added that of a clerk of the Court
+of Sessions, an office to which he was appointed in 1806. More than
+this, he had in the preceding year become a partner in the Ballantyne
+printing establishment, which had moved to Edinburgh, and his growing
+fame as a writer seemed to promise that his association with this firm
+would bring considerable profit.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>With a good income thus assured, Scott was able within the following
+four years to produce besides minor works, two other great poems,
+<cite>Marmion, a Tale of Flodden Field</cite>, and <cite>The Lady of the Lake</cite>. These
+rank with the most stirring and richly colored narrative poems in our
+language. So vivid, indeed, are the pictures of Scottish scenery found
+in <cite>The Lady of the Lake</cite>, that, according to a writer who was living
+when it was published, &#8220;The whole country rang with the praises of the
+poet&mdash;crowds set off to view the scenery of Loch Katrine, till then
+comparatively unknown; and as the book came out just before the season
+for excursions, every house and inn in that neighborhood was crammed
+with a constant succession of visitors.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This lively and pleasing story, with its graceful verse form, has become
+such a favorite for children&#8217;s reading, that it seems very amusing to be
+told of the answer given by one of Scott&#8217;s little daughters to a family
+friend who had asked her how she liked the poem: &#8220;Oh, I have not read
+it; papa says there&#8217;s nothing so bad for young people as reading bad
+poetry.&#8221; The biographer Lockhart recounts also a little incident in
+which young Walter Scott, returning from school with the marks of battle
+showing plainly on his face, was asked why he had been fighting, and
+replied, looking down in shame, that he had been called a <em>lassie</em>.
+Never having heard of even the title of his father&#8217;s poem, the boy had
+fiercely resented being named, by some of his playmates, <cite>The Lady of
+the Lake</cite>.</p>
+
+<p>In order to fulfil his duties as sheriff, Scott had in 1804 leased the
+estate of Ashestiel, and in this wild and beautiful stretch of country
+on the Tweed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> River had spent his summers. When his lease expired in
+1811, he bought a farm of one hundred acres extending along the same
+river, and in the following year removed with his family to the cottage
+on this new property. This was the simple beginning of the magnificent
+Abbotsford home. Year after year changes were made, and land was added
+to the estate until by the close of 1824 a great castle had been
+erected. The building and furnishing of this mansion were of the keenest
+interest to its owner, an interest that was expressed probably with most
+delight in the two wonderful armories containing weapons borne by many
+heroes of history, and in the library with its carved oak ceiling, its
+bookcases filled with from fifteen to twenty thousand volumes, among
+which are some of unusual value, and its handsome portrait of the eldest
+of Scott&#8217;s sons.</p>
+
+<p>The building of this splendid dwelling place shows Scott to have been
+exceptionally prosperous as a writer. Yet his way was by no means always
+smooth. In 1808 he had formed with the Ballantynes a publishing house
+that, as a result of poor management, failed completely in 1813. Scott
+bore the trouble with admirable coolness, and by means of good
+management averted further disaster and made arrangements for the
+continued publication of his works.</p>
+
+<p>By this time he had found through the marked success of his novel
+<cite>Waverley</cite>, published in 1814, that a new and promising field lay before
+him. He decided then to give up poetry and devote himself especially to
+writing romances, in which his love of the picturesque and thrilling in
+history and of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> noble and chivalrous in human character could find
+the widest range of expression. With marvelous industry he added one
+after another to the long series of his famous Waverley Novels. Perhaps
+the height of his power was reached in 1819 in the production of
+<cite>Ivanhoe</cite>, though <cite>Waverley</cite>, <cite>Guy Mannering</cite> and <cite>The Heart of
+Midlothian</cite>, previously written, as well as <cite>Kenilworth</cite> and <cite>Quentin
+Durward</cite>, published later, must also be given first rank. In the
+intervals of his work on these novels, Scott also wrote reviews and
+essays and miscellaneous articles. He became recognized as the most
+gifted prose writer of his age, and his works, it is said, became &#8220;the
+daily food, not only of his countrymen, but of all educated Europe.&#8221; He
+was sought after with eager homage by the wealthy and notable, and was
+given the title of baronet, yet remained as simple and sincere at heart
+as in the early days of his career.</p>
+
+<p>With the sales of his books amounting to $50,000 or more a year, it is
+not strange that he should have felt his fortune assured. But again, and
+this time with the most serious results, he was deceived by the
+mismanagement of others. The printing firm of James Ballantyne and
+Company, in which he had remained a partner, became bankrupt in 1826.
+Had it not been for a high sense of honor, he would have withdrawn with
+the others of the firm; but the sense of his great debt pressed upon him
+so sorely that he agreed to pay all that he owed, at whatever cost to
+himself. For the remaining six years of his life he worked as hard as
+failing health would allow, and the strain of his labor told on him
+severely.</p>
+
+<p>At length he consented to a trip to southern Europe, but the change did
+not bring back his health.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> Not long after his return to Abbotsford, in
+1832, he called his son-in-law to his bedside early one morning, and
+speaking in calm tones, said: &#8220;Lockhart, I may have but a minute to
+speak to you. My dear, be a good man&mdash;be virtuous&mdash;be religious&mdash;be a
+good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie
+here.&#8221; After a few words more he asked God&#8217;s blessing on all in the
+household and then fell into a quiet sleep from which he did not awake
+on earth.</p>
+
+<p>Had Scott lived but a few years longer he would undoubtedly have paid
+off all his voluntarily assumed obligations. As it was, all his debts
+were liquidated in 1847 by the sale of copyrights.</p>
+
+<p>Many years have passed since the death of Sir Walter Scott, and to the
+young readers of to-day the time in which he lived may seem far away and
+indistinct. But every boy and girl can share with him the pleasure that
+he felt, all his life, in stories of battle on sea and land, in love
+tales of knights and ladies, in mysterious superstitions and in
+everything else that spurs one on at the liveliest speed through the
+pages of a book. These interests and delights of his boyhood he never
+outgrew. They kept him always young at heart and gave to his works a
+freshness and brightness that few writers have been able to retain
+throughout their lives.</p>
+
+<p>When he became <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">laird</em> of Abbotsford, the same sunny nature and kindly
+feeling for others that had drawn about him many comrades in his
+schoolboy days, attracted to him crowds of visitors who, though they
+intruded on his time, were received with generous courtesy. His tall,
+strongly built figure was often the center of admiring groups of guests<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+who explored with him the wonders and beauties of Abbotsford, listening
+meanwhile to his humorous stories. At such times, with his clear,
+wide-open blue eyes, and his pleasant smile lighting his somewhat heavy
+features, he would have been called a handsome man. Of all who came to
+the home at Abbotsford, none were more <a name="corr3" id="corr3"></a>gladly received than the children
+of the tenants who lived in the little homes on the estate. Each year,
+on the last morning in December, it was customary for them to pay a
+visit of respect to the <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">laird</em>, and though they may not have known it,
+he found more pleasure in this simple ceremony than in all the others of
+the Christmas season.</p>
+
+<p>To these gentler qualities of his nature was joined not a little of the
+hardihood of the Scotch heroes whose lives he has celebrated. The same
+&#8220;high spirit with which, in younger days,&#8221; he has written, &#8220;I used to
+enjoy a Tam-o&#8217;-Shanter ride through darkness, wind and rain, the boughs
+groaning and cracking over my head, the good horse free to the road and
+impatient for home, and feeling the weather as little as I did,&#8221; was
+that which bore him bravely through misfortune and gave him the splendid
+courage with which in his last years he faced the ruin of his fortune.
+With an influence as strong and wholesome as that of his works as a
+writer, remains the example of his loyal, industrious life.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_TOURNAMENT" id="THE_TOURNAMENT"></a>THE TOURNAMENT</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;Scott&#8217;s <cite>Ivanhoe</cite>, from which this account of <em>The
+Tournament</em> is taken, belongs to the class of books known as
+historical novels. Such a book does not necessarily have as the
+center of its plot an historical incident, nor does it necessarily
+have an historical character as hero or heroine; it does, however,
+introduce historic scenes or historic people, or both. In
+<cite>Ivanhoe</cite>, the events of which take place in England in the twelfth
+century, during the reign of Richard I, both the king and his
+brother John appear, though they are by no means the chief
+characters. The great movements known as the Crusades, while they
+are frequently mentioned and give a sort of an atmosphere to the
+book, do not influence the plot directly.</p>
+
+<p><cite>Ivanhoe</cite> does much more, however, than introduce us casually to
+Richard and John; it gives us a striking picture of customs and
+manners in the twelfth century. The story is not made to halt for
+long descriptions, but the events themselves and their settings are
+so brought before us that we have much clearer pictures of them
+than hours of reading in histories and encyclopedias could give us.
+This account of a tournament, for instance, while it lets us see
+all the gorgeousness that was a part of such pageants, does not
+fail to give us also the cruel, brutal side.</p></div>
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">he</span> poor as well as the rich, the vulgar as well as the noble, in the
+event of a tournament, which was the grand spectacle of that age, felt
+as much interested as the half-starved citizen of Madrid, who has not a
+real left to buy provisions for his family, feels in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> issue of a
+bull-fight. Neither duty nor infirmity could keep youth or age from such
+exhibitions. The passage of arms, as it was called, which was to take
+place at Ashby, in the county of Leicester, as champions of the first
+renown were to take the field in the presence of Prince John himself,
+who was expected to grace the lists, had attracted universal attention,
+and an immense confluence of persons of all ranks hastened upon the
+appointed morning to the place of combat.</p>
+
+<p>The scene was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood near Ashby,
+was an extensive meadow of the finest and most beautiful green turf,
+surrounded on one side by the forest, and fringed on the other by
+straggling oak trees, some of which had grown to an immense size. The
+ground, as if fashioned on purpose for the martial display which was
+intended, sloped gradually down on all sides to a level bottom, which
+was enclosed for the lists with strong palisades, forming a space of a
+quarter of a mile in length, and about half as broad. The form of the
+enclosure was an oblong square, save that the corners were considerably
+rounded off, in order to afford more convenience for the spectators. The
+openings for the entry of the combatants were at the northern and
+southern extremities of the lists, accessible by strong wooden gates,
+each wide enough to admit two horsemen riding abreast. At each of these
+portals were stationed two heralds, attended by six trumpets, as many
+<span class="nowrap">pursuivants,<a name="Anchor_39-1" id="Anchor_39-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 39-1" href="#Footnote_39-1" class="fnanchor">39-1</a></span> and a strong body of men-at-arms, for maintaining
+order, and ascertaining the quality of the knights who proposed to
+engage in this martial game.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>On a platform beyond the southern entrance, formed by a natural
+elevation of the ground, were pitched five magnificent pavilions,
+adorned with pennons of russet and black, the chosen colors of the five
+knights challengers. The cords of the tents were of the same color.
+Before each pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by whom it
+was occupied, and beside it stood his squire, quaintly disguised as a
+<span class="nowrap">salvage<a name="Anchor_40-2" id="Anchor_40-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 40-2" href="#Footnote_40-2" class="fnanchor">40-2</a></span> or silvan man, or in some other fantastic dress, according
+to the taste of his master and the character he was pleased to assume
+during the game. The central pavilion, as the place of honor, had been
+assigned to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of
+chivalry, no less than his connection with the knights who had
+undertaken this passage of arms, had occasioned him to be eagerly
+received into the company of challengers, and even adopted as their
+chief and leader, though he had so recently joined them. On one side of
+his tent were pitched those of Reginald Front-de-B&oelig;uf and Richard
+(Philip) de Malvoisin, and on the other was the pavilion of Hugh de
+Grantmesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity, whose ancestor had been Lord
+High Steward of England in the time of the Conqueror and his son William
+Rufus. Ralph de Vipont, a knight of Saint John of Jerusalem, who had
+some ancient possessions at a place called Heather, near
+Ashby-de-la-Zouche, occupied the fifth pavilion.</p>
+
+<p>From the entrance into the lists a gently sloping passage, ten yards in
+breadth, led up to the platform on which the tents were pitched. It was
+strongly secured by a palisade on each side, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> was the esplanade in
+front of the pavilions, and the whole was guarded by men-at-arms.</p>
+
+<p>The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar entrance of
+thirty feet in breadth, at the extremity of which was a large enclosed
+space for such knights as might be disposed to enter the lists with the
+challengers, behind which were placed tents containing refreshments of
+every kind for their accommodation, with armorers, farriers, and other
+attendants, in readiness to give their services wherever they might be
+necessary.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image12" id="image12"></a><a href="images/image12-full.png"><img src="images/image12.png" width="248" height="202" alt="Man and woman on horseback, making their way through a crowd." title="THRONG GOING TO THE LISTS" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THRONG GOING TO THE LISTS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by temporary galleries,
+spread with tapestries and carpets, and accommodated with cushions for
+the convenience of those ladies and nobles who were expect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>ed to attend
+the tournament. A narrow space between these galleries and the lists
+gave accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than
+the mere vulgar, and might be compared to the pit of a theatre. The
+promiscuous multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf
+prepared for the purpose, which, aided by the natural elevation of the
+ground, enabled them to overlook the galleries, and obtain a fair view
+into the lists. Besides the accommodation which these stations afforded,
+many hundred had perched themselves on the branches of the trees which
+surrounded the meadow; and even the steeple of a country church, at some
+distance, was crowded with spectators.</p>
+
+<p>It only remains to notice respecting the general arrangement, that one
+gallery in the very centre of the eastern side of the lists, and
+consequently exactly opposite to the spot where the shock of the combat
+was to take place, was raised higher than the others, more richly
+decorated, and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the royal
+arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen in rich liveries waited
+around this place of honor, which was designed for Prince John and his
+attendants. Opposite to this royal gallery was another, elevated to the
+same height, on the western side of the lists; and more gayly, if less
+sumptuously, decorated than that destined for the Prince himself. A
+train of pages and of young maidens, the most beautiful who could be
+selected, gayly dressed in fancy habits of green and pink, surrounded a
+throne decorated in the same colors; Among pennons and flags, bearing
+wounded hearts, burning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> hearts, bleeding hearts, bows and quivers, and
+all the commonplace emblems of the triumphs of Cupid, a blazoned
+inscription informed the spectators that this seat of honor was designed
+for <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">La Royne de la Beaute et des Amours</em>. But who was to represent the
+Queen of Beauty and of Love on the present occasion no one was prepared
+to guess.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged forward to occupy
+their respective stations, and not without many quarrels concerning
+those which they were entitled to hold. Some of these were settled by
+the men-at-arms with brief ceremony; the shafts of their battle-axes and
+pummels of their swords being readily employed as arguments to convince
+the more refractory. Others, which involved the rival claims of more
+elevated persons, were determined by the heralds, or by the two marshals
+of the field, William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, who, armed at
+all points, rode up and down the lists to enforce and preserve good
+order among the spectators.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in their
+robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles were contrasted with
+the gayer and more splendid habits of the ladies, who, in a greater
+proportion than even the men themselves, thronged to witness a sport
+which one would have thought too bloody and dangerous to afford their
+sex much pleasure. The lower and interior space was soon filled by
+substantial yeomen and burghers, and such of the lesser gentry as, from
+modesty, poverty, or dubious title, durst not assume any higher place.
+It was of course amongst these that the most frequent disputes for
+precedence occurred.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>Suddenly the attention of every one was called to the entrance of Prince
+John, who at that moment entered the lists, attended by a numerous and
+gay train, consisting partly of laymen, partly of church-men, as light
+in their dress, and as gay in their demeanor, as their companions. Among
+the latter was the Prior of Jorvaulx, in the most gallant trim which a
+dignitary of the church could venture to exhibit. Fur and gold were not
+spared in his garments; and the points of his boots turned up so very
+far as to be attached not to his knees merely, but to his very girdle,
+and effectually prevented him from putting his foot into the stirrup.
+This, however, was a slight inconvenience to the gallant Abbot, who,
+perhaps even rejoicing in the opportunity to display his accomplished
+horsemanship before so many spectators, especially of the fair sex,
+dispensed with the use of these supports to a timid rider. The rest of
+Prince John&#8217;s retinue consisted of the favorite leaders of his mercenary
+troops, some marauding barons and profligate attendants upon the court,
+with several Knights Templars and Knights of Saint John.</p>
+
+<p>Attended by this gallant equipage, himself well mounted, and splendidly
+dressed in crimson and in gold, bearing upon his hand a falcon, and
+having his head covered by a rich fur bonnet, adorned with a circle of
+precious stones, from which his long curled hair escaped and overspread
+his shoulders, Prince John, upon a gray and high-mettled palfrey,
+caracoled within the lists at the head of his jovial party, laughing
+loud with his train, and eyeing with all the boldness of royal criticism
+the beauties who adorned the lofty galleries.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>In the midst of Prince John&#8217;s cavalcade, he suddenly stopped, and,
+appealing to the Prior of Jorvaulx, declared the principal business of
+the day had been forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By my halidom,&#8221; said he, &#8220;we have neglected, Sir Prior, to name the
+fair Sovereign of Love and of Beauty, by whose white hand the palm is to
+be distributed. For my part, I am liberal in my ideas, and I care not if
+I give my vote for the black-eyed Rebecca.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Holy Virgin,&#8221; answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror, &#8220;a
+Jewess! We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not
+yet old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my patron saint that
+she is far inferior to the lovely <a name="corr4" id="corr4"></a>Saxon, Rowena.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>From the tone in which this was spoken, John saw the necessity of
+acquiescence. &#8220;I did but jest,&#8221; he said; &#8220;and you turn upon me like an
+adder! Name whom you will, in the fiend&#8217;s name, and please yourselves.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nay, nay,&#8221; said De Bracy, &#8220;let the fair sovereign&#8217;s throne remain
+unoccupied until the conqueror shall be named, and then let him choose
+the lady by whom it shall be filled. It will add another grace to his
+triumph, and teach fair ladies to prize the love of valiant knights, who
+can exalt them to such distinction.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If Brian de Bois-Guilbert gain the prize,&#8221; said the Prior, &#8220;I will gage
+my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and Beauty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bois-Guilbert,&#8221; answered De Bracy, &#8220;is a good lance; but there are
+others around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to encounter
+him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>&#8220;Silence, sirs,&#8221; said Waldemar, &#8220;and let the Prince assume his seat. The
+knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time advances, and
+highly fit it is that the sports should commence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse all the
+inconveniences of a favorite minister, who, in serving his sovereign,
+must always do so in his own way. The Prince acquiesced, however,
+although his disposition was precisely of that kind which is apt to be
+obstinate upon trifles, and, assuming his throne, and being surrounded
+by his followers, gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the
+tournament, which were briefly as follows:</p>
+
+<p>First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.</p>
+
+<p>Secondly, any knight proposing to combat might, if he pleased, select a
+special antagonist from among the challengers, by touching his shield.
+If he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made
+with what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with lances at
+whose extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no danger
+was encountered, save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if
+the shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the combat was
+understood to be at <span class="nowrap"><em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">outrance</em>,<a name="Anchor_46-3" id="Anchor_46-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 46-3" href="#Footnote_46-3" class="fnanchor">46-3</a></span> that is, the knights were to fight
+with sharp weapons, as in actual battle.</p>
+
+<p>Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by each of
+them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the victor in the
+first day&#8217;s tourney, who should receive as prize a war-horse of
+exquisite beauty and matchless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> strength; and in addition to this reward
+of valor, it was now declared, he should have the peculiar honor of
+naming the Queen of Love and Beauty, by whom the prize should be given
+on the ensuing day.</p>
+
+<p>Fourthly, it was announced that, on the second day, there should be a
+general tournament, in which all the knights present, who were desirous
+to win praise, might take part; and being divided into two bands, of
+equal numbers, might fight it out manfully until the signal was given by
+Prince John to cease the combat. The elected Queen of Love and Beauty
+was then to crown the knight, whom the Prince should adjudge to have
+borne himself best in this second day, with a coronet composed of thin
+gold plate, cut into the shape of a laurel crown. On this second day the
+knightly games ceased. But on that which was to follow, feats of
+archery, of bull-baiting, and other popular amusements were to be
+practiced, for the more immediate amusement of the populace. In this
+manner did Prince John endeavor to lay the foundation of a popularity
+which he was perpetually throwing down by some inconsiderate act of
+wanton aggression upon the feelings and prejudices of the people.</p>
+
+<p>The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries
+were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful in
+the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the
+various dresses of these dignified spectators rendered the view as gay
+as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the
+substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more
+plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+embroidery, relieving, and at the same time setting off, its splendor.</p>
+
+<p>The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of
+<span class="nowrap">&#8220;Largesse,<a name="Anchor_48-4" id="Anchor_48-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 48-4" href="#Footnote_48-4" class="fnanchor">48-4</a></span> largesse, gallant knights!&#8221; and gold and silver pieces
+were showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of
+chivalry to exhibit liberality toward those whom the age accounted at
+once the secretaries and historians of honor. The bounty of the
+spectators was acknowledged by the customary shouts of &#8220;Love of
+ladies&mdash;Death of champions&mdash;Honor to the generous&mdash;Glory to the brave!&#8221;
+To which the more humble spectators added their acclamations, and a
+numerous band of trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments.
+When these sounds had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay
+and glittering procession, and none remained within them save the
+marshals of the field, who, armed cap-&agrave;-pie, sat on horseback,
+motionless as statues, at the opposite ends of the lists. Meantime, the
+inclosed space at the northern extremity of the lists, large as it was,
+was now completely crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill
+against the challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented
+the appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening
+helmets and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many
+cases, attached small pennons of about a span&#8217;s breadth, which,
+fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the
+restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.</p>
+
+<p>At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot,
+advanced slowly into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> area; a single champion riding in front, and
+the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my
+Saxon authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length
+their devices, their colors, and the embroidery of their horse
+trappings. It is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects.</p>
+
+<p>Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.
+Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins: the
+place that once knew them, knows them no more&mdash;nay, many a race since
+theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they
+occupied with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal lords.
+What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or the
+evanescent symbols of their martial rank?</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited their
+names and feats, the champions advanced through the lists, restraining
+their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the
+same time, they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and
+dexterity of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound
+of a wild barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of the
+challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was of Eastern
+origin, having been brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the
+cymbals and bells seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the
+knights as they advanced. With the eyes of an immense concourse of
+spectators fixed upon them, the five Knights advanced up the platform
+upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating
+themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> lance,
+the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself. The
+lower order of spectators in general&mdash;nay, many of the higher class, and
+it is even said several of the ladies&mdash;were rather disappointed at the
+champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort of persons
+who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest tragedies were
+then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion to the danger
+incurred by the champions engaged.</p>
+
+<p>Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated to
+the extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line;
+while the challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their
+horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the
+platform and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had
+touched their respective shields.</p>
+
+<p>At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against each
+other at full gallop; and such was the superior dexterity or good
+fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert,
+Malvoisin, and Front-de-B&oelig;uf rolled on the ground. The antagonist of
+Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest
+or the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as to
+break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent&mdash;a circumstance
+which was accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually
+unhorsed, because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the
+former evinced awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and of
+the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained the honor of his party, and
+parted fairly with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> the Knight of Saint John, both splintering their
+lances without advantage on either side.</p>
+
+<p>The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the
+heralds and the clangor of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the
+victors and the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to their
+pavilions, and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could,
+withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their
+victors concerning the redemption of their arms and their horses, which,
+according to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth
+of their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted by
+the applauses of the spectators, among whom he retreated, to the
+aggravation, doubtless, of his companions&#8217; mortification.</p>
+
+<p>A second and a third party of knights took the field; and although they
+had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly
+remained with the challengers, not one of them whom lost his seat or
+swerved from his charge&mdash;misfortunes which befell one or two of their
+antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed
+to them seemed to be considerably damped by their continued success.
+Three knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the
+shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-B&oelig;uf, contented themselves with
+touching those of the three other knights who had not altogether
+manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection did
+not alter the fortune of the field: the challengers were still
+successful. One of their antagonists was overthrown; and both the others
+failed in the <em>attaint</em>, that is, in striking the helmet and shield of
+their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct
+line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.</p>
+
+<p>After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did it
+appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the contest. The
+spectators murmured among themselves; for, among the challengers,
+Malvoisin and Front-de-B&oelig;uf were unpopular from their characters, and
+the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers and
+foreigners.</p>
+
+<p>But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly as
+Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the Norman
+challengers, a repeated triumph over the honor of England. His own
+education had taught him no skill in the games of chivalry, although,
+with the arms of his Saxon ancestors, he had manifested himself, on many
+occasions, a brave and determined soldier.</p>
+
+<p>He looked anxiously to Athelstane, who had learned the accomplishments
+of the age, as if desiring that he should make some personal effort to
+recover the victory which was passing into the hands of the Templar and
+his associates. But, though both stout of heart and strong of person,
+Athelstane had a disposition too inert and unambitious to make the
+exertions which Cedric seemed to expect from him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The day is against England, my lord,&#8221; said Cedric, in a marked tone;
+&#8220;are you not tempted to take the lance?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall tilt to-morrow,&#8221; answered Athelstane, &#8220;in the <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">m&ecirc;l&eacute;e</em>; it is
+not worth while for me to arm myself to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the Norman
+word <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">m&ecirc;l&eacute;e</em> (to express the general conflict), and it evinced some
+indifference to the honor of the country; but it was spoken by
+Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect that he would not
+trust himself to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had no
+time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his word, observing, &#8220;It
+was better, though scarce easier, to be the best man among a hundred
+than the best man of two.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but Cedric, who
+better understood the Jester&#8217;s meaning, darted at him a severe and
+menacing look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and
+place prevented his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service,
+more sensible marks of his master&#8217;s resentment.</p>
+
+<p>The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by the
+voices of the heralds exclaiming&mdash;&#8220;Love of ladies, splintering of
+lances! stand forth, gallant knights, fair eyes look upon your deeds!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild bursts
+expressive of triumph or defiance, while the <span class="nowrap">clowns<a name="Anchor_53-5" id="Anchor_53-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 53-5" href="#Footnote_53-5" class="fnanchor">53-5</a></span> grudged a
+holiday which seemed to pass away in inactivity; and old knights and
+nobles lamented in whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the
+triumphs of their younger days, but agreed that the land did not now
+supply dames of such transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts of
+former times. Prince John began to talk to his attendants about making
+ready the ban<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>quet, and the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights and
+foiled a third.</p>
+
+<p>At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded one of
+those long and high flourishes with which they had broken the silence of
+the lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note
+of defiance from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see the
+new champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were the
+barriers opened than he paced into the lists. As far as could be judged
+of a man sheathed in armor, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed
+the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made. His
+suit of armor was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the
+device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with
+the Spanish word <em lang="es" xml:lang="es">Desdichado</em>, signifying Disinherited. He was mounted
+on a gallant black horse, and as he passed through the lists he
+gracefully saluted the Prince and the ladies by lowering his lance. The
+dexterity with which he managed his steed, and something of youthful
+grace which he displayed in his manner, won him the favor of the
+multitude, which some of the lower classes observed by calling out,
+&#8220;Touch Ralph de Vipont&#8217;s shield&mdash;touch the Hospitaller&#8217;s shield; he has
+the least sure seat, he is your cheapest bargain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended the
+platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and, to
+the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central
+pavilion, struck with the sharp end of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> his spear the shield of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. All stood astonished at his
+presumption, but none more than the redoubted Knight whom he had thus
+defied to mortal combat, and who, little expecting so rude a challenge,
+was standing carelessly at the door of the pavilion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you confessed yourself, brother,&#8221; said the Templar, &#8220;and have you
+heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am fitter to meet death than thou art,&#8221; answered the Disinherited
+Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books
+of the tourney.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then take your place in the lists,&#8221; said Bois-Guilbert, &#8220;and look your
+last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gramercy for thy courtesy,&#8221; replied the Disinherited Knight, &#8220;and to
+requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by
+my honor you will need both.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward
+down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same
+manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern
+extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his
+antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause of
+the multitude.</p>
+
+<p>However incensed at his adversary for the precautions he recommended,
+Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice; for his honor was too
+nearly concerned to permit his neglecting any means which might insure
+victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed his horse for a
+proved and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> fresh one of great strength and spirit. He chose a new and
+tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have been strained in the
+previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly he laid aside his shield,
+which had received some little damage, and received another from his
+squires. His first had only borne the general device of his order,
+representing two knights riding upon one horse, an emblem expressive of
+the original humility and poverty of the Templars, qualities which they
+had since exchanged for the arrogance and wealth that finally occasioned
+their suppression. Bois-Guilbert&#8217;s new shield bore a raven in full
+flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Gare le</em>
+<span class="nowrap"><em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Corbeau</em>.<a name="Anchor_56-6" id="Anchor_56-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 56-6" href="#Footnote_56-6" class="fnanchor">56-6</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two
+extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the
+highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the encounter could
+terminate well for the Disinherited Knight; yet his courage and
+gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators.</p>
+
+<p>The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished
+from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the centre
+of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into
+shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both
+knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backward
+upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their steeds by
+use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on each other for an
+instant with eyes which seemed to flash fire through the bars of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+visors, each made a <span class="nowrap">demi-volte,<a name="Anchor_57-7" id="Anchor_57-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 57-7" href="#Footnote_57-7" class="fnanchor">57-7</a></span> and, retiring to the extremity of
+the lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.</p>
+
+<p>A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs,
+and general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators
+in this encounter&mdash;the most equal, as well as the best performed, which
+had graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station
+than the clamor of applause was hushed into a silence so deep and so
+dead that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes&#8217; pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their
+horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to
+the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung from
+their stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the same
+speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal
+fortune as before.</p>
+
+<p>In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his
+antagonist&#8217;s shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly that his spear
+went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On
+the other hand, that champion had, at the beginning of his career,
+directed the point of his lance toward Bois-Guilbert&#8217;s shield, but,
+changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it to
+the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,
+rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on
+the visor, where his lance&#8217;s point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> at
+this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and had
+not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As
+it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a
+cloud of dust.</p>
+
+<p>To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed was to the
+Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at
+his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the
+spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror.
+The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his
+sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses between
+them, and reminded them that the laws of the tournament did not, on the
+present occasion, permit this species of encounter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We shall meet again, I trust,&#8221; said the Templar, casting a resentful
+glance at his antagonist; &#8220;and where there are none to separate us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If we do not,&#8221; said the Disinherited Knight, &#8220;the fault shall not be
+mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am
+alike ready to encounter thee.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals,
+crossing their lances between them, compelled them to separate. The
+Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert to
+his tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of
+despair.</p>
+
+<p>Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of
+wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced
+that he quaffed it, &#8220;To all true English hearts, and to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> confusion
+of foreign tyrants.&#8221; He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance
+to the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them that he
+should make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order
+in which they pleased to advance against him.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image13" id="image13"></a><a href="images/image13-full.png"><img src="images/image13.png" width="250" height="204" alt="A knight being unhorsed in a joust." title="DISINHERITED KNIGHT UNHORSES BRIAN" /></a>
+<span class="caption">DISINHERITED KNIGHT UNHORSES BRIAN</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The gigantic Front-de-B&oelig;uf, armed in sable armor, was the first who
+took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull&#8217;s <span class="nowrap">head,<a name="Anchor_59-8" id="Anchor_59-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 59-8" href="#Footnote_59-8" class="fnanchor">59-8</a></span>
+half defaced by the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and
+bearing the arrogant motto, <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Cave, </em><span class="nowrap"><em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Adsum</em>.<a name="Anchor_59-9" id="Anchor_59-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 59-9" href="#Footnote_59-9" class="fnanchor">59-9</a></span> Over this champion the
+Disinherited Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+knights broke their lances fairly, but Front-de-B&oelig;uf, who lost a
+stirrup in the encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.</p>
+
+<p>In the stranger&#8217;s third encounter, with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was
+equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque that
+the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only saved from falling by
+being unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his companions.</p>
+
+<p>In his fourth combat, with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight
+showed as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and
+dexterity. De Grantmesnil&#8217;s horse, which was young and violent, reared
+and plunged in the course of the career so as to disturb the rider&#8217;s
+aim, and the stranger, declining to take the advantage which this
+accident afforded him, raised his lance, and passing his antagonist
+without touching him, wheeled his horse and rode back again to his own
+end of the lists, offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a
+second encounter. This De Grantmesnil declined, <a name="corr5" id="corr5"></a>avow himself vanquished
+as much by the courtesy as by the address of his opponent.</p>
+
+<p>Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger&#8217;s triumphs, being
+hurled to the ground with such force that the blood gushed from his nose
+and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists.</p>
+
+<p>The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
+Prince and marshals, announcing that day&#8217;s honors to the Disinherited
+Knight.</p>
+
+<p>William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the marshals of the field,
+were the first to offer their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> congratulations to the victor, praying
+him, at the same time, to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least,
+that he would raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive the
+prize of the day&#8217;s tourney from the hands of Prince John. The
+Disinherited Knight, with all knightly courtesy, declined their request,
+alleging, that he could not at this time suffer his face to be seen, for
+reasons which he had assigned to the heralds when he entered the lists.
+The marshals were perfectly satisfied by this reply; for amid the
+frequent and capricious vows by which knights were accustomed to bind
+themselves in the days of chivalry, there were none more common than
+those by which they engaged to remain incognito for a certain space, or
+until some particular adventure was achieved. The marshals, therefore,
+pressed no further into the mystery of the Disinherited Knight, but,
+announcing to Prince John the conqueror&#8217;s desire to remain unknown, they
+requested permission to bring him before his Grace, in order that he
+might receive the reward of his valor.</p>
+
+<p>John&#8217;s curiosity was excited by the mystery observed by the stranger;
+and, being already displeased with the issue of the tournament, in which
+the challengers whom he favored had been successively defeated by one
+knight, he answered haughtily to the marshals, &#8220;By the light of Our
+Lady&#8217;s brow, this same knight hath been disinherited as well of his
+courtesy as of his lands, since he desires to appear before us without
+uncovering his face. Wot ye, my lords,&#8221; he said, turning round to his
+train, &#8220;who this gallant can be that bears himself thus proudly?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>&#8220;I cannot guess,&#8221; answered De Bracy, &#8220;nor did I think there had been
+within the four seas that girth Britain a champion that could bear down
+these five knights in one day&#8217;s jousting. By my faith, I shall never
+forget the force with which he shocked De Vipont. The poor
+<span class="nowrap">Hospitaller<a name="Anchor_62-10" id="Anchor_62-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 62-10" href="#Footnote_62-10" class="fnanchor">62-10</a></span> was hurled from his saddle like a stone from a
+sling.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boast not of that,&#8221; said a Knight of Saint John, who was present; &#8220;your
+Temple champion had no better luck. I saw your brave lance,
+Bois-Guilbert, roll thrice over, grasping his hands full of sand at
+every turn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>De Bracy, being attached to the Templars, would have replied, but was
+prevented by Prince John. &#8220;Silence, sirs!&#8221; he said; &#8220;what unprofitable
+debate have we here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The victor,&#8221; said De Wyvil, &#8220;still waits the pleasure of your
+Highness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is our pleasure,&#8221; answered John, &#8220;that he do so wait until we learn
+whether there is not some one who can at least guess at his name and
+quality. Should he remain there till nightfall, he has had work enough
+to keep him warm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your Grace,&#8221; said Waldemar Fitzurse, &#8220;will do less than due honor to
+the victor if you compel him to wait till we tell your Highness that
+which we cannot know; at least I can form no guess&mdash;unless he be one of
+the good lances who accompanied King Richard to Palestine, and who are
+now straggling homeward from the Holy Land.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought forward the Disinherited
+Knight to the foot of a wooden flight of steps, which formed the ascent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+from the lists to Prince John&#8217;s throne. With a short and embarrassed
+eulogy upon his valor, the Prince caused to be delivered to him the
+war-horse assigned as the prize.</p>
+
+<p>But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in reply to the compliment
+of the Prince, which he only acknowledged with a profound obeisance.</p>
+
+<p>The horse was led into the lists by two grooms richly dressed, the
+animal itself being fully accoutred with the richest war-furniture;
+which, however, scarcely added to the value of the noble creature in the
+eyes of those who were judges. Laying one hand upon the pommel of the
+saddle, the Disinherited Knight vaulted at once upon the back of the
+steed without making use of the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his
+lance, rode twice around the lists, exhibiting the points and paces of
+the horse with the skill of a perfect horseman.</p>
+
+<p>The appearance of vanity which might otherwise have been attributed to
+this display was removed by the propriety shown in exhibiting to the
+best advantage the princely reward with which he had been just honored,
+and the Knight was again greeted by the acclamation of all present.</p>
+
+<p>In the meanwhile, the bustling Prior of Jorvaulx had reminded Prince
+John, in a whisper, that the victor must now display his good judgment,
+instead of his valor, by selecting from among the beauties who graced
+the galleries a lady who should fill the throne of the Queen of Beauty
+and of Love, and deliver the prize of the tourney, upon the ensuing day.
+The Prince accordingly made a sign with his truncheon as the Knight
+passed him in his second career around the lists. The Knight turned
+toward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> the throne, and, sinking his lance until the point was within a
+foot of the ground, remained motionless, as if expecting John&#8217;s
+commands; while all admired the sudden dexterity with which he instantly
+reduced his fiery steed from a state of violent emotion and high
+excitation to the stillness of an equestrian statue.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir Disinherited Knight,&#8221; said Prince John, &#8220;since that is the only
+title by which we can address you, it is now your duty, as well as
+privilege, to name the fair lady who, as Queen of Honor and of Love, is
+to preside over next day&#8217;s festival. If, as a stranger in our land, you
+should require the aid of other judgment to guide your own we can only
+say that Alicia, the daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar Fitzurse,
+has at our court been long held the first in beauty as in place.
+Nevertheless, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on whom you
+please this crown, by the delivery of which to the lady of your choice
+the election of to-morrow&#8217;s Queen will be formal and complete. Raise
+your lance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its point a coronet of
+green satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold, the upper edge of
+which was relieved by arrow-points and hearts placed interchangeably,
+like the strawberry leaves and balls upon a ducal crown.</p>
+
+<p>In the broad hint which he dropped respecting the daughter of Waldemar
+Fitzurse, John had more than one motive, each the offspring of a mind
+which was a strange mixture of carelessness and presumption with low
+artifice and cunning. He was desirous of conciliating Alicia&#8217;s father,
+Waldemar, of whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> he stood in awe, and who had more than once shown
+himself dissatisfied during the course of the day&#8217;s proceedings; he had
+also a wish to establish himself in the good graces of the lady. But
+besides all these reasons, he was desirous to raise up against the
+Disinherited Knight, toward whom he already entertained a strong
+dislike, a powerful enemy in the person of Waldemar Fitzurse, who was
+likely, he thought, highly to resent the injury done to his daughter in
+case, as was not unlikely, the victor should make another choice.</p>
+
+<p>And so indeed it proved. For the Disinherited Knight passed the gallery,
+close to that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the
+full pride of triumphant beauty, and pacing forward as slowly as he had
+hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his right
+of examining the numerous fair faces which adorned that splendid circle.</p>
+
+<p>It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beauties who
+underwent this examination, during the time it was proceeding. Some
+blushed; some assumed an air of pride and dignity; some looked straight
+forward, and essayed to seem utterly unconscious of what was going on;
+some drew back in alarm, which was perhaps affected; some endeavored to
+forbear smiling; and there were two or three who laughed outright. There
+were also some who dropped their veils over their charms; but as the
+Wardour Manuscript says these were fair ones of ten years&#8217; standing, it
+may be supposed that, having had their full share of such vanities, they
+were willing to withdraw their claim in order to give a fair chance to
+the rising beauties of the age.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which the Lady
+Rowena was placed, and the expectation of the spectators was excited to
+the utmost.</p>
+
+<p>It must be owned that, if an interest displayed in his success could
+have bribed the Disinherited Knight, the part of the lists before which
+he paused had merited his predilection. Cedric the Saxon, overjoyed at
+the discomfiture of the Templar, and still more so at the miscarriage of
+his two malevolent neighbors, Front-de-B&oelig;uf and Malvoisin, had
+accompanied the victor in each course not with his eyes only, but with
+his whole heart and soul. The Lady Rowena had watched the progress of
+the day with equal attention, though without openly betraying the same
+intense interest. Even the unmoved Athelstane had shown symptoms of
+shaking off his apathy, when, calling for a huge goblet of muscadine, he
+quaffed it to the health of the Disinherited Knight.</p>
+
+<p>Whether from indecision or some other motive of hesitation, the champion
+of the day remained stationary for more than a minute, while the eyes of
+the silent audience were riveted upon his motions; and then, gradually
+and gracefully sinking the point of his lance, he deposited the coronet
+which it supported at the feet of the fair Rowena. The trumpets
+instantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the
+Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with suitable
+penalties those who should be disobedient to her authority. They then
+repeated their cry of &#8220;Largesse,&#8221; to which Cedric, in the height of his
+joy, replied by an ample donative, and to which Athelstane, though less
+promptly, added one equally large.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman descent, who were
+as much unused to see the preference given to a Saxon beauty as the
+Norman nobles were to sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which they
+themselves had introduced. But these sounds of disaffection were drowned
+by the popular shout of &#8220;Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and
+lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!&#8221; To which many in the lower area
+added, &#8220;Long live the Saxon Princess! long live the race of the immortal
+Alfred!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince John and to those
+around him, he saw himself nevertheless obliged to confirm the
+nomination of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse, he left his
+throne, and mounting his jennet, accompanied by his train, he again
+entered the lists.</p>
+
+<p>Spurring his horse, as if to give vent to his vexation, he made the
+animal bound forward to the gallery where Rowena was seated, with the
+crown still at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Assume,&#8221; he said, &#8220;fair lady, the mark of your sovereignty, to which
+none vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John of Anjou; and if it
+please you to-day, with your noble sire and friends, to grace our
+banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall learn to know the empress to
+whose service we devote to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his native Saxon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Lady Rowena,&#8221; he said, &#8220;possesses not the language in which to
+reply to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in your festival. I also,
+and the noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, speak only the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> language and
+practice only the manners, of our fathers. We therefore decline with
+thanks your Highness&#8217;s courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow,
+the Lady Rowena will take upon her the state to which she has been
+called by the free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the
+acclamations of the people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he lifted the coronet and placed it upon Rowena&#8217;s head, in
+token of her acceptance of the temporary authority assigned to her.</p>
+
+<p>In various routes, according to the different quarters from which they
+came, and in groups of various numbers, the spectators were seen
+retiring over the plain. By far the most numerous part streamed toward
+the town of Ashby, where many of the distinguished persons were lodged
+in the castle, and where others found accommodation in the town itself.
+Among these were most of the knights who had already appeared in the
+tournament, or who proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who, as
+they rode slowly along, talking over the events of the day, were greeted
+with loud shouts by the populace. The same acclamations were bestowed
+upon Prince John, although he was indebted for them rather to the
+splendor of his appearance and train than to the popularity of his
+character.</p>
+
+<p>A more sincere and more general, as well as a better merited
+acclamation, attended the victor of the day, until, anxious to withdraw
+himself from popular notice, he accepted the accommodation of one of
+those pavilions pitched at the extremities of the lists, the use of
+which was courteously tendered him by the marshals of the field. On his
+retiring to his tent, many who had lingered in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> lists, to look upon
+and form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed.</p>
+
+<p>The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded
+together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now
+exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating
+in all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other
+sounds were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the
+galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety
+for the night, and wrangled among themselves for half-used bottles of
+wine and relics of the refreshments which had been served round to the
+spectators.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image14" id="image14"></a><a href="images/image14-full.png"><img src="images/image14.png" width="249" height="105" alt="Three ironworkers making armour" title="THE ARMOUR MAKERS" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE ARMOUR MAKERS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and
+these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of
+the armorers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order to
+repair or alter the suits of armor to be used again on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two hours to
+two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion than squires
+and pages in abundance tendered their services to disarm him, to bring
+fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath. Their zeal
+on this occasion was perhaps sharpened by curiosity, since every one
+desired to know who the knight was that had gained so many laurels, yet
+had refused, even at the command of Prince John, to lift his visor or to
+name his name. But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified.
+The Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his
+own squire, or rather yeoman&mdash;a clownish-looking man, who, wrapped in a
+cloak of dark-colored felt, and having his head and face half buried in
+a Norman bonnet made of black fur, seemed to affect the incognito as
+much as his master. All others being excluded from the tent, this
+attendant relieved his master from the more burdensome parts of his
+armor, and placed food and wine before him, which the exertions of the
+body rendered very acceptable.</p>
+
+<p>The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal ere his menial announced
+to him that five men, each leading a barbed <span class="nowrap">steed,<a name="Anchor_70-11" id="Anchor_70-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 70-11" href="#Footnote_70-11" class="fnanchor">70-11</a></span> desired to
+speak with him. The Disinherited Knight had exchanged his armor for the
+long robe usually worn by those of his condition, which, being furnished
+with a hood, concealed the features, when such was the pleasure of the
+wearer, almost as completely as the visor of the helmet itself; but the
+twilight, which was now fast darkening, would of itself have rendered a
+disguise unnecessary, unless to persons to whom the face of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> an
+individual chanced to be particularly well known.</p>
+
+<p>The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stepped boldly forth to the front of
+his tent, and found in attendance the squires of the challengers, whom
+he easily knew by their russet and black dresses, each of whom led his
+master&#8217;s charger, loaded with the armor in which he had that day fought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;According to the laws of chivalry,&#8221; said the foremost of these men, &#8220;I,
+Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the redoubted Knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert,
+make offer to you, styling yourself for the present the Disinherited
+Knight, of the horse and armor used by the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert
+in this day&#8217;s passage of arms, leaving it with your nobleness to retain
+or to ransom the same, according to your pleasure; for such is the law
+of arms.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, and then stood to
+await the decision of the Disinherited Knight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To you four, sirs,&#8221; replied the Knight, addressing those who had last
+spoken, &#8220;and to your honorable and valiant masters, I have one common
+reply. Commend me to the noble knights, your masters, and say, I should
+do ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which can never be used by
+braver cavaliers. I would I could here end my message to these gallant
+knights; but being, as I term myself, in truth and earnest, the
+Disinherited, I must be thus far bound to your masters, that they will,
+of their courtesy, be pleased to ransom their steeds and armor, since
+that which I wear I can hardly term mine own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We stand commissioned, each of us,&#8221; answered the squire of Reginald
+Front-de-B&oelig;uf, &#8220;to offer a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> hundred <span class="nowrap">zecchins<a name="Anchor_72-12" id="Anchor_72-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 72-12" href="#Footnote_72-12" class="fnanchor">72-12</a></span> in ransom of
+these horses and suits of armor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is sufficient,&#8221; said the Disinherited Knight. &#8220;Half the sum my
+present necessities compel me to accept; of the remaining half,
+distribute one moiety among yourselves, sir squires, and divide the
+other half between the heralds and the pursuivants, and minstrels, and
+attendants.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences, expressed their deep
+sense of a courtesy and generosity not often practiced, at least upon a
+scale so extensive.</p>
+
+<p>The Disinherited Knight then addressed his discourse to Baldwin, the
+squire of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. &#8220;From your master,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I will
+accept neither arms nor ransom. Say to him in my name, that our strife
+is not ended&mdash;no, not till we have fought as well with swords as with
+lances, as well on foot as on horseback. To this mortal quarrel he has
+himself defied me, and I shall not forget the challenge. Meantime, let
+him be assured that I hold him not as one of his companions, with whom I
+can with pleasure exchange courtesies; but rather as one with whom I
+stand upon terms of mortal defiance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My master,&#8221; answered Baldwin, &#8220;knows how to requite scorn with scorn,
+and blows with blows, as well as courtesy with courtesy. Since you
+disdain to accept from him any share of the ransom at which you have
+rated the arms of the other knights, I must leave his armor and his
+horse here, being well assured that he will never deign to mount the one
+nor wear the other.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>&#8220;You have spoken well, good squire,&#8221; said the Disinherited Knight&mdash;&#8220;well
+and boldly, as it beseemeth him to speak who answers for an absent
+master. Leave not, however, the horse and armor here. Restore them to
+thy master; or, if he scorns to accept them, retain them, good friend,
+for thine own use. So far as they are mine, I bestow them upon you
+freely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Baldwin made a deep obeisance, and retired with his companions; and the
+Disinherited Knight entered the pavilion.</p>
+
+<p>Morning arose in unclouded splendor, and ere the sun was much above the
+horizon the idlest or the most eager of the spectators appeared on the
+common, moving to the lists as to a general centre, in order to secure a
+favorable situation for viewing the continuation of the expected games.</p>
+
+<p>The marshals and their attendants appeared next on the field, together
+with the heralds, for the purpose of receiving the names of the knights
+who intended to joust, with the side which each chose to espouse. This
+was a necessary precaution in order to secure equality between the two
+bodies who should be opposed to each other.</p>
+
+<p>According to due formality, the Disinherited Knight was to be considered
+as leader of the one body, while Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had been
+rated as having done second-best in the preceding day, was named first
+champion of the other band. Those who had concurred in the challenge
+adhered to his party, of course, excepting only Ralph de Vipont, whom
+his fall had rendered unfit so soon to put on his armor. There was no
+want of distinguished candidates to fill up the ranks on either side.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>In fact, although the general tournament, in which all knights fought at
+once, was more dangerous than single encounters, they were,
+nevertheless, more frequented and practiced by the chivalry of the age.
+Many knights, who had not sufficient confidence in their own skill to
+defy a single adversary of high reputation, were, nevertheless, desirous
+of displaying their valor in the general combat, where they might meet
+others with whom they were more upon an equality.</p>
+
+<p>On the present occasion, about fifty knights were inscribed as desirous
+of combating upon each side, when the marshals declared that no more
+could be admitted, to the disappointment of several who were too late in
+preferring their claim to be included.</p>
+
+<p>About the hour of ten o&#8217;clock the whole plain was crowded with horsemen,
+horsewomen, and foot-passengers, hastening to the tournament; and
+shortly after, a grand flourish of trumpets announced Prince John and
+his retinue, attended by many of those knights who meant to take share
+in the game, as well as others who had no such intention.</p>
+
+<p>About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon, with the Lady Rowena,
+unattended, however, by Athelstane. This Saxon lord had arrayed his tall
+and strong person in armor, in order to take his place among the
+combatants; and, considerably to the surprise of Cedric, had chosen to
+enlist himself on the part of the Knight Templar. The Saxon, indeed, had
+remonstrated strongly with his friend upon the injudicious choice he had
+made of his party; but he had only received that sort of answer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> usually
+given by those who are more obstinate in following their own course than
+strong in justifying it.</p>
+
+<p>His best, if not his only, reason for adhering to the party of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, Athelstane had the prudence to keep to himself. Though
+his apathy of disposition prevented his taking any means to recommend
+himself to the Lady Rowena, he was, nevertheless, by no means insensible
+to her charms, and considered his union with her as a matter already
+fixed beyond doubt by the assent of Cedric and her other friends. It
+had, therefore, been with smothered displeasure that the proud though
+indolent Lord of Coningsburgh beheld the victor of the preceding day
+select Rowena as the object of that honor which it became his privilege
+to confer. In order to punish him for a preference which seemed to
+interfere with his own suit, Athelstane, confident of his strength, and
+to whom his flatterers, at least, ascribed great skill in arms, had
+determined not only to deprive the Disinherited Knight of his powerful
+succor, but, if an opportunity should occur, to make him feel the weight
+of his battle-axe.</p>
+
+<p>De Bracy, and other knights attached to Prince John, in obedience to a
+hint from him, had joined the party of the challengers, John being
+desirous to secure, if possible, the victory to that side. On the other
+hand, many other knights, both English and Norman, natives and
+strangers, took part against the challengers, the more readily that the
+opposite band was to be led by so distinguished a champion as the
+Disinherited Knight had approved himself.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>As soon as Prince John observed that the destined Queen of the day
+arrived upon the field, assuming that air of courtesy which sat well
+upon him when he was pleased to exhibit it, he rode forward to meet her,
+doffed his bonnet, and, alighting from his horse, assisted the Lady
+Rowena from her saddle, while his followers uncovered at the same time,
+and one of the most distinguished dismounted to hold her palfrey.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is thus,&#8221; said Prince John, &#8220;that we set the dutiful example of
+loyalty to the Queen of Love and Beauty, and are ourselves her guide to
+the throne which she must this day occupy. <a name="corr6" id="corr6"></a>Ladies,&#8221; he said, &#8220;attend
+your Queen, as you wish in your turn to be distinguished by like
+honors.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, the Prince marshalled Rowena to the seat of honor opposite
+his own, while the fairest and most distinguished ladies present crowded
+after her to obtain places as near as possible to their temporary
+sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner was Rowena seated than a burst of music, half-drowned by the
+shouts of the multitude, greeted her new dignity. Meantime, the sun
+shone fierce and bright upon the polished arms of the knights of either
+side, who crowded the opposite extremities of the lists, and held eager
+conference together concerning the best mode of arranging their line of
+battle and supporting the conflict.</p>
+
+<p>The heralds then proclaimed silence until the laws of the tourney should
+be rehearsed. These were calculated in some degree to abate the dangers
+of the day&mdash;a precaution the more necessary as the conflict was to be
+maintained with sharp swords and pointed lances.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>The champions were therefore prohibited to thrust with the sword, and
+were confined to striking. A knight, it was announced, might use a mace
+or battle-axe at pleasure; but the dagger was a prohibited weapon. A
+knight unhorsed might renew the fight on foot with any other on the
+opposite side in the same predicament; but mounted horsemen were in that
+case forbidden to assail him. When any knight could force his antagonist
+to the extremity of the lists, so as to touch the palisade with his
+person or arms, such opponent was obliged to yield himself vanquished,
+and his armor and horse were placed at the disposal of the conqueror. A
+knight thus overcome was not permitted to take further share in the
+combat. If any combatant was struck down, and unable to recover his
+feet, his squire or page might enter the lists and drag his master out
+of the press; but in that case the knight was adjudged vanquished, and
+his arms and horse declared forfeited. The combat was to cease as soon
+as Prince John should throw down his leading staff, or
+truncheon&mdash;another precaution usually taken to prevent the unnecessary
+effusion of blood by the too long endurance of a sport so desperate. Any
+knight breaking the rules of the tournament, or otherwise transgressing
+the rules of honorable chivalry, was liable to be stripped of his arms,
+and, having his shield reversed, to be placed in that posture astride
+upon the bars of the palisade, and exposed to public derision, in
+punishment of his unknightly conduct. Having announced these
+precautions, the heralds concluded with an exhortation to each good
+knight to do his duty, and to merit favor from the Queen of Beauty and
+Love.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>This proclamation having been made, the heralds withdrew to their
+stations. The knights, entering at either end of the lists in long
+procession, arranged themselves in a double file, precisely opposite to
+each other, the leader of each party being in the center of the foremost
+rank, a post which he did not occupy until each had carefully arranged
+the ranks of his party, and stationed every one in his place.</p>
+
+<p>It was a goodly, and at the same time an anxious, sight to behold so
+many gallant champions, mounted bravely and armed richly, stand ready
+prepared for an encounter so formidable, seated on their war-saddles
+like so many pillars of iron, and awaiting the signal of encounter with
+the same ardor as their generous steeds, which, by neighing and pawing
+the ground, gave signal of their impatience.</p>
+
+<p>As yet the knights held their long lances upright, their bright points
+glancing to the sun, and the streamers with which they were decorated
+fluttering over the plumage of the helmets. Thus they remained while the
+marshals of the field surveyed their ranks with the utmost exactness,
+lest either party had more or fewer than the appointed number. The tale
+was found exactly complete. The marshals then withdrew from the lists,
+and William de Wyvil, with a voice of thunder, pronounced the signal
+words&mdash;&#8220;<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Laissez </em><span class="nowrap"><em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">aller!</em>&#8221;<a name="Anchor_78-13" id="Anchor_78-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 78-13" href="#Footnote_78-13" class="fnanchor">78-13</a></span> The trumpets sounded as he spoke; the
+spears of the champions were at once lowered and placed in the rests;
+the spurs were dashed into the flanks of the horses; and the two
+foremost ranks of either party rushed upon each other in full gallop,
+and met in the middle of the lists with a shock the sound of which was
+heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> at a mile&#8217;s distance. The rear rank of each party advanced at a
+slower pace to sustain the defeated, and follow up the success of the
+victors, of their party.</p>
+
+<p>The consequences of the encounter were not instantly seen, for the dust
+raised by the trampling of so many steeds darkened the air, and it was a
+minute ere the anxious spectators could see the fate of the encounter.
+When the fight became visible, half the knights on each side were
+dismounted&mdash;some by the dexterity of their adversary&#8217;s lance; some by
+the superior weight and strength of opponents, which had borne down both
+horse and man; some lay stretched on earth as if never more to rise;
+some had already gained their feet, and were closing hand to hand with
+those of their antagonists who were in the same predicament; and several
+on both sides, who had received wounds by which they were disabled, were
+stopping their blood by their scarfs, and endeavoring to extricate
+themselves from the tumult. The mounted knights, whose lances had been
+almost all broken by the fury of the encounter, were now closely engaged
+with their swords, shouting their war-cries, and exchanging buffets, as
+if honor and life depended on the issue of the combat.</p>
+
+<p>The tumult was presently increased by the advance of the second rank on
+either side, which, acting as a reserve, now rushed on to aid their
+companions. The followers of Brian de Bois-Guilbert shouted&mdash;&#8220;<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ha!
+Beau-seant! </em><span class="nowrap"><em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Beau-seant!</em><a name="Anchor_79-14" id="Anchor_79-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 79-14" href="#Footnote_79-14" class="fnanchor">79-14</a></span> For the Temple! For the Temple!&#8221; The
+opposite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> shouted in answer&mdash;&#8220;<em lang="es" xml:lang="es">Desdichado! Desdichado!</em>&#8221; which watchword
+they took from the motto upon their leaders&#8217; shield.</p>
+
+<p>The champions thus encountering each other with the utmost fury, and
+with alternate success, the tide of battle seemed to flow now toward the
+southern, now toward the northern, extremity of the lists, as the one or
+the other party prevailed. Meantime the clang of the blows and the
+shouts of the combatants mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets,
+and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless
+beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armor of the combatants was
+now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the
+sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted
+upon the breeze like snowflakes. All that was beautiful and graceful in
+the martial array had disappeared, and what was now visible was only
+calculated to awake terror or compassion.</p>
+
+<p>Yet such is the force of habit, that not only the vulgar spectators, who
+are naturally attracted by sights of horror, but even the ladies of
+distinction, who crowded the galleries, saw the conflict with a
+thrilling interest certainly, but without a wish to withdraw their eyes,
+from a sight so terrible. Here and there, indeed, a fair cheek might
+turn pale, or a faint scream might be heard, as a lover, a brother, or a
+husband was struck from his horse. But, in general, the ladies around
+encouraged the combatants, not only by clapping their hands and waving
+their veils and kerchiefs, but even by exclaiming, &#8220;Brave lance! Good
+sword!&#8221; when any successful thrust or blow took place under their
+observation.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>Such being the interest taken by the fair sex in this bloody game, that
+of men is the more easily understood. It showed itself in loud
+acclamations upon every change of fortune, while all eyes were so
+riveted on the lists that the spectators seemed as if they themselves
+had dealt and received the blows which were there so freely bestowed.
+And between every pause was heard the voice of the heralds, exclaiming,
+&#8220;Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! Fight on; death is
+better than defeat! Fight on, brave knights! for bright eyes behold your
+deeds!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Amid the varied fortunes of the combat, the eyes of all endeavored to
+discover the leaders of each band, who, mingling in the thick of the
+fight, encouraged their companions both by voice and example. Both
+displayed great feats of gallantry nor did either Bois-Guilbert or the
+Disinherited Knight find in the ranks opposed to them a champion who
+could be termed their unquestioned match. They repeatedly endeavored to
+single out each other, spurred by mutual animosity, and aware that the
+fall of either leader might be considered as decisive of victory. Such,
+however, was the crowd and confusion that, during the earlier part of
+the conflict, their efforts to meet were unavailing, and they were
+repeatedly separated by the eagerness of their followers, each of whom
+was anxious to win honor by measuring his strength against the leader of
+the opposite party.</p>
+
+<p>But when the field became thin by the numbers on either side who had
+yielded themselves vanquished, had been compelled to the extremity of
+the lists, or been otherwise rendered incapable of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> continuing the
+strife, the Templar and the Disinherited Knight at length encountered
+hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity, joined to rivalry
+of honor, could inspire. Such was the address of each in parrying and
+striking, that the spectators broke forth into a unanimous and
+involuntary shout, expressive of their delight and admiration.</p>
+
+<p>But at this moment the party of the Disinherited Knight had the worst;
+the gigantic arm of Front-de-B&oelig;uf on the one flank, and the ponderous
+strength of Athelstane on the other, bearing down and dispersing those
+immediately opposed to them. Finding themselves freed from their
+immediate antagonists, it seems to have occurred to both these knights
+at the same instant that they would render the most decisive advantage
+to their party by aiding the Templar in his contest with his rival.
+Turning their horses, therefore, at the same moment, the Norman spurred
+against the Disinherited Knight on the one side and the Saxon on the
+other. It was utterly impossible that the object of this unequal and
+unexpected assault could have sustained it, had he not been warned by a
+general cry from the spectators, who could not but take interest in one
+exposed to such disadvantage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beware! beware! Sir Disinherited!&#8221; was shouted so universally that the
+knight became aware of his danger; and striking a full blow at the
+Templar, he reined back his steed in the same moment, so as to escape
+the charge of Athelstane and Front-de-B&oelig;uf. These knights, therefore,
+their aim being thus eluded, rushed from opposite sides between the
+object of their attack and the Templar, almost run<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>ning their horses
+against each other ere they could stop their career. Recovering their
+horses, however, and wheeling them round, the whole three pursued their
+united purpose of bearing to the earth the Disinherited Knight.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could have saved him except the remarkable strength and activity
+of the noble horse which he had won on the preceding day.</p>
+
+<p>This stood him in the more stead, as the horse of Bois-Guilbert was
+wounded and those of Front-de-B&oelig;uf and Athelstane were both tired
+with the weight of their gigantic masters, clad in complete armor, and
+with the preceding exertions of the day. The masterly horsemanship of
+the Disinherited Knight, and the activity of the noble animal which he
+mounted, enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword&#8217;s point his
+three antagonists, turning and wheeling with the agility of a hawk upon
+the wing, keeping his enemies as far separate as he could, and rushing
+now against the one, now against the other, dealing sweeping blows with
+his sword, without waiting to receive those which were aimed at him in
+return.</p>
+
+<p>But although the lists rang with the applauses of his dexterity, it was
+evident that he must at last be overpowered; and the nobles around
+Prince John implored him with one voice to throw down his warder, and to
+save so brave a knight from the disgrace of being overcome by odds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not I, by the light of Heaven!&#8221; answered Prince John: &#8220;this same
+<span class="nowrap">springal,<a name="Anchor_83-15" id="Anchor_83-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 83-15" href="#Footnote_83-15" class="fnanchor">83-15</a></span> who conceals his name and despises our proffered
+hospitality, hath already gained one prize, and may now afford to let
+others<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> have their turn.&#8221; As he spoke thus, an unexpected incident
+changed the fortune of the day.</p>
+
+<p>There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight a champion in black
+armor, mounted on a black horse, large of size, tall, and to all
+appearance powerful and strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted.
+This knight, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, had hitherto
+evinced very little interest in the event of the fight, beating off with
+seeming ease those combatants who attacked him, but neither pursuing his
+advantages nor himself assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto
+acted the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the tournament,
+a circumstance which procured him among the spectators the name of <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le
+Noir Faineant</em>, or the Black Sluggard.</p>
+
+<p>At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy, when he discovered
+the leader of his party so hard bested; for, setting spurs to his horse,
+which was quite fresh, he came to his assistance like a thunderbolt,
+exclaiming, in a voice like a trumpet-call, &#8220;<em lang="es" xml:lang="es">Desdichado</em>, to the
+rescue!&#8221; It was high time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was
+pressing upon the Templar, Front-de-B&oelig;uf had got nigh to him with his
+uplifted sword; but ere the blow could descend, the Sable Knight dealt a
+stroke on his head, which, glancing from the polished helmet, lighted
+with violence scarcely abated on the <span class="nowrap">chamfron<a name="Anchor_84-16" id="Anchor_84-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 84-16" href="#Footnote_84-16" class="fnanchor">84-16</a></span> of the steed, and
+Front-de-B&oelig;uf rolled on the ground, both horse and man equally
+stunned by the fury of the blow. <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Noir Faineant</em> then turned his
+horse upon Athelstane of Coningsburgh; and his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> sword having been
+broken in his encounter with Front-de-B&oelig;uf, he wrenched from the hand
+of the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and, like one
+familiar with the use of the weapon, bestowed him such a blow upon the
+crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved
+this double feat, for which he was the more highly applauded that it was
+totally unexpected from him, the knight seemed to resume the
+sluggishness of his character, returning calmly to the northern
+extremity of the lists, leaving his leader to cope as he best could with
+Brian de Bois-Guilbert. This was no longer matter of so much difficulty
+as formerly. The Templar&#8217;s horse had bled much, and gave way under the
+shock of the Disinherited<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> Knight&#8217;s charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert
+rolled on the field, encumbered with the stirrup, from which he was
+unable to draw his foot. His antagonist sprung from horseback, waved his
+fatal sword over the head of his adversary, and commanded him to yield
+himself; when Prince John, more moved by the Templar&#8217;s dangerous
+situation than he had been by that of his rival, saved him the
+mortification of confessing himself vanquished, by casting down his
+warder and <a name="corr7" id="corr7"></a>putting an end to the conflict.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image15" id="image15"></a><a href="images/image15-full.png"><img src="images/image15.png" width="247" height="202" alt="Two men in the viewing stands of the joust." title="PRINCE JOHN THROWS DOWN THE TRUNCHEON" /></a>
+<span class="caption">PRINCE JOHN THROWS DOWN THE TRUNCHEON</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was, indeed, only the relics and embers of the fight which continued
+to burn; for of the few knights who still continued in the lists, the
+greater part had, by tacit consent, forborne the conflict for some time,
+leaving it to be determined by the strife of the leaders.</p>
+
+<p>The squires, who had found it a matter of danger and difficulty to
+attend their masters during the engagement, now thronged into the lists
+to pay their dutiful attendance to the wounded, who were removed with
+the utmost care and attention to the neighboring pavilions, or to the
+quarters prepared for them in the adjoining village.</p>
+
+<p>Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, one of the most
+gallantly contested tournaments of that age; for although only four
+knights, including one who was smothered by the heat of his armor, had
+died upon the field, yet upward of thirty were desperately wounded, four
+or five of whom never recovered. Several more were disabled for life;
+and those who escaped best carried the marks of the conflict to the
+grave with them. Hence it is always mentioned in the old records as the
+&#8220;gentle and joyous passage of arms of Ashby.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>It being now the duty of Prince John to name the knight who had done
+best, he determined that the honor of the day remained with the knight
+whom the popular voice had termed <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Noir Faineant</em>. It was pointed out
+to the Prince, in impeachment of this decree, that the victory had been
+in fact won by the Disinherited Knight, who, in the course of the day,
+had overcome six champions with his own hand, and who had finally
+unhorsed and struck down the leader of the opposite party. But Prince
+John adhered to his own opinion, on the ground that the Disinherited
+Knight and his party had lost the day but for the powerful assistance of
+the Knight of the Black Armor, to whom, therefore, he persisted in
+awarding the prize.</p>
+
+<p>To the surprise of all present, however, the knight thus preferred was
+nowhere to be found. He had left the lists immediately when the conflict
+ceased, and had been observed by some spectators to move down one of the
+forest glades with the same slow pace and listless and indifferent
+manner which had procured him the epithet of the Black <span class="nowrap">Sluggard.<a name="Anchor_87-17" id="Anchor_87-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 87-17" href="#Footnote_87-17" class="fnanchor">87-17</a></span>
+After he had been summoned twice by sound of trumpet and proclamation of
+the heralds, it became necessary to name another to receive the honors
+which had been assigned to him. Prince John had now no further excuse
+for resisting the claim of the Disinherited Knight, whom, therefore, he
+named the champion of the day.</p>
+
+<p>Through a field slippery with blood and encumbered with broken armor and
+the bodies of slain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> and wounded horses, the marshals again conducted
+the victor to the foot of Prince John&#8217;s throne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Disinherited Knight,&#8221; said Prince John, &#8220;since by that title only you
+will consent to be known to us, we a second time award to you the honors
+of this tournament, and announce to you your right to claim and receive
+from the hands of the Queen of Love and Beauty the chaplet of honor
+which your valor has justly deserved.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Knight bowed low and gracefully, but returned no answer.</p>
+
+<p>While the trumpets sounded, while the heralds strained their voices in
+proclaiming honor to the brave and glory to the victor, while ladies
+waved their silken kerchiefs and embroidered veils, and while all ranks
+joined in a clamorous shout of exultation, the marshals conducted the
+Disinherited Knight across the lists to the foot of that throne of honor
+which was occupied by the Lady Rowena.</p>
+
+<p>On the lower step of this throne the champion was made to kneel down.
+Indeed, his whole action since that the fight had ended seemed rather to
+have been upon the impulse of those around him than from his own free
+will; and it was observed that he tottered as they guided him the second
+time across the lists. Rowena, descending from her station with a
+graceful and dignified step, was about to place the chaplet which she
+held in her hand upon the helmet of the champion, when the marshals
+exclaimed with one voice, &#8220;It must not be thus; his head must be bare.&#8221;
+The knight muttered faintly a few words, which were lost in the hollow
+of his helmet; but their purport seemed to be a desire that his casque
+might not be removed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image16" id="image16"></a><a href="images/image16-full.png"><img src="images/image16.png" width="248" height="303" alt="A woman placing a crown on the head of a knight, while a crowd looks on." title="ROWENA CROWNING DISINHERITED KNIGHT" /></a>
+<span class="caption">ROWENA CROWNING DISINHERITED KNIGHT</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Whether from love of form or from curiosity, the marshals paid no
+attention to his expressions of reluctance, but unhelmed him by cutting
+the laces of his casque, and undoing the fastening of his gorget. When
+the helmet was removed the well-formed yet sun-burned features of a
+young man of twenty-five were seen, amid a profusion of short fair
+hair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> His countenance was as pale as death, and marked in one or two
+places with streaks of blood.</p>
+
+<p>Rowena had no sooner beheld him that she uttered a faint shriek; but at
+once summoning up the energy of her disposition, and compelling herself,
+as it were, to proceed, while her frame yet trembled with the violence
+of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the victor the
+splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day, and
+pronounced in a clear and distinct tone these words: &#8220;I bestow on thee
+this chaplet, Sir Knight, as the meed of valor assigned to this day&#8217;s
+victor.&#8221; Here she paused a moment, and then firmly added, &#8220;And upon brow
+more worthy could a wreath of chivalry never be placed!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The knight stooped his head and kissed the hand of the lovely Sovereign
+by whom his valor had been rewarded; and then, sinking yet further
+forward, lay prostrate at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>There was a general consternation. Cedric, who had been struck mute by
+the sudden appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward as if to
+separate him from Rowena. But this had been already accomplished by the
+marshals of the field, who, guessing the cause of Ivanhoe&#8217;s swoon, had
+hastened to undo his armor, and found that the head of a lance had
+penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_39-1" id="Footnote_39-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_39-1" class="label">39-1</a> A pursuivant was an attendant on a herald.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_40-2" id="Footnote_40-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_40-2" class="label">40-2</a> <em>Salvage</em> is an old form of the word <em>savage</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_46-3" id="Footnote_46-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_46-3" class="label">46-3</a> <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Outrance</em> is an old word meaning <em>the last extremity</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_48-4" id="Footnote_48-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_48-4" class="label">48-4</a> A largesse is a gift or donation.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_53-5" id="Footnote_53-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_53-5" class="label">53-5</a> <em>Clowns</em> here means <em>peasants</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_56-6" id="Footnote_56-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_56-6" class="label">56-6</a> <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Gare le Corbeau</em> means <em>Beware of the raven</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_57-7" id="Footnote_57-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_57-7" class="label">57-7</a> A demi-volte is a certain movement of a horse, by which
+he makes a half turn with the fore-feet off the ground.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_59-8" id="Footnote_59-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_59-8" class="label">59-8</a> <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Front-de-Boeuf</em> means bull&#8217;s head.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_59-9" id="Footnote_59-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_59-9" class="label">59-9</a> <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Cave, Adsum</em> is a Latin expression meaning <em>Beware, I
+am here</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_62-10" id="Footnote_62-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_62-10" class="label">62-10</a> <em>Hospitallers</em> was another name for the Knights of
+Saint John.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_70-11" id="Footnote_70-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_70-11" class="label">70-11</a> <em>Barbed</em>, or <em>barded</em>, is a term used of a war-horse,
+and means <em>furnished with armor</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_72-12" id="Footnote_72-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_72-12" class="label">72-12</a> A zecchin, or sequin, is worth about $2.25.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_78-13" id="Footnote_78-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_78-13" class="label">78-13</a> <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Laissez aller</em> means literally <em>Let go</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_79-14" id="Footnote_79-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_79-14" class="label">79-14</a> <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Beau-seant</em> was the name given to the black and white
+banner of the Templars.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_83-15" id="Footnote_83-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_83-15" class="label">83-15</a> <em>Springal</em> is an old word meaning <em>youth</em> or <em>young
+man</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_84-16" id="Footnote_84-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_84-16" class="label">84-16</a> The <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chamfron</em> is the defensive armor of the front part
+of the head of a war-horse.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_87-17" id="Footnote_87-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_87-17" class="label">87-17</a> The Black Sluggard was the king of England, Richard the
+Lion-Hearted, who had been absent from England on a Crusade and had come
+back without allowing his brother John to know of his return.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_RAINBOW" id="THE_RAINBOW"></a>THE RAINBOW</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">riumphal</span> arch, that fill&#8217;st the sky<br />
+<span class="i1">When storms prepare to part,</span><br />
+I ask not proud Philosophy<br />
+<span class="i1">To teach me what thou art.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Still seem, as to my childhoods&#8217; sight,<br />
+<span class="i1">A midway station given,</span><br />
+For happy spirits to alight,<br />
+<span class="i1">Betwixt the earth and heaven.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Can all that optics teach, unfold<br />
+<span class="i1">Thy form to please me so,</span><br />
+As when I dreamt of gems and gold<br />
+<span class="i1">Hid in thy radiant <span class="nowrap">bow?<a name="Anchor_91-1" id="Anchor_91-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 91-1" href="#Footnote_91-1" class="fnanchor">91-1</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">When science from creation&#8217;s face<br />
+<span class="i1">Enchantment&#8217;s veil withdraws,</span><br />
+What lovely visions yield their place<br />
+<span class="i1">To cold material laws!</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,<br />
+<span class="i1">But words of the Most High,</span><br />
+Have told why first thy robe of beams<br />
+<span class="i1">Was woven in the <span class="nowrap">sky.<a name="Anchor_91-2" id="Anchor_91-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 91-2" href="#Footnote_91-2" class="fnanchor">91-2</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>When o&#8217;er the green undeluged earth<br />
+<span class="i1">Heaven&#8217;s covenant thou didst shine,</span><br />
+How came the world&#8217;s gray fathers forth<br />
+<span class="i1">To watch thy sacred sign!</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And when its yellow lustre smiled<br />
+<span class="i1">O&#8217;er mountains yet untrod,</span><br />
+Each mother held aloft her child<br />
+<span class="i1">To bless the bow of God.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The earth to thee her incense yields,<br />
+<span class="i1">The lark thy welcome sings,</span><br />
+When, glittering in the freshen&#8217;d fields,<br />
+<span class="i1">The snowy mushroom springs.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">How glorious is thy girdle, cast<br />
+<span class="i1">O&#8217;er mountain, tower, and town,</span><br />
+Or mirror&#8217;d in the ocean vast<br />
+<span class="i1">A thousand fathoms down!</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">As fresh in yon horizon dark,<br />
+<span class="i1">As young thy beauties seem,</span><br />
+As when the eagle from the ark<br />
+<span class="i1">First sported in thy beam.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">For, faithful to its sacred page,<br />
+<span class="i1">Heaven still rebuilds thy span;</span><br />
+Nor lets the type grow pale with age<br />
+<span class="i1">That first spoke peace to man.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_91-1" id="Footnote_91-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_91-1" class="label">91-1</a> There was an old, old belief that a pot of god was
+hidden at the end of the rainbow, and that whoever found his way to the
+spot might claim the gold. This superstition has existed in almost all
+lands, and references to it are constantly to be found in literature.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_91-2" id="Footnote_91-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_91-2" class="label">91-2</a> According to the account given in <cite>Genesis IX</cite>, God said
+to Noah after the flood:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I will establish my covenant with you; neither shall all flesh be
+cut off any more by the waters of a flood; neither shall there any more
+be a flood to destroy the earth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you, and
+every living creature that is with you for perpetual generations:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant
+between me and the earth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that
+the bow shall be seen in the cloud:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you, and every
+living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a
+flood to destroy all flesh.&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_LION_AND_THE_MISSIONARY" id="THE_LION_AND_THE_MISSIONARY"></a>THE LION AND THE MISSIONARY</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">David Livingstone</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;Few men have endured more hardships, dangers and excitement
+that did David Livingstone, missionary and African traveler, from
+whose writings this account of an adventure with a lion is taken.
+He penetrated to parts of Africa where no white man had ever been
+before, he suffered repeated attacks of African fever, he exposed
+himself to constant danger from wild beasts and wilder men; and he
+did none of this in his own interests. He was no merchant seeking
+for gold and diamonds, he was no discoverer seeking for fame; his
+only aim was to open up the continent of Africa so that
+civilization and Christianity might enter.</p>
+
+<p>In 1840 Livingstone was sent as medical missionary to South Africa.
+Here he joined Robert Moffat, in Bechuanaland, where he worked for
+nine years. Learning from the natives that there was a large lake
+to the northward, he set out on his first exploring trip, and at
+length discovered Lake Ngami. Later, he undertook other journeys of
+exploration, on one of which he reached the Atlantic coast and then
+returned, crossing the entire continent. His greatest achievement
+was the exploration of the lake region of South Africa. So cut off
+was he, in the African jungles, from all the outer world that no
+communication was received from him for three years, and fears as
+to his safety were relieved only when Stanley, sent out by the <cite>New
+York Herald</cite> to search for Livingstone, reported that he had seen
+and assisted him.</p>
+
+<p>In May, 1873, Livingstone died, at a village near Lake Bangweolo.
+His body was taken to England and laid in Westminster Abbey, but
+his heart was buried at the foot of the tree under whose branches
+he died.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapr"><span class="hide">R</span></span><span class="upper">eturning</span> toward Kuruman, I selected the beautiful valley of Mabotsa
+(latitude 25&deg; 14&acute; south, longitude 26&deg; 30&acute;) as the site of a missionary
+station, and thither I removed in 1843. Here an occurrence took place
+concerning which I have frequently been questioned in England, and
+which, but for the importunities of friends, I meant to have kept in
+store to tell my children when in my dotage. The Bakatla of the village
+Mabotsa were much troubled by lions, which leaped into the cattle pens
+by night and destroyed their cows. They even attacked the herds in open
+day. This was so unusual an occurrence that the people believed that
+they were bewitched,&mdash;&#8220;given,&#8221; as they said, &#8220;into the power of the
+lions by a neighboring tribe.&#8221; They went once to attack the animals,
+but, being rather a cowardly people compared to Bechuanas in general on
+such occasions, they returned without killing any.</p>
+
+<p>It is well known that if one of a troop of lions is killed, the others
+take the hint and leave that part of the country. So, the next time the
+herds were attacked, I went with the people, in order to encourage them
+to rid themselves of the annoyance by destroying one of the marauders.
+We found the lions on a small hill about a quarter of a mile in length,
+and covered with trees. A circle of men was formed round it, and they
+gradually closed up, ascending pretty near to each other. Being down
+below on the plain with a native schoolmaster, named Meb&aacute;lwe, a most
+excellent man, I saw one of the lions sitting on a piece of rock within
+the now closed circle of men. Meb&aacute;lwe fired at him before I could,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> and
+the ball struck the rock on which the animal was sitting. He bit at the
+spot struck, as a dog does at a stick or stone thrown at him; then
+leaping away, broke through the opening circle and escaped unhurt. The
+men were afraid to attack him, perhaps on account of their belief in
+witchcraft. When the circle was reformed, we saw two other lions in it;
+but we were afraid to fire lest we should strike the men, and they
+allowed the beasts to burst through also.</p>
+
+<p>If the Bakatla had acted according to the custom of the country, they
+would have speared the lions in their attempt to get out. Seeing we
+could not get them to kill one of the lions, we bent our footsteps
+toward the village; in going round the end of the hill, however, I saw
+one of the beasts sitting on a piece of rock as before, but this time he
+had a little bush in front. Being about thirty yards off, I took a good
+aim at his body through the bush, and fired both barrels into it. The
+men then called out, &#8220;He is shot, he is shot!&#8221; Others cried, &#8220;He has
+been shot by another man too; let us go to him!&#8221; I did not see any one
+else shoot at him, but I saw the lion&#8217;s tail erected in anger behind the
+bush, and turning to the people, said, &#8220;Stop a little, till I load
+again.&#8221; When in the act of ramming down the bullets, I heard a shout.
+Starting, and looking half round, I saw the lion just in the act of
+springing upon me.</p>
+
+<p>I was upon a little height; he caught my shoulder as he sprang, and we
+both came to the ground below together. Growling horribly close to my
+ear, he shook me as a terrier dog does a rat. The shock produced a
+stupor similar to that which seems to be felt by a mouse after the first
+shake of the cat. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> caused a sort of dreaminess, in which there was no
+sense of pain nor feeling of terror, though I was quite conscious of all
+that was happening. It was like what patients partially under the
+influence of chloroform describe, who see all the operation, but feel
+not the knife. This singular condition was not the result of any mental
+process. The shake annihilated fear, and allowed no sense of horror in
+looking round at the beast. This peculiar state is probably produced in
+all animals killed by the carnivora; and if so, is a merciful provision
+by our benevolent Creator for lessening the pain of death. Turning round
+to relieve myself of the weight, as he had one paw on the back of my
+head, I saw his eyes directed to Meb&aacute;lwe, who was trying to shoot him at
+a distance of ten or fifteen yards. His gun, a flint one, missed fire in
+both barrels; the lion immediately left me, and, attacking Meb&aacute;lwe, bit
+his thigh. Another man, whose life I had saved before, after he had been
+tossed by a buffalo, attempted to spear the lion while he was biting
+Meb&aacute;lwe. He left Meb&aacute;lwe and caught this man by the shoulder, but at
+that moment the bullets he had received took effect, and he fell down
+dead. The whole was the work of a few moments, and must have been his
+paroxysms of dying rage. In order to take out the charm from him, the
+Bakatla on the following day made a huge bonfire over the carcass, which
+was declared to be that of the largest lion they had ever seen. Besides
+crunching the bone into splinters, he left eleven teeth wounds on the
+upper part of my arm.</p>
+
+<p>A wound from this animal&#8217;s tooth resembles a gunshot wound; it is
+generally followed by a great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> deal of sloughing and discharge, and
+pains are felt in the part, periodically ever afterward. I had on a
+tartan jacket on the occasion, and I believe that it wiped off all the
+virus from the teeth that pierced the flesh, for my two companions in
+this affray have both suffered from the peculiar pains, while I have
+escaped with only the inconvenience of a false joint in my limb. The man
+whose shoulder was wounded, showed me his wound actually burst forth
+afresh on the same month of the following year. This curious point
+certainly deserves the attention of inquirers.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 114px;">
+<a name="image17" id="image17"></a><a href="images/image17-full.png"><img src="images/image17.png" width="114" height="115" alt="A lion on an outcrop of rock." title="Lion" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_MOSS_ROSE" id="THE_MOSS_ROSE"></a>THE MOSS ROSE</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: smaller;">TRANSLATED FROM KRUMMACHER</p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> angel of the flowers, one day,<br />
+Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay,&mdash;<br />
+That spirit to whose charge &#8217;tis given<br />
+To bathe young buds in dews of heaven.<br />
+Awaking from his light repose,<br />
+The angel whispered to the rose:<br />
+&#8220;O fondest object of my care,<br />
+Still fairest found, where all are fair;<br />
+For the sweet shade thou giv&#8217;st to me<br />
+Ask what thou wilt, &#8217;tis granted thee.&#8221;<br />
+&#8220;Then,&#8221; said the rose, with deepened glow,<br />
+&#8220;On me another grace bestow.&#8221;<br />
+The spirit paused, in silent thought,&mdash;<br />
+What grace was there that flower had not?<br />
+&#8217;Twas but a moment,&mdash;o&#8217;er the rose<br />
+A veil of moss the angel throws,<br />
+And, robed in nature&#8217;s simplest weed,<br />
+Could there a flower that rose exceed?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<h2 class="story"><a name="FOUR_DUCKS_ON_A_POND" id="FOUR_DUCKS_ON_A_POND"></a>FOUR DUCKS ON A POND</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">William Allingham</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">F</span><span class="upper">our</span> ducks on a pond,<br />
+A grass bank beyond,<br />
+A blue sky of spring,<br />
+White clouds on the wing;<br />
+What a little thing<br />
+To remember for years,<br />
+To remember with tears.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="RAB_AND_HIS_FRIENDS" id="RAB_AND_HIS_FRIENDS"></a>RAB AND HIS FRIENDS</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">John Brown, M. D.</span></p>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcapf"><span class="hide">F</span></span><span class="upper">our</span> and thirty years ago, Bob Ainslie and I were coming up Infirmary
+street from the high school, our heads together, and our arms
+intertwisted, as only lovers and boys know how or why.</p>
+
+<p>When we got to the top of the street, and turned north, we espied a
+crowd at the Tron-church. &#8220;A dog fight!&#8221; shouted Bob, and was off; and
+so was I, both of us all but praying that it might not be over before we
+got up! And is not this boy nature! and human nature too? and don&#8217;t we
+all wish a house on fire not to be out before we see it? Dogs like
+fighting; old Isaac says they &#8220;delight&#8221; in it, and for the best of all
+reasons; and boys are not cruel because they like to see the fight. They
+see three of the great cardinal virtues of dog or man&mdash;courage,
+endurance, and skill&mdash;in intense action. This is very different from a
+love of making dogs fight, and enjoying, and aggravating, and making
+gain by their pluck. A boy&mdash;be he ever so fond himself of fighting, if
+he be a good boy, hates and despises all this, but he would have run off
+with Bob and me fast enough; it is a natural, and a not wicked, interest
+that all boys and men have in witnessing intense energy in action.</p>
+
+<p>Does any curious and finely-ignorant woman wish to know how Bob&#8217;s eye at
+a glance announced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> a dog fight to his brain? He did not, he could not
+see the dogs fighting; it was a flash of an inference, a rapid
+induction. The crowd round a couple of dogs fighting, is a crowd
+masculine mainly, with an occasional active, compassionate woman,
+fluttering wildly round the outside, and using her tongue and her hands
+freely upon the men, as so many &#8220;brutes&#8221;; it is a crowd annular, compact
+and mobile; a crowd centripetal, having its eyes and its heads all bent
+downward and inward, to one common focus.</p>
+
+<p>Well, Bob and I are up, and find it is not over; a small thoroughbred,
+white bull-terrier, is busy throttling a large shepherd&#8217;s dog,
+unaccustomed to war, but not to be trifled with. They are hard at it;
+the scientific little fellow doing his work in great style, his pastoral
+enemy fighting wildly, but with the sharpest of teeth and a great
+courage. Science and breeding, however, soon had their own; the Game
+Chicken, as the premature Bob called him, working his way up, took his
+final grip of poor Yarrow&#8217;s throat&mdash;and he lay gasping and done for. His
+master, a brown, handsome, big young shepherd from Tweedsmuir, would
+have liked to have knocked down any man, would &#8220;drink up Esil, or eat a
+crocodile,&#8221; for that part, if he had a chance; it was no use kicking the
+little dog; that would only make him hold the closer. Many were the
+means shouted out in mouthfuls, of the best possible ways of ending it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Water!&#8221; but there was none near, and many cried for it who might have
+got it from the well at Blackfriars Wynd.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bite the tail!&#8221; and a large, vague, benevolent, middle-aged man, more
+desirous than wise, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> some struggle got the bushy end of Yarrow&#8217;s
+tail into his ample mouth, and bit it with all his might. This was more
+than enough for the much-enduring, much-perspiring shepherd, who, with a
+gleam of joy over his broad visage, delivered a terrific facer upon our
+large, vague, benevolent, middle-aged friend&mdash;who went down like a shot.</p>
+
+<p>Still the Chicken holds; death not far off.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Snuff! a pinch of snuff!&#8221; observed a calm, highly-dressed young buck,
+with an eye-glass in his eye. &#8220;Snuff, indeed!&#8221; growled the angry crowd,
+affronted and glaring.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Snuff! a pinch of snuff!&#8221; again observes the buck, but with more
+urgency; whereupon were produced several open boxes, and from a mull
+which may have been at Culloden, he took a pinch, knelt down, and
+presented it to the nose of the Chicken. The laws of physiology and of
+snuff take their course; the Chicken sneezes, and Yarrow is free.</p>
+
+<p>The young pastoral giant stalks off with Yarrow in his arms&mdash;comforting
+him.</p>
+
+<p>But the bull-terrier&#8217;s blood is up, and his soul unsatisfied; he grips
+the first dog he meets, and discovering she is not a dog, in Homeric
+phrase, he makes a brief sort of <span class="nowrap"><em>amende</em>,<a name="Anchor_101-1" id="Anchor_101-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 101-1" href="#Footnote_101-1" class="fnanchor">101-1</a></span> and is off. The boys,
+with Bob and me at their head, are after him; down Niddry street he
+goes, bent on mischief; up the Cowgate like an arrow&mdash;Bob and I, and our
+small men, panting behind.</p>
+
+<p>There, under the single arch of the South bridge is a huge mastiff,
+sauntering down the middle of the causeway, as if with his hands in his
+pockets; he is old, gray, brindled, as big as a little Highland bull,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+and has the Shakespearian dewlaps shaking as he goes.</p>
+
+<p>The Chicken makes straight at him, and fastens on his throat. To our
+astonishment, the great creature does nothing but stand still, holds
+himself up, and roar&mdash;yes, roar; a long, serious, remonstrative roar.
+How is this? Bob and I are up to them. <em>He is muzzled!</em> The bailies had
+proclaimed a general muzzling, and his master, studying strength and
+economy mainly, had encompassed his huge jaws in a homemade apparatus,
+constructed out of the leather of some ancient breechin. His mouth was
+open as far as it could; his lips curled up in rage&mdash;a sort of terrible
+grin; his teeth gleaming, ready, from out of the darkness; the strap
+across his mouth tense as a bow string; his whole frame stiff with
+indignation and surprise; his roar asking us all round, &#8220;Did you ever
+see the like of this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He looked a statue of anger and astonishment, done in Aberdeen granite.</p>
+
+<p>We soon had a crowd; the Chicken held on. &#8220;A knife!&#8221; cried Bob; and a
+cobbler gave him his knife; you know the kind of knife, worn away
+obliquely to a point, and always keen. I put its edge to the tense
+leather; it ran before it; and then!&mdash;one sudden jerk of that enormous
+head, a sort of dirty mist about his mouth, no noise, and the bright and
+fierce little fellow is dropped, limp, and dead. A solemn pause; this
+was more than any of us had bargained for. I turned the little fellow
+over, and saw he was quite dead; the mastiff had taken him by the small
+of the back, like a rat, and broken it.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down at his victim appeased, ashamed and amazed; snuffed him
+all over, stared at him, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> taking a sudden thought, turned round and
+trotted off.</p>
+
+<p>Bob took the dead dog up, and said, &#8220;John, we&#8217;ll bury him after tea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image18" id="image18"></a><a href="images/image18-full.png"><img src="images/image18.png" width="249" height="196" alt="A man approaching a dog that is crouched by the door of a house." title="&#8220;RAB, YE THIEF!&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;RAB, YE THIEF!&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said I, and was off after the mastiff. He made up the Cowgate at
+a rapid swing; he had forgotten some engagement. He turned up the
+Candlemaker Row, and stopped at the Harrow Inn.</p>
+
+<p>There was a carrier&#8217;s cart ready to start, and a keen, thin, impatient,
+black-a-vised little man, his hand at his gray horse&#8217;s head looking
+about angrily for something.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rab, ye thief!&#8221; said he, aiming a kick at my great friend, who drew
+cringing up, and avoiding the heavy shoe with more agility than dignity,
+and watching his master&#8217;s eye, slunk dismayed under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> the cart&mdash;his ears
+down, and as much as he had of tail down too.</p>
+
+<p>What a man this must be&mdash;thought I&mdash;to whom my tremendous hero turns
+tail! The carrier saw the muzzle hanging, cut and useless, from his
+neck, and I eagerly told him the story which Bob and I always thought,
+and still think, Homer, or King David, or Sir Walter, alone were worthy
+to rehearse. The severe little man was mitigated, and condescended to
+say, &#8220;Rab, ma man, puir Rabbie&#8221;&mdash;whereupon the stump of a tail rose up,
+the ears were cocked, the eyes filled, and were comforted; the two
+friends were reconciled. &#8220;Hupp!&#8221; and a stroke of the whip were given to
+Jess; and off went the three.</p>
+
+<p>Bob and I buried the Game Chicken that night (we had not much of a tea)
+in the back-green of his house in Melville street, No. 17, with
+considerable gravity and silence; and being at the time in the Iliad,
+and, like all boys, Trojans, we called him Hector of course.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;* * * * * * * *</p>
+
+<p>Six years have passed&mdash;a long time for a boy and a dog: Bob Ainslie is
+off to the wars; I am a medical student, and clerk at Minto House
+Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>Rab I saw almost every week, on the Wednesday; and we had much pleasant
+intimacy. I found the way to his heart by frequent scratching of his
+huge head, and an occasional bone. When I did not notice him he would
+plant himself straight before me, and stand wagging that bud of a tail,
+and looking up, with his head a little to the one side. His master I
+occasionally saw; he used to call me &#8220;Maister John,&#8221; but was laconic as
+any Spartan.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>One fine October afternoon, I was leaving the hospital when I saw the
+large gate open, and in walked Rab with that great and easy saunter of
+his. He looked as if taking general possession of the place; like the
+Duke of Wellington entering a subdued city, satiated with victory and
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>After him came Jess, now white from age, with her cart; and in it a
+woman, carefully wrapped up&mdash;the carrier leading the horse anxiously,
+and looking back.</p>
+
+<p>When he saw me, James (for his name was James Noble) made a curt and
+grotesque &#8220;boo,&#8221; and said, &#8220;Maister John, this is the mistress; she&#8217;s
+got a trouble in her breest&mdash;some kind of an income we&#8217;er thinkin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>By this time I saw the woman&#8217;s face; she was sitting on a sack filled
+with straw, her husband&#8217;s plaid round her, and his big-coat, with its
+large white metal buttons, over her feet.</p>
+
+<p>I never saw a more unforgettable face&mdash;pale, serious, <em>lonely</em>,
+delicate, sweet, without being at all what we call fine. She looked
+sixty, and had on a mutch, white as snow, with its black ribbon; her
+silvery, smooth hair setting off her dark-gray eyes&mdash;eyes such as one
+sees only twice or thrice in a lifetime, full of suffering, full also of
+the overcoming of it; her eyebrows black and delicate, and her mouth
+firm, patient, and contented, which few mouths ever are.</p>
+
+<p>As I have said, I never saw a more beautiful countenance, or a more
+subdued or settled quiet. &#8220;Ailie,&#8221; said James, &#8220;this is Maister John,
+the young doctor; Rab&#8217;s freend, ye ken. We often speak aboot you,
+doctor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>She smiled, and made a movement, but said nothing; and prepared to come
+down, putting her plaid aside and rising. Had Solomon, in all his glory,
+been handing down the Queen of Sheba, at his palace gate, he could not
+have done it more daintily, more tenderly, more like a gentleman, than
+did James, the Howgate carrier, when he lifted down Ailie, his wife.</p>
+
+<p>The contrast of his small, swarthy, weatherbeaten, keen, worldly face to
+hers&mdash;pale, subdued, and beautiful&mdash;was something wonderful. Rab looked
+on concerned and puzzled, but ready for anything that might turn
+up&mdash;were it to strangle the nurse, the porter, or even me. Ailie and he
+seemed great friends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I was sayin&#8217;, she&#8217;s got a kind o&#8217; trouble in her breest, doctor;
+wull ye tak&#8217; a look at it?&#8221; We walked into the consulting-room, all
+four; Rab grim and comic, willing to be happy and confidential if cause
+could be shown, willing also to be the reverse on the same terms. Ailie
+sat down, undid her open gown and her lawn handkerchief round her neck,
+and, without a word, showed me her right breast. I looked at and
+examined it carefully, she and James watching me, and Rab eying all
+three. What could I say? There it was that had once been so soft, so
+shapely, so white, so gracious and bountiful, so &#8220;full of all blessed
+conditions&#8221;&mdash;hard as a stone, a center of horrid pain, making that pale
+face, with its gray, lucid, reasonable eyes, and its sweet resolved
+mouth, express the full measure of suffering overcome. Why was that
+gentle, modest, sweet woman, clean and lovable, condemned by God to bear
+such a <a name="corr8" id="corr8"></a>burden?</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>I got her away to bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May Rab and me bide?&#8221; said James.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>You</em> may; and Rab, if he will behave himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;se warrant he&#8217;s do that, doctor;&#8221; and in slunk the faithful beast.</p>
+
+<p>I wish you could have seen him. There are no such dogs now. He belonged
+to a lost tribe. As I have said, he was brindled, and gray like Rubislaw
+granite; his hair short, hard, and close, like a lion&#8217;s; his body
+thickset, like a little bull&mdash;a sort of compressed Hercules of a dog. He
+must have been ninety pounds&#8217; weight, at the least; he had a large blunt
+head; his muzzle black as night, his mouth blacker than any night, a
+tooth or two&mdash;being all he had&mdash;gleaming out of his jaws of darkness.
+His head was scarred with the records of old wounds, a sort of series of
+fields of battle all over it; one eye out, one ear cropped as close as
+was Archbishop Leighton&#8217;s father&#8217;s; the remaining eye had the power of
+two; and above it, and in constant communication with it, was a tattered
+rag of an ear, which was forever unfurling itself, like an old flag; and
+then that bud of a tail, about one inch long, if it could in any sense
+be said to be long, being as broad as long&mdash;the mobility, the
+instantaneousness of that bud were very funny and surprising, and its
+expressive twinklings and winkings, the intercommunications between the
+eye, the ear, and it, were of the oddest and swiftest.</p>
+
+<p>Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size; and having fought his
+way all along the road to absolute supremacy, he was as mighty in his
+own line as Julius C&aelig;sar or the Duke of Wellington, and had the gravity
+of all great fighters.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>You must have often observed the likeness of certain men to certain
+animals, and of certain dogs to men. Now, I never looked at Rab without
+thinking of the great Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller. The same large,
+heavy, menacing, combative, sombre, honest countenance, the same deep
+inevitable eye, the same look&mdash;as of thunder asleep, but ready&mdash;neither
+a dog nor a man to be trifled with.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, my master, the surgeon, examined Ailie. There was no doubt it
+must kill her, and soon. It could be removed&mdash;it might never return&mdash;it
+would give her speedy relief&mdash;she should have it done.</p>
+
+<p>She curtsied, looked at James, and said, &#8220;When?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow,&#8221; said the kind surgeon&mdash;a man of few words.</p>
+
+<p>She and James and Rab and I retired. I noticed that he and she spoke a
+little, but seemed to anticipate everything in each other. The following
+day at noon, the students came in, hurrying up the great stair. At the
+first <a name="corr9" id="corr9"></a>landing-place, on a small well-known blackboard, was a bit of
+paper fastened by wafers and many remains of old wafers beside it. On
+the paper were the words&mdash;&#8220;An operation to-day. J. B., <em>Clerk</em>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Up ran the youths, eager to secure good places; in they crowded, full of
+interest and talk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the case? Which side is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Don&#8217;t think them heartless; they are neither better nor worse than you
+or I; they get over their professional horrors, and into their proper
+work; and in them pity&mdash;as an <em>emotion</em>, ending in itself or at best in
+tears and a long-drawn breath, lessens, while pity as a <em>motive</em> is
+quickened, and gains power and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> purpose. It is well for poor human
+nature that it is so.</p>
+
+<p>The operating theatre is crowded; much talk and fun, and all the
+cordiality and stir of youth. The surgeon with his staff of assistants
+is there. In comes Ailie; one look at her quiets and abates the eager
+students. The beautiful old woman is too much for them. They sit down,
+and are dumb, and gaze at her. These rough boys feel the power of her
+presence.</p>
+
+<p>She walks in quickly, but without haste; dressed in her mutch, her
+neckerchief, her white dimity short-gown, her black bombazine petticoat,
+showing her white worsted stockings and her carpet-shoes. Behind her was
+James with Rab. James sat down in the distance, and took that huge and
+noble head between his knees. Rab looked perplexed and dangerous;
+forever cocking his ear and dropping it as fast.</p>
+
+<p>Ailie stepped up on a seat, and laid herself on the table, as her friend
+the surgeon told her; arranged herself, gave a rapid look at James, shut
+her eyes, rested herself on me, and took my hand. The operation was at
+once begun; it was necessarily slow; and chloroform&mdash;one of God&#8217;s best
+gifts to his suffering children&mdash;was then unknown. The surgeon did his
+work. Rab&#8217;s soul was working within him; he saw that something strange
+was going on&mdash;blood flowing from his mistress, and she suffering; his
+ragged ear was up, and importunate; he growled and gave now and then a
+sharp impatient yelp; he would have liked to have done something to that
+man. But James had him firm, and gave him a <span class="nowrap"><em>glower</em><a name="Anchor_109-2" id="Anchor_109-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 109-2" href="#Footnote_109-2" class="fnanchor">109-2</a></span> from time to
+time, and an intimation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> of a possible kick;&mdash;all the better for James,
+it kept his eye and his mind off Ailie.</p>
+
+<p>It is over; she is dressed, steps gently and decently down from the
+table, looks for James; then, turning to the surgeon and the students,
+she curtsies&mdash;and in a low, clear voice, begs their pardon if she has
+behaved ill. The students&mdash;all of us&mdash;wept like children; the surgeon
+happed her up carefully&mdash;and, resting on James and me, Ailie went to her
+room, Rab following. We put her to bed. James took off his heavy shoes,
+crammed with tackets, heel-capt and toe-capt, and put them carefully
+under the table, saying, &#8220;Maister John, I&#8217;m for nane o&#8217; yer strynge
+nurse bodies for Ailie. I&#8217;ll be her nurse, and I&#8217;ll gang about on my
+stockin&#8217; soles as canny as pussy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And so he did; handy and clever, and swift and tender as any woman, was
+that horny-handed, snell, peremptory little man. Everything she got he
+gave her; he seldom slept; and often I saw his small, shrewd eyes out of
+the darkness, fixed on her. As before, they spoke little.</p>
+
+<p>Rab behaved well, never moving, showing us how meek and gentle he could
+be, and occasionally, in his sleep, letting us know that he was
+demolishing some adversary. He took a walk with me every day, generally
+to the Candlemaker Row; but he was sombre and mild; declined doing
+battle, though some fit cases offered, and indeed submitted to sundry
+indignities; and was always very ready to turn and came faster back, and
+trotted up the stair with much lightness, and went straight to that
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Jess, the mare, had been sent, with her weather-worn cart, to Howgate,
+and had doubtless her own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> dim and placid meditations and confusions, on
+the absence of her master and Rab, and her unnatural freedom from the
+road and her cart.</p>
+
+<p>For some days Ailie did well. The wound healed &#8220;by the first intention;&#8221;
+for as James said, &#8220;Our Ailie&#8217;s skin&#8217;s ower clean to beil.&#8221; The students
+came in quiet and anxious, and surrounded her bed. She said she liked to
+see their young, honest faces. The surgeon dressed her, and spoke to her
+in his own short, kind way, pitying her through his eyes, Rab and James
+outside the circle&mdash;Rab being now reconciled, and even cordial, and
+having made up his mind that as yet nobody required worrying, but as you
+may suppose <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">semper </em><span class="nowrap"><em lang="la" xml:lang="la">paratus</em>.<a name="Anchor_111-3" id="Anchor_111-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 111-3" href="#Footnote_111-3" class="fnanchor">111-3</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So far well; but four days after the operation my patient had a sudden
+and long shivering, a &#8220;groosin&#8217;,&#8221; as she called it. I saw her soon
+after; her eyes were too bright, her cheek colored; she was restless,
+and ashamed of being so; the balance was lost; mischief had begun.</p>
+
+<p>On looking at the wound, a blush of red told the secret; her pulse was
+rapid, her breathing anxious and quick, she wasn&#8217;t herself, as she said,
+and was vexed at her restlessness. We tried what we could, James did
+everything, was everywhere; never in the way, never out of it. Rab
+subsided under the table into a dark place, and was motionless, all but
+his eye, which followed every one. Ailie got worse; began to wander in
+her mind, gently; was more demonstrative in her ways to James, rapid in
+her questions, and sharp at times. He was vexed, and said, &#8220;She was
+never that way afore; no, never.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>For a time she knew her head was wrong, and was always asking our
+pardon&mdash;the dear, gentle old woman; then delirium set in strong, without
+pause. Her brain gave way, and then came that terrible spectacle,</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;The intellectual power, through words and things,<br />
+Went sounding on its dim and perilous way;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">she sang bits of old songs and psalms, stopping suddenly, mingling the
+Psalms of David, and the diviner words of his Son and Lord, with homely
+odds and ends and scraps of ballads.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more touching, or in a sense more strangely beautiful, did I
+ever witness. Her tremulous, rapid, affectionate, eager, Scotch
+voice&mdash;the swift, aimless, bewildered mind, the baffled utterance, the
+bright and perilous eye; some wild words, some household cares,
+something for James, the names of the dead, Rab called rapidly and in a
+<span class="nowrap">&#8220;fremyt&#8221;<a name="Anchor_112-4" id="Anchor_112-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 112-4" href="#Footnote_112-4" class="fnanchor">112-4</a></span> voice, and he starting up, surprised, and slinking off
+as if he were to blame somehow, or had been dreaming he heard. Many
+eager questions and beseechings which James and I could make nothing of,
+and on which she seemed to set her all, and then sink back ununderstood.
+It was very sad, but better than many things that are not called sad.
+James hovered about, put out and miserable, but active and exact as
+ever; read to her, when there was a lull, short bits from the Psalms,
+prose and metre, chanting the latter in his own rude and serious way,
+showing great knowledge of the fit words, bearing up like a man, and
+doating over her as his &#8220;ain Ailie,&#8221; &#8220;Ailie, ma woman!&#8221; &#8220;Ma ain bonnie
+wee dawtie!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>The end was drawing on: the golden bowl was breaking; the silver cord
+was fast being loosed&mdash;that <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">animula blandula, vagula, hospes,</em>
+<span class="nowrap"><em lang="la" xml:lang="la">comesque</em><a name="Anchor_113-5" id="Anchor_113-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 113-5" href="#Footnote_113-5" class="fnanchor">113-5</a></span> was about to flee. The body and the soul&mdash;companions
+for sixty years&mdash;were being sundered, and taking leave. She was walking,
+alone, through the valley of that shadow, into which one day we must all
+enter&mdash;and yet she was not alone, for we knew whose rod and staff were
+comforting her.</p>
+
+<p>One night she had fallen quiet, and as we hoped, asleep; her eyes were
+shut. We put down the gas and sat watching her. Suddenly she sat up in
+bed, and taking a bedgown which was lying on it rolled up, she held it
+eagerly to her breast&mdash;to the right side. We could see her eyes bright
+with surpassing tenderness and joy, bending over this bundle of clothes.
+She held it as a woman holds her sucking child; opening out her
+nightgown impatiently, and holding it close, and brooding over it, and
+murmuring foolish little words, as one whom his mother comforteth, and
+who sucks and is satisfied. It was pitiful and strange to see her
+wasting dying look, keen and yet vague&mdash;her immense love.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Preserve me!&#8221; groaned James, giving away. And then she rocked back and
+forward, as if to make it sleep, hushing it, and wasting on it her
+infinite fondness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wae&#8217;s me, doctor; I declare she&#8217;s thinkin&#8217; it&#8217;s that bairn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What bairn?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The only bairn we ever had; our wee Mysie, and she&#8217;s in the Kingdom,
+forty years and mair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>It was plainly true: the pain in the breast telling its urgent story to
+a bewildered, ruined brain, was misread, and mistaken; it suggested to
+her the uneasiness of a breast full of milk, and then the child; and so
+again once more they were together, and she had her ain wee Mysie in her
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p>This was the close. She sank rapidly: the delirium left her; but, as she
+whispered, she was &#8220;clean silly&#8221;; it was the lightening before the final
+darkness. After having for some time lain still&mdash;her eyes shut, she
+said, &#8220;James!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He came close to her, and lifting up her calm, clear, beautiful eyes,
+she gave him a long look, turned to me kindly but shortly, looked for
+Rab but could not see him, then turned to her husband again, as if she
+would never leave off looking, shut her eyes and composed herself. She
+lay for some time breathing quick, and passed away so gently, that when
+we thought she was gone, James, in his old-fashioned way, held the
+mirror to her face. After a long pause, one small spot of dimness was
+breathed out; it vanished away, and never returned, leaving the blank
+clear darkness of the mirror without a stain. &#8220;What is your life? it is
+even a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth
+away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rab all this time had been full awake and motionless; he came forward
+beside us; Ailie&#8217;s hand, which James had held, was hanging down; it was
+soaked with his tears; Rab licked it all over carefully, looked at her,
+and returned to his place under the table.</p>
+
+<p>James and I sat, I don&#8217;t know how long, but for some time&mdash;saying
+nothing: he started up, abruptly, and with some noise went to the table,
+and putting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> his right fore and middle fingers each into a shoe, pulled
+them out, and put them on, breaking one of the leather latchets, and
+muttering in anger, &#8220;I never did the like o&#8217; that afore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I believe he never did; nor after either. &#8220;Rab!&#8221; he said roughly, and
+pointing with his thumb to the bottom of the bed. Rab leaped up, and
+settled himself; his head and eye to the dead face. &#8220;Maister John, ye&#8217;ll
+wait for me,&#8221; said the carrier, and disappeared in the darkness,
+thundering downstairs in his heavy shoes. I ran to a front window: there
+he was, already round the house, and out at the gate fleeing like a
+shadow.</p>
+
+<p>I was afraid about him, and yet not afraid; so I sat down beside Rab,
+and being wearied, fell asleep. I awoke from a sudden noise outside. It
+was November, and there had been a heavy fall of snow. Rab was <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">in statu</em>
+<span class="nowrap"><em lang="la" xml:lang="la">quo</em>;<a name="Anchor_115-6" id="Anchor_115-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 115-6" href="#Footnote_115-6" class="fnanchor">115-6</a></span> he heard the noise too, and plainly knew it, but never
+moved. I looked out, and there, at the gate, in the dim morning&mdash;for the
+sun was not up&mdash;was Jess and the cart&mdash;a cloud of steam rising from the
+old mare. I did not see James; he was already at the door, and came up
+to the stairs, and met me. It was less than three hours since he left,
+and he must have posted out&mdash;who knows how&mdash;to Howgate, full nine miles
+off; yoked Jess, and driven her astonished into town. He had an armful
+of blankets, and was streaming with perspiration. He nodded to me,
+spread out on the floor two pairs of clean old blankets, having at their
+corners &#8220;A. G., 1794,&#8221; in large letters in red worsted. These were the
+initials of Alison Gr&aelig;me, and James may have looked in at her from
+without&mdash;himself unseen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> but not unthought of&mdash;when he was &#8220;wat, wat and
+weary,&#8221; and after having walked many a mile over the hills, may have
+seen her sitting, while &#8220;a&#8217; the lave were sleepin&#8217;;&#8221; and by the
+firelight working her name on the blankets, for her ain James&#8217; bed.</p>
+
+<p>He motioned Rab down, and taking his wife in his arms, laid her in the
+blankets, and happed her carefully and firmly up, leaving the face
+uncovered; and then lifting her, he nodded again sharply to me, and with
+a resolved but utterly miserable face, strode along the passage, and
+downstairs, followed by Rab. I followed with a light; but he didn&#8217;t need
+it. I went out, holding stupidly the candle in my hand in the calm
+frosty air; we were soon at the gate. I could have helped him, but I saw
+he was not to be meddled with, and he was strong, and did not need it.
+He laid her down as tenderly, as safely, as he had lifted her out ten
+days before&mdash;as tenderly as when he had her first in his arms when she
+was only &#8220;A. G.&#8221;&mdash;sorted her, leaving that beautiful sealed face open to
+the heavens; and then taking Jess by the head, he moved away. He did not
+notice me, neither did Rab, who presided behind the cart.</p>
+
+<p>I stood till they passed through the long shadow of the College, and
+turned up Nicholson Street. I heard the solitary cart sound through the
+streets, and die away and come again; and I returned, thinking of that
+company going up Libberton Brae, then along Roslin Muir, the morning
+light touching the Pentlands and making them on-looking ghosts; then
+down the hill through Auchindinny woods, past &#8220;haunted Woodhouselee&#8221;;
+and as daybreak came sweeping up the bleak Lammermuirs, and fell on his
+own door, the company would stop, and James<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> would take the key, and
+lift Ailie up again, laying her on her own bed, and, having put Jess up,
+would return with Rab and shut the door.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image19" id="image19"></a><a href="images/image19-full.png"><img src="images/image19.png" width="247" height="195" alt="A man standing by a snow-covered grave." title="JAMES BURIED HIS WIFE" /></a>
+<span class="caption">JAMES BURIED HIS WIFE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>James buried his wife, with his neighbors mourning, Rab inspecting the
+solemnity from a distance. It was snow, and that black ragged hole would
+look strange in the midst of the swelling spotless cushion of white.
+James looked after everything; then rather suddenly fell ill, and took
+to bed; was insensible when the doctor came, and soon died. A sort of
+low fever was prevailing in the village, and his want of sleep, his
+exhaustion, and his misery, made him apt to take it. The grave was not
+difficult to reopen. A fresh fall of snow had again made all things
+white and smooth; Rab once more looked on, and slunk home to the
+stable.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>And what of Rab? I asked for him next week of the new carrier who got
+the goodwill of James&#8217;s business, and was now master of Jess and her
+cart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;s Rab?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He put me off, and said rather rudely, &#8220;What&#8217;s <em>your</em> business wi&#8217; the
+dowg?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was not to be so put off.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s Rab?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He, getting confused and red, and intermeddling with his hair, said,
+&#8220;&#8217;Deed sir, Rab&#8217;s died.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dead! what did he die of?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, sir,&#8221; said he, getting redder, &#8220;he didna exactly dee; he was
+killed. I had to brain him wi&#8217; a rack-pin; there was nae doing wi&#8217; him.
+He lay in the treviss wi&#8217; the mear, and wadna come oot. I tempit him wi&#8217;
+the kail and meat, but he wad tak naething, and keepit me frae feedin&#8217;
+the beast, and he was aye gur gurrin&#8217;, and grup gruppin&#8217; me by the legs.
+I was laith to make awa wi&#8217; the old dowg, his like wasne atween this and
+Thornhill&mdash;but, &#8217;deed, sir, I could do naething else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I believed him. Fit end for Rab, quick and complete. His teeth and his
+friends gone, why should he keep the peace and be civil?</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_101-1" id="Footnote_101-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_101-1" class="label">101-1</a> <em>Amende</em> means <em>apology</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_109-2" id="Footnote_109-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_109-2" class="label">109-2</a> <em>Glower</em>, a Scotch word meaning a savage stare.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_111-3" id="Footnote_111-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_111-3" class="label">111-3</a> <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Semper paratus</em> means <em>always ready</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_112-4" id="Footnote_112-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_112-4" class="label">112-4</a> <em>Fremyt</em> means <em>trembling, querulous</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_113-5" id="Footnote_113-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_113-5" class="label">113-5</a> <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Animula blandula, vagula, hospes, comesque</em>, means
+<em>sweet fleeting life, companion and sojourner</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_115-6" id="Footnote_115-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_115-6" class="label">115-6</a> <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">In statu quo</em> means <em>in the same position</em>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="ANNIE_LAURIE" id="ANNIE_LAURIE"></a>ANNIE LAURIE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;Concerning the history of this song it is stated on good
+authority that there did really live, in the seventeenth century,
+an Annie Laurie. She was a daughter of Sir Robert Laurie, first
+baronet of the Maxwelton family, and was celebrated for her beauty.
+We should be glad to hear that Annie Laurie married the Mr. Douglas
+whose love for her inspired the writing of this poem, but records
+show that she became the wife of another man.</p>
+
+<p>Only the first two verses were composed by Douglas; the last was
+added by an unknown author.</p></div>
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcapm"><span class="hide">M</span></span><span class="upper">axwelton</span> <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">braes</span> are bonnie<br />
+Where early <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">fa&#8217;s</span> the dew,<br />
+And it&#8217;s there that Annie Laurie<br />
+Gie&#8217;d me her promise true,&mdash;<br />
+Gie&#8217;d me her promise true,<br />
+Which ne&#8217;er forgot will be;<br />
+And for bonnie Annie Laurie<br />
+I&#8217;d lay me <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">doune</span> and <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">dee</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Her brow is like the <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">snaw</span> drift;<br />
+Her throat is like the swan;<br />
+Her face it is the fairest<br />
+That e&#8217;er the sun shone on,&mdash;<br />
+That e&#8217;er the sun shone on;<br />
+And dark blue is her ee;<br />
+And for bonnie Annie Laurie<br />
+I&#8217;d lay me <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">doune</span> and <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">dee</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Like dew on the <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">gowan</span> lying<br />
+Is the fa&#8217; o&#8217; her fairy feet;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>And like winds in summer sighing,<br />
+Her voice is low and sweet,&mdash;<br />
+Her voice is low and sweet;<br />
+And she&#8217;s a&#8217; the world to me;<br />
+And for bonnie Annie Laurie<br />
+I&#8217;d lay me <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">doune</span> and <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">dee</span>.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_BLIND_LASSIE" id="THE_BLIND_LASSIE"></a>THE BLIND LASSIE</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">T. C. Latto</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">O</span> <span class="upper">hark</span> to the strain that <span class="nowrap">sae<a name="Anchor_120-1" id="Anchor_120-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-1" href="#Footnote_120-1" class="fnanchor">120-1</a></span> sweetly is ringin&#8217;,<br />
+<span class="i1">And echoing clearly o&#8217;er lake and o&#8217;er <span class="nowrap">lea,<a name="Anchor_120-2" id="Anchor_120-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-2" href="#Footnote_120-2" class="fnanchor">120-2</a></span></span><br />
+Like some fairy bird in the wilderness singin&#8217;;<br />
+<span class="i1">It thrills to my heart, yet <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">nae<a name="Anchor_120-3" id="Anchor_120-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-3" href="#Footnote_120-3" class="fnanchor">120-3</a></span> minstrel I see.</span><br />
+Round yonder rock knittin&#8217;, a dear child is sittin&#8217;,<br />
+<span class="i1"><span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Sae</span> toilin&#8217; her pitifu&#8217; <span class="nowrap">pittance<a name="Anchor_120-4" id="Anchor_120-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-4" href="#Footnote_120-4" class="fnanchor">120-4</a></span> is won,</span><br />
+Hersel&#8217; tho&#8217; we see <span class="nowrap">nae,<a name="Anchor_120-5" id="Anchor_120-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-5" href="#Footnote_120-5" class="fnanchor">120-5</a></span> &#8217;tis <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">mitherless<a name="Anchor_120-6" id="Anchor_120-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-6" href="#Footnote_120-6" class="fnanchor">120-6</a></span> Jeanie&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">The <span class="nowrap">bonnie<a name="Anchor_120-7" id="Anchor_120-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-7" href="#Footnote_120-7" class="fnanchor">120-7</a></span> blind lassie that sits i&#8217; the sun.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Five years <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">syne</span> come <span class="nowrap">autumn<a name="Anchor_120-8" id="Anchor_120-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-8" href="#Footnote_120-8" class="fnanchor">120-8</a></span> she <span class="nowrap">cam&#8217;<a name="Anchor_120-9" id="Anchor_120-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-9" href="#Footnote_120-9" class="fnanchor">120-9</a></span> wi&#8217; her <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">mither</span>,<br />
+<span class="i1">A <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">sodger&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_120-10" id="Anchor_120-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-10" href="#Footnote_120-10" class="fnanchor">120-10</a></span> <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">puir<a name="Anchor_120-11" id="Anchor_120-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-11" href="#Footnote_120-11" class="fnanchor">120-11</a></span> widow, <span class="nowrap">sair<a name="Anchor_120-12" id="Anchor_120-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-12" href="#Footnote_120-12" class="fnanchor">120-12</a></span> wasted an&#8217; <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">gane;<a name="Anchor_120-13" id="Anchor_120-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 120-13" href="#Footnote_120-13" class="fnanchor">120-13</a></span></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>As brown fell the leaves, <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">sae</span> wi&#8217; them did she wither,<br />
+<span class="i1">And left the sweet child on the wide world her <span class="nowrap">lane.<a name="Anchor_121-14" id="Anchor_121-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-14" href="#Footnote_121-14" class="fnanchor">121-14</a></span></span><br />
+She left Jeanie weepin&#8217;, in His holy keepin&#8217;<br />
+<span class="i1"><span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Wha<a name="Anchor_121-15" id="Anchor_121-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-15" href="#Footnote_121-15" class="fnanchor">121-15</a></span> shelters the lamb <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">frae<a name="Anchor_121-16" id="Anchor_121-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-16" href="#Footnote_121-16" class="fnanchor">121-16</a></span> the <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">cauld<a name="Anchor_121-17" id="Anchor_121-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-17" href="#Footnote_121-17" class="fnanchor">121-17</a></span> wintry win&#8217;;</span><br />
+We had little <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">siller,<a name="Anchor_121-18" id="Anchor_121-18"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-18" href="#Footnote_121-18" class="fnanchor">121-18</a></span> yet a&#8217; were good till her,<br />
+<span class="i1">The bonnie blind lassie that sits i&#8217; the sun.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">An&#8217; blythe now an&#8217; cheerfu&#8217;, <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">frae</span> mornin&#8217; to e&#8217;enin<br />
+<span class="i1">She sits thro&#8217; the <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">simmer</span>, an&#8217; gladdens <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">ilk<a name="Anchor_121-19" id="Anchor_121-19"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-19" href="#Footnote_121-19" class="fnanchor">121-19</a></span> ear,</span><br />
+<span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Baith<a name="Anchor_121-20" id="Anchor_121-20"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-20" href="#Footnote_121-20" class="fnanchor">121-20</a></span> <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld</span> and young <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">daut<a name="Anchor_121-21" id="Anchor_121-21"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-21" href="#Footnote_121-21" class="fnanchor">121-21</a></span> her, <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">sae</span> gentle and winnin&#8217;;<br />
+<span class="i1">To a&#8217; the folks round the wee lassie is dear.</span><br />
+<span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Braw<a name="Anchor_121-22" id="Anchor_121-22"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-22" href="#Footnote_121-22" class="fnanchor">121-22</a></span> <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">leddies<a name="Anchor_121-23" id="Anchor_121-23"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-23" href="#Footnote_121-23" class="fnanchor">121-23</a></span> caress her, wi&#8217; bounties would press her;<br />
+<span class="i1">The modest <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">bit<a name="Anchor_121-24" id="Anchor_121-24"></a><a title="Go to footnote 121-24" href="#Footnote_121-24" class="fnanchor">121-24</a></span> darlin&#8217; their notice would shun;</span><br />
+For though she has <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">naething</span>, proud-hearted this wee thing,<br />
+<span class="i1">The bonnie blind lassie that sits i&#8217; the sun.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-1" id="Footnote_120-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-1" class="label">120-1</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Sae</em> is the Scotch word for <em>so</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-2" id="Footnote_120-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-2" class="label">120-2</a> A lea is a grassy field or meadow.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-3" id="Footnote_120-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-3" class="label">120-3</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Nae</em> means <em>no</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-4" id="Footnote_120-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-4" class="label">120-4</a> <em>Pittance</em> means <em>small earnings</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-5" id="Footnote_120-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-5" class="label">120-5</a> <em>Nae</em> is <em>not</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-6" id="Footnote_120-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-6" class="label">120-6</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Mither</em> is the Scotch form of <em>mother</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-7" id="Footnote_120-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-7" class="label">120-7</a> <em>Bonnie</em> means <em>pretty</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-8" id="Footnote_120-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-8" class="label">120-8</a> <em>Since come autumn</em>; that is, it will be nine years
+next autumn.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-9" id="Footnote_120-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-9" class="label">120-9</a> <em>Cam&#8217;</em> is a contraction of <em>came</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-10" id="Footnote_120-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-10" class="label">120-10</a> <em>Sodger&#8217;s</em> is <em>soldier&#8217;s</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-11" id="Footnote_120-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-11" class="label">120-11</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Puir</em> is the Scotch spelling of <em>poor</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-12" id="Footnote_120-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-12" class="label">120-12</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Sair</em> is <em>sore</em>, that is, <em>sadly</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_120-13" id="Footnote_120-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_120-13" class="label">120-13</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Gane</em> means <em>gone</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-14" id="Footnote_121-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-14" class="label">121-14</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Her lane</em> means <em>by herself</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-15" id="Footnote_121-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-15" class="label">121-15</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Wha</em> is Scotch for <em>who</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-16" id="Footnote_121-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-16" class="label">121-16</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Frae</em> means <em>from</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-17" id="Footnote_121-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-17" class="label">121-17</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Cauld</em> is the Scotch form of <em>cold</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-18" id="Footnote_121-18"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-18" class="label">121-18</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Siller</em> means <em>silver money</em>, or simply <em>money</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-19" id="Footnote_121-19"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-19" class="label">121-19</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Ilk</em> means <em>every</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-20" id="Footnote_121-20"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-20" class="label">121-20</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Baith</em> is Scotch for <em>both</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-21" id="Footnote_121-21"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-21" class="label">121-21</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Daut</em> means <em>pet</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-22" id="Footnote_121-22"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-22" class="label">121-22</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Braw</em> means <em>fine</em>, or <em>gay</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-23" id="Footnote_121-23"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-23" class="label">121-23</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Leddies</em> is the Scotch form of <em>ladies</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_121-24" id="Footnote_121-24"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_121-24" class="label">121-24</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Bit</em> means <em>little</em>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="BOYHOOD" id="BOYHOOD"></a>BOYHOOD</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Washington Allston</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="upper">h, then</span> how sweetly closed those crowded days!<br />
+The minutes parting one by one like rays,<br />
+<span class="i1">That fade upon a summer&#8217;s eve.</span><br />
+But O, what charm or magic numbers<br />
+Can give me back the gentle slumbers<br />
+<span class="i1">Those weary, happy days did leave?</span><br />
+When by my bed I saw my mother kneel,<br />
+<span class="i1">And with her blessing took her nightly kiss;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Whatever Time destroys, he cannot this;&mdash;</span><br />
+E&#8217;en now that nameless kiss I feel.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<h2 class="story"><a name="SWEET_AND_LOW" id="SWEET_AND_LOW"></a>SWEET AND LOW</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;In Tennyson&#8217;s long poem <cite>The Princess</cite> is a little lullaby
+so wonderfully sweet that all who have read it wish to read it
+again. It is one that we all love, no matter whether we are little
+children and hear it sung to us or are older children and look back
+to the evenings when we listened to mother&#8217;s loving voice as she
+led us gently into the land of dreams while she watched patiently
+for father&#8217;s return.</p>
+
+<p>Here are the stanzas which are usually known by the name <cite>Sweet and
+Low</cite>:</p></div>
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">S</span><span class="upper">weet</span> and low, sweet and low,<br />
+<span class="i1">Wind of the western sea,</span><br />
+Low, low, breathe and blow,<br />
+<span class="i1">Wind of the western sea!</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>Over the rolling waters go,<br />
+Come from the dying moon, and blow,<br />
+<span class="i1">Blow him again to me;</span><br />
+While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,<br />
+<span class="i1">Father will come to thee soon;</span><br />
+Rest, rest, on mother&#8217;s breast,<br />
+<span class="i1">Father will come to thee soon;</span><br />
+Father will come to his babe in the nest,<br />
+Silver sails all out of the west<br />
+<span class="i1">Under the silver moon:</span><br />
+Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>It is interesting to try to determine just how a great poet makes
+us feel so strongly the thing that he tells us. In this case
+Tennyson thinks of a mother in England and a father who is
+somewhere in the West, out on the broad Atlantic, but is coming
+home to his little one. The mother dreams only of the home-coming
+of her husband, and she wishes the baby to learn to love its father
+as much as she does, so as she sings the little one to sleep, she
+pours out her love for both in beautiful melody.</p>
+
+<p>To express this mother-love and anxious care the poet has chosen
+simple words that have rich, musical sounds, that can be spoken
+easily and smoothly and that linger on the tongue. He speaks of the
+sea, the gentle wind, the rolling waters, the dying moon and the
+silver sails, all of which call up ideas that rest us and make us
+happy, and then with rare skill he arranges the words so that when
+we read the lines we can feel the gentle rocking movement that
+lulls the little one, the pretty one into its gentle slumbers.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="CHILDHOOD" id="CHILDHOOD"></a><span class="nowrap">CHILDHOOD<a name="Anchor_124-1" id="Anchor_124-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 124-1" href="#Footnote_124-1" class="fnanchor" style="font-size: smaller;">124-1</a></span></h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Donald G. Mitchell</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapi"><span class="hide">I</span></span><span class="upper">sabel</span> and I&mdash;she is my cousin, and is seven years old, and I am
+ten&mdash;are sitting together on the bank of a stream, under an oak tree
+that leans half way over to the water. I am much stronger than she, and
+taller by a head. I hold in my hands a little alder rod, with which I am
+fishing for the roach and minnows, that play in the pool below us.</p>
+
+<p>She is watching the cork tossing on the water, or playing with the
+captured fish that lie upon the bank. She has auburn ringlets that fall
+down upon her shoulders; and her straw hat lies back upon them, held
+only by the strip of ribbon, that passes under her chin. But the sun
+does not shine upon her head; for the oak tree above us is full of
+leaves; and only here and there, a dimple of the sunlight plays upon the
+pool, where I am fishing.</p>
+
+<p>Her eye is hazel, and bright; and now and then she turns it on me with a
+look of girlish curiosity, as I lift up my rod&mdash;and again in playful
+menace, as she grasps in her little fingers one of the dead fish, and
+threatens to throw it back upon the stream. Her little feet hang over
+the edge of the bank; and from time to time, she reaches down to dip her
+toe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> in the water; and laughs a girlish laugh of defiance, as I scold
+her for frightening away the fishes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bella,&#8221; I say, &#8220;what if you should tumble in the river?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I won&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but if you should?&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image20" id="image20"></a><a href="images/image20-full.png"><img src="images/image20.png" width="247" height="196" alt="A girl and a boy with a fishing pole, sitting on the bank of a stream." title="SHE REACHES DOWN TO DIP HER TOE" /></a>
+<span class="caption">SHE REACHES DOWN TO DIP HER TOE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why then you would pull me out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But if I wouldn&#8217;t pull you out?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I know you would; wouldn&#8217;t you, Paul?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What makes you think so, Bella?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because you love Bella.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you know I love Bella?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because once you told me so; and because you pick flowers for me that I
+cannot reach; and because you let me take your rod, when you have a fish
+upon it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>&#8220;But that&#8217;s no reason, Bella.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what is, Paul?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure I don&#8217;t know, Bella.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A little fish has been nibbling for a long time at the bait; the cork
+has been bobbing up and down&mdash;and now he is fairly hooked, and pulls
+away toward the bank, and you cannot see the cork.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, Bella, quick!&#8221;&mdash;and she springs eagerly to clasp her little hands
+around the rod. But the fish has dragged it away on the other side of
+me; and as she reaches farther, and farther, she slips, cries&mdash;&#8220;Oh,
+Paul!&#8221; and falls into the water.</p>
+
+<p>The stream, they told us when we came, was over a man&#8217;s head&mdash;it is
+surely over little Isabel&#8217;s. I fling down the rod, and thrusting one
+hand into the roots that support the overhanging bank, I grasp at her
+hat, as she comes up; but the ribbons give way, and I see the terribly
+earnest look upon her face as she goes down again. Oh, my
+mother&mdash;thought I&mdash;if you were only here!</p>
+
+<p>But she rises again; this time, I thrust my hand into her dress, and
+struggling hard, keep her at the top, until I can place my foot down
+upon a projecting root; and so bracing myself, I drag her to the bank,
+and having climbed up, take hold of her belt firmly with both hands, and
+drag her out; and poor Isabel, choked, chilled, and wet, is lying upon
+the grass.</p>
+
+<p>I commence crying aloud. The workmen in the fields hear me, and come
+down. One takes Isabel in his arms, and I follow on foot to our uncle&#8217;s
+home upon the hill.</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;&#8220;Oh, my dear children!&#8221; says my mother; and she takes Isabel in her
+arms; and presently with dry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> clothes, and blazing wood-fire, little
+Bella smiles again. I am at my mother&#8217;s knee.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told you so, Paul,&#8221; says Isabel&mdash;&#8220;aunty, doesn&#8217;t Paul love me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope so, Bella,&#8221; said my mother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know so,&#8221; said I; and kissed her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>And how did I know it? The boy does not ask; the man does. Oh, the
+freshness, the honesty, the vigor of a boy&#8217;s heart! how the memory of it
+refreshes like the first gush of spring, or the break of an April
+shower!</p>
+
+<p>But boyhood has its <span class="smcap">Pride</span>, as well as its <span class="smcap">Loves</span>.</p>
+
+<p>My uncle is a tall, hard-faced man; I fear him when he calls
+me&mdash;&#8220;child;&#8221; I love him when he calls me&mdash;&#8220;Paul.&#8221; He is almost always
+busy with his books; and when I steal into the library door, as I
+sometimes do, with a string of fish, or a heaping basket of nuts to show
+to him&mdash;he looks for a moment curiously at them, sometimes takes them in
+his fingers&mdash;gives them back to me, and turns over the leaves of his
+book. You are afraid to ask him if you have not worked bravely; yet you
+want to do so.</p>
+
+<p>You sidle out softly, and go to your mother; she scarce looks at your
+little stores; but she draws you to her with her arm, and prints a kiss
+upon your forehead. Now your tongue is unloosed; that kiss and that
+action have done it; you will tell what capital luck you have had; and
+you hold up your tempting trophies; &#8220;are they not great, mother?&#8221; But
+she is looking in your face, and not at your prize.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take them, mother,&#8221; and you lay the basket upon her lap.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>&#8220;Thank you, Paul, I do not wish them: but you must give some to Bella.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And away you go to find laughing, playful, cousin Isabel. And we sit
+down together on the grass, and I pour out my stores between us. &#8220;You
+shall take, Bella, what you wish in your apron, and then when study
+hours are over, we will have such a time down by the big rock in the
+meadow!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I do not know if papa will let me,&#8221; says Isabel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bella,&#8221; I say, &#8220;do you love your papa?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says Bella, &#8220;why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because he is so cold; he does not kiss you, Bella, so often as my
+mother does; and besides, when he forbids your going away, he does not
+say, as mother does&mdash;my little girl will be tired, she had better not
+go&mdash;but he says only&mdash;Isabel must not go. I wonder what makes him talk
+so?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why Paul, he is a man, and doesn&#8217;t&mdash;at any rate, I love him, Paul.
+Besides, my mother is sick, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But Isabel, my mother will be your mother, too. Come, Bella, we will go
+ask her if we may go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And there I am, the happiest of boys, pleading with the kindest of
+mothers. And the young heart leans into that mother&#8217;s heart&mdash;none of the
+void now that will overtake it in the years that are to come. It is
+joyous, full, and running over!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may go,&#8221; she says, &#8220;if your uncle is willing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But mamma, I am afraid to ask him; I do not believe he loves me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t say so, Paul,&#8221; and she draws you to her side; as if she would
+supply by her own love the lacking love of a universe.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>&#8220;Go, with your cousin Isabel, and ask him kindly; and if he says
+no&mdash;make no reply.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And with courage, we go hand in hand, and steal in at the library door.
+There he sits&mdash;I seem to see him now&mdash;in the old wainscoted room,
+covered over with books and pictures; and he wears his heavy-rimmed
+spectacles, and is poring over some big volume, full of hard words, that
+are not in any spelling-book.</p>
+
+<p>We step up softly; and Isabel lays her little hand upon his arm; and he
+turns, and says&mdash;&#8220;Well, my little daughter?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I ask if we may go down to the big rock in the meadow?</p>
+
+<p>He looks at Isabel, and says he is afraid&mdash;&#8220;we cannot go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why, uncle? It is only a little way, and we will be very careful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid, my children; do not say any more: you can have the pony,
+and Tray, and play at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, uncle&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You need say no more, my child.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I pinch the hand of little Isabel, and look in her eye&mdash;my own half
+filling with tears. I feel that my forehead is flushed, and I hide it
+behind Bella&#8217;s tresses&mdash;whispering to her at the same time&mdash;&#8220;Let us go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What, sir,&#8221; says my uncle, mistaking my meaning&mdash;&#8220;do you persuade her
+to disobey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Now I am angry, and say blindly&mdash;&#8220;No, sir, I didn&#8217;t!&#8221; And then my rising
+pride will not let me say, that I wished only Isabel should go out with
+me.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>Bella cries; and I shrink out; and am not easy until I have run to bury
+my head in my mother&#8217;s bosom. Alas! pride cannot always find such
+covert! There will be times when it will harass you strangely; when it
+will peril friendships&mdash;will sever old, standing intimacy; and then&mdash;no
+resource but to feed on its own bitterness. Hateful pride!&mdash;to be
+conquered, as a man would conquer an enemy, or it will make whirlpools
+in the current of your affections&mdash;nay, turn the whole tide of the heart
+into rough and unaccustomed channels.</p>
+
+<p>But boyhood has its <span class="smcap">Grief</span> too, apart from <span class="smcap">Pride</span>.</p>
+
+<p>You love the old dog, Tray; and Bella loves him as well as you. He is a
+noble old fellow, with shaggy hair, and long ears, and big paws, that he
+will put up into your hands, if you ask him. And he never gets angry
+when you play with him, and tumble him over in the long grass, and pull
+his silken ears. Sometimes, to be sure, he will open his mouth, as if he
+would bite, but when he gets your hand fairly in his jaws, he will
+scarce leave the print of his teeth upon it. He will swim, too, bravely,
+and bring ashore all the sticks you throw upon the water; and when you
+fling a stone to tease him, he swims round and round, and whines, and
+looks sorry, that he cannot find it.</p>
+
+<p>He will carry a heaping basket full of nuts, too, in his mouth, and
+never spill one of them; and when you come out to your uncle&#8217;s home in
+the spring, after staying a whole winter in the town, he knows you&mdash;old
+Tray does! And he leaps upon you, and lays his paws on your shoulder,
+and licks your face; and is almost as glad to see you, as cousin Bella
+her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>self. And when you put Bella on his back for a ride, he only
+pretends to bite her little feet&mdash;but he wouldn&#8217;t do it for the world.
+Ay, Tray is a noble old dog!</p>
+
+<p>But one summer, the farmers say that some of their sheep are killed, and
+that the dogs have worried them; and one of them comes to talk with my
+uncle about it.</p>
+
+<p>But Tray never worried sheep; you know he never did; and so does nurse;
+and so does Bella; for in the spring, she had a pet lamb, and Tray never
+worried little Fidele.</p>
+
+<p>And one or two of the dogs that belong to the neighbors are shot; though
+nobody knows who shot them; and you have great fears about poor Tray;
+and try to keep him at home, and fondle him more than ever. But Tray
+will sometimes wander off; till finally, one afternoon, he comes back
+whining piteously, and with his shoulder all bloody.</p>
+
+<p>Little Bella cries loud; and you almost cry, as nurse dresses the wound;
+and poor old Tray whines very sadly. You pat his head, and Bella pats
+him; and you sit down together by him on the floor of the porch, and
+bring a rug for him to lie upon; and try and tempt him with a little
+milk, and Bella brings a piece of cake for him&mdash;but he will eat nothing.
+You sit up till very late, long after Bella has gone to bed, patting his
+head, and wishing you could do something for poor Tray; but he only
+licks your hand, and whines more piteously than ever.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning, you dress early, and hurry downstairs; but Tray is not
+lying on the rug; and you run through the house to find him, and
+whistle, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> call&mdash;Tray&mdash;Tray! At length you see him lying in his old
+place, out by the cherry tree, and you run to him; but he does not
+start; and you lean down to pat him&mdash;but he is cold, and the dew is wet
+upon him&mdash;poor Tray is dead!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image21" id="image21"></a><a href="images/image21-full.png"><img src="images/image21.png" width="248" height="196" alt="A girl hanging a wreath on the headstone of a grave, while a boy stands watching." title="POOR TRAY IS DEAD" /></a>
+<span class="caption">POOR TRAY IS DEAD</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>You take his head upon your knees, and pat again those glossy ears, and
+cry; but you cannot bring him to life. And Bella comes, and cries with
+you. You can hardly bear to have him put in the ground; but uncle says
+he must be buried. So one of the workmen digs a grave under the cherry
+tree, where he died&mdash;a deep grave, and they round it over with earth,
+and smooth the sods upon it&mdash;even now I can trace Tray&#8217;s grave.</p>
+
+<p>You and Bella together put up a little slab for a tombstone; and she
+hangs flowers upon it, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> ties them there with a bit of ribbon. You
+can scarce play all that day; and afterward, many weeks later, when you
+are rambling over the fields, or lingering by the brook, throwing off
+sticks into the eddies, you think of old Tray&#8217;s shaggy coat, and of his
+big paw, and of his honest eye; and the memory of your boyish grief
+comes upon you; and you say with tears, &#8220;Poor Tray!&#8221; And Bella too, in
+her sad sweet tones, says&mdash;&#8220;Poor old Tray&mdash;he is dead!&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_124-1" id="Footnote_124-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_124-1" class="label">124-1</a> From <cite>Reveries of a Bachelor</cite>, by Donald G. Mitchell
+(Ik Marvel).</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_BUGLE_SONG" id="THE_BUGLE_SONG"></a>THE BUGLE SONG</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i1"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> splendor falls on castle walls</span><br />
+<span class="i2">And snowy summits old in story:</span><br />
+<span class="i1">The long light shakes across the lakes,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.</span><br />
+Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br />
+Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i1">O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">And thinner, clearer, farther going!</span><br />
+<span class="i1">O sweet and far from cliff and scar</span><br />
+<span class="i2">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!</span><br />
+Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:<br />
+Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i1">O love, they die in yon rich sky,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">They faint on hill or field or river:</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Or echoes roll from soul to soul,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">And grow for ever and for ever.</span><br />
+Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br />
+And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="FROM_THE_IMITATION_OF_CHRIST" id="FROM_THE_IMITATION_OF_CHRIST"></a>FROM THE IMITATION OF CHRIST</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> &agrave; <span class="smcap">Kempis</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="section">OF FOLLOWING CHRIST AND DESPISING ALL WORLDLY VANITIES</h3>
+
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapo"><span class="hide">O</span></span><span class="upper">ur</span> Lord saith: he that followeth me walketh not in darkness.</p>
+
+<p>These are the words of Christ in the which we are admonished to follow
+his life and his manners if we would be truly enlightened and be
+delivered from all manner of blindness of heart.</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore let our chief study be upon the life of Jesus Christ.</p>
+
+<p>Sublime words make not a man holy and righteous, but it is a virtuous
+life that maketh him dear to God.</p>
+
+<p>I desire rather to know compunction than its definition. If thou knewest
+all the sayings of all the philosophers, what should that avail thee
+without charity and grace?</p>
+
+<p>All other things in the world, save only to love God and serve him, are
+vanity of vanities and all vanity.</p>
+
+<p>And it is vanity also to desire honour and for a man to lift himself on
+high.</p>
+
+<p>And it is vanity to follow the desires of the flesh and to desire the
+thing for which man must afterward grievously be punished.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>And it is vanity to desire a long life and to take no care to live a
+good life.</p>
+
+<p>And it is vanity for a man to take heed only to this present life and
+not to see before those things that are to come.</p>
+
+<p>Study therefore to withdraw thy heart from love of things visible and
+turn thee to things invisible.</p>
+
+<p>For they that follow their senses stain their consciences and lose the
+grace of God.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF A HUMBLE OPINION OF OURSELVES</h3>
+
+<p>Every man naturally desireth knowledge; but knowledge without love and
+fear of God, what availeth it?</p>
+
+<p>Certainly the meek plow-man that serveth God is much better than the
+proud philosopher that, taking no heed of his own living, studies the
+course of the stars.</p>
+
+<p>He that knoweth himself well is lowly in his own sight and hath no
+delight in man&#8217;s praises.</p>
+
+<p>If I knew all things that are in the world and had not charity, what
+should that help me before God who shall judge me according to my deeds?</p>
+
+<p>Unwise is he that more attendeth to other things than to the health of
+his soul.</p>
+
+<p>Many words fill not the soul; but a good life refresheth the mind and a
+pure conscience giveth a great confidence in God.</p>
+
+<p>The more thou canst do and the better that thou canst do, the more
+grievously thou shalt be judged unless thou live holily.</p>
+
+<p>Think not highly of thyself but rather acknowledge thine ignorance.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>If thou wilt learn and know anything profitably, love to be unknown and
+to be accounted as of little worth.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF THE TEACHING OF TRUTH</h3>
+
+<p>Blissful is he whom truth itself teacheth, not by figures or voices, but
+as it is.</p>
+
+<p>What availeth great searching of dark and hidden things for the which we
+shall not be blamed in the judgment though we know them not?</p>
+
+<p>He to whom the Word Everlasting speaketh is delivered from a multitude
+of opinions. Of one Word came all things, and all things speak one word;
+that is the Beginning that speaketh to us. No man without the Word
+understandeth or judgeth righteously.</p>
+
+<p>He to whom all things are one and who draweth all things to one and
+seeth all things in one may be quiet in heart and peaceably abide in
+God.</p>
+
+<p>O God of truth, make me one with thee in everlasting love!</p>
+
+<p>Ofttimes it wearieth me to hear and read many things; in thee Lord is
+all that I wish and can desire.</p>
+
+<p>Let all teachers hold their peace and all manner of creatures keep their
+silence in thy sight: Speak thou alone to me!</p>
+
+<p>Who hath a stronger battle than he that useth force to overcome himself?
+This should be our occupation, to overcome ourselves and every day to be
+stronger and somewhat holier.</p>
+
+<p>Meek knowing of thyself is more acceptable to God than deep inquiry
+after knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>Knowledge or bare and simple knowing of things is not to be blamed, the
+which, in itself considered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> is good and ordained of God: but a good
+conscience and a virtuous life is ever to be preferred.</p>
+
+<p>And forasmuch as many people study more to have knowledge than to live
+well, therefore ofttimes they err and bring forth little fruit or none.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly at the day of doom it shall not be asked of us what we have
+read but what we have done; nor what good we have spoken but how
+religiously we have lived.</p>
+
+<p>Verily he is great that in himself is little and meek and setteth at
+naught all height of honour. Verily he is great that hath great love.
+Verily he is prudent that deemeth all earthly things foul so that he may
+win Christ. And he is verily well learned that doth the will of God and
+forsaketh his own will.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF WISDOM IN MAN&#8217;S ACTIONS</h3>
+
+<p>It is not fit to give credence to every word nor to every suggestion,
+but every thing is to be weighed according to God, warily and in
+leisure.</p>
+
+<p>Alas, rather is evil believed of another man than good; we are so weak.</p>
+
+<p>But the perfect believe not easily all things that men tell, for they
+know man&#8217;s infirmity, ready to speak evil and careless enough in words.</p>
+
+<p>Hereto it belongeth also not to believe every man&#8217;s words, nor to tell
+other men what we hear or carelessly believe.</p>
+
+<p>Have thy counsel with a wise man and a man of conscience and seek rather
+to be taught by thy betters than to follow thine own inventions.</p>
+
+<p>Good life maketh a man wise in God&#8217;s sight and expert in many things.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>The more meek that a man is and the more subject to God the more wise
+shall he be in all things&mdash;and the more patient.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF READING THE SCRIPTURES</h3>
+
+<p>Truth is to be sought in holy writings, not in eloquence. Every holy
+writing ought to be read with the same spirit wherewith it was made.</p>
+
+<p>We ought in Scriptures rather to seek profitableness than subtle
+language.</p>
+
+<p>We ought as gladly to read simple and devout books as high and profound
+ones.</p>
+
+<p>Let not the authority of him that writeth, whether he be of great name
+or little, change thy thought, but let the love of pure truth draw thee
+to read.</p>
+
+<p>Ask not who said this, but take heed what is said. Man passeth, but the
+truth of the Lord abideth everlastingly.</p>
+
+<p>God speaketh to us in diverse ways without respect to persons.</p>
+
+<p>If thou wilt draw profit in reading, read meekly, simply and truly, not
+desiring to have a reputation for knowledge.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF INORDINATE AFFECTIONS</h3>
+
+<p>Whenever a man coveteth anything inordinately, anon is he disquieted in
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>The proud man and covetous hath never rest: the poor and the meek in
+spirit dwell in peace.</p>
+
+<p>The man that is not perfectly dead to himself is soon tempted and soon
+overcome by small things and things of little price.</p>
+
+<p>In withstanding passions and not in serving them, standeth peace of
+heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>There is no peace in the heart of the carnal man nor in him that is all
+given to outward things; but in the fervent, spiritual man is peace.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF SHUNNING TOO GREAT FAMILIARITY</h3>
+
+<p>Show not thy heart to every man but bring thy cause to him that is wise
+and feareth God.</p>
+
+<p>Converse rarely with young people and strangers.</p>
+
+<p>Flatter not rich men and seek not great men; but keep company thyself
+with meek and simple men and talk of such things as will edify.</p>
+
+<p>Be not familiar to any woman; but generally commend all good women to
+God.</p>
+
+<p>Desire to be familiar with God and with his angels and avoid knowledge
+of men. Love is to be given to all men, but familiarity is not
+expedient.</p>
+
+<p>It happeneth some times that a person unknown shineth by his bright
+fame, whose presence offendeth and maketh dark the eyes of the
+beholders. We often hope to please others by our being and living with
+them, but often we displease them through the bad manners they find in
+us.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF SHUNNING MANY WORDS</h3>
+
+<p>Avoid noise and the press of men as much as thou mayest: for talking of
+worldly deeds, though they be brought forth with true and simple
+intention, hindereth much: for we be soon defiled and led into vanity.</p>
+
+<p>I have wished myself ofttimes to have held my peace and not to have been
+among men. Why speak we and talk we together so gladly, since seldom we
+come home without hurting of conscience?</p>
+
+<p>We talk so oft together because by such speak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>ing we seek comfort each
+from the other and to relieve the heart that is made weary with many
+thoughts; and we speak much of such things as we love or desire or such
+things as we dislike. But, alas, it is ofttimes vainly and fruitlessly,
+for such outward comfort is a great hindering to inward and heavenly
+consolation. Therefore we ought to watch and pray that our time pass not
+idly by.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">OF FLEEING FROM VAIN HOPE AND ELATION</h3>
+
+<p>He is vain that putteth his hope in men or in other created things.</p>
+
+<p>Be not ashamed to serve other men for the love of Jesus Christ and to be
+considered poor in this world. Stand not upon thyself but set thy trust
+in God. Do what in thee is and God shall be nigh to thy good will.</p>
+
+<p>Trust not in thine own knowledge nor in the skill of any man living; but
+rather in the grace of God that helpeth meek folk and maketh low them
+that are proud.</p>
+
+<p>Rejoice thee not in riches if thou have any, nor in friends if they be
+mighty; but in God that giveth all things and above all things desireth
+to give Himself.</p>
+
+<p>Rejoice not for thy greatness nor for the beauty of that body which is
+corrupted and disfigured with a little sickness.</p>
+
+<p>Please not thyself for thy ability or for thy wit lest thou displease
+God of whom cometh all the good that thou hast naturally.</p>
+
+<p>Account not thyself better than others, lest peradventure thou be held
+worse in the sight of God that knoweth what is in man.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>Be not proud of good works; for God&#8217;s judgments are otherwise than
+thine. Ofttimes what pleaseth man displeaseth God.</p>
+
+<p>If thou hast any good things in thee believe better things of others
+that thou mayest keep thy humility.</p>
+
+<p>It hurteth thee not to be set under all men: it might hinder thee if
+thou settest thyself afore others.</p>
+
+<p>Continual peace is with the meek man, but in the heart of the proud man
+are often envy and indignation.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Thomas &agrave; Kempis was born in the latter part of the fourteenth
+century and lived to a good old age. His name in full was Thomas
+Haemercken, but as he was born in the town of Kempen he has been
+generally known by the title above given. The <cite>Imitation</cite> was
+written slowly, a little at a time, and as the result of reading,
+reflection and prayer.</p>
+
+<p>The very brief selections given above are condensed from the first
+ten chapters of the first book. While in the main following the
+best translation of the original, the language has been simplified
+in a few places.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB" id="THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_SENNACHERIB"></a>THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Lord Byron</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;Byron takes for granted his readers&#8217; knowledge of the events
+with which this poem deals; that is, he does not tell the whole
+story. Indeed, he gives us very few facts. Is there, for instance,
+in the poem any hint as to who Sennacherib was, or as to who the
+enemy was that the Assyrians came against? But if we turn to the
+eighteenth and nineteenth chapters of <cite>Second Kings</cite>, we shall find
+the whole account of Sennacherib, king of Assyria, and his
+expedition against the Hebrew people. The climax of the story, with
+which this poem deals, is to be found in <cite>Second Kings</cite>, xix, 35.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,<br />
+And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold,<br />
+And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,<br />
+When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,<br />
+That host with their banners at sunset were seen;<br />
+Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,<br />
+That host on the morrow lay wither&#8217;d and strown.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,<br />
+And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass&#8217;d;<br />
+And the eyes of the sleepers wax&#8217;d deadly and chill,<br />
+And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,<br />
+But through it there roll&#8217;d not the breath of his pride:<br />
+And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,<br />
+And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,<br />
+With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;<br />
+And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,<br />
+The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">And the widows of <span class="nowrap">Ashur<a name="Anchor_142-1" id="Anchor_142-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 142-1" href="#Footnote_142-1" class="fnanchor">142-1</a></span> are loud in their wail,<br />
+And the idols are broke in the temple of <span class="nowrap">Baal,<a name="Anchor_142-2" id="Anchor_142-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 142-2" href="#Footnote_142-2" class="fnanchor">142-2</a></span><br />
+And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,<br />
+Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_142-1" id="Footnote_142-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_142-1" class="label">142-1</a> <em>Ashur</em> is the Assyrian form of our word <em>Assyria</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_142-2" id="Footnote_142-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_142-2" class="label">142-2</a> Baal was the chief god of the Assyrians.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="RUTH" id="RUTH"></a>RUTH</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;This charming story may be found complete in the book of
+<cite>Ruth</cite> in the Old Testament by those who wish the literal Bible
+narrative as it is there given.</p>
+
+<p>Little is known as to the date of the writing of the book of
+<cite>Ruth</cite>. Some authorities believe that it was written earlier than
+500 <span class="smcap">B.C.</span>, while others contend that it was not written until much
+later. As to the purpose, also, there are differences of opinion;
+is the book merely a religious romance, told to point a moral, or
+is it an historical narrative meant to give information as to the
+ancestry of David? Whichever is true, the story is a delightful
+one, and we enjoy reading it just as we do any other story, apart
+from its Biblical interest.</p></div>
+
+<h3 class="section"><abbr title="One">I</abbr></h3>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapn"><span class="hide">N</span></span><span class="upper">ow</span> it came to pass in the days when the judges ruled in Judah that
+there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem-Judah
+went to sojourn in the country of Moab, he, and his wife and his two
+sons. Together they came into the land and continued there; but the man
+died, and the wife was left, and her two sons.</p>
+
+<p>And they took them wives of the women of Moab; the name of the one was
+Orpah, and the name of the other was Ruth; and they dwelled there about
+ten years. Then the two sons died also both of them; and the woman,
+Naomi, their mother, alone was left of the family that came into Moab.</p>
+
+<p>Then she arose with her daughters-in-law, that she might return from the
+country of Moab; for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> she had heard in the country of Moab how that the
+Lord had visited his people in giving them bread.</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore she went forth out of the place where she was, and her two
+daughters-in-law with her; and they went on the way to return unto the
+land of Judah.</p>
+
+<p>But Naomi said unto her two daughters-in-law, &#8220;Go, return each to her
+mother&#8217;s house. The Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with the
+dead, and with me. The Lord grant you that ye may find rest again, each
+in the house of her husband.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then she kissed them; and they lifted up their voices and wept, and said
+unto her, &#8220;Surely we will return with thee unto thy people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Naomi said, &#8220;Turn again, my daughters, why will you go with me? Have I
+yet any more sons that may be your husbands? Nay, it grieveth me much
+for your sakes that the hand of the Lord is gone out against me. Turn
+again my daughters; go your way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again they lifted up their voice and wept, and Orpah kissed her
+mother-in-law, but Ruth clave unto her.</p>
+
+<p>Naomi said, &#8220;Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone back unto her people, and
+unto her gods; return thou after thy sister-in-law.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Ruth said, &#8220;Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from
+following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou
+lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my
+God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord
+do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>When Naomi saw that Ruth was steadfastly minded to go with her, then she
+left speaking unto her. So they two went until they came to Bethlehem.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image22" id="image22"></a><a href="images/image22-full.png"><img src="images/image22.png" width="250" height="303" alt="A woman kneeling in front of a standing woman." title="&#8220;WHITHER THOU GOEST, I WILL GO&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;WHITHER THOU GOEST, I WILL GO&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>There it came to pass that all the city was moved about them, and the
+people said, &#8220;Is this Naomi?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Call me not Naomi,&#8221; she said unto them. &#8220;Call me Mara: for the Almighty
+hath dealt very bitterly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> with <span class="nowrap">me.<a name="Anchor_146-1" id="Anchor_146-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 146-1" href="#Footnote_146-1" class="fnanchor">146-1</a></span> I went out full and the Lord
+hath brought me home again empty: why then call me Naomi, seeing the
+Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So Naomi returned, and Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter-in-law, with
+her, which returned out of the country of Moab: and they came to
+Bethlehem in the beginning of barley harvest.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section"><abbr title="Two">II</abbr></h3>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapn"><span class="hide">N</span></span><span class="upper">aomi</span> had a kinsman of her husband&#8217;s, a mighty man of wealth; and his
+name was Boaz.</p>
+
+<p>And Ruth said unto Naomi, &#8220;Let me now go to the field, and glean ears of
+corn after him in whose sight I shall find grace.&#8221; And Naomi answered,
+&#8220;Go, my daughter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And she went, and came, and gleaned in the field after the reapers: and
+her hap was to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz.</p>
+
+<p>And, behold, Boaz came from Bethlehem and said unto the reapers, &#8220;The
+Lord be with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And the reapers answered him, &#8220;The Lord bless thee.&#8221; Then said Boaz unto
+his servant that was set over the reapers, &#8220;Whose damsel is this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And the servant answered and said, &#8220;It is the Moabitish damsel that came
+back with Naomi out of the country of Moab. And she said, &#8216;I pray you,
+let me glean and gather after the reapers among the sheaves&#8217;: so she
+came, and hath continued even from the morning until now, that she
+tarried a little in the house.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>Boaz said unto Ruth, &#8220;Hearest thou not, my daughter? Go not to glean in
+another field, neither go from hence, but abide here fast by my maidens.
+Let thine eyes be on the field that they do reap, and go thou after
+them: have I not charged the young men that they shall not touch thee?
+and when thou art athirst, go unto the vessels, and drink of that which
+the young men have drawn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image23" id="image23"></a><a href="images/image23-full.png"><img src="images/image23.png" width="247" height="201" alt="Two women gleaning, with two men watching." title="RUTH GLEANING" /></a>
+<span class="caption">RUTH GLEANING</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then she fell on her face and bowed herself to the ground, and said unto
+him, &#8220;Why have I found grace in thine eyes, that thou shouldest take
+knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Boaz answered and said unto her, &#8220;It hath fully been shewed me, all
+that thou hast done unto thy mother-in-law since the death of thine
+husband: and how thou hast left thy father and thy mother,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> and the land
+of thy nativity, and art come unto a people which thou knewest not
+heretofore. The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given
+thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to
+trust.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then she said, &#8220;Let me find favour in thy sight, my lord; for that thou
+hast comforted me, and for that thou hast spoken friendly unto thine
+handmaid, though I be not like unto one of thine handmaidens.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Boaz said unto her, &#8220;At mealtime come thou hither, and eat of the
+bread and dip thy morsel in the vinegar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And she sat beside the reapers; and he reached her parched corn, and she
+did eat, and was sufficed and left.</p>
+
+<p>And when she was risen up to glean again, Boaz commanded his young men,
+saying, &#8220;Let her glean even among the sheaves and reproach her not; and
+let fall also some handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she
+may glean them, and rebuke her not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So she gleaned in the field until even, and beat out that she had
+gleaned: and it was about an <span class="nowrap">ephah<a name="Anchor_148-2" id="Anchor_148-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 148-2" href="#Footnote_148-2" class="fnanchor">148-2</a></span> of barley. And she took it up,
+and went into the city: and her mother-in-law saw what she had gleaned.</p>
+
+<p>And her mother-in-law said unto her, &#8220;Where hast thou gleaned to-day?
+and where wroughtest thou? blessed be he that did take knowledge of
+thee.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And she showed her mother-in-law with whom she had wrought, and said,
+&#8220;The man&#8217;s name with whom I wrought to-day is Boaz.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>And Naomi said unto her daughter-in-law, &#8220;Blessed be he of the Lord, who
+hath not left off his kindness to the living and to the dead.&#8221; And Naomi
+said unto her, &#8220;The man is near of kin unto us, one of our next
+kinsmen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Ruth the Moabitess said, &#8220;He said unto me also, &#8216;Thou shalt keep
+fast by my young men, until they have ended all my harvest.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Naomi said unto Ruth, her daughter-in-law, &#8220;It is good, my daughter,
+that thou go out with his maidens, that they meet thee not in any other
+field.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So she kept fast by the maidens of Boaz to glean unto the end of barley
+harvest and of wheat harvest; and dwelt with her mother-in-law.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section"><abbr title="Three">III</abbr></h3>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">hen</span> Naomi, her mother-in-law, said unto Ruth, &#8220;My daughter, shall I not
+seek rest for thee, that it may be well with thee? And now is not Boaz
+of our kindred, with whose maidens thou wast? Behold he winnoweth barley
+to-night in the threshing floor. Wash thyself, therefore, and anoint
+thee, and put thy raiment upon thee and get thee down to the floor, and
+he will tell thee what to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Ruth said, &#8220;All that thou sayest unto me, that will I do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Therefore went she down unto the threshing floor and did according to
+all that her mother-in-law bade her. And Boaz saw her and loved her and
+asked her, &#8220;Who art thou?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She answered, &#8220;I am Ruth, thy handmaid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>And Boaz said, &#8220;Blessed be thou of the Lord, my daughter, and fear not,
+for all the city of my people doth know thou art a virtuous woman. And
+now it is true that I am thy near kinsman: howbeit, there is a kinsman
+nearer than I. Tarry this night, and it shall be in the morning that if
+he will perform unto thee the part of a kinsman, well; let him do the
+kinsman&#8217;s part. But if he will not do the part of a kinsman to thee,
+then will I do the part of the kinsman to thee, as the Lord liveth.
+Bring now the vail that thou hast upon thee and hold it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And when she held it, he measured six measures of barley, and laid it on
+her, and she returned into the city.</p>
+
+<p>When now she came to her mother, Naomi asked, &#8220;Who art thou?&#8221; And Ruth
+told her all that the man had said and done, and said, &#8220;These six
+measures of barley gave he me, for he said to me, &#8216;Go not empty unto thy
+mother-in-law.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then said Naomi, &#8220;Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter
+will fall; for the man will not be in rest until he have finished the
+thing this day.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section"><abbr title="Four">IV</abbr></h3>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">hen</span> went Boaz up to the gate and sat him down there; and, behold, the
+kinsman of whom Boaz spoke, came by; unto whom Boaz said, &#8220;Ho, such a
+one! turn aside, sit down here.&#8221; And he turned aside and sat down.</p>
+
+<p>And Boaz took also ten men of the elders of the city and said, &#8220;Sit ye
+down here.&#8221; And they sat down.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>Then said Boaz unto the kinsman, &#8220;Naomi, that is come again out of the
+land of Moab, selleth a parcel of land, which was our brother&#8217;s. And I
+thought to ask thee to buy it before the inhabitants and before the
+elders of my people. If thou wilt redeem it, redeem it; but if thou wilt
+not redeem it, then tell me, that I may know: for there is none to
+redeem it beside thee, and I am after thee. And what day thou buyest it
+of the hand of Naomi, thou must buy it also of Ruth the Moabitess, the
+wife of the dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And the kinsman said, &#8220;I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I mar mine
+own inheritance; redeem thou my right to thyself: for I cannot redeem
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Now this was the manner in former time in Israel, concerning redeeming
+and concerning changing, for to confirm all things: a man plucked off
+his shoe and gave it to his neighbor; and this was a testimony in
+Israel. Therefore the kinsman said unto Boaz, &#8220;Buy it for thee.&#8221; So he
+drew off his shoe.</p>
+
+<p>And Boaz said unto the elders and all the people, &#8220;Ye are witnesses this
+day that I have bought all that was Naomi&#8217;s husband&#8217;s and all that was
+her son&#8217;s of the hand of Naomi. Moreover, Ruth the Moabitess, the wife
+of my kinsman that is dead, have I purchased to be my wife, that the
+name of the dead be not cut off from among his brethren, and from the
+gate of his place: ye are witnesses this day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And all the people that were there in the gate, and the elders, said,
+&#8220;We are witnesses. The Lord make the woman that is come into thine house
+like Rachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel: and
+do thou worthily and be famous in Bethlehem.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>So Boaz took Ruth, and she was his wife, and she bare him a son. And the
+women said unto Naomi, &#8220;Blessed be the Lord that hath not left thee this
+day without a kinsman, that his name may be famous in Israel. And he
+shall be unto thee a restorer of thy life, and a nourisher of thine old
+age; for thy daughter-in-law which loveth thee, which is better to thee
+than seven sons, hath borne him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Naomi took the child and laid it in her bosom, and became nurse unto
+it. And the women, her neighbors, gave it a name, saying, &#8220;There is a
+son born to Naomi, and his name is Obed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This same Obed is the father of Jesse, who is the father of David.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 185px; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;">
+<a name="image24" id="image24"></a><a href="images/image24-full.png"><img src="images/image24.png" width="185" height="120" alt="An oasis." title="Oasis" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_146-1" id="Footnote_146-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_146-1" class="label">146-1</a> <em>Naomi</em> means <em>pleasant</em>, while <em>Mara</em> means <em>bitter</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_148-2" id="Footnote_148-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_148-2" class="label">148-2</a> The <em>ephah</em> was equal to about two pecks and five
+quarts.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_VISION_OF_BELSHAZZAR" id="THE_VISION_OF_BELSHAZZAR"></a>THE VISION OF BELSHAZZAR</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Lord Byron</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;According to the account given in the fifth chapter of
+<cite>Daniel</cite>, Belshazzar was the last king of Babylon, and the son of
+the great king Nebuchadnezzar, who had destroyed Jerusalem and
+taken the Jewish people captive to Babylon. The dramatic incident
+with which the second stanza of Byron&#8217;s poem deals is thus
+described:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the same hour came forth fingers of a man&#8217;s hand, and wrote
+over against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the
+king&#8217;s palace; and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After all the Babylonian wise men had tried in vain to read the
+writing, the &#8220;captive in the land,&#8221; Daniel, was sent for, and he
+interpreted the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And this is the writing that was written, MENE, MENE, TEKEL,
+UPHARSIN.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is the interpretation of the thing: MENE; God hath numbered
+thy kingdom, and finished it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;PERES; Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and
+Persians.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The fulfillment of the prophecy thus declared by Daniel is
+described thus briefly: &#8220;In that night was Belshazzar the king of
+the Chaldeans slain. And Darius the Median took the kingdom.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> King was on his throne,<br />
+<span class="i1">The <span class="nowrap">Satraps<a name="Anchor_153-1" id="Anchor_153-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 153-1" href="#Footnote_153-1" class="fnanchor">153-1</a></span> throng&#8217;d the hall;</span><br />
+A thousand bright lamps shone<br />
+<span class="i1">O&#8217;er that high festival.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>A thousand cups of gold,<br />
+<span class="i1">In Judah deem&#8217;d divine&mdash;</span><br />
+Jehovah&#8217;s vessels <span class="nowrap">hold<a name="Anchor_154-2" id="Anchor_154-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 154-2" href="#Footnote_154-2" class="fnanchor">154-2</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">The godless Heathen&#8217;s wine.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">In that same hour and hall<br />
+<span class="i1">The fingers of a Hand</span><br />
+Came forth against the wall,<br />
+<span class="i1">And wrote as if on sand:</span><br />
+The fingers of a man;&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">A solitary hand</span><br />
+Along the letters ran,<br />
+<span class="i1">And traced them like a wand.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The monarch saw, and shook,<br />
+<span class="i1">And bade no more rejoice;</span><br />
+All bloodless wax&#8217;d his look,<br />
+<span class="i1">And tremulous his voice:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Let the men of lore appear,<br />
+<span class="i1">The wisest of the earth,</span><br />
+And expound the words of fear,<br />
+<span class="i1">Which mar our royal mirth.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="nowrap">Chaldea&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_154-3" id="Anchor_154-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 154-3" href="#Footnote_154-3" class="fnanchor">154-3</a></span> seers are good,<br />
+<span class="i1">But here they have no skill;</span><br />
+And the unknown letters stood<br />
+<span class="i1">Untold and awful still.</span><br />
+And <span class="nowrap">Babel&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_154-4" id="Anchor_154-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 154-4" href="#Footnote_154-4" class="fnanchor">154-4</a></span> men of age<br />
+<span class="i1">Are wise and deep in lore;</span><br />
+But now they were not sage,<br />
+<span class="i1">They saw&mdash;but knew no more.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image25" id="image25"></a><a href="images/image25-full.png"><img src="images/image25.png" width="249" height="303" alt="A court scene with a man pointing at the writing on the wall." title="THE WRITING ON THE WALL" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE WRITING ON THE WALL</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">A Captive in the land,<br />
+<span class="i1">A stranger and a youth,</span><br />
+He heard the king&#8217;s command,<br />
+<span class="i1">He saw that writing&#8217;s truth;</span><br />
+The lamps around were bright,<br />
+<span class="i1">The prophecy in view;</span><br />
+He read it on that night,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">The morrow proved it true!</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>&#8220;Belshazzar&#8217;s grave is made,<br />
+<span class="i1">His kingdom pass&#8217;d away,</span><br />
+He, in the balance weigh&#8217;d,<br />
+<span class="i1">Is light and worthless clay;</span><br />
+The shroud, his robe of state;<br />
+<span class="i1">His canopy, the stone:</span><br />
+The Mede is at his gate!<br />
+<span class="i1">The Persian on his throne!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 191px;">
+<a name="image26" id="image26"></a><a href="images/image26-full.png"><img src="images/image26.png" width="191" height="144" alt="Ruined city" title="Ruined city" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_153-1" id="Footnote_153-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_153-1" class="label">153-1</a> The satraps were the governors of the provinces, who
+ruled under the king and were accountable to him.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_154-2" id="Footnote_154-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_154-2" class="label">154-2</a> These were the sacred &#8220;vessels that were taken out of
+the temple of the house of God which was at Jerusalem.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_154-3" id="Footnote_154-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_154-3" class="label">154-3</a> The terms <em>Chaldea</em> and <em>Babylonia</em> were used
+practically synonymously.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_154-4" id="Footnote_154-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_154-4" class="label">154-4</a> <em>Babel</em> is a shortened form of <em>Babylon</em>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="SOHRAB_AND_RUSTEM" id="SOHRAB_AND_RUSTEM"></a>SOHRAB AND RUSTEM</h2>
+
+<h3 class="section">RUSTEM</h3>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">he</span> Persians have a great epic which is to them about what the <cite>Iliad</cite>
+and the <cite>Odyssey</cite> were to the Greeks and the <cite>&AElig;neid</cite> was to the Romans.
+In character, however, the Persian epic is more like the English
+narrative <cite>Morte d&#8217; Arthur</cite>, from which readings will be found elsewhere
+in these volumes. This wonderful poem, the <cite>Shah Nameh</cite>, relates
+exploits of the Shahs of Persia for a period that is supposed to extend
+over more than three thousand years. It was written by Firdusi, a famous
+Persian poet, toward the close of the tenth century, and is filled with
+tales of the marvelous adventures and stirring achievements of national
+heroes. Fierce monsters like those that appear in the legendary tales of
+all nations stalk through its pages, and magicians, good and bad, work
+their enchantments for and against the devoted Persians. The imagination
+of Eastern writers is more vivid than that of the Europeans, and for
+that reason the stories are more full of thrilling episodes and
+supernatural occurrences.</p>
+
+<p>Chief among the heroes is Rustem, who seems to have lived through many
+centuries, and to have been the one great defender of the Persian
+throne. From the cradle he was marked for renown, for he was larger,
+stronger and healthier than any other babe that was ever born. His
+mother alone could not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> feed him, and ten nurses were required to
+satisfy the infant&#8217;s hunger. His father, Zal, the white-haired, looked
+with pride upon his growing son, who as soon as he was weaned fell upon
+bread and meat as his only diet and required as much of them as would
+feed five ordinary men. Such a child ought to make a wonderful man, and
+this one fulfilled the highest hopes of his parents, for he became
+taller in stature, broader in shoulders, deeper in the chest and
+stronger in all his muscles than any other man the Persian race had ever
+known.</p>
+
+<p>His childish exploits were quite as wonderful as those of his later
+years. One night he was awakened from his slumbers by hearing the
+servants say that the great white elephant on which his father rode on
+state occasions had broken loose and was running about the royal
+gardens, mad with rage, pulling up the trees, tearing down buildings and
+killing every one that came in his way. Not a man dared stand against
+the fierce beast, and though the archers had tried again and again their
+weapons had no effect upon him.</p>
+
+<p>Rustem rose from his couch, put on his clothes, caught from the wall the
+huge club his grandfather had owned, and made for the door of his
+chamber.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where are you going? What will you do?&#8221; cried the frightened servants.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Open the door. I must stop that elephant before he does greater
+damage,&#8221; answered the boy.</p>
+
+<p>One of his serving men, braver than the rest, opposed the boy. &#8220;I dare
+not obey you,&#8221; said the man; &#8220;your father would never forgive me if I
+let you go forth to be slain by that ferocious beast whose broken chains
+clank about his legs and whose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> huge trunk brings destruction to
+everything it strikes. You will be knocked down and trampled to death.
+This is pure folly!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Out of my way,&#8221; cried the enraged Rustem. &#8220;You rush upon your own
+doom.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Almost blind with anger, the furious youth swung his club about him and
+struck the faithful servant so fearful a blow that his head was knocked
+from his body and rolled along the floor like a huge ball. The other
+servants fled to the corners of the room and gave Rustem a clear path.
+One blow from his great club broke the iron balls from the door and sent
+it flying from its hinges. Shouldering his club Rustem hurried into the
+garden, where he soon found the maddened elephant in the midst of the
+ruin he was making. When the unwieldy animal saw the boy approaching it
+rushed at him with savage bellowings, swinging its long, powerful trunk
+from side to side in great circles. The terrible spectacle frightened
+Rustem not in the least, and the dauntless youth rushed forward and
+struck the elephant a single blow full in its forehead. The great legs
+trembled and bent, the huge body tottered and fell, making a mountain of
+quivering flesh. Rustem calmly shouldered his club, returned to his
+chamber, and finished his sleep.</p>
+
+<p>As Rustem grew to manhood he became the owner of a great horse little
+less wonderful than his master. Raksh, for that was the animal&#8217;s name,
+not only carried Rustem in war and in the chase, but he fought for his
+master in every conflict, watched over him in his sleep, and defended
+him with human intelligence. On one of his expeditions Rustem lay down
+to sleep near the den of a lion, that as he came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> forth to hunt at night
+saw the horse and rider asleep before him. The lion, knowing that if he
+could kill the horse the man would not get away, made ready to spring
+upon Raksh, but that wary animal was sleeping with one eye open and met
+the leaping lion more than half way with two great hoofs planted
+squarely in his face. Before the astonished animal could recover his
+senses Raksh seized him by the back and beat his life out upon the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>Of Rustem&#8217;s countless struggles with dragons, witches, genii and other
+strange beings, and of the wonderful battles by which he defended the
+throne of Persia, we cannot stop to read. They were all very similar in
+one respect at least, for always he escaped from deadly peril by his own
+wisdom and strength, aided often, as we have said, by Raksh. But there
+is one part of his life, one series of more than human adventures that
+we ought to know.</p>
+
+<p>One day Rustem was hunting over a plain on the borders of Tartary when
+he discovered a large herd of wild asses. No animal could outstrip
+Raksh, and so his master was soon among the herd, killing the animals to
+right and left. Some he slew with the arrows of his strong bow, others
+he lassoed and killed with his trusty club. When his love for hunting
+was satisfied he built a fire, roasted one of the asses and prepared for
+a great feast. In time even his sharp appetite was quenched, and lying
+down upon his blanket he was soon buried in a sound slumber.</p>
+
+<p>As he slept Raksh wandered about the plains quietly feeding. Without
+noticing it he strayed far away from his master, and in fact quite out
+of sight.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>Then it happened that seven Tartars who had been following Raksh made a
+dash at him and tried to capture him with their lassoes. The noble horse
+fought them manfully, killing two of them with the blows of his forefeet
+and biting the head from the shoulders of another. But the ropes from
+the lassoes became tangled with his legs, and even the marvelous Raksh
+was at last thrown, overpowered and led struggling away.</p>
+
+<p>When Rustem awoke his first thought was for his horse, but though he
+looked everywhere the faithful animal was not in sight. Such a thing had
+never happened before, and Rustem grew pale with sorrow and dread.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What can I do without my noble charger?&#8221; he said. &#8220;How can I carry my
+arrows, club and other weapons? How can I defend myself? Moreover, I
+shall be the laughingstock of friends and enemies alike, for all will
+say that in my <a name="corr10" id="corr10"></a>carelessness I slept and allowed my horse to be stolen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At last he discovered the tracks of Raksh in the dust of the plain, and
+following them with difficulty he found himself at the town of Samengan.
+The king and nobles of the town knew Rustem, but seemed surprised to see
+him come walking. The wanderer explained what had happened, and the wily
+monarch answered, &#8220;Have no fear, noble Rustem. Every one knows your
+wonderful horse Raksh, and soon some one will come and bring him to you.
+I will even send many men to search for him. In the meantime, rest with
+us and be happy. We will entertain you with the best, and in pleasure
+you will forget your loss till Raksh is returned to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>This plan pleased Rustem, and the king kept his word in royal
+entertainments in which he served his guest with grave humility.
+Moreover, the princess Tehmina likewise served Rustem with becoming
+grace and dignity. No maiden was ever more beautiful. She was tall as
+the cypress and as graceful as a gazelle. Her neck and shoulders were
+like ivory; her hair, black and shiny as a raven&#8217;s wings, hung in two
+long braids down her back, as the Persian horseman loops his lasso to
+his saddle bow; her lips were like twin rubies, and her black brilliant
+eyes glanced from highly-arched eye-brows.</p>
+
+<p>Rustem fell deeply in love with the fair maiden as soon as he saw her,
+and at the first opportunity told her of his affection. Tehmina then
+confessed that she had long loved Rustem from the reports she had heard
+of his noble character and deeds of great prowess. The capture of Raksh
+was a part of her plan for meeting the owner, for she felt sure he would
+follow the animal&#8217;s track to her father&#8217;s capital. All this served to
+make more strong the love of Rustem, who immediately demanded of the
+king his daughter&#8217;s hand in marriage. The king, glad enough to have so
+powerful a man for his son, consented willingly to the match, and after
+they were married amid great rejoicings, Rustem settled down at the
+court in quiet enjoyment of his new-found home.</p>
+
+<p>A powerful man like Rustem cannot always remain in idleness, however,
+and when news came to him that the Persian king was in need of his
+greatest warrior, Rustem took his lasso, his bow and arrows and his
+club, mounted Raksh and rode away. Before going, however, he took from
+his arm an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> onyx bracelet that had been his father&#8217;s, and calling
+Tehmina to him handed it to her, saying:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take this bracelet, my dear one, and keep it. If we have a child and it
+be a girl, weave the bracelet in her hair and she will grow tall,
+beautiful and good; if our child be a boy, fasten the bracelet on his
+arm, and he will become strong and courageous, a mighty warrior and a
+wise counsellor.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">SOHRAB</h3>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapw"><span class="hide">W</span></span><span class="upper">hen</span> Rustem had gone Tehmina wept bitterly, but consoled herself with
+the thought that her husband would soon return. After her child was
+born, she devoted herself to the wonderful boy and waited patiently for
+the father that never returned. She remembered the parting words of
+Rustem, and fastened upon the arm of her infant son the magic bracelet
+of his race.</p>
+
+<p>He was a marvelous boy, this son of Rustem and Tehmina. Beautiful in
+face as the moon when it rides the heavens in its fullness, he was
+large, well-formed, with limbs as straight as the arrows of his father.
+He grew at an astonishing rate. When he was but a month old he was as
+tall as any year-old baby; at three years of age he could use the bow,
+the lasso and the club with the skill of a man; at five he was as brave
+as a lion, and at ten not a man in the kingdom was his match in strength
+and agility.</p>
+
+<p>Tehmina, rejoicing in the intelligent, shining face of her boy, had
+named him Sohrab, but as she feared that Rustem might send for his son
+if he knew that he had so promising a one, she sent word to her hus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>band
+that her child was a girl. Disappointed in this, Rustem paid no
+attention to his offspring, who grew up unknown to his parent, and
+himself ignorant of the name of his father.</p>
+
+<p>When Sohrab was about ten years old he began to notice that, unlike the
+other young men, he seemed to have no father. Accordingly he went to his
+mother and questioned her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What shall I say,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;when the young men ask me who is my
+father? Must I always tell them that I do not know? Whose son am I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My son, you ask and you have a right to know. You need feel no shame
+because of your father. He is the mighty Rustem, the greatest of Persian
+warriors, the noblest man that ever lived. But I beg you to tell no one
+lest word should come to Rustem, for I know he would take you from me
+and I should never see you again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sohrab was overjoyed to hear of his noble parentage and felt his heart
+swell with pride, for he had heard all his life of the heroic deeds of
+his father.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Such a thing as this cannot be kept secret,&#8221; he cried. &#8220;Sooner or later
+every one in the world will know that I am Rustem&#8217;s son. But not now
+will we tell the tale. I will gather a great army of Tartars and make
+war upon Kaoos, the Persian king. When I have defeated him I will set my
+father Rustem upon the throne, and then I will overthrow Afrasiab, King
+of the Turanians, and take his throne myself. There is room in the world
+for but two kings, my father Rustem and myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The youthful warrior began his preparations immediately. First he sought
+far and wide for a horse worthy to carry him, and at last succeeded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> in
+finding a noble animal of the same breed as the famous Raksh. Mounted on
+this splendid steed he rode about and rapidly collected an army of
+devoted followers.</p>
+
+<p>The noise of these preparations spread abroad and soon came to the ears
+of Afrasiab, who saw in this war an opportunity for profit to himself
+and humiliation for Kaoos. Accordingly, he sent offers of assistance to
+Sohrab, who accepted them willingly and received among his followers the
+hosts of the Turanian king.</p>
+
+<p>But Afrasiab was a wily monarch, and sent to Sohrab two astute
+counsellors, Haman and Barman with instructions to watch the young
+leader carefully and to keep from him all knowledge of his father.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If possible,&#8221; said the treacherous monarch, &#8220;bring the two together and
+let them fight, neither knowing who the other is. Then may Sohrab slay
+his mighty father and we be left to rule the youthful and inexperienced
+son by our superior cunning and wisdom. If on the other hand Rustem
+shall slay his son, his heart will fail him, and he will die in
+despair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When the army was fully in readiness Sohrab set forth against Persia. In
+his way lay the great White Fort whose chief defender was the mighty
+Hujir. The Persians felt only contempt for the boyish leader and had no
+fear of his great army. As they approached, Hujir rode forth to meet
+them and called aloud in derision.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let the mighty Sohrab come forth to meet me alone. I will slay him with
+ease and give his body to the vultures for food.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>Undismayed by these threats Sohrab met the doughty Persian and unhorsed
+him in the first encounter. Springing from his horse Sohrab raised his
+sword to strike, but the Persian begged so lustily for quarter that he
+was granted his life, though sent a prisoner to the king.</p>
+
+<p>Among those who watched the defeat of Hujir was Gurdafrid, the daughter
+of the old governor of the White Fort. She was stronger than any warrior
+in the land and fully accustomed to the use of arms. When she became
+aware that Hujir was indeed vanquished she hastily clothed herself in
+full armor, thrust her long hair under her helmet and rode gallantly out
+to meet Sohrab. The girl shot a perfect shower of arrows at Sohrab, but
+all glanced harmlessly from his armor. Seeing that she could not find a
+weak spot in his mail she put her shield in rest and charged valiantly
+at her foe. However, she was no match for her antagonist and was borne
+from her saddle by the fierce lance of her enemy. As she fell, however,
+she drew her sword and severed the spear of Sohrab. Before he could
+change weapons she had mounted her horse and was galloping wildly toward
+the fort with her late antagonist in full pursuit. Long ere the castle
+walls were reached Sohrab overtook her and seized her by the helmet,
+when its fastenings gave way and her long hair fell about her shoulders,
+disclosing the fact that he had been fighting with a woman.</p>
+
+<p>Struck by the beauty of the girl and ashamed that he had been fighting
+with her, Sohrab released her after she had promised that she would make
+no further resistance and that the castle would surrender at his
+approach. The fierce Gurdafrid, however,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> had no idea of giving up the
+fort, but as soon as she was within, the gates were closed, and she,
+mounting upon the walls, jeered at the waiting Sohrab.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is now too late to fight, but when morning comes I will level your
+fort to the earth and leave not one stone upon the other.&#8221; With these
+words the incensed warrior galloped back to his camp. When in the
+morning he marched his army against the fort he found that his prey had
+escaped, for during the night Gurdafrid had led the whole garrison out
+through a secret passage and had gone to warn King Kaoos of the approach
+of the mighty Sohrab and his powerful army. The allied Tartars and
+Turanians followed as rapidly as they might, but it was some time before
+they could come anywhere near the Persian capital.</p>
+
+<p>What was happening in Persia has been very well told by Alfred J. Church
+in his story of Sohrab and Rustem:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When King Kaoos heard that there had appeared among the Tartars a
+mighty champion, against whom, such was the strength of his arms, no one
+could stand; how he had overthrown and taken their champion and now
+threatened to overrun and conquer the whole land of Persia, he was
+greatly troubled, and calling a scribe, said to him, &#8216;Sit down and write
+a letter to Rustem.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So the scribe sat down and wrote. The letter was this: &#8216;There has
+appeared among the Tartars a great champion, strong as an elephant and
+as fierce as a lion. No one can stand against him. We look to you for
+help. It is of your doing that our warriors hold their heads so high.
+Come, then, with all the speed that you can use, so soon as you shall
+have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> read this letter. Be it night or day, come at once; do not open
+your mouth to speak; if you have a bunch of roses in your hand do not
+stop to smell it, but come; for the warrior of whom I write is such that
+you only can meet him.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;King Kaoos sealed the letter and gave it to a warrior named Giv. At the
+same time he said, &#8216;Haste to Rustem. Tarry not on the way; and when you
+are come, do not rest there for an hour. If you arrive in the night,
+depart again the next morning.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So Giv departed, and traveled with all his speed, allowing himself
+neither sleep nor food. When he approached Zabulistan, the watchman
+said, &#8216;A warrior comes from Persia riding like the wind.&#8217; So Rustem,
+with his chiefs, went out to meet him. When they had greeted each other,
+they returned together to Rustem&#8217;s palace.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Giv delivered his message, and handed the king&#8217;s letter, telling
+himself much more that he had heard about the strength and courage of
+this Tartar warrior. Rustem heard him with astonishment, and said, &#8216;This
+champion is like, you say, to the great San, my grandfather. That such a
+man should come from the free Persians is possible; but that he should
+be among those slaves the Tartars, is past belief. I have myself a
+child, whom the daughter of a Tartar king bore to me; but the child is a
+girl. This, then, that you tell me is passing strange; but for the
+present let us make merry.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So they made merry with the chiefs that were assembled in Rustem&#8217;s
+palace. But after a while Giv said again: &#8216;King Kaoos commanded me,
+saying, &#8220;You must not sleep in Zabulistan; if you arrive in the night,
+set out again the next morning. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> will go ill with us if we have to
+fight before Rustem comes.&#8221; It is necessary, then, great hero, that we
+set out in all haste for Persia.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rustem said, &#8216;Do not trouble yourself about this matter. We must all
+die some day. Let us, therefore, enjoy the present. Our lips are dry,
+let us wet them with wine. As to this Tartar, fortune will not always be
+with him. When he sees my standard, his heart will fail him.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So they sat, drinking the red wine and singing merry songs, instead of
+thinking of the king and his commands. The next day Rustem passed in the
+same fashion, and the third also. But on the fourth Giv made
+preparations to depart, saying to Rustem, &#8216;If we do not make haste to
+set out, the king will be wroth, and his anger is terrible.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rustem said, &#8216;Do not trouble yourself; no man dares to be wroth with
+me.&#8217; Nevertheless, he bade them saddle Raksh and set out with his
+companions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When they came near the king&#8217;s palace, a great company of nobles rode
+out to meet them, and conducted them to the king, and they paid their
+homage to him. But the king turned away from them in a rage. &#8216;Who is
+Rustem,&#8217; he cried, &#8216;that he forgets his duty to me, and disobeys my
+commands? If I had a sword in my hand this moment, I would cut off his
+head, as a man cuts an orange in half. Take him, hang him up alive on
+gallows, and never mention his name again in my presence.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Giv answered, &#8216;Sir, will you lay hands upon Rustem?&#8217; The king burst out
+again in rage against Giv and Rustem, crying to one of his nobles, &#8216;Take
+these two villains and hang them alive on gallows.&#8217; And he rose up from
+his throne in fury.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>&#8220;The noble to whom he had spoken laid his hand upon Rustem, wishing to
+lead him out of the king&#8217;s presence, lest Kaoos in his rage should do
+him an injury. But Rustem cried out, &#8216;What a king are you! Hang this
+Tartar, if you can, on your gallows. Keep such things for your enemies.
+All the world has bowed itself before me and Raksh, my horse. And
+you&mdash;you are king by my grace.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thus speaking, he struck away the hand that the noble had laid upon him
+so fiercely that the man fell headlong to the ground, and he passed over
+his body to go from the presence of the king. And as he mounted on
+Raksh, he cried: &#8216;What is Kaoos that he should deal with me in this
+fashion? It is God who has given me strength and victory, and not he or
+his army. The nobles would have given me the throne of Persia long
+since, but I would not receive it; I kept the right before my eyes.
+Verily, had I not done so, you, Kaoos, would not be sitting upon the
+throne.&#8217; Then he turned to the Persians that stood by, and said, &#8216;This
+brave Tartar will come. Look out for yourselves how you may save your
+lives. Me you shall see no more in the land of Persia.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Persians were greatly troubled to hear such words; for they were
+sheep, and Rustem was their shepherd. So the nobles assembled, and said
+to each other: &#8216;The king has forgotten all gratitude and decency. Does
+he not remember that he owes to Rustem his throne&mdash;nay, his very life?
+If the gallows be Rustem&#8217;s reward, what shall become of us?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So the oldest among them came and stood before the king, and said: &#8216;O
+king, have you forgotten what Rustem has done for you and this land&mdash;how
+he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> conquered Mazanieran and its king and the White Genius; how he gave
+you back the sight of your eyes? And now you have commanded that he
+shall be hanged alive upon a gallows. Are these fitting words for a
+king?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The king listened to the old man, and said: &#8216;You speak well. The words
+of a king should be words of wisdom. Go now to Rustem, and speak good
+words to him, and make him forget my anger.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So the old man rode after Rustem, and many of the nobles went with him.
+When they had overtaken him, the old man said, &#8216;You know that the king
+is a wrathful man, and that in his rage he speaks hard words. But you
+know also that he soon repents. But now he is ashamed of what he said.
+And if he has offended, yet the Persians have done no wrong that you
+should thus desert them.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rustem answered, &#8216;Who is the king that I should care for him? My saddle
+is my throne and my helmet is my crown, my corselet is my robe of state.
+What is the king to me but a grain of dust? Why should I fear his anger?
+I delivered him from prison; I gave him back his crown. And now my
+patience is at an end.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The old man said, &#8216;This is well. But the king and his nobles will
+think, &#8220;Rustem fears this Tartar,&#8221; and they will say, &#8220;If Rustem is
+afraid, what can we do but leave our country?&#8221; I pray you therefore not
+to turn your back upon the king, when things are in such a plight. Is it
+well that the Persians should become the slaves of the infidel Tartars?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rustem stood confounded to hear such words. &#8216;If there were fear in my
+heart, then I would tear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> my soul from my body. But you know that it is
+not; only the king has treated me with scorn.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he perceived that he must yield to the old man&#8217;s advice. So he went
+back with the nobles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As soon as the king saw him, he leaped upon his feet, and said, &#8216;I am
+hard of soul, but a man must grow as God has made him. My heart was
+troubled by the fear of this new enemy. I looked to you for safety, and
+you delayed your coming. Then I spoke in my wrath; but I have repented,
+and my mouth is full of dust.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rustem said, <a name="corr11" id="corr11"></a>&#8216;It is yours to command, O king, and ours to obey. You are
+the master, and we are the slaves. I am but as one of those who open the
+door for you, if indeed I am worthy to be reckoned among them. And now I
+come to execute your commands.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Kaoos said, &#8216;It is well. Now let us feast. To-morrow we will prepare
+for war.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So Kaoos, and Rustem, and the nobles feasted till the night had passed
+and the morning came. The next day King Kaoos and Rustem, with a great
+army, began their march.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Matthew Arnold, the great English critic, scholar and poet, has used the
+incidents that follow as the subject of one of his most interesting
+poems. To that poem we will look for a continuation of the story. Arnold
+alters the story at times to suit the needs of his poem, and he often
+employs a slightly different spelling of proper names from that used in
+the above account.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="SOHRAB_AND_RUSTUM" id="SOHRAB_AND_RUSTUM"></a>SOHRAB AND RUSTUM</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage">AN EPISODE</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcapa"><span class="hide">A</span></span><span class="upper">nd</span> the first gray of morning fill&#8217;d the east,<br />
+And the fog rose out of the <span class="nowrap">Oxus<a name="Anchor_173-1" id="Anchor_173-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 173-1" href="#Footnote_173-1" class="fnanchor">173-1</a></span> stream.<br />
+But all the Tartar camp along the stream<br />
+Was hush&#8217;d, and still the men were plunged in sleep;<br />
+Sohrab alone, he slept not; all night long<br />
+He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed;<br />
+But when the gray dawn stole into his tent,<br />
+He rose, and clad himself, and girt his sword,<br />
+And took his horseman&#8217;s cloak, and left his tent,<br />
+And went abroad into the cold wet fog,<br />
+Through the dim camp to <span class="nowrap">Peran-Wisa&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_173-2" id="Anchor_173-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 173-2" href="#Footnote_173-2" class="fnanchor">173-2</a></span> tent.<br />
+<span class="i1">Through the black Tartar tents he pass&#8217;d, which stood</span><br />
+Clustering like beehives on the low flat strand<br />
+Of Oxus, where the summer floods o&#8217;erflow<br />
+When the sun melts the snow in high <span class="nowrap">Pamere;<a name="Anchor_173-3" id="Anchor_173-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 173-3" href="#Footnote_173-3" class="fnanchor">173-3</a></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>Through the black tents he pass&#8217;d, o&#8217;er that low strand,<br />
+And to a hillock came, a little back<br />
+From the stream&#8217;s brink&mdash;the spot where first a boat,<br />
+Crossing the stream in summer, scrapes the land.<br />
+The men of former times had crown&#8217;d the top<br />
+With a clay fort; but that was fall&#8217;n, and now<br />
+The Tartars built there Peran-Wisa&#8217;s tent,<br />
+A dome of laths, and over it felts were spread.<br />
+And Sohrab came there, and went in, and stood<br />
+Upon the thick piled carpets in the tent,<br />
+And found the old man sleeping on his bed<br />
+Of rugs and felts, and near him lay his arms.<br />
+And Peran-Wisa heard him, though the step<br />
+Was dull&#8217;d; for he slept light, an old man&#8217;s sleep;<br />
+And he rose quickly on one arm, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Who art thou? for it is not yet clear dawn.</span><br />
+Speak! is there news, or any night alarm?&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">But Sohrab came to the bedside, and said:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Thou know&#8217;st me, Peran-Wisa! it is I.<br />
+The sun is not yet risen, and the foe<br />
+Sleep; but I sleep not; all night long I lie<br />
+Tossing and wakeful, and I come to thee.<br />
+For so did King Afrasiab bid me seek<br />
+Thy counsel and to heed thee as thy son,<br />
+In <span class="nowrap">Samarcand,<a name="Anchor_174-4" id="Anchor_174-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 174-4" href="#Footnote_174-4" class="fnanchor">174-4</a></span> before the army march&#8217;d;<br />
+And I will tell thee what my heart desires.<br />
+Thou know&#8217;st if, since from <a name="corr12" id="corr12"></a>Ader-baijan first<br />
+I came among the Tartars and bore arms,<br />
+I have still served Afrasiab well, and shown,<br />
+At my boy&#8217;s years, the courage of a man.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 299px;">
+<a name="image27" id="image27"></a><a href="images/image27-full.jpg"><img src="images/image27.jpg" width="299" height="400" alt="A young man entering a tent with an old man lying in the bed." title="Sohrab and Peran-Wisa" /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap">Sohrab and Peran-Wisa</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">This too thou know&#8217;st, that while I still bear on<br />
+The conquering Tartar ensigns through the world,<br />
+And beat the Persians back on every field,<br />
+I seek one man, one man, and one alone&mdash;<br />
+Rustum, my father; who I hoped should greet,<br />
+Should one day greet, upon some well-fought field,<br />
+His not unworthy, not inglorious son.<br />
+So I long hoped, but him I never find.<br />
+Come then, hear now, and grant me what I ask.<br />
+Let the two armies rest to-day; but I<br />
+Will challenge forth the bravest Persian lords<br />
+To meet me man to man; if I prevail,<br />
+Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall&mdash;<br />
+Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin.<br />
+Dim is the rumor of a <span class="nowrap">common<a name="Anchor_175-5" id="Anchor_175-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 175-5" href="#Footnote_175-5" class="fnanchor">175-5</a></span> fight,<br />
+Where host meets host, and many names are sunk;<br />
+But of a single combat fame speaks clear.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke; and Peran-Wisa took the hand</span><br />
+Of the young man in his, and sigh&#8217;d, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;O Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine!</span><br />
+Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs,<br />
+And share the battle&#8217;s common chance with us<br />
+Who love thee, but must press forever first,<br />
+In single fight incurring single risk,<br />
+To find a father thou hast never seen?<br />
+That were far best, my son, to stay with us<br />
+Unmurmuring; in our tents, while it is war,<br />
+And when &#8217;tis truce, then in Afrasiab&#8217;s towns.<br />
+But, if this one desire indeed rules all,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>To seek out Rustum&mdash;seek him not through fight!<br />
+Seek him in peace and carry to his arms,<br />
+O Sohrab, carry an unwounded son!<br />
+But far hence seek him, for he is not here.<br />
+For now it is not as when I was young,<br />
+When Rustum was in front of every fray;<br />
+But now he keeps apart, and sits at home,<br />
+In <span class="nowrap">Seistan,<a name="Anchor_176-6" id="Anchor_176-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 176-6" href="#Footnote_176-6" class="fnanchor">176-6</a></span> with Zal, his father old.<br />
+Whether <span class="nowrap">that<a name="Anchor_176-7" id="Anchor_176-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 176-7" href="#Footnote_176-7" class="fnanchor">176-7</a></span> his own mighty strength at last<br />
+Feels the abhorr&#8217;d approaches of old age,<br />
+Or in some quarrel with the Persian King.<br />
+There go!&mdash;Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forbodes<br />
+Danger or death awaits thee on this field.<br />
+Fain would I know thee safe and well, though lost<br />
+To us; fain therefore send thee hence, in peace<br />
+To seek thy father, not seek single fights<br />
+In vain;&mdash;but who can keep the lion&#8217;s cub<br />
+From ravening, and who govern Rustum&#8217;s son?<br />
+Go, I will grant thee what thy heart desires.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">So said he, and dropped Sohrab&#8217;s hand and left</span><br />
+His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay;<br />
+And o&#8217;er his chilly limbs his woolen coat<br />
+He passed, and tied his sandals on his feet,<br />
+And threw a white cloak round him, and he took<br />
+In his right hand a ruler&#8217;s staff, no sword;<br />
+And on his head he set his sheepskin cap,<br />
+Black, glossy, curl&#8217;d, the fleece of Kara-Kul;<br />
+And raised the curtain of his tent, and call&#8217;d<br />
+His herald to his side and went abroad.<br />
+<span class="i1">The sun by this had risen, and cleared the fog</span><br />
+From the broad Oxus and the glittering sands.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>And from their tents the Tartar horsemen filed<br />
+Into the open plain; so Haman bade&mdash;<br />
+Haman, who next to Peran-Wisa ruled<br />
+The host, and still was in his lusty prime.<br />
+From their black tents, long files of horse, they stream&#8217;d;<br />
+As when some gray November morn the files,<br />
+In marching order spread, of long-neck&#8217;d cranes<br />
+Stream over Casbin and the southern slopes<br />
+Of Elburz, from the Aralian estuaries,<br />
+Or some <span class="nowrap">frore<a name="Anchor_177-8" id="Anchor_177-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 177-8" href="#Footnote_177-8" class="fnanchor">177-8</a></span> Caspian reed bed, southward bound<br />
+For the warm Persian seaboard&mdash;so they streamed.<br />
+The Tartars of the Oxus, the King&#8217;s guard,<br />
+First, with black sheepskin caps and with long spears;<br />
+Large men, large steeds; who from Bokhara come<br />
+And Khiva, and ferment the milk of <span class="nowrap">mares.<a name="Anchor_177-9" id="Anchor_177-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 177-9" href="#Footnote_177-9" class="fnanchor">177-9</a></span><br />
+Next, the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south,<br />
+The Tukas, and the lances of Salore,<br />
+And those from Attruck and the Caspian sands;<br />
+Light men and on light steeds, who only drink<br />
+The acrid milk of camels, and their wells.<br />
+And then a swarm of wandering horse, who came<br />
+From far, and a more doubtful service own&#8217;d;<br />
+The Tartars of Ferghana, from the banks<br />
+Of the Jaxartes, men with scanty beards<br />
+And close-set skullcaps; and those wilder hordes<br />
+Who roam o&#8217;er Kipchak and the northern waste,<br />
+Kalmucks and unkempt Kuzzacks, tribes who stray<br />
+Nearest the Pole, and wandering Kirghizzes,<br />
+Who come on shaggy ponies from Pamere;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>These all filed out from camp into the plain.<br />
+And on the other side the Persians form&#8217;d;&mdash;<br />
+First a light cloud of horse, Tartars they seem&#8217;d,<br />
+The Ilyats of Khorassan; and behind,<br />
+The royal troops of Persia, horse and foot,<br />
+Marshal&#8217;d battalions bright in burnish&#8217;d steel.<br />
+But Peran-Wisa with his herald came,<br />
+Threading the Tartar squadrons to the front,<br />
+And with his staff kept back the foremost ranks.<br />
+And when Ferood, who led the Persians, saw<br />
+That Peran-Wisa kept the Tartars back,<br />
+He took his spear, and to the front he came,<br />
+And check&#8217;d his ranks, and <span class="nowrap">fix&#8217;d<a name="Anchor_178-10" id="Anchor_178-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 178-10" href="#Footnote_178-10" class="fnanchor">178-10</a></span> them where they stood.<br />
+And the old Tartar came upon the sand<br />
+Betwixt the silent hosts, and spake, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!</span><br />
+Let there be truce between the hosts to-day,<br />
+But choose a champion from the Persian lords<br />
+To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">As, in the country, on a morn in June,</span><br />
+When the dew glistens on the pearled ears,<br />
+A shiver runs through the deep <span class="nowrap">corn<a name="Anchor_178-11" id="Anchor_178-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 178-11" href="#Footnote_178-11" class="fnanchor">178-11</a></span> for joy&mdash;<br />
+So, when they heard what Peran-Wisa said,<br />
+A thrill through all the Tartar squadrons ran<br />
+Of pride and hope for Sohrab, whom they loved.<br />
+<span class="i1">But as a troop of peddlers, from Cabool,</span><br />
+Cross underneath the Indian Caucasus,<br />
+That vast sky-neighboring mountain of milk snow;<br />
+Crossing so high, that, as they mount, they pass<br />
+Long flocks of traveling birds dead on the snow,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>Choked by the air, and scarce can they themselves<br />
+Slake their parch&#8217;d throats with sugar&#8217;d mulberries&mdash;<br />
+In single file they move, and stop their breath,<br />
+For fear they should dislodge the o&#8217;erhanging snows&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image28" id="image28"></a><a href="images/image28-full.png"><img src="images/image28.png" width="247" height="200" alt="A mounted man facing a standing man, with the army at his back." title="PERAN-WISA GIVES SOHRAB&#8217;S CHALLENGE" /></a>
+<span class="caption">PERAN-WISA GIVES SOHRAB&#8217;S CHALLENGE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">So the pale Persians held their breath with fear.<br />
+<span class="i1">And to Ferood his brother chiefs came up</span><br />
+To counsel; Gudurz and Zoarrah came,<br />
+And Feraburz, who ruled the Persian host<br />
+Second, and was the uncle of the King;<br />
+These came and counsel&#8217;d, and then Gudurz said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Ferood, shame bids us take their challenge up,</span><br />
+Yet champion have we none to match this youth.<br />
+He has the wild stag&#8217;s foot, the lion&#8217;s heart.<br />
+But Rustum came last night; aloof he sits<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>And sullen, and has pitch&#8217;d his tents apart.<br />
+Him will I seek, and carry to his ear<br />
+The Tartar challenge, and this young man&#8217;s name.<br />
+Haply he will forget his wrath, and fight.<br />
+Stand forth the while, and take their challenge up.&#8221;<br />
+So spake he; and Ferood stood forth and cried:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Old man, be it agreed as thou hast said!</span><br />
+Let Sohrab arm, and we will find a man.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spake: and Peran-Wisa turn&#8217;d, and strode</span><br />
+Back through the opening squadrons to his tent.<br />
+But through the anxious Persians Gudurz ran,<br />
+And cross&#8217;d the camp which lay behind, and reach&#8217;d<br />
+Out on the sand beyond it, Rustum&#8217;s tents.<br />
+Of scarlet cloth they were, and glittering gay,<br />
+Just pitch&#8217;d; the high pavilion in the midst<br />
+Was Rustum&#8217;s and his men lay camp&#8217;d around.<br />
+And Gudurz enter&#8217;d Rustum&#8217;s tent, and found<br />
+Rustum; his morning meal was done, but still<br />
+The table stood before him, charged with food&mdash;<br />
+A side of roasted sheep, and cakes of bread,<br />
+And dark-green melons, and there Rustum sate<br />
+Listless, and held a falcon on his wrist,<br />
+And play&#8217;d with it; but Gudurz came and stood<br />
+Before him; and he look&#8217;d, and saw him stand,<br />
+And with a cry sprang up and dropped the bird,<br />
+And greeted Gudurz with both hands, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Welcome! these eyes could see no better sight.</span><br />
+What news? but sit down first, and eat and drink.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">But Gudurz stood in the tent door, and said:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Not now! a time will come to eat and drink,<br />
+But not to-day; to-day has other needs.<br />
+The armies are drawn out, and stand at gaze;<br />
+For from the Tartars is a challenge brought<br />
+To pick a champion from the Persian lords<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>To fight their champion and thou know&#8217;st his name&mdash;<br />
+Sohrab men call him, but his birth is hid.<br />
+O Rustum, like thy might is this young man&#8217;s!<br />
+He has the wild stag&#8217;s foot, the lion&#8217;s heart;<br />
+And he is young, and Iran&#8217;s chiefs are old,<br />
+Or else too weak; and all eyes turn to thee.<br />
+Come down and help us, Rustum, or we lose!&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke; but Rustum answer&#8217;d with a smile:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Go to! if Iran&#8217;s chiefs are old, then I<br />
+Am older; if the young are weak, the King<br />
+Errs strangely; for the King, for Kai <span class="nowrap">Khosroo,<a name="Anchor_181-12" id="Anchor_181-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 181-12" href="#Footnote_181-12" class="fnanchor">181-12</a></span><br />
+Himself is young, and honors younger men,<br />
+And lets the aged molder to their graves.<br />
+Rustum he loves no more, but loves the young&mdash;<br />
+The young may rise at Sohrab&#8217;s vaunts, not I.<br />
+For what care I, though all speak Sohrab&#8217;s fame?<br />
+For would that I myself had such a son,<br />
+And not that one slight helpless girl I have&mdash;<br />
+A son so famed, so brave, to send to war,<br />
+And I to tarry with the snow-hair&#8217;d <span class="nowrap">Zal,<a name="Anchor_181-13" id="Anchor_181-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 181-13" href="#Footnote_181-13" class="fnanchor">181-13</a></span><br />
+My father, whom the robber Afghans vex,<br />
+And clip his borders short, and drive his herds,<br />
+And he has none to guard his weak old age.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>There would I go, and hang my armor up,<br />
+And with my great name fence that weak old man,<br />
+And spend the goodly treasures I have got,<br />
+And rest my age, and hear of Sohrab&#8217;s fame,<br />
+And leave to death the hosts of thankless kings,<br />
+And with these slaughterous hands draw sword no more.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke, and smiled; and <a name="corr13" id="corr13"></a>Gudurz made reply:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;What then, O Rustum, will men say to this,<br />
+When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks<br />
+Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks,<br />
+Hidest thy face? Take heed lest men should say:<br />
+&#8216;Like some old miser, Rustum hoards his fame,<br />
+And shuns to peril it with younger men,&#8217;&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">And, greatly moved, then Rustum made reply:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Oh, Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such words?<br />
+Thou knowest better words than this to say.<br />
+What is one more, one less, obscure or famed,<br />
+Valiant or craven, young or old, to me?<br />
+Are not they mortal, am not I myself?<br />
+But who for men of naught would do great deeds?<br />
+Come, thou shalt see how Rustum hoards his fame!<br />
+But I will fight unknown, and in plain arms;<br />
+Let not men say of Rustum, he was match&#8217;d<br />
+In single fight with any mortal man.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke, and frown&#8217;d; and Gudurz turn&#8217;d and ran</span><br />
+Back quickly through the camp in fear and joy&mdash;<br />
+Fear at his wrath, but joy that Rustum came.<br />
+But Rustum strode to his tent door, and call&#8217;d<br />
+His followers in, and bade them bring his arms,<br />
+And clad himself in steel; the arms he chose<br />
+Were plain, and on his shield was no device,<br />
+Only his helm was rich, inlaid with gold,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>And, from the fluted spine atop, a plume<br />
+Of horsehair waved, a scarlet horsehair plume.<br />
+So arm&#8217;d, he issued forth; and <span class="nowrap">Ruksh,<a name="Anchor_183-14" id="Anchor_183-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 183-14" href="#Footnote_183-14" class="fnanchor">183-14</a></span> his horse,<br />
+Follow&#8217;d him like a faithful hound at heel&mdash;<br />
+Ruksh, whose renown was noised through all the earth,<br />
+The horse, whom Rustum on a foray once<br />
+Did in Bokhara by the river find<br />
+A colt beneath its dam, and drove him home,<br />
+And rear&#8217;d him; a bright bay, with lofty crest,<br />
+Dight with a saddlecloth of broider&#8217;d green<br />
+Crusted with gold, and on the ground were work&#8217;d<br />
+All beasts of chase, all beasts which hunters know.<br />
+So follow&#8217;d, Rustum left his tents, and cross&#8217;d<br />
+The camp, and to the Persian host appear&#8217;d.<br />
+And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts<br />
+Hail&#8217;d; but the Tartars knew not who he was.<br />
+And dear as the wet diver to the eyes<br />
+Of his pale wife who waits and weeps on shore,<br />
+By sandy Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf,<br />
+Plunging all day in the blue waves, at night,<br />
+Having made up his <span class="nowrap">tale<a name="Anchor_183-15" id="Anchor_183-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 183-15" href="#Footnote_183-15" class="fnanchor">183-15</a></span> of precious pearls,<br />
+Rejoins her in their hut upon the sands&mdash;<br />
+So dear to the pale Persians Rustum came.<br />
+<span class="i1">And Rustum to the Persian front advanced,</span><br />
+And Sohrab arm&#8217;d in Haman&#8217;s tent, and came.<br />
+And as afield the reapers cut a swath<br />
+Down through the middle of a rich man&#8217;s corn,<br />
+And on each side are squares of standing corn,<br />
+And in the midst a stubble, short and bare&mdash;<br />
+So on each side were squares of men, with spears<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand.<br />
+And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast<br />
+His eyes toward the Tartar tents, and saw<br />
+Sohrab come forth, and eyed him as he came.<br />
+<span class="i1">As some rich woman, on a winter&#8217;s morn,</span><br />
+Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge<br />
+Who with numb blacken&#8217;d fingers makes her fire&mdash;<br />
+At cock-crow, on a starlit winter&#8217;s morn,<br />
+When the frost flowers the whiten&#8217;d window-panes&mdash;<br />
+And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts<br />
+Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum eyed<br />
+The unknown adventurous youth, who from afar<br />
+Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth<br />
+All the most valiant chiefs; long he perused<br />
+His spirited air, and wonder&#8217;d who he was.<br />
+For very young he seem&#8217;d, tenderly rear&#8217;d;<br />
+Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight,<br />
+Which in a queen&#8217;s secluded garden throws<br />
+Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf,<br />
+By midnight, to a bubbling fountain&#8217;s sound&mdash;<br />
+So slender Sohrab seem&#8217;d, so softly <span class="nowrap">rear&#8217;d.<a name="Anchor_184-16" id="Anchor_184-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 184-16" href="#Footnote_184-16" class="fnanchor">184-16</a></span><br />
+And a deep pity enter&#8217;d Rustum&#8217;s soul<br />
+As he beheld him coming; and he stood,<br />
+And beckon&#8217;d to him with his hand, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;O thou young man, the air of heaven is soft,</span><br />
+And warm, and pleasant; but the grave is cold!<br />
+Heaven&#8217;s air is better than the cold dead grave.<br />
+Behold me! I am vast, and clad in iron,<br />
+And tried; and I have stood on many a field<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>Of blood, and I have fought with many a foe&mdash;<br />
+Never was that field lost, or that foe saved.<br />
+O Sohrab, wherefore wilt thou rush on death?<br />
+Be <span class="nowrap">govern&#8217;d!<a name="Anchor_185-17" id="Anchor_185-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 185-17" href="#Footnote_185-17" class="fnanchor">185-17</a></span> quit the Tartar host, and come<br />
+To Iran, and be as my son to me,<br />
+And fight beneath my banner till I die!<br />
+There are no youths in Iran brave as thou.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">So he spake, mildly; Sohrab heard his voice,</span><br />
+The mighty voice of Rustum, and he saw<br />
+His giant figure planted on the sand,<br />
+Sole, like some single tower, which a chief<br />
+Hath builded on the waste in former years<br />
+Against the robbers; and he saw that head,<br />
+Streak&#8217;d with its first gray hairs;&mdash;hope fill&#8217;d his soul,<br />
+And he ran forward and embraced his knees,<br />
+And clasp&#8217;d his hand within his own, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Oh, by thy father&#8217;s head! by thine own soul!</span><br />
+Art thou not Rustum? speak! art thou not he?&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth,</span><br />
+And turn&#8217;d away, and spake to his own soul:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Ah me, I muse what this young fox may mean!</span><br />
+False, wily, boastful, are these Tartar boys.<br />
+For if I now confess this thing he asks,<br />
+And hide it not, but say: &#8216;Rustum is here!&#8217;<br />
+He will not yield indeed, nor quit our foes,<br />
+But he will find some pretext not to fight,<br />
+And praise my fame, and proffer courteous gifts,<br />
+A belt or sword perhaps, and go his way.<br />
+And on a feast tide, in Afrasiab&#8217;s hall,<br />
+In Samarcand, he will arise and cry:<br />
+&#8216;I challenged once, when the two armies camp&#8217;d<br />
+Beside the Oxus, all the Persian lords<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>To cope with me in single fight; but they<br />
+Shrank, only Rustum dared; then he and I<br />
+Changed gifts, and went on equal terms away.<br />
+So will he speak, perhaps, while men applaud;<br />
+Then were the chiefs of Iran shamed through me.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">And then he turn&#8217;d, and sternly spake aloud:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Rise! wherefore dost thou vainly question thus<br />
+Of Rustum? I am here, whom thou hast call&#8217;d<br />
+By challenge forth; make good thy vaunt, or yield!<br />
+Is it with Rustum only thou wouldst fight?<br />
+Rash boy, men look on Rustum&#8217;s face and flee!<br />
+For well I know, that did great Rustum stand<br />
+Before thy face this day, and were reveal&#8217;d,<br />
+There would be then no talk of fighting more.<br />
+But being what I am, I tell thee this&mdash;<br />
+Do thou record it in thine inmost soul:<br />
+Either thou shalt renounce thy vaunt and yield,<br />
+Or else thy bones shall strew this sand, till winds<br />
+Bleach them, or Oxus with his summer floods,<br />
+Oxus in summer wash them all away.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke; and Sohrab answer&#8217;d, on his feet:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Art thou so fierce? Thou wilt not fright me so!<br />
+I am no girl, to be made pale by words.<br />
+Yet this thou hast said well, did Rustum stand<br />
+Here on this field, there were no fighting then.<br />
+But Rustum is far hence, and we stand here.<br />
+Begin! thou art more vast, more dread than I,<br />
+And thou art proved, I know, and I am young&mdash;<br />
+But yet success sways with the breath of heaven.<br />
+And though thou thinkest that thou knowest sure<br />
+Thy victory, yet thou canst not surely know.<br />
+For we are all, like swimmers in the sea,<br />
+Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate,<br />
+Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>And whether it will heave us up to land,<br />
+Or whether it will roll us out to sea,<br />
+Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death,<br />
+We know not, and no search will make us know;<br />
+Only the event will teach us in its hour.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke, and Rustum answer&#8217;d not, but hurl&#8217;d</span><br />
+His spear; down from the shoulder, down it came,<br />
+As on some partridge in the corn a hawk,<br />
+That long has tower&#8217;d in the airy clouds,<br />
+Drops like a plummet; Sohrab saw it come,<br />
+And sprang aside, quick as a flash; the spear<br />
+Hiss&#8217;d and went quivering down into the sand,<br />
+Which it sent flying wide;&mdash;then Sohrab threw<br />
+In turn, and full struck Rustum&#8217;s shield; sharp rang,<br />
+The iron plates rang sharp, but turn&#8217;d the spear.<br />
+And Rustum seized his club, which none but he<br />
+Could wield; an unlopp&#8217;d trunk it was, and huge,<br />
+Still rough&mdash;like those which men in treeless plains<br />
+To build them boats fish from the flooded rivers,<br />
+Hyphasis or Hydaspes, when, high up<br />
+By their dark spring, the wind in winter time<br />
+Hath made in Himalayan forests wrack,<br />
+And strewn the channels with torn boughs&mdash;so huge<br />
+The club which Rustum lifted now, and struck<br />
+One stroke; but again Sohrab sprang aside,<br />
+Lithe as the glancing snake, and the club came<br />
+Thundering to earth, and leapt from Rustum&#8217;s hand.<br />
+And Rustum follow&#8217;d his own blow, and fell<br />
+To his knees, and with his fingers clutch&#8217;d the sand;<br />
+And now might Sohrab have unsheathed his sword,<br />
+And pierced the mighty Rustum while he lay<br />
+Dizzy, and on his knees, and choked with sand;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>But he look&#8217;d on, and smiled, nor bared his sword,<br />
+But courteously drew back, and spoke, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Thou strik&#8217;st too hard! that club of thine will float</span><br />
+Upon the summer floods, and not my bones.<br />
+But rise, and be not wroth! not wroth am I;<br />
+No, when I see thee, wrath forsakes my soul.<br />
+Thou say&#8217;st, thou art not Rustum; be it so!<br />
+Who art thou then, that canst so touch my soul?<br />
+Boy as I am, I have seen battles too&mdash;<br />
+Have waded foremost in their bloody waves,<br />
+And heard their hollow roar of dying men;<br />
+But never was my heart thus touch&#8217;d before.<br />
+Are they from Heaven, these softenings of the heart?<br />
+O thou old warrior, let us yield to Heaven!<br />
+Come, plant we here in earth our angry spears,<br />
+And make a truce, and sit upon this sand,<br />
+And pledge each other in red wine, like friends,<br />
+And thou shalt talk to me of Rustum&#8217;s deeds.<br />
+There are enough foes in the Persian host,<br />
+Whom I may meet, and strike, and feel no pang;<br />
+Champions enough Afrasiab has, whom thou<br />
+Mayst fight; fight <em>them</em>, when they confront thy spear!<br />
+But oh, let there be peace &#8217;twixt thee and me!&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He ceased, but while he spake, Rustum had risen,</span><br />
+And stood erect, trembling with rage; his club<br />
+He left to lie, but had regained his spear,<br />
+Whose fiery point now in his mail&#8217;d right hand<br />
+Blazed bright and baleful, like that autumn star,<br />
+The baleful sign of fevers; dust had soil&#8217;d<br />
+His stately crest, and dimm&#8217;d his glittering arms.<br />
+His breast heaved, his lips foam&#8217;d, and twice his voice<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>Was choked with rage; at last these words broke way:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Girl! nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands!</span><br />
+Curl&#8217;d minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words!<br />
+Fight, let me hear thy hateful voice no more!<br />
+Thou are not in Afrasiab&#8217;s gardens now<br />
+With Tartar girls, with whom thou art wont to dance;<br />
+But on the Oxus sands, and in the dance<br />
+Of battle, and with me, who make no play<br />
+Of war; I fight it out, and hand to hand.<br />
+Speak not to me of truce, and pledge, and wine!<br />
+Remember all thy valor; try thy feints<br />
+And cunning! all the pity I had is gone;<br />
+Because thou hast shamed me before both the hosts<br />
+With thy light skipping tricks, and thy girl&#8217;s wiles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i1">He spoke, and Sohrab kindled at his taunts,</span><br />
+And he too drew his sword; at once they rush&#8217;d<br />
+Together, as two eagles on one prey<br />
+Come rushing down together from the clouds,<br />
+One from the east, one from the west; their shields<br />
+Dash&#8217;d with a clang together, and a din<br />
+Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters<br />
+Make often in the forest&#8217;s heart at morn,<br />
+Of hewing axes, crashing trees&mdash;such blows<br />
+Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail&#8217;d.<br />
+And you would say that sun and stars took part<br />
+In that <span class="nowrap">unnatural<a name="Anchor_189-18" id="Anchor_189-18"></a><a title="Go to footnote 189-18" href="#Footnote_189-18" class="fnanchor">189-18</a></span> conflict; for a cloud<br />
+Grew suddenly in heaven, and dark&#8217;d the sun<br />
+Over the fighters&#8217; heads; and a wind rose<br />
+Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain,<br />
+And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp&#8217;d the pair.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>In gloom they twain were wrapp&#8217;d, and they alone;<br />
+For both the onlooking hosts on either hand<br />
+Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure,<br />
+And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream.<br />
+But in the gloom they fought, with bloodshot eyes<br />
+And laboring breath; first Rustum struck the shield<br />
+Which Sohrab held stiff out; the steel-spiked spear<br />
+Rent the tough plates, but fail&#8217;d to reach the skin,<br />
+And Rustum pluck&#8217;d it back with angry groan.<br />
+Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum&#8217;s helm,<br />
+Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest<br />
+He shore away, and that proud horsehair plume,<br />
+Never till now defiled, sank to the dust;<br />
+And Rustum bow&#8217;d his head; and then the gloom<br />
+Grew blacker, thunder rumbled in the air,<br />
+And lightnings rent the cloud; and Ruksh, the horse,<br />
+Who stood at hand, utter&#8217;d a dreadful cry;&mdash;<br />
+No horse&#8217;s cry was that, most like the roar<br />
+Of some pain&#8217;d desert lion, who all day<br />
+Hath trail&#8217;d the hunter&#8217;s javelin in his side,<br />
+And comes at night to die upon the sand.<br />
+The two hosts heard that cry, and quaked for fear,<br />
+And Oxus curdled as it cross&#8217;d his stream.<br />
+But Sohrab heard, and quail&#8217;d not, but rush&#8217;d on,<br />
+And struck again; and again Rustum bow&#8217;d<br />
+His head; but this time all the blade, like glass,<br />
+Sprang in a thousand shivers on the helm,<br />
+And in the hand the hilt remain&#8217;d alone.<br />
+Then Rustum raised his head; his dreadful eyes<br />
+Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear,<br />
+And shouted: &#8220;Rustum!&#8221;&mdash;Sohrab heard that shout,<br />
+And shrank amazed: back he recoil&#8217;d one step,<br />
+And scann&#8217;d with blinking eyes the advancing form;<br />
+And then he stood bewilder&#8217;d, and he dropp&#8217;d<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>His covering shield, and the spear pierced his <span class="nowrap">side.<a name="Anchor_191-19" id="Anchor_191-19"></a><a title="Go to footnote 191-19" href="#Footnote_191-19" class="fnanchor">191-19</a></span><br />
+He reel&#8217;d, and, staggering back, sank to the ground;<br />
+And then the gloom dispersed, and the wind fell,</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 246px;">
+<a name="image29" id="image29"></a><a href="images/image29-full.png"><img src="images/image29.png" width="246" height="301" alt="A man with a sword defending himself from the attack of a man with a spear." title="THE SPEAR RENT THE TOUGH PLATES" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE SPEAR RENT THE TOUGH PLATES</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all<br />
+The cloud; and the two armies saw the pair&mdash;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet,<br />
+And Sohrab, wounded, on the bloody sand.<br />
+<span class="i1">Then, with a bitter smile, Rustum began:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Sohrab, thou thoughtest in thy mind to kill<br />
+A Persian lord this day, and strip his corpse,<br />
+And bear thy trophies to Afrasiab&#8217;s tent;<br />
+Or else that the great Rustum would come down<br />
+Himself to fight, and that thy wiles would move<br />
+His heart to take a gift, and let thee go;<br />
+And then that all the Tartar host would praise<br />
+Thy courage or thy craft, and spread thy fame,<br />
+To glad thy father in his weak old age.<br />
+Fool, thou art slain, and by an unknown man!<br />
+Dearer to the red jackals shalt thou be<br />
+Than to thy friends, and to thy father old.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">And, with a fearless mien, Sohrab replied:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Unknown thou art; yet thy fierce vaunt is vain.<br />
+Thou dost not slay me, proud and boastful man!<br />
+No! Rustum slays me, and this filial heart.<br />
+For were I match&#8217;d with ten such men as thee,<br />
+And I were that which till to-day I was,<br />
+They should be lying here, I standing there.<br />
+But that beloved name unnerved my arm&mdash;<br />
+That name, and something, I confess, in thee,<br />
+Which troubles all my heart, and made my shield<br />
+Fall; and thy spear transfix&#8217;d an unarm&#8217;d foe.<br />
+And now thou boastest, and insult&#8217;st my fate.<br />
+But hear thou this, fierce man, tremble to hear:<br />
+The mighty Rustum shall avenge my death!<br />
+My father, whom I seek through all the world,<br />
+He shall avenge my death, and punish thee!&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">As when some hunter in the spring hath found</span><br />
+A breeding eagle sitting on her nest,<br />
+Upon the craggy isle of a hill lake,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>And pierced her with an arrow as she rose,<br />
+And follow&#8217;d her to find her where she fell<br />
+Far off;&mdash;anon her mate comes winging back<br />
+From hunting, and a great way off descries<br />
+His huddling young left <span class="nowrap">sole;<a name="Anchor_193-20" id="Anchor_193-20"></a><a title="Go to footnote 193-20" href="#Footnote_193-20" class="fnanchor">193-20</a></span> at that, he checks<br />
+His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps<br />
+Circles above his eyry, with loud screams<br />
+Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she<br />
+Lies dying, with the arrow in her side,<br />
+In some far stony gorge out of his ken,<br />
+A heap of fluttering feathers&mdash;never more<br />
+Shall the lake <span class="nowrap">glass<a name="Anchor_193-21" id="Anchor_193-21"></a><a title="Go to footnote 193-21" href="#Footnote_193-21" class="fnanchor">193-21</a></span> her, flying over it;<br />
+Never the black and dripping precipices<br />
+Echo her stormy scream as she sails by&mdash;<br />
+As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his loss,<br />
+So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood<br />
+Over his dying son, and knew him not.<br />
+<span class="i1">But, with a cold incredulous voice, he said:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;What prate is this of fathers and revenge?<br />
+The mighty Rustum never had a son.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">And, with a failing voice, Sohrab replied:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Ah yes, he had! and that lost son am I.<br />
+Surely the news will one day reach his ear,<br />
+Reach Rustum, where he sits, and tarries long,<br />
+Somewhere, I know not where, but far from here;<br />
+And pierce him like a stab, and make him leap<br />
+To arms, and cry for vengeance upon thee.<br />
+Fierce man, bethink thee, for an only son!<br />
+What will that grief, what will that vengeance be?<br />
+Oh, could I live till I that grief had seen!<br />
+Yet him I pity not so much, but her,<br />
+My mother, who in Ader-baijan dwells<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>With that old king, her father, who grows gray<br />
+With age, and rules over the valiant Koords.<br />
+Her most I pity, who no more will see<br />
+Sohrab returning from the Tartar camp,<br />
+With spoils and honor, when the war is done.<br />
+But a dark rumor will be bruited up,<br />
+From tribe to tribe, until it reach her ear;<br />
+And then will that defenseless woman learn<br />
+That Sohrab will rejoice her sight no more,<br />
+But that in battle with a nameless foe,<br />
+By the far-distant Oxus, he is slain.&#8221;<br />
+He spoke; and as he ceased, he wept aloud,<br />
+Thinking of her he left, and his own death.<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke; but Rustum listen&#8217;d, plunged in thought.</span><br />
+Nor did he yet believe it was his son<br />
+Who spoke, although he call&#8217;d back names he knew;<br />
+For he had had sure tidings that the babe,<br />
+Which was in Ader-baijan born to him,<br />
+Had been a puny girl, no boy at all&mdash;<br />
+So that sad mother sent him word, for fear<br />
+Rustum should seek the boy, to train in arms.<br />
+And so he deem&#8217;d that either Sohrab took,<br />
+By a false boast, the style of Rustum&#8217;s son;<br />
+Or that men gave it him, to swell his fame.<br />
+So deem&#8217;d he: yet he listen&#8217;d, plunged in thought;<br />
+And his soul set to grief, as the vast tide<br />
+Of the bright rocking Ocean sets to shore<br />
+At the full moon; tears gather&#8217;d in his eyes;<br />
+For he remember&#8217;d his own early youth,<br />
+And all its bounding rapture; as, at dawn,<br />
+The shepherd from his mountain lodge descries<br />
+A far, bright city, smitten by the sun,<br />
+Through many rolling clouds&mdash;so Rustum saw<br />
+His youth; saw Sohrab&#8217;s mother, in her bloom;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>And that old king, her father, who loved well<br />
+His wandering guest, and gave him his fair child<br />
+With joy; and all the pleasant life they led,<br />
+They three, in that long-distant summer time&mdash;<br />
+The castle, and the dewy woods, and hunt<br />
+And hound, and morn on those delightful hills<br />
+In Ader-baijan. And he saw that youth,<br />
+Of age and looks to be his own dear <span class="nowrap">son,<a name="Anchor_195-22" id="Anchor_195-22"></a><a title="Go to footnote 195-22" href="#Footnote_195-22" class="fnanchor">195-22</a></span><br />
+Piteous and lovely, lying on the sand,<br />
+Like some rich hyacinth which by the scythe<br />
+Of an unskillful gardener has been cut,<br />
+Mowing the garden grassplots near its bed,<br />
+And lies, a fragrant tower of purple bloom,<br />
+On the mown, dying grass&mdash;so Sohrab lay,<br />
+Lovely in death, upon the common sand.<br />
+And Rustum gazed on him with grief, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;O Sohrab, thou indeed art such a son</span><br />
+Whom Rustum, wert thou his, might well have loved!<br />
+Yet here thou errest, Sohrab, or else men<br />
+Have told thee false&mdash;thou art not Rustum&#8217;s son.<br />
+For Rustum had no son; one child he had&mdash;<br />
+But one&mdash;a girl; who with her mother now<br />
+Plies some light female task, nor dreams of us&mdash;<br />
+Of us she dreams not, nor of wounds, nor war.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">But Sohrab answer&#8217;d him in wrath; for now</span><br />
+The anguish of the deep-fix&#8217;d spear grew fierce,<br />
+And he desired to draw forth the steel,<br />
+And let the blood flow free, and so to die&mdash;<br />
+But first he would convince his stubborn foe;<br />
+And, rising sternly on one arm, he said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Man, who art thou who dost deny my words?</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>Truth sits upon the lips of dying men,<br />
+And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.<br />
+I tell thee, prick&#8217;d upon this arm I bear<br />
+That seal which Rustum to my mother gave,<br />
+That she might prick it on the babe she <span class="nowrap">bore.&#8221;<a name="Anchor_196-23" id="Anchor_196-23"></a><a title="Go to footnote 196-23" href="#Footnote_196-23" class="fnanchor">196-23</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke: and all the blood left Rustum&#8217;s cheeks,</span><br />
+And his knees totter&#8217;d, and he smote his hand<br />
+Against his breast, his heavy mailed hand,<br />
+That the hard iron corselet clank&#8217;d aloud;<br />
+And to his heart he press&#8217;d the other hand,<br />
+And in a hollow voice he spake, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Sohrab, that were a proof which could not lie!</span><br />
+If thou show this, then art thou Rustum&#8217;s son.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">Then, with weak hasty fingers, Sohrab loosed</span><br />
+His belt, and near the shoulder bared his arm,<br />
+And show&#8217;d a sign in faint vermilion points<br />
+Prick&#8217;d; as a cunning workman, in Pekin,<br />
+Pricks with vermilion some clear porcelain vase,<br />
+An emperor&#8217;s gift&mdash;at early morn he paints,<br />
+And all day long, and, when night comes, the lamp<br />
+Lights up his studious forehead and thin hands&mdash;<br />
+So delicately prick&#8217;d the sign appear&#8217;d<br />
+On Sohrab&#8217;s arm, the sign of Rustum&#8217;s seal.<br />
+It was that <span class="nowrap">griffin,<a name="Anchor_196-24" id="Anchor_196-24"></a><a title="Go to footnote 196-24" href="#Footnote_196-24" class="fnanchor">196-24</a></span> which of old rear&#8217;d Zal,<br />
+Rustum&#8217;s great father, whom they left to die,<br />
+A helpless babe, among the mountain rocks;<br />
+Him that kind creature found, and rear&#8217;d and loved&mdash;<br />
+Then Rustum took it for his glorious sign.<br />
+And Sohrab bared that image on his arm,<br />
+And himself scann&#8217;d it long with mournful eyes,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>And then he touch&#8217;d it with his hand, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;How say&#8217;st thou? Is that sign the proper sign</span><br />
+Of Rustum&#8217;s son, or of some other man&#8217;s?&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke; but Rustum gazed, and gazed, and stood</span><br />
+Speechless; and then he utter&#8217;d one sharp cry:<br />
+&#8220;O boy&mdash;thy father!&#8221; and his voice choked there.<br />
+And then a dark cloud pass&#8217;d before his eyes,<br />
+And his head swam, and he sank down to earth.<br />
+But Sohrab crawl&#8217;d to where he lay, and cast<br />
+His arms about his neck, and kiss&#8217;d his lips,<br />
+And with fond faltering fingers stroked his cheeks,<br />
+Trying to call him back to life; and life<br />
+Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes,<br />
+And they stood wide with horror; and he seized<br />
+In both his hands the dust which lay around,<br />
+And threw it on his head, and smirch&#8217;d his hair,&mdash;<br />
+His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms;<br />
+And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast,<br />
+And his sobs choked him; and he clutch&#8217;d his sword,<br />
+To draw it, and forever let life out.<br />
+But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands,<br />
+And with a soothing voice he spake, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Father, forbear! for I but meet to-day</span><br />
+The doom which at my birth was written down<br />
+In heaven, and thou art heaven&#8217;s unconscious hand.<br />
+Surely my heart cried out that it was thou,<br />
+When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too,<br />
+I know it! but fate trod those promptings down<br />
+Under its iron heel; fate, fate engaged<br />
+The strife, and hurl&#8217;d me on my father&#8217;s spear.<br />
+But let us speak no more of this! I find<br />
+My father; let me feel that I have found!<br />
+Come, sit beside me on the sand, and take<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my cheeks,<br />
+And wash them with thy tears, and say: &#8216;My son!&#8217;<br />
+Quick! quick! for number&#8217;d are my sands of life,<br />
+And swift; for like the lightning to this field<br />
+I came, and like the wind I go away&mdash;<br />
+Sudden, and swift, and like a passing wind<br />
+But it was writ in heaven that this should be.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">So said he, and his voice released the heart</span><br />
+Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast<br />
+His arms round his son&#8217;s neck, and wept aloud,<br />
+And kiss&#8217;d him. And awe fell on both the hosts,<br />
+When they saw Rustum&#8217;s grief; and Ruksh, the horse,<br />
+With his head bowing to the ground and mane<br />
+Sweeping the dust, came near, and in mute woe<br />
+First to the one then to the other moved<br />
+His head, as if inquiring what their grief<br />
+Might mean; and from his dark, compassionate eyes,<br />
+The big warm tears roll&#8217;d down, and caked the sand,<br />
+But Rustum chid him with stern voice, and said:&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Ruksh, now thou grievest; but, O Ruksh, thy feet</span><br />
+Should first have rotted on their nimble joints,<br />
+Or ere they brought thy master to this field!&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">But Sohrab look&#8217;d upon the horse, and said:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Is this, then, Ruksh? How often, in past days,<br />
+My mother told me of thee, thou brave steed,<br />
+My terrible father&#8217;s terrible horse! and said,<br />
+That I should one day find thy lord and thee.<br />
+Come, let me lay my hand upon thy mane!<br />
+O Ruksh, thou art more fortunate than I;<br />
+For thou hast gone where I shall never go,<br />
+And snuff&#8217;d the breezes of my father&#8217;s home.<br />
+And thou hast trod the sands of Seistan.<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>And seen the River of Helmund, and the Lake<br />
+Of Zirrah; and the aged Zal himself<br />
+Has often stroked thy neck, and given thee food,<br />
+Corn in a golden platter soak&#8217;d with wine,<br />
+And said: &#8216;O Ruksh! bear Rustum well,&#8217;&mdash;but I<br />
+Have never known my grandsire&#8217;s furrow&#8217;d face,<br />
+Nor seen his lofty house in Seistan,<br />
+Nor slaked my thirst at the clear Helmund stream;<br />
+But lodged among my father&#8217;s foes, and seen<br />
+Afrasiab&#8217;s cities only, Samarcand,<br />
+Bokhara, and lone Khiva in the waste,<br />
+And the black Toorkmun tents; and only drunk<br />
+The desert rivers, Moorghab and Tejend,<br />
+Kohik, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep,<br />
+The northern Sir; and this great Oxus stream,<br />
+The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">Then, with a heavy groan, Rustum bewail&#8217;d:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Oh, that its waves were flowing over me!<br />
+Oh, that I saw its grains of yellow silt<br />
+Roll tumbling in the current o&#8217;er my head!&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">But, with a grave mild voice, Sohrab replied:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Desire not that, my father! thou must live.<br />
+For some are born to do great deeds, and live,<br />
+As some are born to be obscured, and die.<br />
+Do thou the deeds I die too young to do,<br />
+And reap a second glory in thine age;<br />
+Thou art my father, and thy gain is mine.<br />
+But come! thou seest this great host of men<br />
+Which follow me; I pray thee, slay not these!<br />
+Let me entreat for them; what have they done?<br />
+They follow&#8217;d me, my hope, my fame, my star.<br />
+Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace.<br />
+But me thou must bear hence, not send with them,<br />
+But carry me with thee to Seistan,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>And place me on a bed, and mourn for me,<br />
+Thou, and the snow-hair&#8217;d Zal, and all thy friends.<br />
+And thou must lay me in that lovely earth,<br />
+And heap a stately mound above my <span class="nowrap">bones,<a name="Anchor_200-25" id="Anchor_200-25"></a><a title="Go to footnote 200-25" href="#Footnote_200-25" class="fnanchor">200-25</a></span><br />
+And plant a far-seen pillar over all.<br />
+That so the passing horseman on the waste<br />
+May see my tomb a great way off, and cry:<br />
+&#8216;Sohrab, the mighty Rustum&#8217;s son, lies there,<br />
+Whom his great father did in ignorance kill!&#8217;<br />
+And I be not forgotten in my grave.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">And, with a mournful voice, Rustum replied:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Fear not! as thou hast said, Sohrab, my son,<br />
+So shall it be; for I will burn my tents,<br />
+And quit the host, and bear thee hence with me,<br />
+And carry thee away to Seistan,<br />
+And place thee on a bed, and mourn for thee,<br />
+With the snow-headed Zal, and all my friends.<br />
+And I will lay thee in that lovely earth,<br />
+And heap a stately mound above thy bones,<br />
+And plant a far-seen pillar over all,<br />
+And men shall not forget thee in thy grave.<br />
+And I will spare thy host; yea, let them go!<br />
+Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace!<br />
+What should I do with slaying any more?<br />
+For would that all that I have ever slain<br />
+Might be once more alive; my bitterest foes,<br />
+And they who were call&#8217;d champions in their time,<br />
+And through whose death I won that fame I have&mdash;<br />
+And I were nothing but a common man,<br />
+A poor, mean soldier, and without renown,<br />
+So thou mightest live too, my son, my son!<br />
+Or rather would that I, even I myself,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>Might now be lying on this bloody sand,<br />
+Near death, and by an ignorant stroke of thine,<br />
+Not thou of mine! and I might die, not thou;<br />
+And I, not thou, be borne to Seistan;<br />
+And Zal might weep above my grave, not thine;<br />
+And say: &#8216;O son, I weep thee not too sore,<br />
+For willingly, I know, thou met&#8217;st thine end!&#8217;<br />
+But now in blood and battles was my youth,<br />
+And full of blood and battles is my age,<br />
+And I shall never end this life of blood.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">Then, at the point of death, Sohrab replied:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;A life of blood indeed, though dreadful man!<br />
+But thou shalt yet have peace; only not now,<br />
+Not yet! but thou shalt have it on that <span class="nowrap">day<a name="Anchor_201-26" id="Anchor_201-26"></a><a title="Go to footnote 201-26" href="#Footnote_201-26" class="fnanchor">201-26</a></span><br />
+When thou shalt sail in a high-masted ship,<br />
+Thou and the other peers of a Kai Khosroo,<br />
+Returning home over the salt blue sea,<br />
+From laying thy dear master in his grave.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">And Rustum gazed in Sohrab&#8217;s face, and said:&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8220;Soon be that day, my son, and deep that sea!<br />
+Till then, if fate so wills, let me endure.&#8221;<br />
+<span class="i1">He spoke; and Sohrab smiled on him, and took</span><br />
+The spear, and drew it from his side, and eased<br />
+His wound&#8217;s imperious anguish; but the blood<br />
+Came welling from the open gash, and life<br />
+Flow&#8217;d with the stream;&mdash;all down his cold white side<br />
+The crimson torrent ran, dim now and soil&#8217;d,<br />
+Like the soil&#8217;d tissue of white violets<br />
+Left, freshly gather&#8217;d, on their native bank,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>By children whom their nurses call with haste<br />
+Indoors from the sun&#8217;s eye; his head droop&#8217;d low,<br />
+His limbs grew slack; motionless, white, he lay&mdash;<br />
+White, with eyes closed; only when heavy gasps,<br />
+Deep heavy gasps quivering through all his frame,<br />
+Convulsed him back to life, he open&#8217;d them,<br />
+And fix&#8217;d them feebly on his father&#8217;s face;<br />
+Till now all strength was ebb&#8217;d, and from his limbs<br />
+Unwillingly the spirit fled away,<br />
+Regretting the warm mansion which it left,<br />
+And youth, and bloom, and this delightful world.<br />
+<span class="i1">So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab lay dead;</span><br />
+And the great Rustum drew his horseman&#8217;s cloak<br />
+Down o&#8217;er his face, and sate by his dead son.<br />
+As those black granite pillars, once high-rear&#8217;d<br />
+By Jemshid in Persepolis, to bear<br />
+His house, now &#8217;mid their broken flights of steps<br />
+Lie prone, enormous, down the mountain side&mdash;<br />
+So in the sand lay Rustum by his son.<br />
+<span class="i1">And night came down over the solemn waste,</span><br />
+And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair,<br />
+And darken&#8217;d all; and a cold fog, with night,<br />
+Crept from the Oxus. Soon a hum arose,<br />
+As of a great assembly loosed, and fires<br />
+Began to twinkle through the fog; for now<br />
+Both armies moved to camp, and took their meal;<br />
+The Persians took it on the open sands<br />
+Southward, the Tartars by the river marge;<br />
+And Rustum and his son were left alone.</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i1">But the majestic river floated on,</span><br />
+Out of the mist and hum of that low land,<br />
+Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,<br />
+Rejoicing, through the hush&#8217;d Chorasmian waste,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>Under the solitary moon;&mdash;he flow&#8217;d<br />
+Right for the polar star, past Orgunj&egrave;,<br />
+Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begin</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 246px;">
+<a name="image30" id="image30"></a><a href="images/image30-full.png"><img src="images/image30.png" width="246" height="299" alt="A man seated with the head of the fallen man in his lap and his horse looking on." title="RUSTUM SORROWS OVER SOHRAB" /></a>
+<span class="caption">RUSTUM SORROWS OVER SOHRAB</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,<br />
+And split his currents; that for many a league<br />
+The shorn and parcel&#8217;d Oxus strains along<br />
+Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles&mdash;<br />
+Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>In his high mountain cradle in Pamere,<br />
+A foil&#8217;d circuitous wanderer&mdash;till at last<br />
+The long&#8217;d-for dash of waves is heard, and wide<br />
+His luminous home of waters opens, bright<br />
+And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars<br />
+Emerge, and shine upon the Aral <span class="nowrap">Sea.<a name="Anchor_204-27" id="Anchor_204-27"></a><a title="Go to footnote 204-27" href="#Footnote_204-27" class="fnanchor">204-27</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Matthew Arnold was one of England&#8217;s purest and greatest men. As
+scholar, teacher, poet and critic he labored zealously for the
+betterment of his race and sought to bring them back to a clearer,
+lovelier spiritual life and to win them from the base and sordid
+schemes that make only for material success.</p>
+
+<p>He was born in 1822 and was the son of Doctor Thomas Arnold, the
+great teacher who was so long headmaster of the famous Rugby
+school, and whose scholarly and Christian influence is so
+faithfully brought out in Hughes&#8217;s ever popular story <cite>Tom Brown&#8217;s
+School Days</cite>.</p>
+
+<p>Matthew Arnold received his preparatory education in his father&#8217;s
+school at Rugby, and his college training at Oxford. He was always
+a student and always active in educational work, as an inspector of
+schools, and for ten years as professor of poetry at Oxford. He
+twice visited the United States and both times lectured here. His
+criticisms of America and Americans were severe, for he saw
+predominant the spirit of money-getting, the thirst for material
+prosperity and the absence of spiritual interests. In 1888, while
+at the house of a friend in Liverpool, he died suddenly and
+peacefully from an attack of heart disease.</p>
+
+<p>Arnold was one of the most exacting and critical of Eng<span class='pagenum' style="font-size: 89%"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>lish
+writers, a man who applied to his own works the same severe
+standards that he set up for others. As a result his writings have
+become one of the standards of purity and taste in style.</p></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 302px;">
+<a name="image31" id="image31"></a><a href="images/image31-full.jpg"><img src="images/image31.jpg" width="302" height="400" alt="Portrait of Matthew Arnold" title="Matthew Arnold 1822-1888" /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap">Matthew Arnold<br />
+1822-1888</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>The story of <cite>Sohrab and Rustum</cite> pleased him, and he enjoyed
+writing the poem, as may be seen from a letter to his mother,
+written in 1853. He says:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All my spare time has been spent on a poem which I have just
+finished, and which I think by far the best thing I have yet done,
+and I think it will be generally liked; though one can never be
+sure of this. I have had the greatest pleasure in composing it, a
+rare thing with me, and, as I think, a good test of the pleasure
+what you write is likely to afford to others. But the story is a
+very noble and excellent one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Two men, both competent to judge, have given at length their
+opinion of Matthew Arnold&#8217;s character. So admirable a man deserves
+to be known by the young, although most of his writings will be
+understood and appreciated only by persons of some maturity in
+years. Mr. John Morley says:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was incapable of sacrificing the smallest interest of anybody
+to his own; he had not a spark of envy or jealousy; he stood well
+aloof from all the hustlings and jostlings by which selfish men
+push on; he bore life&#8217;s disappointments&mdash;and he was disappointed in
+some reasonable hopes&mdash;with good nature and fortitude; he cast no
+burden upon others, and never shrank from bearing his own share of
+the daily load to the last ounce of it; he took the deepest,
+sincerest, and most active interest in the well-being of his
+country and his countrymen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. George E. Woodbury in an essay on Arnold remarks concerning the
+man as shown in his private letters:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A nature warm to its own, kindly to all, cheerful, fond of sport
+and fun, and always fed from pure fountains, and with it a
+character so founded upon the rock, so humbly serviceable, so
+continuing in power and grace, must wake in all the responses of
+happy appreciation and leave the charm of memory.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_173-1" id="Footnote_173-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_173-1" class="label">173-1</a> The Oxus, 1300 miles long, is the chief river of
+Central Asia, and one of the boundaries of Persia.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_173-2" id="Footnote_173-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_173-2" class="label">173-2</a> Peran-Wisa was the commander of King Afrasiab&#8217;s troops,
+a Turanian chief who ruled over the many wild Tartar tribes whose men
+composed his army.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_173-3" id="Footnote_173-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_173-3" class="label">173-3</a> Pamir or Pamere is a high tableland called by the
+natives &#8220;the roof of the world.&#8221; In it lies the source of the Oxus.
+Arnold has named many places for the purpose of giving an air of reality
+to the poem. It is not necessary to locate them accurately in order to
+understand the poem, and so the notes will refer to them only as the
+story is made clearer by the explanation.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_174-4" id="Footnote_174-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_174-4" class="label">174-4</a> Samarcand is a city of Turkistan, now a center of
+learning and of commerce.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_175-5" id="Footnote_175-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_175-5" class="label">175-5</a> <em>Common</em> here means <em>general</em>. The idea is that little
+fame comes to him who fights in a general combat in which numbers take
+part. What is the real reason for Sohrab&#8217;s desire to fight in single
+combat? Arnold gives a different reason from that in the <cite>Shah Nameh</cite>.
+In the latter case it is that by defeating their champion Sohrab may
+frighten the Persians into submission.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_176-6" id="Footnote_176-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_176-6" class="label">176-6</a> Seistan was the province in which Rustum and his father
+Zal had ruled for many years, subjects of the King of Persia.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_176-7" id="Footnote_176-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_176-7" class="label">176-7</a> <em>Whether that</em> and <em>Or in</em> beginning the second line
+below may be understood to read <em>Either because</em> and <em>Or because of</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_177-8" id="Footnote_177-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_177-8" class="label">177-8</a> <em>Frore</em> means <em>frozen</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_177-9" id="Footnote_177-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_177-9" class="label">177-9</a> From mares&#8217; milk is made koumiss, a favorite fermented
+drink of Tartar tribes.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_178-10" id="Footnote_178-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_178-10" class="label">178-10</a> <em>Fix&#8217;d</em> means <em>halted</em>. He caused his army to remain
+stationary while he rode forward.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_178-11" id="Footnote_178-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_178-11" class="label">178-11</a> The <em>corn</em> is grain of some kind, not our maize or
+Indian corn.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_181-12" id="Footnote_181-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_181-12" class="label">181-12</a> Kai Khosroo was one of the Persian kings who lived in
+the sixth century B. C., and is now understood to be Cyrus. He was the
+grandson of Kai Kaoos, in whose reign the <cite>Shah Nameh</cite> places the
+episode of Sohrab and Rustum. Here as elsewhere Arnold alters the legend
+to suit his convenience and to make the poem more effective. For
+instance, he compresses the combat into a single day, while in the
+Persian epic, the battle lasts three days. This change gives greater
+vitality and more rapid action to the poem.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_181-13" id="Footnote_181-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_181-13" class="label">181-13</a> Zal was born with snowy hair, a most unusual thing
+among the black-haired Persians. His father was so angered by the
+appearance of his son that he abandoned the innocent babe in the Elburz
+mountains, where, however, a great bird or griffin miraculously
+preserved the infant and in time returned it to its father, who had
+repented of his hasty action.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_183-14" id="Footnote_183-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_183-14" class="label">183-14</a> <em>Ruksh</em>, also spelled <em>Raksh</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_183-15" id="Footnote_183-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_183-15" class="label">183-15</a> <em>Tale</em> means <em>count</em> or <em>reckoning</em>. The diver had
+gathered all the pearls required from him for the day.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_184-16" id="Footnote_184-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_184-16" class="label">184-16</a> This description by Arnold scarcely tallies with the
+idea we have obtained of the powerful Sohrab from reading the accounts
+taken from the <cite>Shah Nameh</cite>. Arnold&#8217;s is the more poetic idea, and
+increases the reader&#8217;s sympathy for Sohrab.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_185-17" id="Footnote_185-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_185-17" class="label">185-17</a> <em>Be governed</em>, that is, <em>take my advice</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_189-18" id="Footnote_189-18"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_189-18" class="label">189-18</a> It is not natural for father and son to fight thus.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_191-19" id="Footnote_191-19"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_191-19" class="label">191-19</a> In the <cite>Shah Nameh</cite> Rustum overpowers Sohrab and slays
+him by his superior power and skill. Arnold takes the more poetic view
+that Sohrab&#8217;s arm is powerless when he hears his father&#8217;s name.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_193-20" id="Footnote_193-20"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_193-20" class="label">193-20</a> <em>Sole</em> means <em>solitary, alone</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_193-21" id="Footnote_193-21"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_193-21" class="label">193-21</a> <em>Glass her</em> means <em>reflect her</em> as in a mirror.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_195-22" id="Footnote_195-22"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_195-22" class="label">195-22</a> He sees that this young men, as far as age and
+appearance are concerned, might be a son of his.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_196-23" id="Footnote_196-23"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_196-23" class="label">196-23</a> Again Arnold departs from the Persian tale, in which
+Sohrab wears a bracelet or amulet on his arm. Arnold&#8217;s work gives a more
+certain <a name="corr14" id="corr14"></a>identification.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_196-24" id="Footnote_196-24"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_196-24" class="label">196-24</a> The griffin spoken of in note 13.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_200-25" id="Footnote_200-25"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_200-25" class="label">200-25</a> The Persian tradition is that over the spot where
+Sohrab was buried a huge mound, shaped like the hoof of a horse, was
+erected.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_201-26" id="Footnote_201-26"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_201-26" class="label">201-26</a> It is said that shortly after the death of Sohrab the
+king himself died while on a visit to a famous spring far in the north,
+and as the nobles were returning with his corpse all were lost in a
+great tempest. Unfortunately for Sohrab&#8217;s prophecy, Persian traditions
+do not include Rustum among the lost.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_204-27" id="Footnote_204-27"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_204-27" class="label">204-27</a> This beautiful stanza makes a peculiarly artistic
+termination to the poem. After the storm and stress of the combat and
+the heart-breaking pathos of Sohrab&#8217;s death, the reader willingly rests
+his thought on the majestic Oxus that still flows on, unchangeable, but
+ever changing. The suggestion is that after all nature is triumphant,
+that our pains and losses, our most grievous disappointments and
+greatest griefs are but incidents in the great drama of life, and that,
+though like the river Oxus, we for a time become &#8220;foiled, circuitous
+wanderers,&#8221; we at last see before us the luminous home, bright and
+tranquil under the shining stars.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_POET_AND_THE_PEASANT" id="THE_POET_AND_THE_PEASANT"></a>THE POET AND THE PEASANT</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage">FROM THE FRENCH OF EMILE SOUVESTRE</p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapa"><span class="hide">A</span></span> <span class="upper">young</span> man was walking through a forest, and in spite of the approach
+of night, in spite of the mist that grew denser every moment, he was
+walking slowly, paying no heed either to the weather or to the hour.</p>
+
+<p>His dress of green cloth, his buckskin gaiters, and the gun slung across
+his shoulder might have caused him to be taken for a sportsman, had not
+the book that half protruded from his game-bag betrayed the dreamer, and
+proved that <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold de Munster</span> was less occupied with observing the track
+of wild game than in communing with himself.</p>
+
+<p>For some moments his mind had been filled with thoughts of his family
+and of the friends he had left in Paris. He remembered the studio that
+he had adorned with fantastic engravings, strange paintings, curious
+statuettes; the German songs that his sister had sung, the melancholy
+verses that he had repeated in the subdued light of the evening lamps,
+and the long talks in which every one confessed his inmost feelings, in
+which all the mysteries of thought were discussed and translated into
+impassioned or graceful words! Why had he abandoned these choice
+pleasures to bury himself in the country?</p>
+
+<p>He was aroused at last from his meditations by the consciousness that
+the mist had changed into rain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> and was beginning to penetrate his
+shooting-coat. He was about to quicken his steps, but in looking around
+him he saw that he had lost his way, and he tried vainly to determine
+the direction he must take. A first attempt only succeeded in
+bewildering him still more. The daylight faded, the rain fell more
+heavily, and he continued to plunge at random into unknown paths.</p>
+
+<p>He had begun to be discouraged, when the sound of bells reached him
+through the leafless trees. A cart driven by a big man in a blouse had
+appeared at an intersecting road and was coming toward the one that
+<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> had just reached.</p>
+
+<p><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> stopped to wait for the man and asked him if he were far from
+<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sersberg</span>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sersberg!</span>&#8221; repeated the carter; &#8220;you don&#8217;t expect to sleep there
+to-night?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pardon me, but I do,&#8221; answered the young man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sersberg</span>?&#8221; went on his interlocutor; &#8220;you&#8217;ll have to go by train,
+then! It is six good leagues from here to the gate; and considering the
+weather and the roads, they are equal to twelve.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young man uttered an exclamation. He had left the ch&acirc;teau that
+morning and did not think that he had wandered so far; but he had been
+on the wrong path for hours, and in thinking to take the road to
+<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sersberg</span> he had continued to turn his back upon it. It was too late to
+make good such an error; so he was forced to accept the shelter offered
+by his new companion, whose farm was fortunately within gunshot.</p>
+
+<p>He accordingly regulated his pace to the carter&#8217;s and attempted to enter
+into conversation with him; but <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> was not a talkative man and was
+appar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>ently a complete stranger to the young man&#8217;s usual sensations.
+When, on issuing from the forest, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> pointed to the magnificent
+horizon purpled by the last rays of the setting sun, the farmer
+contented himself with a grimace.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bad weather for to-morrow,&#8221; he muttered, drawing his cloak about his
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One ought to be able to see the entire valley from here,&#8221; went on
+<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span>, striving to pierce the gloom that already clothed the foot of
+the mountain.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes,&#8221; said <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>, shaking his head; &#8220;the ridge is high enough for
+that. There&#8217;s an invention for you that isn&#8217;t good for much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What invention?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The mountains.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would rather have everything level?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a question!&#8221; cried the farmer, laughing. &#8220;You might as well ask me
+if I would not rather ruin my horses.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;True,&#8221; said <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> in a tone of somewhat contemptuous irony. &#8220;I had
+forgotten the horses! It is clear that God should have thought
+principally of them when he created the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know as to God,&#8221; answered <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> quietly, &#8220;but the engineers
+certainly made a mistake in forgetting them when they made the roads.
+The horse is the laborer&#8217;s best friend, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">monsieur</span>&mdash;without disrespect to
+the oxen, which have their value too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> looked at the peasant. &#8220;So you see in your surroundings only the
+advantages you can derive from them?&#8221; he asked gravely. &#8220;The forest, the
+mountains, the clouds, all say nothing to you? You have never paused
+before the setting sun or at the sight of the woods lighted by the
+stars?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>&#8220;I?&#8221; cried the farmer. &#8220;Do you take me for a maker of almanacs? What
+should I get out of your starlight and the setting sun? The main thing
+is to earn enough for three meals a day and to keep one&#8217;s stomach warm.
+Would <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">monsieur</span> like a drink of cognac? It comes from the other side of
+the Rhine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He held out a little wicker-covered bottle to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span>, who refused by a
+gesture. The positive coarseness of the peasant had rekindled his regret
+and his contempt. Were they really men such as he was, these
+unfortunates, doomed to unceasing labor, who lived in the bosom of
+nature without heeding it and whose souls never rose above the most
+material sensations? Was there one point of resemblance which could
+attest their original brotherhood to such as he? Arnold doubted this
+more and more each moment.</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts had the effect of communicating to his manner a sort of
+contemptuous indifference toward his conductor, to whom he ceased to
+talk. <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> showed neither surprise nor pain and set to whistling an
+air, interrupted from time to time by some brief word of encouragement
+to his horses.</p>
+
+<p>Thus they arrived at the farm, where the noise of the bells announced
+their coming. A young boy and a woman of middle age appeared on the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, it is the father!&#8221; cried the woman, looking back into the house,
+where could be heard the voices of several children, who came running to
+the door with shouts of joy and pressed around the peasant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait a moment, youngsters,&#8221; interrupted the father in his big voice as
+he rummaged in the cart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> and brought forth a covered basket. &#8220;Let Fritz
+unharness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the children continued to besiege the farmer, all talking at once.
+He bent to kiss them, one after another; then rising suddenly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span>?&#8221; he asked with a quickness that had something of
+uneasiness in it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, father, here,&#8221; answered a shrill little voice from the farm-house
+door; &#8220;mother doesn&#8217;t want me to go out in the rain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stay where you are,&#8221; said <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>, throwing the traces on the backs of
+the horses; &#8220;I will go to you, little son. Go in, the rest of you, so as
+not to tempt him to come out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The three children went back to the doorway, where little <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span> was
+standing beside his mother, who was protecting him from the weather.</p>
+
+<p>He was a poor little creature, so cruelly deformed that at the first
+glance one could not have told his age or the nature of his infirmity.
+His whole body, distorted by sickness, formed a curved, not to say a
+broken line. His disproportionately large head was sunken between two
+unequally rounded shoulders, while his body was sustained by two little
+crutches; these took the place of the shrunken legs, which could not
+support him.</p>
+
+<p>At the farmer&#8217;s approach he held out his thin arms with an expression of
+love that made <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser&#8217;s</span> furrowed face brighten. The father lifted him in
+his strong arms with an exclamation of tender delight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come!&#8221; he cried, &#8220;hug your father&mdash;with both arms&mdash;hard! How has he
+been since yesterday?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The mother shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Always the cough,&#8221; she answered in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>&#8220;It&#8217;s nothing, father,&#8221; the child answered in his shrill voice. &#8220;<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Louis</span>
+had drawn me too fast in my wheeled chair; but I am well, very well; I
+feel as strong as a man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The peasant placed him carefully on the ground, set him upon his little
+crutches, which had fallen, and looked at him with an air of
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you think he&#8217;s growing, wife?&#8221; he asked in the tone of a man who
+wishes to be encouraged. &#8220;Walk a bit, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span>; walk, boy! He walks more
+quickly and more strongly. It&#8217;ll all come right, wife; we must only be
+patient.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The farmer&#8217;s wife made no reply, but her eyes turned toward the feeble
+child with a look of despair so deep that <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> trembled; fortunately
+<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> paid no heed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, the whole brood of you,&#8221; he went on, opening the basket he had
+taken from the cart; &#8220;here is something for every one! In line and hold
+out your hands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The peasant had displayed three small white rolls glazed in the baking;
+three cries of joy burst forth simultaneously and six hands advanced to
+seize the rolls, but they all paused at the word of command.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span>?&#8221; asked the childish voices.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To the devil with <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span>,&#8221; answered <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> gayly; &#8220;there is nothing for
+him to-night. <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span> shall have his share another time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the child smiled and tried to get up to look into the basket. The
+farmer stepped back a pace, took off the cover carefully, and lifting
+his arm with an air of solemnity, displayed before the eyes of all a
+cake of gingerbread garnished with almonds and pink and white
+sugar-plums.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>There was a general shout of admiration. <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span> himself could not restrain
+a cry of delight; a slight flush rose to his pale face and he held out
+his hands with an air of joyful expectancy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, you like it, little mole!&#8221; cried the peasant, whose face was
+radiant at the sight of the child&#8217;s pleasure; &#8220;take it, old man, take
+it; it is nothing but sugar and honey.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He placed the gingerbread in the hands of the little hunchback, who
+trembled with happiness, watched him hobble off, and turning to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span>
+when the sound of the crutches was lost in the house, said with a slight
+break in his voice:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is my eldest. Sickness has deformed him a little, but he&#8217;s a shrewd
+fellow and it only depends upon us to make a gentleman of him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While speaking he had crossed the first room on the ground-floor and led
+his guest into a species of dining-room, the whitewashed walls of which
+were decorated only with a few rudely colored prints. As he entered,
+<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> saw <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span> seated on the floor and surrounded by his brothers,
+among whom he was dividing the cake given him by his father. But each
+one objected to the size of his portion and wished to lessen it; it
+required all the little hunchback&#8217;s eloquence to make them accept what
+he had given them. For some time the young sportsman watched this
+dispute with singular interest, and when the children had gone out again
+he expressed his admiration to the farmer&#8217;s wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is quite true,&#8221; she said with a smile and a sigh, &#8220;that there are
+times when it seems as though it were a good thing for them to see
+<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean&#8217;s</span> infirmity. It is hard for them to give up to each other, but not
+one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> of them can refuse Jean anything; it is a constant exercise in
+kindness and devotion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Great virtue, that!&#8221; interrupted <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>. &#8220;Who could refuse anything to
+such a poor, afflicted little innocent? It&#8217;s a silly thing for a man to
+say; but, look you, monsieur, that child there always makes me want to
+cry. Often when I am at work in the fields, I begin all at once to think
+about him. I say to myself <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span> is ill! or <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span> is dead! and then I have
+to find some excuse for coming home to see how it is. Then he is so weak
+and so ailing! If we did not love him more than the others, he would be
+too unhappy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the mother gently, &#8220;the poor child is our cross and our joy
+at the same time. I love all my children, monsieur, but whenever I hear
+the sound of <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean&#8217;s</span> crutches on the floor, I always feel a rush of
+happiness. It is a sign that the good God has not yet taken our darling
+away from us. It seems to me as though <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span> brought happiness to the
+house just like swallows&#8217; nests fastened to the windows. If I hadn&#8217;t him
+to take care of, I should think there was nothing for me to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> listened to these naive expressions of tenderness with an
+interest that was mingled with astonishment. The farmer&#8217;s wife called a
+servant to help set the table; and at <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser&#8217;s</span> invitation, the young man
+approached the brushwood fire which had been rekindled.</p>
+
+<p>As he was leaning against the smoky mantelpiece, his eye fell upon a
+small black frame that inclosed a withered leaf. <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! you are looking at my relic. It&#8217;s a leaf of the weeping-willow that
+grows down there on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> tomb of Napoleon! I got it from a Strasbourg
+merchant who had served in the Old Guard. I wouldn&#8217;t part with it for a
+hundred crowns.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then there is some particular sentiment attached to it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sentiment, no,&#8221; answered the peasant; &#8220;but I too was discharged from
+the Fourth Regiment of Hussars, a brave regiment, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">monsieur</span>. There were
+only eight men left of our squadron, so when the Little Corporal passed
+in front of the line he saluted us&mdash;yes, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">monsieur</span>, raised his hat to us!
+That was something to make us ready to die to the last man, look you.
+Ah! he was the father of the soldier!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here the peasant began to fill his pipe, looking the while at the black
+frame and the withered leaf. In this reminder of a marvelous destiny
+there was evidently for him a whole romance of youth, emotion, and
+regret. He recalled the last struggles of the Empire, in which he had
+taken part, the reviews held by the emperor, when his mere presence
+aroused confidence in victory; the passing successes of France&#8217;s famous
+campaign, so soon expiated by the disaster at Waterloo; the departure of
+the vanquished general and his long agony on the rock of Saint Helena.</p>
+
+<p><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> respected the old soldier&#8217;s silent preoccupation and waited until
+he should resume the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The arrival of supper roused him from his reverie; he drew up a chair
+for his guest and took his place at the opposite side of the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come! fall to on the soup,&#8221; he cried brusquely. &#8220;I have had nothing
+since morning but two swallows of cognac. I should eat an ox whole
+to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>To prove his words, he began to empty the huge porringer of soup before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>For several moments nothing was heard but the clatter of spoons followed
+by that of the knives cutting up the side of bacon served by the
+farmer&#8217;s wife. His walk and the fresh air had given <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> himself an
+appetite that made him forget his Parisian daintiness. The supper grew
+gayer and gayer, when all at once the peasant raised his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Farraut</span>?&#8221; he asked. &#8220;I have not seen him since my return.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His wife and the children looked at each other without answering.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, what is it?&#8221; went on <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>, who saw their embarrassment. &#8220;Where
+is the dog? What has happened to him? Why don&#8217;t you answer, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e</span>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be angry, father,&#8221; interrupted <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span>; &#8220;we didn&#8217;t dare tell you,
+but <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Farraut</span> went away and has not come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A thousand devils! You should have told me!&#8221; cried the peasant,
+striking the table with his fist. &#8220;What road did he take?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The road to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Garennes</span>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When was it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After dinner: we saw him go up the little path.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something must have happened to him,&#8221; said <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>, getting up. &#8220;The poor
+animal is almost blind and there are sand pits all along the road! Go
+fetch my sheepskin and the lantern, wife. I must find <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Farraut</span>, dead or
+alive.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e</span> went out without making any remark either about the hour or the
+weather, and soon reappeared with what her husband had asked for.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>&#8220;You must think a great deal of this dog,&#8221; said <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span>, surprised at
+such zeal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is not I,&#8221; answered <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>, lighting his pipe; &#8220;but he did good
+service to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e&#8217;s</span> father. One day when the old man was on his way
+home from market with the price of his oxen in his pocket, four men
+tried to murder him for his money, and they would have done it if it had
+not been for <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Farraut</span>; so when the good man died two years ago, he called
+me to his bedside and asked me to care for the dog as for one of his
+children&mdash;those were his words. I promised, and it would be a crime not
+to keep one&#8217;s promise to the dead. Fritz, give me my iron-shod stick. I
+wouldn&#8217;t have anything happen to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Farraut</span> for a pint of my blood. The
+animal has been in the family for twenty years&mdash;he knows us all by our
+voices&mdash;and he recalls the grandfather. I shall see you again, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">monsieur</span>,
+and good-night until to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> wrapped himself in his sheepskin and went out. They could hear the
+sound of his iron-shod stick die away in the soughing of the wind and
+the falling of the rain.</p>
+
+<p>After awhile the farmer&#8217;s wife offered to conduct <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> to his quarters
+for the night, but <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> asked permission to await the return of the
+master of the house, if his return were not delayed too long. His
+interest in the man who had at first seemed to him so vulgar, and in the
+humble family whose existence he had thought to be so valueless,
+continued to increase.</p>
+
+<p>The vigil was prolonged, however, and <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> did not return. The children
+had fallen asleep one after another, and even <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span>, who had held out the
+long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>est, had to seek his bed at last. <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e</span>, uneasy, went
+incessantly from the fireside to the door and from the door to the
+fireside. <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> strove to reassure her, but her mind was excited by
+suspense. She accused <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> of never thinking of his health or of his
+safety; of always being ready to sacrifice himself for others; of being
+unable to see a human being or an animal suffer without risking all to
+relieve it. As she went on with her complaint, which sounded strangely
+like a glorification, her fears grew more vivid; she had a thousand
+gloomy forebodings. The dog had howled all through the previous night;
+an owl had perched upon the roof of the house; it was a Wednesday,
+always an unfortunate day in the family. Her fears reached such a pitch
+at last that the young man volunteered to go in search of her husband,
+and she was about to awaken Fritz to accompany him, when the sound of
+footsteps was heard outside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>!&#8221; said the woman, stopping short.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oho, there, open quickly, wife,&#8221; cried the farmer from without.</p>
+
+<p>She ran to draw the bolt, and <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span> appeared, carrying in his arms the
+old blind dog.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here he is,&#8221; he said gayly. &#8220;God help me! I thought I should never find
+him: the poor brute had rolled to the bottom of the big stone quarry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you went there to get him?&#8221; asked <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e</span>, horror-stricken.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Should I have left him at the bottom to find him drowned to-morrow?&#8221;
+asked the old soldier. &#8220;I slid down the length of the big mountain and I
+carried him up in my arms like a child: the lantern was left behind,
+though.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>&#8220;But you risked your life, you foolhardy man!&#8221; cried <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e</span>, who was
+shuddering at her husband&#8217;s explanation.</p>
+
+<p>The latter shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, bah!&#8221; he said with careless gayety; &#8220;who risks nothing has nothing;
+I have found Farraut&mdash;that&#8217;s the principal thing. If the grandfather
+sees us from up there, he ought to be satisfied.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This reflection, made in an almost indifferent tone, touched <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span>, who
+held out his hand impetuously to the peasant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What you have done was prompted by a good heart,&#8221; he said with feeling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What? Because I have kept a dog from drowning?&#8221; answered <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>. &#8220;Dogs
+and men&mdash;thank God I have helped more than one out of a hole since I was
+born; but I have sometimes had better weather than to-night to do it in.
+Say, wife, there must be a glass of cognac left; bring the bottle here;
+there is nothing that dries you better when you&#8217;re wet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e</span> brought the bottle to the farmer, who drank to his guest&#8217;s
+health, and then each sought his bed.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the weather was fine again; the sky was clear, and the
+birds, shaking their feathers, sang on the still dripping trees.</p>
+
+<p>When he descended from the garret, where a bed had been prepared for
+him, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> found near the door <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Farraut</span>, who was warming himself in the
+sun, while little <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jean</span>, seated on his crutches, was making him a collar
+of eglantine berries. A little further on, in the first room, the farmer
+was clinking glasses with a beggar who had come to collect his weekly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+tithe; <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Doroth&eacute;e</span> was holding his wallet, which she was filling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, old <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Henri</span>, one more draught,&#8221; said the peasant, refilling the
+beggar&#8217;s glass; &#8220;if you mean to finish your round you must take
+courage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That one always finds here,&#8221; said the beggar with a smile; &#8220;there are
+not many houses in the parish where they give more, but there is not one
+where they give with such good will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Be quiet, will you, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">P&egrave;re Henri</span>?&#8221; interrupted <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>; &#8220;do people talk of
+such things? Drink and let the good God judge each man&#8217;s actions. You,
+too, have served; we are old comrades.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man contented himself with a shake of the head and touched his
+glass to the farmer&#8217;s; but one could see that he was more moved by the
+heartiness that accompanied the alms than the alms itself.</p>
+
+<p>When he had taken up his wallet again and bade them good-by, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Moser</span>
+watched him go until he had disappeared around a bend in the road. Then
+drawing a breath, he said, turning to his guest:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One more poor old man without a home. You may believe me or not,
+monsieur, but when I see men with shaking heads going about like that,
+begging their bread from door to door, it turns my blood. I should like
+to set the table for them all and touch glasses with them all as I did
+just now with P&egrave;re Henri. To keep your heart from breaking at such a
+sight, you must believe that there is a world up there where those who
+have not been summoned to the ordinary here will receive double rations
+and double pay.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must hold to that belief,&#8221; said <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span>; &#8220;it will support and
+console you. It will be long before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> I shall forget the hours I have
+passed in your house, and I trust they will not be the last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whenever you choose,&#8221; said the old soldier; &#8220;if you don&#8217;t find the bed
+up there too hard and if you can digest our bacon, come at your
+pleasure, and we shall always be under obligations to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shook the hand that the young man had extended, pointed out the way
+that he must take, and did not leave the threshold until he had seen his
+guest disappear in the turn of the road.</p>
+
+<p>For some time <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Arnold</span> walked with lowered head, but upon reaching the
+summit of the hill he turned to take a last backward look, and seeing
+the farm-house chimney, above which curled a light wreath of smoke, he
+felt a tear of tenderness rise to his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May God always protect those who live under that roof!&#8221; he murmured;
+&#8220;for where pride made me see creatures incapable of understanding the
+finer qualities of the soul, I have found models for myself. I judged
+the depths by the surface and thought poetry absent because, instead of
+showing itself without, it hid itself in the heart of the things
+themselves; ignorant observer that I was, I pushed aside with my foot
+what I thought were pebbles, not guessing that in these rude stones were
+hidden diamonds.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="JOHN_HOWARD_PAYNE_AND_HOME_SWEET_HOME" id="JOHN_HOWARD_PAYNE_AND_HOME_SWEET_HOME"></a>JOHN HOWARD PAYNE AND &#8220;HOME, SWEET HOME&#8221;</h2>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapa"><span class="hide">A</span></span><span class="upper">bout</span> a hundred years ago, a young man, little more than a boy, was
+drawing large audiences to the theaters of our eastern cities. New York
+received him with enthusiasm, cultured Boston was charmed by his person
+and his graceful bearing, while warm-hearted Baltimore fairly outdid
+herself in hospitality. Until this time five hundred dollars was a large
+sum for a theater to yield in a single night in Baltimore, but people
+paid high premiums to hear the boy actor, and a one-evening audience
+brought in more than a thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>About the same time in <a name="corr15" id="corr15"></a>England another boy actor, Master Betty, was
+creating great excitement, and him they called the Young Roscius, a name
+that was quickly caught up by the admirers of the Yankee youth, who then
+became known as the Young American Roscius.</p>
+
+<p>He was a wonderful boy in every way, was John Howard Payne. One of a
+large family of children, several of whom were remarkably bright, he had
+from his parents the most careful training, though they were not able
+always to give him the advantages they wished. John was born in New York
+City, but early moved with his parents to East Hampton, the most eastern
+town on the jutting southern point of Long Island. Here in the charm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>ing
+little village he passed his childhood, a leader among his playmates,
+and a favorite among his elders. His slight form, rounded face,
+beautiful features and graceful bearing combined to attract also the
+marked attention of every stranger who met him.</p>
+
+<p>At thirteen years of age he was at work in New York, and soon was
+discovered to be the editor in secret of a paper called <cite>The Thespian
+Mirror</cite>. The merit of this juvenile sheet attracted the attention of
+many people, and among them of Mr. Seaman, a wealthy New Yorker who
+offered the talented boy an opportunity to go to college free of
+expense. Young Payne gladly accepted the invitation, and proceeded to
+Union College, where he soon became one of the most popular boys in the
+school. His handsome face, graceful manners and elegant delivery were
+met with applause whenever he spoke in public, and a natural taste led
+him to seek every chance for declamation and acting. Even as a child he
+had showed his dramatic ability, and more than once he was urged to go
+upon the stage. But his father refused all offers and kept the boy
+steadily at his work.</p>
+
+<p>When he was seventeen, however, two events occurred which changed all
+his plans. First his mother died, and then his father failed in
+business, and the young man saw that he must himself take up the burdens
+of the family. Accordingly he left college before graduation and began
+his career as an actor.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 302px;">
+<a name="image32" id="image32"></a><a href="images/image32-full.jpg"><img src="images/image32.jpg" width="302" height="400" alt="Portrait of John Howard Payne" title="John Howard Payne 1791-1852" /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap">John Howard Payne<br />
+1791-1852</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>His success was immediate and unusual, if we may judge from the words of
+contemporary critics. His first appearance in Boston was on February
+24,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> 1809, as Douglas in <cite>Young Norval</cite>. In this play occurs the
+speech that countless American boys have declaimed, &#8220;On the Grampian
+Hills my father feeds his flocks.&#8221; Of Payne&#8217;s rendition a critic says,
+&#8220;He had all the skill of a finished artist combined with the freshness
+and simplicity of youth. Great praise, but there are few actors who can
+claim any competition with him.&#8221; Six weeks later he was playing Hamlet
+there, and his elocution is spoken of as remarkable for its purity, his
+action as suited to the passion he represented, and his performance as
+an exquisite one that delighted his brilliant audience.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Upon the stage, a glowing boy appeared<br />
+Whom heavenly smiles and grateful thunders cheered;<br />
+Then through the throng delighted murmurs ran.<br />
+The boy enacts more wonders than a man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Another, writing about this time, says, &#8220;Young Payne was a perfect Cupid
+in his beauty, and his sweet voice, self-possessed yet modest manners,
+wit, vivacity and premature wisdom, made him a most engaging prodigy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And again, &#8220;A more engaging youth could not be imagined; he won all
+hearts by the beauty of his person and his captivating address, the
+premature richness of his mind and his chaste and flowing utterance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His great successes here led him to go to England, where his popularity
+was not nearly so great, and where the critics pounced upon him
+unmercifully, hurting his feelings beyond repair. Still he succeeded
+moderately both in England and on the Continent, until he turned his
+attention to writing rather than to acting. <cite>Brutus</cite>, a tragedy, is the
+only one of the sixty works which he wrote, translated or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> adapted, that
+ever is played nowadays. In <cite>Clari, the Maid of Milan</cite>, one of his
+operas, however, appeared a little song that has made the name of John
+Howard Payne eternally famous throughout the world.</p>
+
+<p><cite>Home, Sweet Home</cite> had originally four stanzas, but by common consent
+the third and fourth have been dropped because of their inferiority. The
+two remaining ones are sung everywhere with heartfelt appreciation, and
+the air, whatever its origin, has now association only with the words of
+the old home song. Miss Ellen Tree, who sang it in the opera, charmed
+her audience instantly, and in the end won her husband through its
+melody.</p>
+
+<p>In 1823, 100,000 copies were sold, and the publishers made 2,000 guineas
+from it in two years. In fact, it enriched everybody who had anything to
+do with it, except Payne, who sold it originally for &pound;30.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the most noteworthy incident connected with the public rendition
+of <cite>Home, Sweet Home</cite> occurred in Washington at one of the theaters
+where Jenny Lind was singing before an audience composed of the first
+people of our land. In one of the boxes sat the author, then on a visit
+to this country, and a favorite everywhere. The prima donna sang her
+greatest classical music and moved her audience to the wildest applause.
+Then in response to the renewed calls she stepped to the front of the
+stage, turned her face to the box where the poet sat, and in a voice of
+marvelous pathos and power sang:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,<br />
+Be it ever so humble, there&#8217;s no place like home!<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,<br />
+Which, seek through the world, is ne&#8217;er met with elsewhere.<br />
+<span class="i2">Home, Home! Sweet, sweet Home!</span><br />
+<span class="i2">There&#8217;s no place like Home!</span><br />
+<span class="i2">There&#8217;s no place like Home!</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 245px;">
+<a name="image33" id="image33"></a><a href="images/image33-full.png"><img src="images/image33.png" width="245" height="301" alt="A woman holding a baby, seated in a rocking chair with her husband at her side and two girls playing behind." title="THERE&#8217;S NO PLACE LIKE HOME" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THERE&#8217;S NO PLACE LIKE HOME</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain!<br />
+O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!<br />
+The birds singing gaily that came at my call;&mdash;<br />
+Give me them! and the peace of mind dearer than all!<br />
+<span class="i3">Home, Home! Sweet, sweet Home!</span><br />
+<span class="i3">There&#8217;s no place like Home!</span><br />
+<span class="i3">There&#8217;s no place like <span class="nowrap">Home!&#8221;<a name="Anchor_226-1" id="Anchor_226-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 226-1" href="#Footnote_226-1" class="fnanchor">226-1</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p>The audience were moved to tears. Even Daniel Webster, stern man of law,
+lost control of himself and wept like a child.</p>
+
+<p>Payne&#8217;s later life was not altogether a happy one, and he felt some
+resentment against the world, although it may not have been justified.
+He was unmarried, but was no more homeless than most bachelors. He
+exiled himself voluntarily from his own country, and so lost much of the
+delightful result of his own early popularity. He may have been reduced
+to privation and suffering, but it was not for long at a time. Some
+writers have sought to heighten effect by making the author of the
+greatest song of home a homeless wanderer. The truth is that Payne&#8217;s
+unhappiness was largely the result of his own peculiarities. He was
+given to poetic exaggeration, for there is now known to be little stern
+fact in the following oft-quoted writing of himself:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How often have I been in the heart of Paris, Berlin, London or some
+other city, and have heard persons singing or hand organs playing <cite>Sweet
+Home</cite> without having a shilling to buy myself the next meal or a place
+to lay my head! The world has literally sung my song until every heart
+is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> familiar with its melody, yet I have been a wanderer from my
+boyhood. My country has turned me ruthlessly from office and in my old
+age I have to submit to humiliation for my bread.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Upon his own request he was appointed United States consul at Tunis, and
+after being removed from that office continued to reside there until his
+death. He was buried in Saint George&#8217;s Cemetery in Tunis, and there his
+body rested for more than thirty years, until W. W. Corcoran, a wealthy
+resident of Washington, had it disinterred, brought to this country and
+buried in the beautiful Oak Hill Cemetery near Washington. There a white
+marble shaft surmounted by a bust of the poet marks his last home. On
+one side of the shaft is the inscription:</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">John Howard Payne,<br />
+Author of &#8220;Home, Sweet Home.&#8221;<br />
+Born June 9, 1792. Died April 9, 1852.</p>
+
+<p>On the other side is chiseled this stanza:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Sure when thy gentle spirit fled<br />
+To realms above the azure dome,<br />
+With outstretched arms God&#8217;s angels said<br />
+Welcome to Heaven&#8217;s Home, Sweet Home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Much sentiment has been wasted over Payne, who was really not a great
+poet and whose lack of stamina prevented him from grasping the power
+already in his hand. We should remember, too, that the astonishing
+popularity of <cite>Home, Sweet Home</cite> is doubtless due more to the glorious
+melody of the air, probably composed by some unknown Sicilian, than to
+the wording of the two stanzas.</p>
+
+<p>When we study the verses themselves we see that the first three lines
+are rather fine, but the fourth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> line is clumsy and matter-of-fact
+compared with the others. In the second stanza &#8220;lowly thatched cottage&#8221;
+may be a poetic description, but the home longing is not confined to
+people who have lived in thatched cottages. Tame singing birds are
+interesting, but home stands for higher and holier things. All he asks
+for are a thatched cottage, singing birds and peace of mind: a curious
+group of things. The fourth line of that stanza is unmusical and
+inharmonious.</p>
+
+<p>These facts make us see that what really has made the song so dear to us
+is its sweet music and the powerful emotion that seizes us all when we
+think of the home of our childhood.</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_226-1" id="Footnote_226-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_226-1" class="label">226-1</a> Capitals and punctuation as written by Payne.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<h2 class="story"><a name="AULD_LANG_SYNE" id="AULD_LANG_SYNE"></a>AULD LANG <span class="nowrap">SYNE<a name="Anchor_228-1" id="Anchor_228-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 228-1" href="#Footnote_228-1" class="fnanchor" style="font-size: smaller;">228-1</a></span></h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Robert Burns</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note</span>.&mdash;The song as we know it is not the first song to bear that
+title, nor is it entirely original with Robert Burns. It is said
+that the second and third stanzas were written by him, but that the
+others were merely revised. In a letter to a friend, written in
+1793, Burns says, &#8220;The air (of <cite>Auld Lang Syne</cite>) is but mediocre;
+but the following song, the old song of the olden time, which has
+never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down
+from an old man&#8217;s singing, is enough to recommend any air.&#8221; This
+refers to the song as we know it, but the friend, a Mr. Thompson,
+set the words to an old Lowland air which is the one every one now
+uses.</p>
+
+<p>At an earlier date Burns wrote to another friend: &#8220;Is not the
+Scottish phrase, <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld lang syne</em>, exceedingly expressive? There is
+an old song and tune that has often thrilled<span class='pagenum' style="font-size: 89%"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> through my soul.
+Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who
+composed this glorious fragment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We cannot be certain that this refers to the exact wording he
+subsequently set down, for there were at least three versions known
+at that time.</p></div>
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">S</span><span class="upper">hould</span> <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld</span> acquaintance be forgot,<br />
+<span class="i1">And never brought to min&#8217;?</span><br />
+Should <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld</span> acquaintance be forgot,<br />
+<span class="i1">And days o&#8217; <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">lang syne</span>?</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i2"><em>For <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld lang syne</span>, my dear,</em></span><br />
+<span class="i3"><em>For <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld lang syne</span>,</em></span><br />
+<span class="i2"><em>We&#8217;ll <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">tak</span> a cup o&#8217; kindness </em><span class="nowrap"><em>yet,</em><a name="Anchor_229-2" id="Anchor_229-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-2" href="#Footnote_229-2" class="fnanchor">229-2</a></span></span><br />
+<span class="i3"><em>For <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld lang syne</span>.</em></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">We <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">twa<a name="Anchor_229-3" id="Anchor_229-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-3" href="#Footnote_229-3" class="fnanchor">229-3</a></span> <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">hae<a name="Anchor_229-4" id="Anchor_229-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-4" href="#Footnote_229-4" class="fnanchor">229-4</a></span> run about the <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">braes,<a name="Anchor_229-5" id="Anchor_229-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-5" href="#Footnote_229-5" class="fnanchor">229-5</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">And <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">pou&#8217;d<a name="Anchor_229-6" id="Anchor_229-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-6" href="#Footnote_229-6" class="fnanchor">229-6</a></span> the <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">gowans<a name="Anchor_229-7" id="Anchor_229-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-7" href="#Footnote_229-7" class="fnanchor">229-7</a></span> fine;</span><br />
+But we&#8217;ve wandered <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">mony<a name="Anchor_229-8" id="Anchor_229-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-8" href="#Footnote_229-8" class="fnanchor">229-8</a></span> a weary foot<br />
+<span class="i1"><span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Sin&#8217;<a name="Anchor_229-9" id="Anchor_229-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-9" href="#Footnote_229-9" class="fnanchor">229-9</a></span> <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld lang syne</span>.</span><br />
+<span class="i4"><em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">For auld</em>, etc.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">We <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">twa hae</span> <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">paidl&#8217;t<a name="Anchor_229-10" id="Anchor_229-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-10" href="#Footnote_229-10" class="fnanchor">229-10</a></span> i&#8217; the <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">burn,<a name="Anchor_229-11" id="Anchor_229-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-11" href="#Footnote_229-11" class="fnanchor">229-11</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1"><span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Frae<a name="Anchor_229-12" id="Anchor_229-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-12" href="#Footnote_229-12" class="fnanchor">229-12</a></span> mornin&#8217; sun till <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">dine;<a name="Anchor_229-13" id="Anchor_229-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-13" href="#Footnote_229-13" class="fnanchor">229-13</a></span></span><br />
+But seas between us <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">braid<a name="Anchor_229-14" id="Anchor_229-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 229-14" href="#Footnote_229-14" class="fnanchor">229-14</a></span> <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">hae</span> roared<br />
+<span class="i1" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Sin&#8217; auld lang syne.</span><br />
+<span class="i4"><em>For auld</em>, etc.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>And here&#8217;s a hand, my trusty <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">frere,<a name="Anchor_230-15" id="Anchor_230-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 230-15" href="#Footnote_230-15" class="fnanchor">230-15</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">And <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">gie&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_230-16" id="Anchor_230-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 230-16" href="#Footnote_230-16" class="fnanchor">230-16</a></span> a hand o&#8217; thine;</span><br />
+And we&#8217;ll tak a right <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">guid<a name="Anchor_230-17" id="Anchor_230-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 230-17" href="#Footnote_230-17" class="fnanchor">230-17</a></span> <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">willie-waught<a name="Anchor_230-18" id="Anchor_230-18"></a><a title="Go to footnote 230-18" href="#Footnote_230-18" class="fnanchor">230-18</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">For <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld lang syne</span>.</span><br />
+<span class="i4"><em>For auld</em>, etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image34" id="image34"></a><a href="images/image34-full.png"><img src="images/image34.png" width="247" height="195" alt="Two old men in kilts greeting each other in front of a gate." title="FOR AULD LANG SYNE" /></a>
+<span class="caption">FOR AULD LANG SYNE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">And surely ye&#8217;ll be your <span class="nowrap" lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">pint-stoup,<a name="Anchor_230-19" id="Anchor_230-19"></a><a title="Go to footnote 230-19" href="#Footnote_230-19" class="fnanchor">230-19</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">And surely I&#8217;ll be mine;</span><br />
+And we&#8217;ll tak a cup o&#8217; kindness yet<br />
+<span class="i1">For <span lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">auld lang syne</span>.</span><br />
+<span class="i4"><em>For auld</em>, etc.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_228-1" id="Footnote_228-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_228-1" class="label">228-1</a> Literally, <em>Auld Lang Syne</em> means <em>Old Long-Since</em>. It
+is difficult to bring out the meaning of the Scotch phrase by a single
+English word. Perhaps <em>The Good Old Times</em> comes as near to it as
+anything. The song gives so much meaning to the Scotch phrase that now
+every man and woman knows what <em>Auld Lang Syne</em> really stands for.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-2" id="Footnote_229-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-2" class="label">229-2</a> That is, <em>we will drink for the sake of old times</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-3" id="Footnote_229-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-3" class="label">229-3</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Twa</em> means <em>two</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-4" id="Footnote_229-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-4" class="label">229-4</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Hae</em> is the Scotch for <em>have</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-5" id="Footnote_229-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-5" class="label">229-5</a> A brae is a sloping hillside.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-6" id="Footnote_229-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-6" class="label">229-6</a> <em>Pou&#8217;d</em> is a contracted form of <em>pulled</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-7" id="Footnote_229-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-7" class="label">229-7</a> Dandelions, daisies and other yellow flowers are called
+<em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">gowans</em> by the Scotch.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-8" id="Footnote_229-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-8" class="label">229-8</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Mony</em> is <em>many</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-9" id="Footnote_229-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-9" class="label">229-9</a> <em>Sin&#8217;</em> is a contraction of <em>since</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-10" id="Footnote_229-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-10" class="label">229-10</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Paidl&#8217;t</em> means <em>paddled</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-11" id="Footnote_229-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-11" class="label">229-11</a> A burn is a brook.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-12" id="Footnote_229-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-12" class="label">229-12</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Frae</em> is the Scotch word for <em>from</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-13" id="Footnote_229-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-13" class="label">229-13</a> <em>Dine</em> means <em>dinner-time</em>, <em>midday</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_229-14" id="Footnote_229-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_229-14" class="label">229-14</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Braid</em> is the Scotch form of <em>broad</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_230-15" id="Footnote_230-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_230-15" class="label">230-15</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Frere</em> means <em>friend</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_230-16" id="Footnote_230-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_230-16" class="label">230-16</a> <em>Gie&#8217;s</em> is a contracted form of <em>give us</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_230-17" id="Footnote_230-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_230-17" class="label">230-17</a> <em lang="sco" xml:lang="sco">Guid</em> is the Scottish spelling of <em>good</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_230-18" id="Footnote_230-18"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_230-18" class="label">230-18</a> A willie-waught is a hearty draught.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_230-19" id="Footnote_230-19"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_230-19" class="label">230-19</a> A pint-stoup is a pint-cup or flagon.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD" id="HOME_THEY_BROUGHT_HER_WARRIOR_DEAD"></a>HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">H</span><span class="upper">ome</span> they brought her warrior dead:<br />
+<span class="i1">She nor swoon&#8217;d nor utter&#8217;d cry:</span><br />
+All her maidens, watching, said,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;She must weep or she will die.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Then they praised him, soft and low,<br />
+<span class="i1">Call&#8217;d him worthy to be loved,</span><br />
+Truest friend and noblest foe;<br />
+<span class="i1">Yet she never spoke nor moved.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Stole a maiden from her place,<br />
+<span class="i1">Lightly to the warrior stept,</span><br />
+Took a face-cloth from the face;<br />
+<span class="i1">Yet she neither moved nor wept.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Rose a nurse of ninety years,<br />
+<span class="i1">Set his child upon her knee&mdash;</span><br />
+Like summer tempest came her tears&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Sweet my child, I live for thee.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px;">
+<img src="images/image35.png" width="75" height="70" alt="Wreath" title="Wreath" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="CHARLES_DICKENS" id="CHARLES_DICKENS"></a>CHARLES DICKENS</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">o</span> begin my life with the beginning of my life,&#8221; Dickens makes one of
+his heroes say, &#8220;I record that I was born (as I have been informed and
+believe) on a Friday, at twelve o&#8217;clock at night.&#8221; Dickens was born on a
+Friday, the date the 7th of February, 1812, the place Landport in
+Portsea, England. The house was a comfortable one, and during Charles&#8217;s
+early childhood his surroundings were prosperous; for his father, John
+Dickens, a clerk in the navy pay-office, was temporarily in easy
+circumstances. When Charles was but two, the family moved to London,
+taking lodgings for a time in Norfolk Street, Bloomsbury, and finally
+settling in Chatham. Here they lived in comfort, and here Charles gained
+more than the rudiments of an education, his earliest teacher being his
+mother, who instructed him not only in English, but in Latin also. Later
+he became the pupil of Mr. Giles, who seems to have taken in him an
+extraordinary interest.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 298px;">
+<a name="image36" id="image36"></a><a href="images/image36-full.jpg"><img src="images/image36.jpg" width="298" height="400" alt="Portrait of Charles Dickens" title="Charles Dickens 1812-1870" /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap">Charles Dickens<br />
+1812-1870</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Indeed, he was a child in whom it was difficult not to take an
+extraordinary interest. Small for his years, and attacked occasionally
+by a sort of spasm which was exceedingly painful, he was not fitted for
+much active exercise; but the <em>aliveness</em> which was apparent in him all
+his life distinguished him now. He was very fond of reading, and in
+<cite>David Copperfield</cite> he put into the mouth of his hero a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> description
+of his own delight in certain books. &#8220;My father had left a small
+collection of books in a little room upstairs, to which I had access
+(for it adjoined my own), and which nobody else in our house ever
+troubled. From that blessed little room, <cite>Roderick Random</cite>, <cite>Peregrine
+Pickle</cite>, <cite>Humphrey Clinker</cite>, <cite>Tom Jones</cite>, <cite>The Vicar of Wakefield</cite>, <cite>Don
+Quixote</cite>, <cite>Gil Blas</cite> and <cite>Robinson Crusoe</cite> came out, a glorious host, to
+keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, ... they, and the <cite>Arabian
+Nights</cite> and the <cite>Tales of the Genii</cite>&mdash;and did me no harm; for whatever
+harm was in some of them was not there for me; I knew nothing of it....
+I have been Tom Jones (a child&#8217;s Tom Jones, a harmless creature) for a
+week together. I have sustained my own idea of Roderick Random for a
+month at a stretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish for a few
+volumes of Voyages and Travels&mdash;I forget what, now&mdash;that were on those
+shelves; and for days and days I can remember to have gone about my
+region of our house, armed with the center piece out of an old set of
+boot-trees&mdash;the perfect realization of Captain Somebody, of the Royal
+British Navy, in danger of being beset by savages, and resolved to sell
+his life at a great price.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Not only did the little Charles read all he could lay hands upon; he
+made up stories, too, which he told to his small playmates, winning
+thereby their wondering admiration. Some of these tales he wrote down,
+and thus he became an author in a small way while he was yet a very
+small boy. His making believe to be the characters out of books shows
+another trait which clung to him all his life&mdash;his fondness for
+&#8220;play-acting.&#8221; It was, in fact, often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> said of the mature Dickens that
+he would have made as good an actor as he was a novelist, and Dickens&#8217;s
+father seems to have recognized in his little son decided traces of
+ability; for often, when there was company at the house, little Charles,
+with his face flushed and his eyes shining, would be placed on a table
+to sing a comic song, amid the applause of all present.</p>
+
+<p>His early days were thus very happy; but when he was about eleven years
+old, money difficulties beset the family, and they were obliged to move
+to a poor part of London. Mrs. Dickens made persistent efforts to open a
+school for young ladies, but no one ever showed the slightest intention
+of coming. Matters went from bad to worse, and finally Mr. Dickens was
+arrested for debt and taken to the Marshalsea prison. The time that
+followed was a most painful one to the sensitive boy&mdash;far more painful,
+it would seem, than to the &#8220;Prodigal Father,&#8221; as Dickens later called
+him. This father, whom Dickens long afterward described, in <cite>David
+Copperfield</cite>, as Mr. Micawber, was, as his son was always most willing
+to testify, a kind, generous man; but he was improvident to the last
+degree; and when in difficulties which would have made melancholy any
+other man, he was able, by the mere force of his rhetoric, to lift
+himself above circumstances or to make himself happy in them.</p>
+
+<p>At length all the family except the oldest sister, who was at school,
+and Charles, went to live in the prison; and Charles was given work in a
+blacking-warehouse of which a relative of his mother&#8217;s was manager. The
+sufferings which the boy endured at this time were intense. It was not
+only that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> work was sordid, monotonous, uncongenial; it was not only
+that his pride was outraged; what hurt him most of all was that he
+should have been &#8220;so easily cast away at such an age,&#8221; and that &#8220;no one
+made any sign.&#8221; He had always yearned for an education; he had always
+felt that he must grow up to be worth something. And to see himself
+condemned, as he felt with the hopelessness of childhood, for life, to
+the society of such boys as he found in the blacking-warehouse, was
+almost more than he could endure. During his later life, prosperous and
+happy, he could scarcely bear to speak, even to his dearest friends, of
+this period of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Though this period of his life seemed to him long, it was not really so,
+for he was not yet thirteen when he was taken from the warehouse and
+sent to school. Once given a chance, he learned rapidly and easily,
+although in all probability the schools to which he went were not of the
+best. After a year or two at school he again began work, but this time
+under more hopeful circumstances. He was, to be sure, but an
+under-clerk&mdash;little more than an office-boy in a solicitor&#8217;s office; but
+at least the surroundings were less sordid and the companions more
+congenial. However, he had no intention of remaining an under-clerk, and
+he set to work to make himself a reporter.</p>
+
+<p>Of his difficulties in mastering shorthand he has written feelingly in
+that novel which contains so much autobiographical material&mdash;<cite>David
+Copperfield</cite>. &#8220;I bought an approved scheme of the noble art and mystery
+of stenography ... and plunged into a sea of perplexity that brought me,
+in a few weeks, to the confines of distraction. The changes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> that were
+rung upon dots, which in such a position meant such a thing, and in such
+another position something else, entirely different; the wonderful
+vagaries that were played by circles; the unaccountable consequences
+that resulted from marks like flies&#8217; legs, the tremendous effect of a
+curve in the wrong place; not only troubled my waking hours, but
+reappeared before me in my sleep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When Dickens once made up his mind to do a thing, however, he always
+went through with it, and before so very long he had perfected himself
+in his &#8220;art and mystery,&#8221; and was one of the most rapid and accurate
+reporters in London.</p>
+
+<p>At nineteen he became a reporter of the speeches in Parliament. Before
+taking up his newspaper work, he made an attempt to go upon the stage;
+but it was not long before he found his true vocation, and abandoned all
+thought of the stage as a means of livelihood. In 1833 he published a
+sketch in the <cite>Old Monthly Magazine</cite>, and this was the first of those
+<cite>Sketches by Boz</cite> which were published at intervals for the next two
+years.</p>
+
+<p>The year 1836 was a noteworthy one for Dickens, for in that year he
+married Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of an associate on the
+<cite>Chronicle</cite>; and in that year began the publication of <cite>The Posthumous
+Papers of the Pickwick Club</cite>. The publication of the first few numbers
+wakened no great enthusiasm, but with the appearance of the fifth
+number, in which Sam Weller is introduced, began that popularity which
+did not decline until Dickens&#8217;s death. In fact, as one writer has said,
+&#8220;In dealing with Dickens, we are dealing with a man whose public success
+was a marvel and almost a monstrosity.&#8221;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> Every one, old and young,
+serious and flippant, talked of <cite>Pickwick</cite>, and it was actually
+reported, by no less an authority than Thomas Carlyle, that a solemn
+clergyman, being told that he had not long to live, exclaimed, &#8220;Well,
+thank God, <cite>Pickwick</cite> will be out in ten days anyway!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><cite>Oliver Twist</cite> followed, and then <cite>Nicholas Nickleby</cite>; and by this time
+Dickens began to get, what he did not receive from his first work,
+something like his fair share of the enormous profits, so that his
+growing family lived in comfort, if not in luxury. When the <cite>Old
+Curiosity Shop</cite>, and, later, <cite>Barnaby Rudge</cite>, appeared, the number of
+purchasers of the serials rose as high as seventy thousand.</p>
+
+<p>Early in 1842 Dickens and his wife made a journey to America, leaving
+their children in the care of a friend. Shortly after arriving in the
+United States he wrote to a friend, &#8220;I can give you no conception of my
+welcome here. There was never a king or emperor upon the earth so
+cheered and followed by crowds, and entertained in public at splendid
+balls and dinners, and waited on by public bodies and deputations of all
+kinds;&#8221; and again, &#8220;In every town where we stay, though it be only for a
+day, we hold a regular levee or drawing-room, where I shake hands on an
+average with five or six hundred people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dickens had come prepared to like America and Americans&mdash;and in many
+ways he did like them. But in other ways he was disappointed. He
+ventured to object, in various speeches, to the pirating, in America, of
+English literature, and fierce were the denunciations which this course
+drew upon him. Having fancied that in the republic of America he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> might
+have at least free speech on a matter which so closely concerned him,
+Dickens resented this treatment, and the Americans resented his
+resentment. However, it was with the kindliest feelings toward the many
+friends he had made in the United States, and with the most out-spoken
+admiration for many American institutions that he left for England. The
+publication of his <cite>American Notes</cite> and of <cite>Martin Chuzzlewit</cite> did not
+tend to reconcile Americans to Dickens; but there seems to have been no
+falling off in the sale of his books in this country.</p>
+
+<p>Dickens&#8217;s life, like the lives of most literary men, was not
+particularly eventful. It was, however, a constantly busy life. Book
+followed book in rapid succession, and still their popularity grew.
+Sometimes in London, sometimes in Italy or Rome or Switzerland, he
+created those wonderful characters of his which will live as long as the
+English language. The first of the Christmas books, <cite>A Christmas Carol</cite>,
+appeared in 1843, and henceforward one of the things to which people
+looked forward at Yuletide was the publication of a new Dickens
+Christmas story.</p>
+
+<p>One diversion&mdash;if diversion it can be called&mdash;Dickens allowed himself
+not infrequently, and enjoyed most thoroughly. This was the production,
+sometimes before a selected audience, sometimes in public, of plays, in
+which Dickens himself usually took the chief part. Often these plays
+were given not only in London, but in various parts of the country, as
+benefits for poor authors or actors, or for the widows and families of
+such; and always they were astonishingly successful. It is reported that
+an old stage prompter or property man said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> one time to Dickens &#8220;Lor,
+Mr. Dickens! If it hadn&#8217;t been for them books, what an actor you would
+have made.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, a man of Dickens&#8217;s eminence had as his friends and
+acquaintances many of the foremost men of his time, and a most
+affectionate and delightful friend he was. His letters fall no whit
+below the best of his writing in his novels in their power of
+observation, their brightness, their humorous manner of expression.</p>
+
+<p>In 1849 was begun the publication of <cite>David Copperfield</cite>, Dickens&#8217;s own
+favorite among his novels. It contains, as has already been said, much
+that is autobiographical, and one of the most interesting facts in
+connection with this phase of it is that there really was, in Dickens&#8217;s
+young days, a &#8220;Dora&#8221; whom he worshiped. Years later he met her again,
+and what his feelings on that occasion must have been may be imagined
+when we know that this Dora-grown-older was the original of &#8220;Flora&#8221; in
+<cite>Little Dorrit</cite>.</p>
+
+<p>The things that Dickens, writing constantly and copiously, found time to
+do are wonderful. One of the matters in which he took great interest and
+an active part was the children&#8217;s theatricals. These were held each year
+during the Christmas holiday season at Dickens&#8217;s home, and while his
+children and their friends were the principal actors, Dickens
+superintended the whole, introduced three-quarters of the fun, and
+played grown-up parts, adopting as his stage title the &#8220;Modern Garrick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Though the story of these crowded years is quickly told, the years were
+far from being uneventful in their passing. Occasional sojourns,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> either
+with his family or with friends, in France and in Italy always made
+Dickens but the more glad to be in his beloved London, where he seemed
+most in his element and where his genius had freest play. This does not
+mean that he did not enjoy France and Italy, or appreciate their
+beauties, but simply that he was always an Englishman&mdash;a city
+Englishman. His observations, however, on what he saw in traveling were
+always most acute and entertaining.</p>
+
+<p>His account of his well-nigh unsuccessful attempt to find the house of
+Mr. Lowther, English charg&eacute; d&#8217;affaires at Naples, with whom he had been
+invited to dine, may be quoted here to show his power of humorous
+description:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We had an exceedingly pleasant dinner of eight, preparatory to which I
+was near having the ridiculous adventure of not being able to find the
+house and coming back dinnerless. I went in an open carriage from the
+hotel in all state, and the coachman, to my surprise, pulled up at the
+end of the Chiaja.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Behold the house&#8217; says he, &#8216;of Signor Larthoor!&#8217;&mdash;at the same time
+pointing with his whip into the seventh heaven, where the early stars
+were shining.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;But the Signor Larthoor,&#8217; returns the Inimitable darling, &#8216;lives at
+Pausilippo.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;It is true,&#8217; says the coachman (still pointing to the evening star),
+&#8216;but he lives high up the Salita Sant&#8217; Antonio, where no carriage ever
+yet ascended, and that is the house&#8217; (evening star as aforesaid), &#8216;and
+one must go on foot. Behold the Salita Sant&#8217; Antonio!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>&#8220;I went up it, a mile and a half I should think. I got into the
+strangest places, among the wildest Neapolitans&mdash;kitchens,
+washing-places, archways, stables, vineyards&mdash;was baited by dogs,
+answered in profoundly unintelligible Neapolitan, from behind lonely
+locked doors, in cracked female voices, quaking with fear; could hear of
+no such Englishman or any Englishman. By-and-by I came upon a
+Polenta-shop in the clouds, where an old Frenchman, with an umbrella
+like a faded tropical leaf (it had not rained for six weeks) was staring
+at nothing at all, with a snuff-box in his hand. To him I appealed
+concerning the Signor Larthoor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Sir,&#8217; said he, with the sweetest politeness, &#8216;can you speak French?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Sir,&#8217; said I, &#8216;a little.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Sir,&#8217; said he, &#8216;I presume the Signor Lootheere&#8217;&mdash;you will observe that
+he changed the name according to the custom of his country&mdash;&#8216;is an
+Englishman.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I admitted that he was the victim of circumstances and had that
+misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Sir,&#8217; said he, &#8216;one word more. <em>Has</em> he a servant with a wooden leg?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Great Heaven, sir,&#8217; said I, &#8216;how do I know? I should think not, but it
+is possible.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;It is always,&#8217; said the Frenchman, &#8216;possible. Almost all the things of
+the world are always possible.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Sir,&#8217; said I&mdash;you may imagine my condition and dismal sense of my own
+absurdity by this time&mdash;&#8216;that is true.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He then took an immense pinch of snuff, wiped the dust off his
+umbrella, led me to an arch com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>manding a wonderful view of the Bay of
+Naples, and pointed deep into the earth from which I had mounted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Below there, near the lamp, one finds an Englishman, with a servant
+with a wooden leg. It is always possible that he is the Signor
+Lootheere.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had been asked at six, and it was now getting on for seven. I went
+down again in a state of perspiration and misery not to be described,
+and without the faintest hope of finding the place. But as I was going
+down to the lamp, I saw the strangest staircase up a dark corner, with a
+man in a white waistcoat (evidently hired) standing on the top of it
+fuming. I dashed in at a venture, found it was the place, made the most
+of the whole story, and was indescribably popular.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indescribably popular&#8221; Dickens was almost every place he went. And in
+1858 there came to him increased popularity by reason of a new venture.
+In this year he began his public readings from his own works, which
+brought him in immense sums of money. Through England, Scotland, Ireland
+and the United States he journeyed, reading, as only he could read,
+scenes humorous and pathetic from his great novels, and everywhere the
+effect was the same.</p>
+
+<p>Descriptive of an evening at Edinburgh, he wrote: &#8220;Such a pouring of
+hundreds into a place already full to the throat, such indescribable
+confusion, such a rending and tearing of dresses, and yet such a scene
+of good humor on the whole!... I read with the platform crammed with
+people. I got them to lie down upon it, and it was like some impossible
+tableau or gigantic picnic; one pretty girl in full dress hang on her
+side all night, holding on to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> one of the legs of my table. And yet from
+the moment I began to the moment of my leaving off, they never missed a
+point, and they ended with a burst of cheers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Dickens&#8217;s domestic life had not been happy. He and his wife
+were not entirely congenial in temper, and the incompatibility increased
+with the years, until in 1858 they agreed to live apart. Most of the
+children remained with their father, although they were given perfect
+freedom to visit their mother.</p>
+
+<p>Among Dickens&#8217;s later novels are the <cite>Tale of Two Cities</cite>, <cite>Great
+Expectations</cite>, which is one of his very best books, and <cite>Our Mutual
+Friend</cite>, which, while as a story it has many faults, yet abounds with
+the humor and fancy which are characteristic of Dickens. In October,
+1869, was begun <cite>Edwin Drood</cite>, which was published like most of its
+predecessors, as a serial. Six numbers appeared, and there the story
+closed; for on June 9, 1870, Charles Dickens died, after an illness of
+but one day, during all of which he was unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>His family desired to have him buried near his home, the Gad&#8217;s Hill
+which he had admired from his childhood and had purchased in his
+manhood; but the general wish was that he should be laid in Westminster
+Abbey, and to this wish his family felt that it would be wrong to
+object. For days there were crowds of mourners about the grave, shedding
+tears, scattering flowers, testifying to the depth of affection they had
+felt for the man who had given them so many happy hours.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="A_CHRISTMAS_CAROL" id="A_CHRISTMAS_CAROL"></a>A CHRISTMAS CAROL</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span></p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">STAVE ONE</h3>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>Marley&#8217;s Ghost</em></p>
+
+<p><span class="dropcapm"><span class="hide">M</span></span><span class="upper">arley</span> was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.
+The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the
+undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge&#8217;s name
+was good upon &#8216;Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old
+Marley was as dead as a door-nail.</p>
+
+<p>Mind! I don&#8217;t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there
+is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined,
+myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in
+the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my
+unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country&#8217;s done for. You
+will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as
+dead as a door-nail.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise?
+Scrooge and he were partners for I don&#8217;t know how many years. Scrooge
+was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole
+residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge
+was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized
+it with an undoubted bargain.</p>
+
+<p>The mention of Marley&#8217;s funeral brings me back to the point I started
+from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly
+understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to
+relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet&#8217;s Father died
+before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his
+taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts,
+than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning
+out after dark in a breezy spot&mdash;say Saint Paul&#8217;s Churchyard for
+instance&mdash;literally to astonish his son&#8217;s weak mind.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge never painted out Old Marley&#8217;s name. There it stood, years
+afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was
+known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called
+Scrooge Scrooge and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it
+was all the same to him.</p>
+
+<p>Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a
+squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old
+sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had even struck out
+generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
+The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose,
+shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin
+lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime
+was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his
+own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the
+dog-days; and didn&#8217;t thaw it one degree at Christmas.</p>
+
+<p>External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could
+warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than
+he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain
+less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn&#8217;t know where to have him. The
+heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the
+advantage over him in only one respect. They often &#8220;came down&#8221;
+handsomely, and Scrooge never did.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, &#8220;My
+dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?&#8221; No beggars
+implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was
+o&#8217;clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to
+such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind men&#8217;s dogs appeared to
+know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into
+doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they
+said, &#8220;No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his
+way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep
+its distance, was what the knowing ones call &#8220;nuts&#8221; to Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time&mdash;of all the good days in the year, on Christmas
+Eve&mdash;old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak,
+biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> in the court
+outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts,
+and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The City
+clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already: it had
+not been light all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the
+neighboring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The
+fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense
+without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses
+opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down,
+obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by,
+and was brewing on a large <span class="nowrap">scale.<a name="Anchor_247-1" id="Anchor_247-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 247-1" href="#Footnote_247-1" class="fnanchor">247-1</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The door of Scrooge&#8217;s counting-house was open that he might keep his eye
+upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was
+copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk&#8217;s fire was
+so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn&#8217;t
+replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so
+surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that
+it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his
+white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which
+effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he failed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!&#8221; cried a cheerful voice. It was
+the voice of Scrooge&#8217;s nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this
+was the first intimation he had of his approach.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>&#8220;Bah!&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Humbug!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this
+nephew of Scrooge&#8217;s, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and
+handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Christmas a humbug, uncle!&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s nephew. &#8220;You don&#8217;t mean
+that, I am sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry?
+What reason have you to be merry? You&#8217;re poor enough.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, then,&#8221; returned the nephew gaily. &#8220;What right have you to be
+dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You&#8217;re rich enough.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said,
+&#8220;Bah!&#8221; again; and followed it up with &#8220;Humbug.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be cross, uncle,&#8221; said the nephew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What else can I be,&#8221; returned the uncle, &#8220;when I live in such a world
+of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What&#8217;s
+Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time
+for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for
+balancing your books and having every item in &#8217;em through a round dozen
+months presented dead against you? If I could work my will,&#8221; said
+Scrooge, indignantly, &#8220;every idiot who goes about with &#8216;Merry Christmas&#8217;
+on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a
+stake of holly through his heart. He should!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Uncle!&#8221; pleaded the nephew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nephew!&#8221; returned the uncle, sternly, &#8220;keep Christmas in your own way,
+and let me keep it in mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>&#8220;Keep it!&#8221; repeated Scrooge&#8217;s nephew. &#8220;But you don&#8217;t keep it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me leave it alone, then,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Much good may it do you!
+Much good it has ever done you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I
+have not profited, I dare say,&#8221; returned the nephew: &#8220;Christmas among
+the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it
+has come round&mdash;apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and
+origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that&mdash;as a good
+time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know
+of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one
+consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people
+below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and
+not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore,
+uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I
+believe that it <em>has</em> done me good, and <em>will</em> do me good; and I say,
+God bless it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded: becoming immediately
+sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the
+last frail spark for ever.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me hear another sound from <em>you</em>,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;and you&#8217;ll keep
+your Christmas by losing your situation. You&#8217;re quite a powerful
+speaker, Sir,&#8221; he added, turning to his nephew. &#8220;I wonder you don&#8217;t go
+into Parliament.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>Scrooge said that he would see him&mdash;yes, indeed he did. He went the
+whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that
+extremity first.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why?&#8221; cried Scrooge&#8217;s nephew. &#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did you get married?&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because I fell in love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because you fell in love!&#8221; growled Scrooge, as if that were the only
+one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. &#8220;Good
+afternoon!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give
+it as a reason for not coming now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good afternoon,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be
+friends?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good afternoon,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never
+had any quarrel to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial
+in homage to Christmas, and I&#8217;ll keep my Christmas humour to the last.
+So A Merry Christmas, uncle!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good afternoon!&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And A Happy New Year!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good afternoon!&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He
+stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on the
+clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for he returned
+them cordially.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s another fellow,&#8221; muttered Scrooge; who overheard him: &#8220;my
+clerk, with fifteen shillings a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> week, and a wife and family, talking
+about a merry Christmas. I&#8217;ll retire to <span class="nowrap">Bedlam.&#8221;<a name="Anchor_251-2" id="Anchor_251-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 251-2" href="#Footnote_251-2" class="fnanchor">251-2</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This lunatic, in letting Scrooge&#8217;s nephew out, had let two other people
+in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with
+their hats off, in Scrooge&#8217;s office. They had books and papers in their
+hands, and bowed to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Scrooge and Marley&#8217;s, I believe,&#8221; said one of the gentlemen, referring
+to his list. &#8220;Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr.
+Marley?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years,&#8221; Scrooge replied. &#8220;He died
+seven years ago, this very night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving
+partner,&#8221; said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.</p>
+
+<p>It certainly was; for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous
+word &#8220;liberality,&#8221; Scrooge frowned, and shook his head, and handed the
+credentials back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,&#8221; said the gentleman,
+taking up a pen, &#8220;it is more than usually desirable that we should make
+some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at
+the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries;
+hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, Sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are there no prisons?&#8221; asked Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plenty of prisons,&#8221; said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>&#8220;And the Union <span class="nowrap">workhouses?&#8221;<a name="Anchor_252-3" id="Anchor_252-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 252-3" href="#Footnote_252-3" class="fnanchor">252-3</a></span> demanded Scrooge. &#8220;Are they still in
+operation?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are. Still,&#8221; returned the gentleman, &#8220;I wish I could say they were
+not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The <span class="nowrap">Treadmill<a name="Anchor_252-4" id="Anchor_252-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 252-4" href="#Footnote_252-4" class="fnanchor">252-4</a></span> and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?&#8221; said
+Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Both very busy, Sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had
+occurred to stop them in their useful course,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;I&#8217;m very
+glad to hear it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind
+or body to the multitude,&#8221; returned the gentleman, &#8220;a few of us are
+endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and
+means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all
+others, when want is keenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What shall I
+put you down for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing!&#8221; Scrooge replied.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You wish to be anonymous?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish to be left alone,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Since you ask me what I wish,
+gentlemen, that is my answer. I don&#8217;t make merry myself at Christmas,
+and I can&#8217;t afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the
+establishments I have mentioned: they cost enough: and those who are
+badly off must go there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>&#8220;Many can&#8217;t go there; and many would rather die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If they would rather die,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;they had better do it, and
+decrease the surplus population. Besides&mdash;excuse me&mdash;I don&#8217;t know that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you might know it,&#8221; observed the gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not my business,&#8221; Scrooge returned. &#8220;It&#8217;s enough for a man to
+understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people&#8217;s.
+Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the
+gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion
+of himself, and in more facetious temper than was usual with him.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that the people ran about
+with flaring <span class="nowrap">links,<a name="Anchor_253-5" id="Anchor_253-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 253-5" href="#Footnote_253-5" class="fnanchor">253-5</a></span> proffering their services to go before horses
+in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a
+church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at Scrooge
+out of a gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the
+hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards
+as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold
+became intense. In the main street at the corner of the court, some
+labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in
+a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered:
+warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> in rapture.
+The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly
+congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shop
+where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows,
+made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers&#8217; and grocers&#8217; trades
+became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to
+impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had
+anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion
+House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a
+Lord Mayor&#8217;s household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had
+fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and
+bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up to-morrow&#8217;s pudding in his
+garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.</p>
+
+<p>Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. If the good
+Saint <span class="nowrap">Dunstan<a name="Anchor_254-6" id="Anchor_254-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 254-6" href="#Footnote_254-6" class="fnanchor">254-6</a></span> had but nipped the Evil Spirit&#8217;s nose with a touch
+of such weather as that, instead of using his familiar weapons, then
+indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. The owner of one scant
+young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by
+dogs, stooped down at Scrooge&#8217;s keyhole to regale him with a Christmas
+carol: but at the first sound of</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;God bless you, merry gentlemen!<br />
+May nothing you <span class="nowrap">dismay!&#8221;<a name="Anchor_254-7" id="Anchor_254-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 254-7" href="#Footnote_254-7" class="fnanchor">254-7</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer
+fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial
+frost.</p>
+
+<p>At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With an
+ill-will Scrooge dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the
+fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his
+candle out, and put on his hat.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image37" id="image37"></a><a href="images/image37-full.png"><img src="images/image37.png" width="250" height="272" alt="The clerk standing in front of Scrooge." title="THE CLERK SMILED FAINTLY" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE CLERK SMILED FAINTLY</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>&#8220;If quite convenient, Sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not convenient,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;and it&#8217;s not fair. If I was to
+stop half-a-crown for it, you&#8217;d think yourself ill-used, I&#8217;ll be bound?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The clerk smiled faintly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And yet,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;you don&#8217;t think <em>me</em> ill-used, when I pay a
+day&#8217;s wages for no work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The clerk observed that it was only once a year.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A poor excuse for picking a man&#8217;s pocket every twenty-fifth of
+December!&#8221; said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. &#8220;But I
+suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next
+morning!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The clerk promised that he would; and Scrooge walked out with a growl.
+The office was closed in a twinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends
+of his white comforter dangling below his waist (for he boasted no
+great-coat), went down a slide on Cornhill, at the end of a lane of
+boys, twenty times, in honour of its being Christmas Eve, and then ran
+home to Camden Town as hard as he could pelt, to play at
+blindman&#8217;s-buff.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and
+having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the rest of the evening
+with his banker&#8217;s-book, went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had
+once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of
+rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little
+business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run
+there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other
+houses, and have forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, and
+dreary enough, for nobody lived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> in it but Scrooge, the other rooms
+being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrooge,
+who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and
+frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house, that it seemed
+as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the
+threshold. Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular
+about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also
+a fact, that Scrooge had seen it, night and morning, during his whole
+residence in that place; also that Scrooge had as little of what is
+called fancy about him as any man in the City of London, even
+including&mdash;which is a bold word&mdash;the corporation, aldermen, and livery.
+Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought
+on Marley, since his last mention of his seven-years&#8217; dead partner that
+afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it
+happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in
+the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change,
+not a knocker, but Marley&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>Marley&#8217;s face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in
+the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a
+dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as
+Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly
+forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air;
+and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless.
+That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to
+be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part of
+its own expression.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.</p>
+
+<p>To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of
+a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from infancy, would
+be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned
+it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle.</p>
+
+<p>He <em>did</em> pause, with a moment&#8217;s irresolution, before he shut the door;
+and he <em>did</em> look cautiously behind it first, as if he half expected to
+be terrified with the sight of Marley&#8217;s pigtail sticking out into the
+hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws
+and nuts that held the knocker on; so he said &#8220;Pooh, pooh!&#8221; and closed
+it with a bang.</p>
+
+<p>The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above,
+and every cask in the wine-merchant&#8217;s cellars below, appeared to have a
+separate peal of echoes of its own. Scrooge was not a man to be
+frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall,
+and up the stairs, slowly too, trimming his candle as he went.</p>
+
+<p>You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and-six up a good old flight
+of stairs, or through a bad young Act of Parliament; but I mean to say
+you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise,
+with the <span class="nowrap">splinter-bar<a name="Anchor_258-8" id="Anchor_258-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 258-8" href="#Footnote_258-8" class="fnanchor">258-8</a></span> towards the wall, and the door towards the
+balustrades: and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that, and
+room to spare; which is perhaps the reason why Scrooge thought he saw a
+locomotive hearse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> going on before him in the gloom. Half-a-dozen
+gas-lamps out of the street wouldn&#8217;t have lighted the entry too well, so
+you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrooge&#8217;s dip.</p>
+
+<p>Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that: darkness is cheap, and
+Scrooge liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through
+his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of
+the face to desire to do that.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody under
+the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and
+basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel (Scrooge had a cold in his
+head) upon the hob. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody
+in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude
+against the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire-guard, old shoes, two
+fish-baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.</p>
+
+<p>Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in;
+double-locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against
+surprise, he took off his cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers,
+and his nightcap; and sat down before the fire to take his gruel.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such a bitter night. He was
+obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could extract
+the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. The fireplace
+was an old one, built by some Dutch merchant long ago, and paved all
+round with quaint Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures.
+There were Cains and Abels, Pharaoh&#8217;s daughters, Queens of Sheba,
+angelic messengers descending<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> through the air on clouds like
+feather-beds, Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting off to sea in
+butter-boats, hundreds of figures, to attract his thoughts; and yet that
+face of Marley, seven years dead, came like the ancient Prophet&#8217;s rod,
+and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at
+first, with power to shape some picture on its surface, from the
+disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy of
+old Marley&#8217;s head on every one.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humbug!&#8221; said Scrooge; and walked across the room.</p>
+
+<p>After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head back in the
+chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that
+hung in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a
+chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great
+astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked,
+he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that
+it scarcely made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every
+bell in the house. This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute,
+but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together.
+They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some
+person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant&#8217;s
+cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted
+houses were described as dragging chains.</p>
+
+<p>The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the
+noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then
+coming straight towards his door.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>&#8220;It&#8217;s humbug still!&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;I won&#8217;t believe it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the
+heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming
+in, the flame leaped up, as though it cried &#8220;I know him! Marley&#8217;s
+Ghost!&#8221; and fell again.</p>
+
+<p>The same face: the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat,
+tights and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail,
+and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was
+clasped about his middle. It was long, and wound about him like a tail;
+and it was made (for Scrooge observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys,
+padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body
+was transparent; so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his
+waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no <span class="nowrap">bowels<a name="Anchor_261-9" id="Anchor_261-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 261-9" href="#Footnote_261-9" class="fnanchor">261-9</a></span>, but he
+had never believed it until now.</p>
+
+<p>No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom through
+and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling
+influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the
+folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not
+observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his
+senses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How now!&#8221; said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. &#8220;What do you want
+with me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>&#8220;Much!&#8221;&mdash;Marley&#8217;s voice, no doubt about it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ask me who I <em>was</em>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who <em>were</em> you then?&#8221; said Scrooge, raising his voice. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+particular&mdash;for a shade.&#8221; He was going to say &#8220;<em>to</em> a shade,&#8221; but
+substituted this, as more appropriate.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can you&mdash;can you sit down?&#8221; asked Scrooge, looking doubtfully at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do it then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge asked the question, because he didn&#8217;t know whether a ghost so
+transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair; and felt
+that in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the
+necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the Ghost sat down on the
+opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used to it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t believe in me,&#8221; observed the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why do you doubt your senses?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;a little thing affects them. A slight disorder
+of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef,
+a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.
+There&#8217;s more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in
+his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his
+terror; for the spectre&#8217;s voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image38" id="image38"></a><a href="images/image38-full.png"><img src="images/image38.png" width="249" height="278" alt="Scrooge, seated in an armchair, confronts Marley&#8217;s ghost." title="&#8220;IN LIFE I WAS YOUR PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;IN LIFE I WAS YOUR PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>To sit staring at those fixed, glazed eyes in silence for a moment,
+would play, Scrooge felt, the very deuce with him. There was something
+very awful, too, in the spectre&#8217;s being provided with an infernal
+atmosphere of its own. Scrooge could not feel it himself, but this was
+clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, its
+hair, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapour
+from an oven.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see this toothpick?&#8221; said Scrooge, returning quickly to the charge,
+for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a
+second, to divert the vision&#8217;s stony gaze from himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do,&#8221; replied the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are not looking at it,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I see it,&#8221; said the Ghost, &#8220;notwithstanding.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well!&#8221; returned Scrooge. &#8220;I have but to swallow this, and be for the
+rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own
+creation. Humbug, I tell you&mdash;humbug!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such
+a dismal and appalling noise, that Scrooge held on tight to his chair,
+to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his
+horror, when, the phantom taking off the bandage round its head, as if
+it were too warm to wear indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its
+<a name="corr16" id="corr16"></a>breast!</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mercy!&#8221; he said. &#8220;Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Man of the worldly mind!&#8221; replied the Ghost, &#8220;do you believe in me or
+not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and
+why do they come to me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is required of every man,&#8221; the Ghost returned, &#8220;that the spirit
+within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and
+wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do
+so after death. It is doomed to wan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>der through the world&mdash;oh, woe is
+me!&mdash;and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth,
+and turned to happiness!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain, and wrung its
+shadowy hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are fettered,&#8221; said Scrooge, trembling. &#8220;Tell me why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wear the chain I forged in life,&#8221; replied the Ghost. &#8220;I made it link
+by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my
+own free will I bore it. Is its pattern strange to <em>you</em>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge trembled more and more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Or would you know,&#8221; pursued the Ghost, &#8220;the weight and length of the
+strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this,
+seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a
+ponderous chain!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding
+himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he
+could see nothing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jacob,&#8221; he said, imploringly. &#8220;Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak
+comfort to me, Jacob.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have none to give,&#8221; the Ghost replied. &#8220;It comes from other regions,
+Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of
+men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more, is all
+permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere.
+My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house&mdash;mark me!&mdash;in life my
+spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole
+and weary journeys lie before me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>It was a habit with Scrooge, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his
+hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he
+did so now, but without lifting his eyes, or getting off his knees. &#8220;You
+must have been very slow about it, Jacob,&#8221; Scrooge observed, in a
+business-like manner, though with humility and deference.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Slow!&#8221; the Ghost repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seven years dead,&#8221; mused Scrooge. &#8220;And travelling all the time!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The whole time,&#8221; said the Ghost. &#8220;No rest, no peace. Incessant torture
+of remorse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You travel fast?&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the wings of the wind,&#8221; replied the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,&#8221;
+said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so
+hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have
+been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed,&#8221; cried the phantom, &#8220;not to
+know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this
+earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible
+is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly
+in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too
+short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of
+regret can make amends for one life&#8217;s opportunity misused! Yet such was
+I! Oh! such was I!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,&#8221; faltered Scrooge,
+who now began to apply this to himself.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>&#8220;Business!&#8221; cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. &#8220;Mankind was my
+business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy,
+forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my
+trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my
+business!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It held up its chain at arm&#8217;s length, as if that were the cause of all
+its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At this time of the rolling year,&#8221; the spectre said, &#8220;I suffer most.
+Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down,
+and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a
+poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have
+conducted <em>me</em>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this
+rate, and began to quake exceedingly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hear me!&#8221; cried the Ghost. &#8220;My time is nearly gone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;But don&#8217;t be hard upon me! Don&#8217;t be flowery,
+Jacob! Pray!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may
+not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered, and wiped the
+perspiration from his brow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is no light part of my penance,&#8221; pursued the Ghost. &#8220;I am here
+to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my
+fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were always a good friend to me,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Thank&#8217;ee!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>&#8220;You will be haunted,&#8221; resumed the Ghost, &#8220;by Three Spirits.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge&#8217;s countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost&#8217;s had done.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob,&#8221; he demanded, in a
+faltering voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I think I&#8217;d rather not,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Without their visits,&#8221; said the Ghost, &#8220;you cannot hope to shun the
+path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow, when the bell tolls one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Couldn&#8217;t I take &#8217;em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?&#8221; hinted
+Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon
+the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate.
+Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember
+what has passed between us!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the
+table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrooge knew this, by the
+smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the
+bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural
+visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over
+and about its arm.</p>
+
+<p>The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took, the
+window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it
+was wide open. It beckoned Scrooge to approach, which he did. When they
+were within two paces of each other, Marley&#8217;s Ghost held up its hand,
+warning him to come no nearer. Scrooge stopped.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear: for on the raising of
+the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent
+sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and
+self-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in
+the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked
+out.</p>
+
+<p>The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in
+restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains
+like Marley&#8217;s Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments) were
+linked together; none were free. Many had been personally known to
+Scrooge in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost,
+in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to his ankle,
+who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an
+infant, whom it saw below upon a door-step. The misery with them all
+was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters,
+and had lost the power for ever.</p>
+
+<p>Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he
+could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the
+night became as it had been when he walked home.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had
+entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands,
+and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say &#8220;Humbug!&#8221; but stopped at
+the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the
+fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> or the dull
+conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of
+repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon
+the instant.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">STAVE TWO</h3>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>The First of the Three Spirits</em></p>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapw"><span class="hide">W</span></span><span class="upper">hen</span> Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could
+scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his
+chamber. He was endeavoring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes,
+when the chimes of a neighboring church struck the four quarters. So he
+listened for the hour.</p>
+
+<p>To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and
+from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve!
+It was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must
+have got into the works. Twelve!</p>
+
+<p>He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this most preposterous
+clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve; and stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it isn&#8217;t possible,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;that I can have slept through a
+whole day and far into another night. It isn&#8217;t possible that anything
+has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at noon!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The big idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped
+his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the
+sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see
+very little then. All he could make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> out was, that it was still very
+foggy and extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running
+to and fro, and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have
+been if night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the
+world. This was a great relief, because &#8220;three days after sight of this
+First of Exchange pay to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge or his order,&#8221; and so
+forth, would have become a mere United States&#8217; security if there were no
+days to count by.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought it over
+and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought,
+the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavoured not to think, the
+more he thought. Marley&#8217;s Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he
+resolved within himself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream,
+his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first
+position, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, &#8220;Was
+it a dream or not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge lay in this state until the chimes had gone three quarters more,
+when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warned him of a
+visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the
+hour was passed; and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than
+go to Heaven, this was perhaps the wisest resolution in his power.</p>
+
+<p>The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must
+have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it
+broke upon his listening ear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ding, dong!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A quarter past,&#8221; said Scrooge, counting.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>&#8220;Ding, dong!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Half-past!&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ding, dong!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A quarter to it,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ding, dong!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The hour itself,&#8221; said Scrooge, triumphantly, &#8220;and nothing else!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a deep,
+dull, hollow, melancholy One. Light flashed up in the room upon the
+instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.</p>
+
+<p>The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the
+curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which
+his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and
+Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face
+to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am
+now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange figure&mdash;like a child: yet not so like a child as like
+an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the
+appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a
+child&#8217;s proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its
+back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in
+it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and
+muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength.
+Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper
+members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white; and round its waist
+was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a
+branch of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction
+of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But
+the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there
+sprang a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and
+which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a
+great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.</p>
+
+<p>Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasing steadiness,
+was <em>not</em> its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and glittered
+now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, at
+another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated in its
+distinctness: being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with
+twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a
+body: of which dissolving parts, no outline would be visible in the
+dense gloom wherein they melted away. And in the very wonder of this, it
+would be itself again; distinct and clear as ever.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you the Spirit, Sir, whose coming was foretold to me?&#8221; asked
+Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so
+close beside him, it were at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who, and what are you?&#8221; Scrooge demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Long past?&#8221; inquired Scrooge, observant of its dwarfish stature.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. Your past.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps, Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have
+asked him; but he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> a special desire to see the Spirit in his cap;
+and begged him to be covered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed the Ghost, &#8220;would you so soon put out, with worldly
+hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those
+whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole trains of years
+to wear it low upon my brow!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend, and then made
+bold to inquire what business brought him there.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your welfare!&#8221; said the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that
+a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The
+spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately: &#8220;Your
+reclamation, then. Take heed!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rise! and walk with me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the
+hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the
+thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in
+his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon
+him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman&#8217;s hand, was not to
+be resisted. He rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the
+window, clasped its robe in supplication.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am a mortal,&#8221; Scrooge remonstrated, &#8220;and liable to fall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bear but a touch of my hand <em>there</em>,&#8221; said the Spirit, laying it upon
+his heart, &#8220;and you shall be upheld in more than this!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon
+an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely
+vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist
+had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow
+upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Heaven!&#8221; said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked
+about him. &#8220;I was bred in this place. I was a boy here!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been
+light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old man&#8217;s sense
+of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odors floating in the air,
+each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and
+cares long, long forgotten!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your lip is trembling,&#8221; said the Ghost. &#8220;And what is that upon your
+cheek?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a
+pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You recollect the way?&#8221; inquired the Spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Remember it!&#8221; cried Scrooge with fervor&mdash;&#8220;I could walk it blindfold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!&#8221; observed the Ghost.
+&#8220;Let us go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They walked along the road; Scrooge recognizing every gate, and post,
+and tree; until a little market-town appeared in the distance, with its
+bridge, its church, and winding river. Some shaggy ponies now were seen
+trotting towards them with boys upon their backs, who called to other
+boys in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> these boys were
+in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad fields were
+so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These are but shadows of the things that have been,&#8221; said the Ghost.
+&#8220;They have no consciousness of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The jocund travellers came on; and as they came, Scrooge knew and named
+them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them! Why
+did his cold eye glisten, and his heart leap up as they went past! Why
+was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry
+Christmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several
+homes! What was merry Christmas to Scrooge? Out upon merry Christmas!
+What good had it ever done to him?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The school is not quite deserted,&#8221; said the Ghost. &#8220;A solitary child,
+neglected by his friends, is left there still.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached
+a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock-surmounted
+cupola, on the roof, and a bell hanging in it. It was a large house, but
+one of broken fortunes; for the spacious offices were little used, their
+walls were damp and mossy, their windows broken, and their gates
+decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables; and the coach-houses
+and sheds were overrun with grass. Nor was it more retentive of its
+ancient state, within; for entering the dreary hall, and glancing
+through the open doors of many rooms, they found them poorly furnished,
+cold, and vast. There was an earthy savour in the air, a chilly bareness
+in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up
+by candle-light, and not too much to eat.</p>
+
+<p>They went, the Ghost and Scrooge, across the hall, to a door at the back
+of the house. It opened before them, and disclosed a long, bare,
+melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and
+desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire; and
+Scrooge sat down upon a form, and wept to see his poor forgotten self as
+he had used to be.</p>
+
+<p>Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice
+behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the
+dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent
+poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a
+clicking in the fire, but fell upon the heart of Scrooge with softening
+influence, and gave a freer passage to his tears.</p>
+
+<p>The spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to his younger self,
+intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man in foreign garments: wonderfully
+real and distinct to look at: stood outside the window, with an axe
+stuck in his belt, and leading an ass laden with wood by the bridle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s Ali <span class="nowrap">Baba!&#8221;<a name="Anchor_277-10" id="Anchor_277-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 277-10" href="#Footnote_277-10" class="fnanchor">277-10</a></span> Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy. &#8220;It&#8217;s dear
+old honest Ali Baba! Yes, yes, I know! One Christmas time, when yonder
+solitary child was left here all alone, he <em>did</em> come, for the first
+time, just like that. Poor boy! And Valentine,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;and his
+wild brother, Orson; there they go! And what&#8217;s his name, who was put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>
+down in his drawers, asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don&#8217;t you see him!
+And the Sultan&#8217;s Groom turned upside down by the Genii; there he is upon
+his head! Serve him right. I&#8217;m glad of it. What business had <em>he</em> to be
+married to the Princess!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To hear Scrooge expending all the earnestness of his nature on such
+subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between laughing and crying; and
+to see his heightened and excited face; would have been a surprise to
+his business friends in the City, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s the Parrot!&#8221; cried Scrooge. &#8220;Green body and yellow tail, with a
+thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of his head; there he is!
+Poor Robin Crusoe, he called him, when he came home again after sailing
+round the island. &#8216;Poor Robin Crusoe, where have you been, Robin
+Crusoe?&#8217; The man thought he was dreaming, but he wasn&#8217;t. It was the
+Parrot, you know. There goes Friday, running for his life to the little
+creek! Halloa! Hoop! Halloo!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then, with a rapidity of transition very foreign to his usual character,
+he said, in pity for his former self, &#8220;Poor boy!&#8221; and cried again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish,&#8221; Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking
+about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: &#8220;but it&#8217;s too late now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; asked the Spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Nothing. There was a boy singing a Christmas
+Carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something:
+that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved its hand: saying as it did so,
+&#8220;Let us see another Christmas!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>Scrooge&#8217;s former self grew larger at the words, and the room became a
+little darker and more dirty. The panels shrank, the windows cracked;
+fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling, and the naked laths were
+shown instead; but how all this was brought about, Scrooge knew no more
+than you do. He only knew that it was quite correct; that everything had
+happened so; that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had
+gone home for the jolly holidays.</p>
+
+<p>He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly. Scrooge
+looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of his head, glanced
+anxiously towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came darting
+in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing him,
+addressed him as her &#8220;Dear, dear brother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have come to bring you home, dear brother!&#8221; said the child, clapping
+her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. &#8220;To bring you home, home,
+home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Home, little Fan?&#8221; returned the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!&#8221; said the child, brimful of glee. &#8220;Home, for good and all. Home,
+for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that
+home&#8217;s like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was
+going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might
+come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring
+you. And you&#8217;re to be a man!&#8221; said the child, opening her eyes, &#8220;and are
+never to come back here; but first, we&#8217;re to be together all the
+Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>&#8220;You are quite a woman, little Fan!&#8221; exclaimed the boy.</p>
+
+<p>She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his head; but
+being too little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him.
+Then she began to drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door;
+and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.</p>
+
+<p>A terrible voice in the hall cried, &#8220;Bring down Master Scrooge&#8217;s box,
+there!&#8221; and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself, who glared on
+Master Scrooge with a ferocious condescension, and threw him into a
+dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him
+and his sister into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlor that
+ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial and
+terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced
+a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake,
+and administered instalments of those dainties to the young people: at
+the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of
+&#8220;something&#8221; to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman,
+but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he had rather not.
+Master Scrooge&#8217;s trunk being by this time tied on to the top of the
+chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster good-bye right willingly; and
+getting into it, drove gaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels
+dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the
+evergreens like spray.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered,&#8221; said
+the Ghost. &#8220;But she had a large heart!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>&#8220;So she had,&#8221; cried Scrooge. &#8220;You&#8217;re right. I&#8217;ll not gainsay it, Spirit.
+God forbid!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She died a woman,&#8221; said the Ghost, &#8220;and had, as I think, children.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image39" id="image39"></a><a href="images/image39-full.png"><img src="images/image39.png" width="248" height="269" alt="Young Scrooge and his sister receiving sweets from the schoolmaster." title="IN THE BEST PARLOR" /></a>
+<span class="caption">IN THE BEST PARLOR</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;One child,&#8221; Scrooge returned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;True,&#8221; said the Ghost. &#8220;Your nephew!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, &#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Although they had but that moment left the school behind them, they were
+now in the busy thorough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>fares of a city, where shadowy passengers
+passed and repassed; where shadowy carts and coaches battled for the
+way, and all the strife and tumult of a real city were. It was made
+plain enough, by the dressing of the shops, that here, too, it was
+Christmas time again; but it was evening, and the streets were lighted
+up.</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked Scrooge if he
+knew it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Know it!&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Was I apprenticed here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh wig, sitting
+behind such a high desk, that if he had been two inches taller he must
+have knocked his head against the ceiling, Scrooge cried in great
+excitement:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it&#8217;s Fezziwig alive again!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which
+pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his
+capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his
+organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat,
+jovial voice:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge&#8217;s former self, now grown a young man, came briskly in,
+accompanied by his fellow-&#8217;prentice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dick Wilkins, to be sure!&#8221; said Scrooge to the Ghost. &#8220;Bless me, yes.
+There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear,
+dear!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You ho, my boys!&#8221; said Fezziwig. &#8220;No more work to-night. Christmas Eve,
+Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let&#8217;s have the shutters up,&#8221; cried old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
+Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, &#8220;before a man can say Jack
+Robinson!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>You wouldn&#8217;t believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged into
+the street with the shutters&mdash;one, two, three&mdash;had &#8217;em up in their
+places&mdash;four, five, six&mdash;barred &#8217;em and pinned &#8217;em&mdash;seven, eight,
+nine&mdash;and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like
+race horses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hilli-ho!&#8221; cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk, with
+wonderful agility. &#8220;Clear away, my lads, and let&#8217;s have lots of room
+here! Hilli-ho, Dick; Chirrup, Ebenezer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn&#8217;t have cleared away, or
+couldn&#8217;t have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in
+a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from
+public life for ever more; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps
+were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire, and the warehouse was as
+snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to
+see upon a winter&#8217;s night.</p>
+
+<p>In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and
+made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came
+Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Miss
+Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose
+hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the
+business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the
+cook, with her brother&#8217;s particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy
+from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his
+master; trying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one,
+who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all
+came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some
+awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and
+everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once, hands half round
+and back again the other way; down the middle and up again, round and
+round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always
+turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again as soon
+as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help
+them. When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his
+hands to stop the dance, cried out, &#8220;Well done!&#8221; and the fiddler plunged
+his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose.
+But scorning rest upon his reappearance, he instantly began again,
+though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been
+carried home, exhausted, on a shutter; and he were a bran-new man
+resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish.</p>
+
+<p>There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and
+there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold
+Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were
+mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came
+after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler (an artful, dog, mind! The
+sort of man who knew his business better than you or I could have told
+it him!) struck up &#8220;Sir Roger de <span class="nowrap">Coverley.&#8221;<a name="Anchor_284-11" id="Anchor_284-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 284-11" href="#Footnote_284-11" class="fnanchor">284-11</a></span> Then old Fezziwig
+stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too; with a good
+stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of
+partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who <em>would</em>
+dance, and had no notion of walking.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image40" id="image40"></a><a href="images/image40-full.png"><img src="images/image40.png" width="250" height="271" alt="A fiddler seated on a table, playing, with people dancing in the background." title="THE FIDDLER STRUCK UP &#8220;SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE FIDDLER STRUCK UP &#8220;SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>But if they had been twice as many: ah, four times: old Fezziwig would
+have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to <em>her</em>, she
+was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that&#8217;s not
+high praise, tell me higher, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> I&#8217;ll use it. A positive light appeared
+to issue from Fezziwig&#8217;s calves. They shone in every part of the dance
+like moons. You couldn&#8217;t have predicted, at any given time, what would
+become of &#8217;em next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all
+through the dance; advance and retire, hold hands with your partner; bow
+and curtsey; corkscrew; thread-the-needle, and back again to your place;
+Fezziwig &#8220;cut&#8221;&mdash;cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs,
+and came upon his feet again without a stagger.</p>
+
+<p>When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs.
+Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side the door, and shaking
+hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him
+or her a Merry Christmas.</p>
+
+<p>When everybody had retired but the two &#8217;prentices, they did the same to
+them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to
+their beds; which were under a counter in the back-shop.</p>
+
+<p>During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like a man out of his
+wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He
+corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and
+underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright
+faces of his former self and Dick were turned from them, that he
+remembered the Ghost, and became conscious that it was looking full upon
+him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A small matter,&#8221; said the Ghost, &#8220;to make these silly folks so full of
+gratitude.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Small!&#8221; echoed Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>The spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were
+pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when he had done so,
+said,</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money:
+three or four, perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t that,&#8221; said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking
+unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. &#8220;It isn&#8217;t that,
+Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our
+service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power
+lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it
+is impossible to add and count &#8217;em up: what then? The happiness he
+gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He felt the Spirit&#8217;s glance, and stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; asked the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing particular,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something, I think?&#8221; the Ghost insisted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;No. I should like to be able to say a word or two
+to my clerk just now! That&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish;
+and Scrooge and the Ghost again stood side by side in the open air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My time grows short,&#8221; observed the Spirit. &#8220;Quick!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he could see, but
+it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw himself. He was
+older now; a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and
+rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care
+and avarice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye,
+which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of
+the growing tree would fall. He was not alone, but sat by the side of a
+fair young girl in a mourning dress; in whose eyes there were tears,
+which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas
+Past.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It matters little,&#8221; she said, softly. &#8220;To you, very little. Another
+idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to
+come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What idol has displaced you?&#8221; he rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A golden one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is the even-handed dealing of the world!&#8221; he said. &#8220;There is
+nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it
+professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You fear the world too much,&#8221; she answered, gently. &#8220;All your other
+hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid
+reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until
+the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What then?&#8221; he retorted. &#8220;Even if I have grown so much wiser, what
+then? I am not changed towards you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Am I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and
+content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly
+fortune by our patient industry. You <em>are</em> changed. When it was made,
+you were another man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>&#8220;I was a boy,&#8221; he said impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are,&#8221; she
+returned. &#8220;I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in
+heart, is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how
+keenly I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I
+<em>have</em> thought of it, and can release you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have I ever sought release?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In words, no. Never.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In what, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of
+life; another Hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of
+any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us,&#8221;
+said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; &#8220;tell me,
+would you seek me out and try to win me now? Ah, no!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of
+himself. But he said with a struggle, &#8220;You think not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I would gladly think otherwise if I could,&#8221; she answered, &#8220;Heaven
+knows! When <em>I</em> have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and
+irresistible it must be.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But if you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe
+that you would choose a dowerless girl&mdash;you who, in your very confidence
+with her, weigh everything by Gain: or, choosing her, if for a moment
+you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not
+know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I
+release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you once were.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she resumed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may&mdash;the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will&mdash;have
+pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the
+recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it
+happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have
+chosen!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She left him, and they parted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit!&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;show me no more! Conduct me home. Why do you
+delight to torture me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One shadow more!&#8221; exclaimed the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No more!&#8221; cried Scrooge. &#8220;No more. I don&#8217;t wish to see it. Show me no
+more!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and forced him
+to observe what happened next.</p>
+
+<p>They were in another scene and place; a room, not very large or
+handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a beautiful
+young girl, so like the last that Scrooge believed it was the same,
+until he saw <em>her</em>, now a comely matron, sitting opposite her daughter.
+The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous, for there were more
+children there than Scrooge in his agitated state of mind could count;
+and, unlike the celebrated herd in the poem, they were not forty
+children conducting themselves like one, but every child was conducting
+itself like forty. The consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but
+no one seemed to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed
+heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to
+mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most
+ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them! Though I
+never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> could have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn&#8217;t for the wealth of all
+the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the
+precious little shoe, I wouldn&#8217;t have plucked it off, God bless my soul!
+to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold
+young brood; I couldn&#8217;t have done it; I should have expected my arm to
+have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And
+yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to have
+questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the
+lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose
+waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in
+short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest
+license of a child, and yet been man enough to know its value.</p>
+
+<p>But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush immediately
+ensued that she with laughing face and plundered dress was borne towards
+it the centre of a flushed and boisterous group, just in time to greet
+the father, who came home attended by a man laden with Christmas toys
+and presents. Then the shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught
+that was made on the defenceless porter! The scaling him with chairs for
+ladders to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels,
+hold on tight by his cravat, hug him around the neck, pommel his back,
+and kick his legs in irrepressible affection! The shouts of wonder and
+delight with which the development of every package was received! The
+terrible announcement that the baby had been taken in the act of putting
+a doll&#8217;s frying-pan into his mouth, and was more than suspected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> of
+having swallowed a fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter! The
+immense relief of finding this a false alarm! The joy, and gratitude,
+and ecstasy! They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by
+degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlour, and by
+one stair at a time, up to the top of the house; where they went to bed,
+and so subsided.</p>
+
+<p>And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of
+the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down, with her
+and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such
+another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have
+called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his
+life, his sight grew very dim indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Belle,&#8221; said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, &#8220;I saw an
+old friend of yours this afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who was it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Guess!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can I? Tut, don&#8217;t I know?&#8221; she added in the same breath, laughing
+as he laughed. &#8220;Mr. Scrooge.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window; and as it was not shut
+up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His
+partner lies upon the point of death, I hear; and there he sat alone.
+Quite alone in the world, I do believe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit!&#8221; said Scrooge in a broken voice, &#8220;remove me from this place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told you these were shadows of the things that have been,&#8221; said the
+Ghost. &#8220;That they are what they are, do not blame me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>&#8220;Remove me!&#8221; Scrooge exclaimed, &#8220;I cannot bear it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him with a face
+in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it
+had shown him, wrestled with it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the Ghost
+with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort
+of its adversary, Scrooge observed that its light was burning high and
+bright; and dimly connecting that with its influence over him, he seized
+the extinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its
+head.</p>
+
+<p>The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered its
+whole form; but though Scrooge pressed it down with all his force, he
+could not hide the light, which streamed from under it, in an unbroken
+flood upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible
+drowsiness; and further, of being in his own bedroom. He gave the cap a
+parting squeeze, in which his hand relaxed; and had barely time to reel
+to bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p>
+<h3 class="section">STAVE THREE</h3>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>The Second of the Three Spirits</em></p>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapa"><span class="hide">A</span></span><span class="upper">Awaking</span> in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in
+bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasion to be told
+that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. He felt that he was
+restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial
+purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to
+him through Jacob Marley&#8217;s intervention. But, finding that he turned
+uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this
+new spectre would draw back, he put them every one aside with his own
+hands, and lying down again, established a sharp lookout all round the
+bed. For he wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its
+appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise and made nervous.</p>
+
+<p>Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being
+acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to the
+time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by
+observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to
+manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a
+tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing
+for Scrooge quite as hardily as this, I don&#8217;t mind calling on you to
+believe that he was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances,
+and that nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have astonished him
+very much.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means
+prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the bell struck One, and
+no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five
+minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came.
+All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and centre of a blaze
+of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the
+hour; and which, being only light, was more alarming than a dozen
+ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at;
+and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an
+interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the
+consolation of knowing it. At last, however, he began to think&mdash;as you
+or I would have thought at first; for it is always the person not in the
+predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would
+unquestionably have done it too&mdash;at last, I say, he began to think that
+the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining
+room, from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea
+taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his
+slippers to the door.</p>
+
+<p>The moment Scrooge&#8217;s hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by
+his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone
+a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with
+living green, that it looked a perfect grove, from every part of which,
+bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe,
+and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> mirrors had been
+scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as
+that dull petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Scrooge&#8217;s time, or
+Marley&#8217;s, or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the
+floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
+brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages,
+mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red hot chestnuts,
+cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense
+twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim
+with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch there sat a
+jolly Giant, glorious to see; who bore a glowing torch, in shape not
+unlike Plenty&#8217;s horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light on
+Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come in!&#8221; exclaimed the Ghost. &#8220;Come in! and know me better, man!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before this Spirit. He was
+not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though the Spirit&#8217;s eyes were
+clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,&#8221; said the Spirit. &#8220;Look upon me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple deep green robe,
+or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the
+figure, that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be
+warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet, observable beneath the
+ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no
+other covering than a holly wreath set here and there with shining
+icicles. Its dark brown curls were long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> and free; free as its genial
+face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its
+unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was
+an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was
+eaten up with rust.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image41" id="image41"></a><a href="images/image41-full.png"><img src="images/image41.png" width="249" height="268" alt="A giant, holding a cornucopia and seated on a pile of fruits and vegetables." title="UPON THIS COUCH THERE SAT A JOLLY GIANT" /></a>
+<span class="caption">UPON THIS COUCH THERE SAT A JOLLY GIANT</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have never seen the like of me before!&#8221; exclaimed the Spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never,&#8221; Scrooge made answer to it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family; meaning
+(for I am very young)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> my elder brothers born in these later years?&#8221;
+pursued the Phantom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think I have,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;I am afraid I have not. Have you
+had many brothers, Spirit?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More than eighteen hundred,&#8221; said the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A tremendous family to provide for!&#8221; muttered Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost of Christmas Present rose.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit,&#8221; said Scrooge submissively, &#8220;conduct me where you will. I went
+forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working
+now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Touch my robe!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.</p>
+
+<p>Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
+brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch,
+all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, the
+hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning,
+where (for the weather was severe) the people made a rough, but brisk
+and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement
+in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses: whence
+it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the
+road below, and splitting into artificial little snowstorms.</p>
+
+<p>The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker,
+contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with
+the dirtier snow upon the ground; which last deposit had been ploughed
+up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> of carts and waggons; furrows
+that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds of times where the great
+streets branched off, and made intricate channels, hard to trace, in the
+thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest
+streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen,
+whose heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty atoms, as if all
+the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, caught fire, and were
+blazing away to their dear hearts&#8217; content. There was nothing very
+cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet there was an air of
+cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer
+sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain.</p>
+
+<p>For, the people who were shovelling away on the housetops were jovial
+and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now
+and then exchanging a facetious snowball&mdash;better-natured missile far
+than many a wordy jest&mdash;laughing heartily if it went right and not less
+heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers&#8217; shops were still half open,
+and the fruiterers&#8217; were radiant in their glory. There were great, round
+pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly
+old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in
+their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced broad-girthed
+Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish
+Friars; and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as
+they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were
+pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were
+bunches of grapes, made, in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> shopkeepers&#8217; benevolence, to dangle
+from conspicuous hooks, that people&#8217;s mouths might water gratis as they
+passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in
+their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings
+ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk <span class="nowrap">Biffins,<a name="Anchor_300-12" id="Anchor_300-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 300-12" href="#Footnote_300-12" class="fnanchor">300-12</a></span>
+squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons,
+and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently
+entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten
+after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these
+choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded
+race, appeared to know that there was something going on; and, to a
+fish, went gasping round and round their little world in slow and
+passionless excitement.</p>
+
+<p>The Grocers&#8217;! oh the Grocers&#8217;! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters
+down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone
+that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that
+the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters
+were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended
+scents of tea, and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the
+raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the
+sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious,
+the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the
+coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that
+the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in
+modest tartness from their highly-decor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>ated boxes, or that everything
+was good to eat and in its Christmas dress: but the customers were all
+so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they
+tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets
+wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back
+to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes in the best
+humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh
+that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind
+might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for
+Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.</p>
+
+<p>But soon the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, and
+away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and
+with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores
+of by-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people carrying
+their dinner to the bakers&#8217; shops. The sight of these poor revellers
+appeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge
+beside him in a <span class="nowrap">baker&#8217;s<a name="Anchor_301-13" id="Anchor_301-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 301-13" href="#Footnote_301-13" class="fnanchor">301-13</a></span> doorway, and taking off the covers as
+their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch.
+And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there
+were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled with each
+other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good
+humour was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel
+upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and yet there was
+a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their
+cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker&#8217;s oven; where the
+pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?&#8221;
+asked Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is. My own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?&#8221; asked Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To any kindly given. To a poor one most.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why to a poor one most?&#8221; asked Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because it needs it most.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit,&#8221; said Scrooge, after a moment&#8217;s thought, &#8220;I wonder you, of all
+the beings in the many worlds about us, should desire to cramp these
+people&#8217;s opportunities of innocent enjoyment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I!&#8221; cried the Spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day,
+often the only day on which they can be said to dine at all,&#8221; said
+Scrooge. &#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I!&#8221; cried the Spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You seek to close these places on the seventh day?&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;And
+it comes to the same thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I seek!&#8221; exclaimed the Spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at least in
+that of your family,&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are some upon this earth of yours,&#8221; returned the Spirit, &#8220;who lay
+claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will,
+hatred,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange
+to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember
+that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible, as they had
+been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable quality
+of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at the baker&#8217;s), that
+notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to any
+place with ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as
+gracefully and like a supernatural creature, as it was possible he could
+have done in any lofty hall.</p>
+
+<p>And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing off this
+power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and
+his sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge&#8217;s
+clerk&#8217;s; for there he went, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his
+robe; and on the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to
+bless Bob Cratchit&#8217;s dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think
+of that! Bob had but fifteen <span class="nowrap">&#8220;bob&#8221;<a name="Anchor_303-14" id="Anchor_303-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 303-14" href="#Footnote_303-14" class="fnanchor">303-14</a></span> a week himself; he pocketed
+on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian name; and yet the Ghost
+of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house!</p>
+
+<p>Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit&#8217;s wife, dressed out but poorly in a
+twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a
+goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda
+Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master
+Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
+getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob&#8217;s private
+property, conferred upon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his
+mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to
+show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits,
+boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker&#8217;s they
+had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in
+luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onion, these young Cratchits danced about
+the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not
+proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the
+slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let
+out and peeled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What has ever got your precious father then?&#8221; said Mrs. Cratchit. &#8220;And
+your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha warn&#8217;t as late last Christmas Day by
+half-an-hour!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s Martha, mother!&#8221; said a girl, appearing as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s Martha, mother!&#8221; cried the two young Cratchits. &#8220;Hurrah! There&#8217;s
+<em>such</em> a goose, Martha!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!&#8221; said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;d a deal of work to finish up last night,&#8221; replied the girl, &#8220;and
+had to clear away this morning, mother!&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 298px;">
+<a name="image42" id="image42"></a><a href="images/image42-full.jpg"><img src="images/image42.jpg" width="298" height="400" alt="Bob and Tiny Tim" title="Bob, carrying Tiny Tim on his shoulder, entering the house." /></a>
+<span class="caption smcap">Bob and Tiny Tim</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well! Never mind so long as you are come,&#8221; said Mrs. Cratchit. &#8220;Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>&#8220;No, no! There&#8217;s father coming,&#8221; cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. &#8220;Hide, Martha, hide!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least
+three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before
+him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look
+seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a
+little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, where&#8217;s our Martha?&#8221; cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not coming,&#8221; said Mrs. Cratchit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not coming!&#8221; said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim&#8217;s blood horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. &#8220;Not coming upon Christmas Day!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Martha didn&#8217;t like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the
+copper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And how did little Tim behave?&#8221; asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart&#8217;s content.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As good as gold,&#8221; said Bob, &#8220;and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him,
+because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember
+upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>Bob&#8217;s voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.</p>
+
+<p>His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool before the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs&mdash;as
+if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby&mdash;compounded
+some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and
+round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.</p>
+
+<p>Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course&mdash;and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing
+hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss
+Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob
+took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young
+Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and
+mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest
+they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At
+last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a
+breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the
+carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did,
+and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of
+delight arose all round the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the
+two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and
+feebly cried &#8220;Hurrah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image43" id="image43"></a><a href="images/image43-full.png"><img src="images/image43.png" width="247" height="268" alt="A woman carving a goose, with two children watching." title="THERE NEVER WAS SUCH A GOOSE" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THERE NEVER WAS SUCH A GOOSE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn&#8217;t believe there ever was
+such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness,
+were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by the apple-sauce and
+mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family;
+indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small
+atom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> of a bone upon the dish) they hadn&#8217;t ate it all at last! Yet
+everyone had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were
+steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now, the plates being
+changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone&mdash;too nervous
+to bear witnesses&mdash;to take the pudding up and bring it in.</p>
+
+<p>Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard,
+and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose&mdash;a supposition at
+which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.</p>
+
+<p>Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell
+like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and
+a pastrycook&#8217;s next door to each other, with a laundress&#8217;s next door to
+that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered&mdash;flushed, but smiling proudly&mdash;with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon-ball so hard and firm blazing in half of half-a-quartern of
+ignited brandy, and bedight with <a name="corr17" id="corr17"></a>Christmas holly stuck into the top.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind,
+she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat
+heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit&#8217;s elbow stood the family display of glass. Two
+tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.</p>
+
+<p>These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!&#8221; Which all the
+family re-echoed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;God bless us every one!&#8221; said Tiny Tim, the last of all.</p>
+
+<p>He sat very close to his father&#8217;s side upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit!&#8221; said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before, &#8220;tell
+me if Tiny Tim will live.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see a vacant seat,&#8221; replied the Ghost, &#8220;in the poor chimney-corner,
+and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows
+remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my
+race,&#8221; returned the Ghost, &#8220;will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> find him here. What then? If he be
+like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and
+was overcome with penitence and grief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Man,&#8221; said the Ghost, &#8220;if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear
+that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and
+Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It
+may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit
+to live than millions like this poor man&#8217;s child. Oh God! to hear the
+insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry
+brothers in the dust!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge bent before the Ghost&#8217;s rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon
+the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scrooge!&#8221; said Bob; &#8220;I&#8217;ll give you Mr. Scrooge, the Founder of the
+Feast!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Founder of the Feast indeed!&#8221; cried Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. &#8220;I
+wish I had him here. I&#8217;d give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and
+I hope he&#8217;d have a good appetite for it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; said Bob, &#8220;the children! Christmas Day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It should be Christmas Day, I am sure,&#8221; said she, &#8220;on which one drinks
+the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr.
+Scrooge. You know he is, Robert! Nobody knows it better than you do,
+poor fellow!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; was Bob&#8217;s mild answer, &#8220;Christmas Day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>&#8220;I&#8217;ll drink his health for your sake and the day&#8217;s,&#8221; said Mrs. Cratchit,
+&#8220;not for his. Long life to him! A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
+He&#8217;ll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their
+proceedings which had no heartiness in it. Tiny Tim drank it last of
+all, but he didn&#8217;t care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the
+family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which
+was not dispelled for full five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from
+the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchit
+told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which
+would bring in, if obtained, full <span class="nowrap">five-and-six-pence<a name="Anchor_311-15" id="Anchor_311-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 311-15" href="#Footnote_311-15" class="fnanchor">311-15</a></span> weekly. The
+two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter&#8217;s being a
+man of business; and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from
+between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular
+investments he should favour when he came into the receipt of that
+bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner&#8217;s,
+then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she
+worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for
+a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also how
+she had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and how the lord
+&#8220;was much about as tall as Peter;&#8221; at which Peter pulled up his collars
+so high that you couldn&#8217;t have seen his head if you had been there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> All
+this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and
+bye-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow,
+from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsome family;
+they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being waterproof;
+their clothes were scanty; and Peter might have known, and very likely
+did, the inside of a pawnbroker&#8217;s. But, they were happy, grateful,
+pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they
+faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit&#8217;s
+torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny
+Tim, until the last.</p>
+
+<p>By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and as
+Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the
+roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, and all sorts of rooms, was
+wonderful. Here, the flickering of the blaze showed preparations for a
+cozy dinner, with hot plates baking through and through before the fire,
+and deep red curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness.
+There, all the children of the house were running out into the snow to
+meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the
+first to greet them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of
+guests assembling; and there a group of handsome girls, all hooded and
+fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some near
+neighbor&#8217;s house; where, woe upon the single man who saw them
+enter&mdash;artful witches; well they knew it&mdash;in a glow!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>But if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way to
+friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was at home to
+give them welcome when they got there, instead of every house expecting
+company, and piling up its fires half-chimney high. Blessings on it, how
+the Ghost exulted! How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its
+capacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, its
+bright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach! The very
+lamp-lighter, who ran on before dotting the dusky street with specks of
+light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed out
+loudly as the Spirit passed: though little kenned the lamp-lighter that
+he had any company but Christmas!</p>
+
+<p>And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they stood upon a
+bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of rude stone were cast
+about, as though it were the burial-place of giants; and water spread
+itself wheresoever it listed, or would have done so, but for the frost
+that held it prisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse,
+rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery
+red, which glared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye,
+and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of
+darkest night.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What place is this?&#8221; asked Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A place where miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,&#8221;
+returned the Spirit. &#8220;But they know me. See!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advanced
+towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a
+cheerful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> company assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and
+woman, with their children and their children&#8217;s children, and another
+generation beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire.
+The old man, in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind
+upon the barren waste, was singing them a Christmas song; it had been a
+very old song when he was a boy; and from time to time they all joined
+in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got
+quite blithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigour sank
+again.</p>
+
+<p>The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, and
+passing on above the moor, sped whither? Not to sea? To sea. To
+Scrooge&#8217;s horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightful
+range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the
+thundering of water, as it rolled, and roared, and raged among the
+dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some leagues or so from shore,
+on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, there
+stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of seaweed clung to its base,
+and storm-birds&mdash;born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of the
+water&mdash;rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed.</p>
+
+<p>But even here, two men who watched the light had made a fire, that
+through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of
+brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands over the rough
+table at which they sat, they wished each other Merry Christmas in their
+can of grog; and one of them, the elder, too, with his face all damaged
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> scarred with hard weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might
+be, struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale in itself.</p>
+
+<p>Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heavy sea&mdash;on, on&mdash;until,
+being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a
+ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the lookout in the
+bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their
+several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or
+had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of
+some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And
+every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder
+word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared
+to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for
+at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of
+the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the
+lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose depths were secrets as
+profound as Death: it was a great surprise to Scrooge, while thus
+engaged to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to
+Scrooge to recognize it as his own nephew&#8217;s, and to find himself in a
+bright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his
+side, and looking at that same nephew with approving affability.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ha, ha!&#8221; laughed Scrooge&#8217;s nephew. &#8220;Ha, ha, ha!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blest
+in a laugh than Scrooge&#8217;s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> nephew, all I can say is, I should like to
+know him too. Introduce him to me, and I&#8217;ll cultivate his acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there
+is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so
+irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Scrooge&#8217;s
+nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and
+twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge&#8217;s
+niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled
+friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out, lustily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!&#8221; cried Scrooge&#8217;s
+nephew. &#8220;He believed it too!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More shame for him, Fred!&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s niece, indignantly. Bless
+those women; they never do anything by halves. They are always in
+earnest.</p>
+
+<p>She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled,
+surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made
+to be kissed&mdash;and no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about
+her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the
+sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature&#8217;s head.
+Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but
+satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a comical old fellow,&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s nephew, &#8220;that&#8217;s the truth;
+and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their
+own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure he is very rich, Fred,&#8221; hinted Scrooge&#8217;s niece. &#8220;At least you
+always tell <em>me</em> so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>&#8220;What of that, my dear!&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s nephew. &#8220;His wealth is of no use
+to him. He don&#8217;t do any good with it. He don&#8217;t make himself comfortable
+with it. He hasn&#8217;t the satisfaction of thinking&mdash;ha, ha, ha!&mdash;that he is
+ever going to benefit Us with it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have no patience with him,&#8221; observed Scrooge&#8217;s niece.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge&#8217;s niece&#8217;s sister, and all the other ladies, expressed the same
+opinion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I have!&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s nephew. &#8220;I am sorry for him; I couldn&#8217;t be
+angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself,
+always. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won&#8217;t come
+and dine with us. What&#8217;s the consequence! He don&#8217;t lose much of a
+dinner&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner,&#8221; interrupted Scrooge&#8217;s
+niece. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have
+been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the
+dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well! I&#8217;m very glad to hear it,&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s nephew, &#8220;because I
+haven&#8217;t any great faith in these young housekeepers. What do <em>you</em> say,
+Topper?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge&#8217;s niece&#8217;s sisters,
+for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right
+to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge&#8217;s niece&#8217;s
+sister&mdash;the plump one with the lace tucker: not the one with the
+roses&mdash;blushed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do go on, Fred,&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s niece, clapping her hands. &#8220;He never
+finishes what he begins to say! He is such a ridiculous fellow!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>Scrooge&#8217;s nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to
+keep the infection off, though the plump sister tried hard to do it with
+aromatic vinegar, his example was unanimously followed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was only going to say,&#8221; said Scrooge&#8217;s nephew, &#8220;that the consequence
+of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I
+think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm.
+I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own
+thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean
+to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for
+I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can&#8217;t help
+thinking better of it&mdash;I defy him&mdash;if he finds me going there, in good
+temper, year after year, and saying, &#8216;Uncle Scrooge, how are you?&#8217; If it
+only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds, <em>that&#8217;s</em>
+something; and I think I shook him yesterday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking Scrooge. But
+being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at,
+so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment,
+and passed the bottle joyously.</p>
+
+<p>After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew
+what they were about, when they sang a Glee or Catch, I can assure you;
+especially Topper, who could growl away in the bass like a good one, and
+never swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over
+it. Scrooge&#8217;s niece played well upon the harp; and played among other
+tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing: you might learn to whistle it
+in two minutes), which had been familiar to the child who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> fetched
+Scrooge from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost
+of Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the things
+that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; he softened more and more;
+and thought that if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he
+might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with
+his own hands, without resorting to the sexton&#8217;s spade that buried Jacob
+<span class="nowrap">Marley.<a name="Anchor_319-16" id="Anchor_319-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 319-16" href="#Footnote_319-16" class="fnanchor">319-16</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But they didn&#8217;t devote the whole evening to music. After a while they
+played at forfeits; for it is good to be children sometimes, and never
+better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.
+Stop! There was first a game at blind-man&#8217;s buff. Of course there was.
+And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes
+in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between him and
+Scrooge&#8217;s nephew: and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The
+way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker, was an outrage
+on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling
+over the chairs, bumping up against the piano, smothering himself among
+the curtains, wherever she went, there went he. He always knew where the
+plump sister was. He wouldn&#8217;t catch anybody else. If you had fallen up
+against him, as some of them did, and stood there; he would have made a
+feint of endeavoring to seize you, which would have been an affront to
+your understanding; and would instantly have sidled off in the direction
+of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn&#8217;t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> fair; and it
+really was not. But when at last he caught her; when, in spite of all
+her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her
+into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was most
+execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his pretending that it
+was necessary to touch her head-dress, and further to assure himself of
+her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain
+chain about her neck; was vile, monstrous! No doubt she told him her
+opinion of it, when, another blind man being in office, they were so
+very confidential together, behind the curtains.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge&#8217;s niece was not one of the blind-man&#8217;s buff party, but was made
+comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where
+the Ghost and Scrooge were close behind her. But she joined in the
+forfeits, and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the
+<span class="nowrap">alphabet.<a name="Anchor_320-17" id="Anchor_320-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 320-17" href="#Footnote_320-17" class="fnanchor">320-17</a></span> Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was
+very great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge&#8217;s nephew, beat her sisters
+hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as Topper could have told you.
+There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all
+played, and so did Scrooge, for, wholly forgetting in the interest he
+had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he
+sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed
+quite right, too; for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted
+not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge: blunt as he took it
+in his head to be.</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon
+him with such favor, that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay
+until the guests departed. But this the Spirit said could not be done.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here is a new game,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;One half-hour, Spirit, only one!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It is a game called Yes and No, where Scrooge&#8217;s nephew had to think of
+something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their
+questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to
+which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an
+animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an
+animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and
+lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn&#8217;t made a show
+of, and wasn&#8217;t led by anybody, and didn&#8217;t live in a menagerie, and was
+never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a
+bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every
+fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar
+of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to
+get up off the sofa and stamp.</p>
+
+<p>At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have found it out. I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; cried Fred.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though
+some objected that the reply to &#8220;Is it a bear?&#8221; ought to have been
+&#8220;Yes;&#8221; inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have
+diverted their thoughts from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had
+any tendency that way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure,&#8221; said Fred, &#8220;and it
+would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled
+wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I say, &#8216;Uncle Scrooge!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well! Uncle Scrooge!&#8221; they cried.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is!&#8221;
+said Scrooge&#8217;s nephew. &#8220;He wouldn&#8217;t take it from me, but may he have it,
+nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that
+he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked
+them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time. But the
+whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his
+nephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.</p>
+
+<p>Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they visited, but
+always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside sick-beds, and they
+were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by
+struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty,
+and it was rich. In almshouse, hospital, and jail, in misery&#8217;s every
+refuge, where vain man in his little brief authority had not made fast
+the door, and barred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught
+Scrooge his precepts.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts
+of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into
+the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while
+Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older,
+clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it,
+until they left a children&#8217;s Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the
+Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that his hair
+was gray.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are spirits&#8217; lives so short?&#8221; asked Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My life upon this globe is very brief,&#8221; replied the Ghost. &#8220;It ends
+to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-night!&#8221; cried Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,&#8221; said Scrooge, looking
+intently at the Spirit&#8217;s robe, &#8220;but I see something strange, and not
+belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts! Is it a foot or a
+claw!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,&#8221; was the Spirit&#8217;s
+sorrowful reply. &#8220;Look here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched,
+abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and
+clung upon the outside of its garment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!&#8221; exclaimed the Ghost.</p>
+
+<p>They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but
+prostrate, too, in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> humility. Where graceful youth should have
+filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a
+stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted
+them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat
+enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no
+degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the
+mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and
+dread.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he
+tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves,
+rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit! are they yours?&#8221; Scrooge could say no more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are Man&#8217;s,&#8221; said the Spirit, looking down upon them. &#8220;And they
+cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This
+girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all
+beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom,
+unless the writing be erased. Deny it!&#8221; cried the Spirit, stretching out
+its hand towards the city. &#8220;Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for
+your factious purposes, and make it worse! And bide the end!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have they no refuge or resource?&#8221; cried Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are there no prisons?&#8221; said the Spirit, turning on him for the last
+time with his own words. &#8220;Are there no workhouses?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The bell struck twelve.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last
+stroke ceased to vibrate, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> remembered the prediction of old Jacob
+Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and
+hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.</p>
+
+
+<h3 class="section">STAVE FOUR</h3>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>The Last of the Spirits</em></p>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">he</span> Phantom slowly, gravely approached. When it came near him, Scrooge
+bent down upon his knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit
+moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.</p>
+
+<p>It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its
+face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched
+hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure
+from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was
+surrounded.</p>
+
+<p>He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him, and that
+its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more,
+for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?&#8221; said
+Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>The Spirit answered not, but pointed downward with its hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened,
+but will happen in the time before us,&#8221; Scrooge pursued. &#8220;Is that so,
+Spirit?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its
+folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer
+he received.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge feared the
+silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found
+that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit
+paused a moment, as observing his condition, and giving him time to
+recover.</p>
+
+<p>But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague
+uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were
+ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his
+own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great
+heap of black.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ghost of the Future!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;I fear you more than any Spectre I
+have seen. But, as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope
+to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you
+company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lead on!&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is
+precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in
+the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him
+along.</p>
+
+<p>They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather seemed to
+spring up about them, and encompass them of its own act. But there they
+were, in the heart of it; on &#8216;Change, amongst the merchants; who hurried
+up and down, and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed in
+groups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> with
+their great gold seals; and so forth, as Scrooge had seen them often.</p>
+
+<p>The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men. Observing
+that the hand was pointed to them, Scrooge advanced to listen to their
+talk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, &#8220;I don&#8217;t know much
+about it, either way. I only know he&#8217;s dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When did he die?&#8221; inquired another.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Last night, I believe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, what was the matter with him?&#8221; asked a third, taking a vast
+quantity of snuff out of a very large snuffbox. &#8220;I thought he&#8217;d never
+die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;God knows,&#8221; said the first, with a yawn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What has he done with his money?&#8221; asked a red-faced gentleman with a
+pendulous excrescence on the end of his nose, that shook like the gills
+of a turkey-cock.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t heard,&#8221; said the man with the large chin, yawning again.
+&#8220;Left it to his Company, perhaps. He hasn&#8217;t left it to <em>me</em>. That&#8217;s all
+I know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s likely to be a very cheap funeral,&#8221; said the same speaker; &#8220;for
+upon my life I don&#8217;t know of anybody to go to it. Suppose we make up a
+party and volunteer?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind going if a lunch is provided,&#8221; observed the gentleman with
+the excrescence on his nose. &#8220;But I must be fed, if I make one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Another laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all,&#8221; said the first
+speaker, &#8220;for I never wear black gloves, and I never eat lunch. But I&#8217;ll
+offer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> to go, if anybody else will. When I come to think of it, I&#8217;m not
+at all sure that I wasn&#8217;t his most particular friend; for we used to
+stop and speak whenever we met. Bye, bye!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed with other groups.
+Scrooge knew the men, and looked towards the Spirit for an explanation.</p>
+
+<p>The Phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two persons
+meeting. Scrooge listened again, thinking that the explanation might lie
+here.</p>
+
+<p>He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of business: very
+wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a point always of standing
+well in their esteem&mdash;in a business point of view, that is; strictly in
+a business point of view.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How are you?&#8221; said one.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How are you?&#8221; returned the other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well!&#8221; said the first. &#8220;Old Scratch has got his own at last, hey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I am told,&#8221; returned the second. &#8220;Cold, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seasonable for Christmas time. You&#8217;re not a skater, I suppose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. No. Something else to think of. Good morning!&#8221; Not another word.
+That was their meeting, their conversation, and their parting.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the Spirit should
+attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial; but feeling
+assured that they must have some hidden purpose, he set himself to
+consider what it was likely to be. They could scarcely be supposed to
+have any bearing on the death of Jacob, his old partner, for that was
+Past, and this Ghost&#8217;s province was the Future. Nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> could he think of
+any one immediately connected with himself, to whom he could apply them.
+But nothing doubting that to whomsoever they applied they had some
+latent moral for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure up every
+word he heard, and everything he saw; and especially to observe the
+shadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectation that the
+conduct of his future self would give him the clue he missed, and would
+render the solution of these riddles easy.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image44" id="image44"></a><a href="images/image44-full.png"><img src="images/image44.png" width="248" height="268" alt="Two gentlement passing on the street." title="&#8220;SO I AM TOLD,&#8221; RETURNED THE SECOND" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;SO I AM TOLD,&#8221; RETURNED THE SECOND</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>He looked about in that very place for his own image; but another man
+stood in his accustomed corner, and though the clock pointed to his
+usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness of himself among
+the multitudes that poured in through the Porch. It gave him little
+surprise, however; for he had been revolving in his mind a change of
+life, and thought and hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carried out
+in this.</p>
+
+<p>Quiet and dark, beside him stood the Phantom, with its outstretched
+hand. When he roused himself from his thoughtful quest, he fancied from
+the turn of the hand, and its situation in reference to himself, that
+the Unseen Eyes were looking at him keenly. It made him shudder and feel
+very cold.</p>
+
+<p>They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the town,
+where Scrooge had never penetrated before, although he recognized its
+situation, and its bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow; the shops
+and houses wretched; the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly.
+Alleys and archways, like so many cesspools, disgorged their offences of
+smell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling streets; and the whole
+quarter reeked with crime, with filth, and misery.</p>
+
+<p>Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed, beetling
+shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and
+greasy offal, were bought. Upon the floor within, were piled up heaps of
+rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse
+iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinise were bred
+and hidden in mountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and
+sepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> wares he dealt in, by a
+charcoal-stove, made of old bricks, was a grey-haired rascal, nearly
+seventy years of age; who had screened himself from the cold air
+without, by a frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters, hung upon a
+line; and smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge and the Phantom came into the presence of this man, just as a
+woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But she had scarcely
+entered, when another woman, similarly laden, came in too; and she was
+closely followed by a man in faded black, who was no less startled by
+the sight of them, than they had been upon the recognition of each
+other. After a short period of blank astonishment, in which the old man
+with the pipe had joined them, they all three burst into a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let the charwoman alone to be the first!&#8221; cried she who had entered
+first. &#8220;Let the laundress alone to be the second; and let the
+undertaker&#8217;s man alone to be the third. Look here, old Joe, here&#8217;s a
+chance! If we haven&#8217;t all three met here without meaning it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You couldn&#8217;t have met in a better place,&#8221; said old Joe, removing his
+pipe from his mouth. &#8220;Come into the parlour. You were made free of it
+long ago, you know; and the other two ain&#8217;t strangers. Stop till I shut
+the door of the shop. Ah! How it skreeks! There an&#8217;t such a rusty bit of
+metal in the place as its own hinges, I believe; and I&#8217;m sure there&#8217;s no
+such old bones here, as mine. Ha, ha! We&#8217;re all suitable to our calling,
+we&#8217;re well matched. Come into the parlour. Come into the parlour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The parlour was the space behind the screen of rags. The old man raked
+the fire together with an old stair-rod, and having trimmed his smoky
+lamp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> (for it was night), with the stem of his pipe, put it in his mouth
+again.</p>
+
+<p>While he did this, the woman who had already spoken, threw her bundle on
+the floor, and sat down in a flaunting manner on a stool; crossing her
+elbows on her knees, and looking with a bold defiance at the other two.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What odds then! What odds, Mrs. Dilber?&#8221; said the woman. &#8220;Every person
+has a right to take care of themselves. <em>He</em> always did!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s true, indeed!&#8221; said the laundress. &#8220;No man more so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, then, don&#8217;t stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; who&#8217;s the
+wiser? We&#8217;re not going to pick holes in each other&#8217;s coats, I suppose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, indeed!&#8221; said Mrs. Dilber and the man together. &#8220;We should hope
+not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, then!&#8221; cried the woman. &#8220;That&#8217;s enough. Who&#8217;s the worse for
+the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, indeed,&#8221; said Mrs. Dilber, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If he wanted to keep &#8217;em after he was dead, a wicked old screw,&#8221;
+pursued the woman, &#8220;why wasn&#8217;t he natural in his lifetime? If he had
+been, he&#8217;d have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with
+Death, instead of lying gasping out his last there, alone by himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the truest word that ever was spoke,&#8221; said Mrs. Dilber. &#8220;It&#8217;s a
+judgment on him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish it was a little heavier one,&#8221; replied the woman; &#8220;and it should
+have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have laid my hands on
+anything else. Open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of
+it. Speak out plain. I&#8217;m not afraid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> to be the first, nor afraid for
+them to see it. We knew pretty well that we were helping ourselves,
+before we met here, I believe. It&#8217;s no sin. Open the bundle, Joe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this; and the man in
+faded black, mounting the breach first, produced <em>his</em> plunder. It was
+not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil-case, a pair of sleeve-buttons,
+and a brooch of no great value, were all. They were severally examined
+and appraised by old Joe, who chalked the sums he was disposed to give
+for each, upon the wall, and added them up into a total when he found
+there was nothing more to come.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s your account,&#8221; said Joe, &#8220;and I wouldn&#8217;t give another sixpence,
+if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who&#8217;s next?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing apparel, two
+old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots.
+Her account was stated on the wall in the same manner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I always give too much to ladies. It&#8217;s a weakness of mine, and that&#8217;s
+the way I ruin myself,&#8221; said old Joe. &#8220;That&#8217;s your account. If you asked
+me for another penny, and made it an open question, I&#8217;d repent of being
+so liberal and knock off half-a-crown.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now undo <em>my</em> bundle, Joe,&#8221; said the first woman.</p>
+
+<p>Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening it,
+and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged out a large and heavy
+roll of some dark stuff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you call this?&#8221; said Joe. &#8220;Bed-curtains!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; returned the woman, laughing and leaning forward on her crossed
+arms. &#8220;Bed-curtains!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean to say you took &#8217;em down, rings and all, with him lying
+there?&#8221; said Joe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes I do,&#8221; replied the woman. &#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were born to make your fortune,&#8221; said Joe, &#8220;and you&#8217;ll certainly do
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I certainly shan&#8217;t hold my hand, when I can get anything in it by
+reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as He was, I promise you,
+Joe,&#8221; returned the woman coolly. &#8220;Don&#8217;t drop that oil upon the blankets,
+now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His blankets?&#8221; asked Joe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whose else&#8217;s do you think?&#8221; replied the woman. &#8220;He isn&#8217;t likely to take
+cold without &#8217;em, I dare say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope he didn&#8217;t die of anything catching? Eh?&#8221; said old Joe, stopping
+in his work, and looking up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you be afraid of that,&#8221; returned the woman. &#8220;I an&#8217;t so fond of
+his company that I&#8217;d loiter about him for such things, if he did. Ah!
+you may look through that shirt till your eyes ache; but you won&#8217;t find
+a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It&#8217;s the best he had, and a fine
+one too. They&#8217;d have wasted it, if it hadn&#8217;t been for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you call wasting of it?&#8221; asked old Joe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure,&#8221; replied the woman with
+a laugh. &#8220;Somebody was fool enough to do it, but I took it off again. If
+calico an&#8217;t good enough for such a purpose, it isn&#8217;t good enough for
+anything. He can&#8217;t look uglier than he did in that one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat grouped about
+their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by the old man&#8217;s lamp, he
+viewed them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> with a detestation and disgust, which could hardly have
+been greater, though they had been obscene demons, marketing the corpse
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ha, ha!&#8221; laughed the same woman, when old Joe, producing a flannel bag
+with money in it, told out their several gains upon the ground. &#8220;This is
+the end of it, you see! He frightened every one away from him when he
+was alive, to profit us when he was dead! Ha, ha, ha!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit!&#8221; said Scrooge, shuddering from head to foot. &#8220;I see, I see. The
+case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now.
+Merciful Heaven, what is this!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now he almost
+touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed: on which, beneath a ragged
+sheet, there lay a something covered up, which, though it was dumb,
+announced itself in awful language.</p>
+
+<p>The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with any accuracy,
+though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse,
+anxious to know what kind of room it was.</p>
+
+<p>A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and
+on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the
+body of this man.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady hand was pointed to the
+head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of
+it, the motion of a finger upon Scrooge&#8217;s part, would have disclosed the
+face. He thought of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to
+do it; but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the
+spectre at his side.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress
+it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy
+dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not
+turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is
+not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not
+that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open,
+generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a
+man&#8217;s. Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the
+wound, to sow the world with life immortal!</p>
+
+<p>No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge&#8217;s ears, and yet he heard them
+when he looked upon the bed. He thought, if this man could be raised up
+now, what would be his foremost thoughts? Avarice, hard dealing, griping
+cares? They have brought him to a rich end, truly!</p>
+
+<p>He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a woman, or a child, to
+say that he was kind to me in this or that, and for the memory of one
+kind word I will be kind to him. A cat was tearing at the door, and
+there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What <em>they</em>
+wanted in the room of death, and why they were so restless and
+disturbed, Scrooge did not dare to think.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit!&#8221; he said, &#8220;this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I shall not
+leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still the Ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I understand you,&#8221; Scrooge returned, &#8220;and I would do it, if I could.
+But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the power.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>Again it seemed to look upon him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this
+man&#8217;s death,&#8221; said Scrooge, quite agonized, &#8220;show that person to me,
+Spirit, I beseech you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for a moment, like a wing;
+and withdrawing it, revealed a room by daylight, where a mother and her
+children were.</p>
+
+<p>She was expecting some one, and with anxious eagerness; for she walked
+up and down the room; started at every sound; looked out from the
+window; glanced at the clock; tried, but in vain, to work with her
+needle; and could hardly bear the voices of the children in their play.</p>
+
+<p>At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried to the door,
+and met her husband; a man whose face was careworn and depressed, though
+he was young. There was a remarkable expression in it now; a kind of
+serious delight of which he felt ashamed, and which he struggled to
+repress.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for him by the fire;
+and when she asked him faintly what news (which was not until after a
+long silence) he appeared embarrassed how to answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it good,&#8221; she said, &#8220;or bad?&#8221;&mdash;to help him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bad,&#8221; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are quite ruined?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. There is hope yet, Caroline.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If <em>he</em> relents,&#8221; she said, amazed, &#8220;there is! Nothing is past hope, if
+such a miracle has happened.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is past relenting,&#8221; said her husband. &#8220;He is dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke truth; but she was
+thankful in her soul to hear it, and she said so, with clasped hands.
+She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and was sorry; but the first was
+the emotion of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of last night, said to me,
+when I tried to see him and obtain a week&#8217;s delay; and what I thought
+was a mere excuse to avoid me; turns out to have been quite true. He was
+not only very ill, but dying, then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To whom will our debt be transferred?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. But before that time we shall be ready with the money;
+and even though we were not, it would be bad fortune indeed to find so
+merciless a creditor in his successor. We may sleep to-night with light
+hearts, Caroline!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children&#8217;s
+faces, hushed, and clustered round to hear what they so little
+understood, were brighter; and it was a happier house for this man&#8217;s
+death; The only emotion that the Ghost could show him, caused by the
+event, was one of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,&#8221; said Scrooge; &#8220;or
+that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever
+present to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet;
+and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself,
+but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor Bob Cratchit&#8217;s house;
+the dwelling he had visited before; and found the mother and the
+children seated round the fire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as statues
+in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a book before him.
+The mother and her daughter were engaged in sewing. But surely they were
+very quiet!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;And He took a child, and set him in the midst of them.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Where had Scrooge heard those words? He had not, dreamed them. The boy
+must have read them out, as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why
+did he not go on?</p>
+
+<p>The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up to her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The colour hurts my eyes,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p>The colour? Ah, poor Tiny Tim!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re better now again,&#8221; said Cratchit&#8217;s wife. &#8220;It makes them weak by
+candlelight; and I wouldn&#8217;t show weak eyes to your father when he comes
+home, for the world. It must be near his time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Past it rather,&#8221; Peter answered, shutting up his book. &#8220;But I think
+he&#8217;s walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings,
+mother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady cheerful
+voice, that only faltered once:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have known him walk with&mdash;I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon
+his shoulder, very fast indeed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so have I,&#8221; cried Peter. &#8220;Often.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so have I,&#8221; exclaimed another. So had all.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he was very light to carry,&#8221; she resumed, intent upon her work,
+&#8220;and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble&mdash;no trouble. And
+there is your father at the door!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforter&mdash;he had
+need of it, poor fellow&mdash;came in. His tea was ready for him on the hob,
+and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then the two young
+Cratchits got upon his knees and laid, each child, a little cheek
+against his face, as if they said, &#8220;Don&#8217;t mind it, father. Don&#8217;t be
+grieved!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family.
+He looked at the work upon the table, and praised the industry and speed
+of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long before Sunday he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sunday! You went to-day then, Robert?&#8221; said his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my dear,&#8221; returned Bob. &#8220;I wish you could have gone. It would have
+done you good to see how green a place it is. But you&#8217;ll see it often. I
+promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little, little
+child!&#8221; cried Bob. &#8220;My little child!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He broke down all at once. He couldn&#8217;t help it. If he could have helped
+it, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they
+were.</p>
+
+<p>He left the room, and went upstairs into the room above, which was
+lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close
+beside the child, and there were signs of some one having been there,
+lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and
+composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what
+had happened, and went down again quite happy.</p>
+
+<p>They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother working
+still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of Mr. Scrooge&#8217;s
+nephew,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> whom he had scarcely seen but once, and who, meeting him in the
+street that day, and seeing that he looked a little&mdash;&#8220;just a little down
+you know,&#8221; said Bob, inquired what had happened to distress him. &#8220;On
+which,&#8221; said Bob, &#8220;for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever
+heard, I told him. &#8216;I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit,&#8217; he said,
+&#8216;and heartily sorry for your good wife.&#8217; By the bye, how he ever knew
+<em>that</em>, I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Knew what, my dear?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, that you were a good wife,&#8221; replied Bob.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Everybody knows that!&#8221; said Peter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well observed, my boy!&#8221; cried Bob. &#8220;I hope they do. &#8216;Heartily
+sorry,&#8217; he said, &#8216;for your good wife. If I can be of service to you in
+any way,&#8217; he said, giving me his card, &#8216;that&#8217;s where I live. Pray come
+to me.&#8217; Now, it wasn&#8217;t,&#8221; cried Bob, &#8220;for the sake of anything he might
+be able to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that this was quite
+delightful. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt
+with us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure he&#8217;s a good soul!&#8221; said Mrs. Cratchit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would be surer of it, my dear,&#8221; returned Bob, &#8220;if you saw and spoke
+to him. I shouldn&#8217;t be at all surprised, mark what I say, if he got
+Peter a better situation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only hear that, Peter,&#8221; said Mrs. Cratchit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And then,&#8221; cried one of the girls, &#8220;Peter will be keeping company with
+some one, and setting up for himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Get along with you!&#8221; retorted Peter, grinning.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s just as likely as not,&#8221; said Bob, &#8220;one of these days; though
+there&#8217;s plenty of time for that, my dear. But however and whenever we
+part from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny
+Tim&mdash;shall we&mdash;or this first parting that there was among us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never, father!&#8221; cried they all.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I know,&#8221; said Bob, &#8220;I know, my dears, that when we recollect how
+patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we
+shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in
+doing it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, never, father!&#8221; they all cried again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am very happy,&#8221; said little Bob, &#8220;I am very happy!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two young
+Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shook hands. Spirit of Tiny
+Tim, thy childish essence was from God!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spectre,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;something informs me that our parting moment
+is at hand. I know it, but I know not how. Tell me what man that was
+whom we saw lying dead?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him, as before&mdash;though at a
+different time, he thought: indeed, there seemed no order in these
+latter visions, save that they were in the Future&mdash;into the resorts of
+business men, but showed him not himself. Indeed, the Spirit did not
+pause, but went straight on, as to the end just now desired, until
+besought by Scrooge to tarry for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This court,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;through which we hurry now, is where my
+place of occupation is, and has been for a length of time. I see the
+house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days to come!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Spirit stopped; the hand was pointed elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>&#8220;The house is yonder,&#8221; Scrooge exclaimed, &#8220;Why do you point away?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The inexorable finger underwent no change.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge hastened to the window of his office, and looked in. It was an
+office still, but not his. The furniture was not the same, and the
+figure in the chair was not himself. The Phantom pointed as before. He
+joined it once again, and wondering why and whither he had gone,
+accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round
+before entering.</p>
+
+<p>A churchyard. Here, then, the wretched man whose name he had now to
+learn, lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy place. Walled in by
+houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation&#8217;s death,
+not life; choked up with too much burying; fat with repleted appetite. A
+worthy place!</p>
+
+<p>The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One. He advanced
+towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he
+dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point,&#8221; said Scrooge,
+&#8220;answer me one question. Are these shadows of the things that Will be,
+or are they shadows of things that May be, only?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Men&#8217;s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in,
+they must lead,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;But if the courses be departed from, the
+ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>The Spirit was immovable as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the
+finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name,
+<span class="smcap">Ebenezer Scrooge</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image45" id="image45"></a><a href="images/image45-full.png"><img src="images/image45.png" width="248" height="267" alt="Scrooge viewing his own grave." title="HE READ HIS OWN NAME" /></a>
+<span class="caption">HE READ HIS OWN NAME</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Am <em>I</em> that man who lay upon the bed?&#8221; he cried, upon his knees.</p>
+
+<p>The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, Spirit! Oh no, no!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>The finger still was there.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spirit!&#8221; he cried, tight clutching at its robe, <a name="corr18" id="corr18"></a>&#8220;hear me! I am not the
+man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this
+intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For the first time the hand appeared to shake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good Spirit,&#8221; he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it:
+&#8220;Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may
+change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The kind hand trembled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I
+will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all
+Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they
+teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but
+he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger
+yet, repulsed him.</p>
+
+<p>Holding up his hands in one last prayer to have his fate reversed, he
+saw an alteration in the Phantom&#8217;s hood and dress. It shrank, collapsed,
+and dwindled down into a bedpost.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="section">STAVE FIVE</h3>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>The End of It</em></p>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapy"><span class="hide">Y</span></span><span class="upper">es!</span> and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his
+own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make
+amends in!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!&#8221; Scrooge
+repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. &#8220;The Spirits of all Three shall
+strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley! Heaven and the Christmas Time be
+praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob, on my knees!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his
+broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing
+violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are not torn down,&#8221; cried Scrooge, folding one of his bed-curtains
+in his arms, &#8220;they are not torn down, rings and all. They are here: I am
+here: the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled.
+They will be. I know they will!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His hands were busy with his garments all this time: turning them inside
+out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making
+them parties to every kind of extravagance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what to do!&#8221; cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the
+same breath; and making a perfect <span class="nowrap">Laoco&ouml;n<a name="Anchor_346-18" id="Anchor_346-18"></a><a title="Go to footnote 346-18" href="#Footnote_346-18" class="fnanchor">346-18</a></span> of himself with his
+stockings. &#8220;I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> I am
+as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry
+Christmas to everybody! A Happy New Year to all the world. Hallo here!
+Whoop! Hallo!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing there:
+perfectly winded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s the saucepan that the gruel was in!&#8221; cried Scrooge, starting
+off again, and frisking round the fireplace. &#8220;There&#8217;s the door, by which
+the Ghost of Jacob Marley entered! There&#8217;s the corner where the Ghost of
+Christmas Present sat! There&#8217;s the window where I saw the wandering
+Spirits! It&#8217;s all right, it&#8217;s all true, it all happened. Ha, ha, ha!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was
+a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long
+line of brilliant laughs!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what day of the month it is!&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know
+how long I&#8217;ve been among the Spirits. I don&#8217;t know anything. I&#8217;m quite a
+baby. Never mind. I don&#8217;t care. I&#8217;d rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop!
+Hallo here!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the
+lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer, ding, dong,
+bell. Bell, dong, ding, hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!</p>
+
+<p>Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no
+mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood
+to dance to; golden sunlight; heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry
+bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>&#8220;What&#8217;s to-day?&#8221; cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday
+clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Eh</span>?&#8221; returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 245px;">
+<a name="image46" id="image46"></a><a href="images/image46-full.png"><img src="images/image46.png" width="245" height="264" alt="Scrooge looking out the window." title="HE STOOD BY THE WINDOW&mdash;GLORIOUS!" /></a>
+<span class="caption">HE STOOD BY THE WINDOW&mdash;GLORIOUS!</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s to-day, my fine fellow?&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-day!&#8221; replied the boy. &#8220;Why, <span class="smcap">Christmas Day</span>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s Christmas Day!&#8221; said Scrooge to himself. &#8220;I haven&#8217;t missed it. The
+Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like.
+Of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> course they can. Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!&#8221;
+&#8220;Hallo!&#8221; returned the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know the poulterer&#8217;s, in the next street but one, at the
+corner?&#8221; Scrooge inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should hope I did,&#8221; replied the lad.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An intelligent boy!&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;A remarkable boy! Do you know
+whether they&#8217;ve sold the prize turkey that was hanging up there? Not the
+little prize turkey: the big one?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What, the one as big as me?&#8221; returned the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a delightful boy!&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;It&#8217;s a pleasure to talk to him.
+Yes, my buck!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s hanging there now,&#8221; replied the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it?&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Go and buy it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="nowrap">&#8220;Walk-<span class="smcap">er</span>!&#8221;<a name="Anchor_349-19" id="Anchor_349-19"></a><a title="Go to footnote 349-19" href="#Footnote_349-19" class="fnanchor">349-19</a></span> exclaimed the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; said Scrooge, &#8220;I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell &#8217;em to
+bring it here, that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come
+back with the man, and I&#8217;ll give you a shilling. Come back with him in
+less than five minutes, and I&#8217;ll give you half-a-crown!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand at a trigger
+who could have got a shot off half so fast.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll send it to Bob Cratchit&#8217;s!&#8221; whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands,
+and splitting with a laugh. &#8220;He shan&#8217;t know who sends it. It&#8217;s twice the
+size of Tiny Tim. Joe <span class="nowrap">Miller<a name="Anchor_349-20" id="Anchor_349-20"></a><a title="Go to footnote 349-20" href="#Footnote_349-20" class="fnanchor">349-20</a></span> never made such a joke as sending
+it to Bob&#8217;s will be!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write
+it he did, somehow, and went downstairs to open the street door, ready
+for the coming of the poulterer&#8217;s man. As he stood there, waiting his
+arrival, the knocker caught his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall love it, as long as I live!&#8221; cried Scrooge, patting it with his
+hand. &#8220;I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it
+has in its face! It&#8217;s a wonderful knocker!&mdash;Here&#8217;s the turkey. Hallo!
+Whoop! How are you! Merry Christmas!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It <em>was</em> a turkey! He could never have stood upon his legs, that bird.
+He would have snapped &#8217;em short off in a minute, like sticks of
+sealing-wax.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s impossible to carry that to Camden Town,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;You
+must have a cab.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid
+for the turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the
+chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by
+the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and
+chuckled till he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake very much;
+and shaving requires attention, even when you don&#8217;t dance while you are
+at it. But if he had cut the end of his nose off, he would have put a
+piece of sticking-plaster over it, and been quite satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>He dressed himself &#8220;all in his best,&#8221; and at last got out into the
+streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them
+with the Ghost of Christmas Present; and walking with his hands behind
+him, Scrooge regarded every one with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> a delighted smile. He looked so
+irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured
+fellows said, &#8220;Good morning, Sir! A Merry Christmas to you!&#8221; And Scrooge
+said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard,
+those were the blithest in his ears.</p>
+
+<p>He had not gone far, when coming on towards him he beheld the portly
+gentleman, who had walked into his counting-house the day before and
+said, &#8220;Scrooge and Marley&#8217;s, I believe?&#8221; It sent a pang across his heart
+to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but
+he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear Sir,&#8221; said Scrooge, quickening his pace, and taking the old
+gentleman by both his hands. &#8220;How do you do? I hope you succeeded
+yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry Christmas to you, Sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scrooge?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;That is my name, and I fear it may not be pleasant
+to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the
+goodness&#8221;&mdash;here Scrooge whispered in his ear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lord bless me,&#8221; cried the gentleman, as if his breath were gone. &#8220;My
+dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you please,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;Not a farthing less. A great many
+back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that
+favour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear Sir,&#8221; said the other, shaking hands with him. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know
+what to say to such munifi&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t say anything, please,&#8221; retorted Scrooge. &#8220;Come and see me. Will
+you come and see me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>&#8220;I will!&#8221; cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant to do it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank&#8217;ee,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty
+times. Bless you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people
+hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned
+beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the
+windows; and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had
+never dreamed that any walk&mdash;that anything&mdash;could give him so much
+happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his steps towards his nephew&#8217;s
+house. He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the courage to go
+up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is your master at home, my dear?&#8221; said Scrooge to the girl. Nice girl!
+Very.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is he, my love?&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s in the dining-room, Sir, along with mistress. I&#8217;ll show you
+upstairs, if you please.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank&#8217;ee. He knows me,&#8221; said Scrooge, with his hand already on the
+dining-room lock. &#8220;I&#8217;ll go in here, my dear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were
+looking at the table (which was spread out in great array); for these
+young housekeepers are always nervous on such points, and like to see
+that everything is right.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fred!&#8221; said Scrooge.</p>
+
+<p>Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started! Scrooge had
+forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with the
+<a name="corr19" id="corr19"></a>footstool, or he wouldn&#8217;t have done it, on any account.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>&#8220;Why bless my soul!&#8221; cried Fred, &#8220;who&#8217;s that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in,
+Fred?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Let him in! It is a mercy he didn&#8217;t shake his arm off. He was at home in
+five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same.
+So did Topper when <em>he</em> came. So did the plump sister, when <em>she</em> came.
+So did every one when <em>they</em> came. Wonderful party, wonderful games,
+wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!</p>
+
+<p>But he was early at the office next morning. Oh he was early there. If
+he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! That
+was the thing he had set his heart upon.</p>
+
+<p>And he did it; yes he did! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter
+past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time.
+Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the
+Tank. His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comforter too. He
+was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his pen, as if he were
+trying to overtake nine o&#8217;clock.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hallo!&#8221; growled Scrooge in his accustomed voice as near as he could
+feign it. &#8220;What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am very sorry, Sir,&#8221; said Bob. &#8220;I <em>am</em> behind my time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are?&#8221; repeated Scrooge. &#8220;Yes. I think you are. Step this way, Sir,
+if you please.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s only once a year, Sir,&#8221; pleaded Bob, appearing from the Tank. &#8220;It
+shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, Sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, I&#8217;ll tell you what, my friend,&#8221; said Scrooge. &#8220;I am not going to
+stand this sort of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> thing any longer. And therefore,&#8221; he continued,
+leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that
+he staggered back into the Tank again: &#8220;and therefore I am about to
+raise your salary!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary
+idea of knocking Scrooge down with it; holding him; and calling to the
+people in the court for help and a strait-waist-coat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A Merry Christmas, Bob!&#8221; said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could
+not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. &#8220;A merrier Christmas,
+Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year! I&#8217;ll raise
+your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will
+discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of
+smoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle
+before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more;
+and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second father. He became as
+good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city
+knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old
+world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them
+laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that
+nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did
+not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as
+these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they
+should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less
+attractive forms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for
+him.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 245px;">
+<a name="image47" id="image47"></a><a href="images/image47-full.png"><img src="images/image47.png" width="245" height="264" alt="Scrooge shaking hands with Bob by his desk in the office." title="&#8220;A MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOB!&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;A MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOB!&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total
+Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him,
+that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the
+knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny
+Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_247-1" id="Footnote_247-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_247-1" class="label">247-1</a> The fogs of London are famous. A genuine London fog
+seems not like the heavy gray mist which we know as a fog, but, as
+Dickens says, like &#8220;palpable brown air.&#8221; So dense is this brown air at
+times that all traffic is obliged to cease, for not even those best
+acquainted with the geography of the city can find their way about.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_251-2" id="Footnote_251-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_251-2" class="label">251-2</a> <em>Bedlam</em> is the name of a famous asylum for lunatics,
+in London. In former times the treatment of the inmates was far from
+humane, but at the present time the management is excellent, and a large
+proportion of the inmates are cured.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_252-3" id="Footnote_252-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_252-3" class="label">252-3</a> Workhouses are establishments where paupers are cared
+for, a certain amount of labor being expected from those who are able.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_252-4" id="Footnote_252-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_252-4" class="label">252-4</a> In England formerly there existed a device for the
+punishment of prisoners which was known as the <em>treadmill</em>. A huge
+wheel, usually in the form of a long hollow cylinder, was provided with
+steps about its circumference, and made to revolve by the weight of the
+prisoner as he moved from step to step.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_253-5" id="Footnote_253-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_253-5" class="label">253-5</a> Links are torches made of tow and pitch. In the days
+before the invention of street lights, they were in common use in
+England, and they are still seen during the dense London fogs.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_254-6" id="Footnote_254-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_254-6" class="label">254-6</a> Saint Dunstan was an English archbishop and statesman
+who lived in the tenth century.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_254-7" id="Footnote_254-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_254-7" class="label">254-7</a> This is one of the best-known and oftenest-sung of
+Christmas carols. In many parts of England, parties of men and boys go
+about for several nights before Christmas singing carols before people&#8217;s
+houses. These troops of singers are known as &#8220;waits.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_258-8" id="Footnote_258-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_258-8" class="label">258-8</a> The splinter-bar is the cross-bar of a vehicle, to
+which the traces of the horses are fastened.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_261-9" id="Footnote_261-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_261-9" class="label">261-9</a> There is a play on the word <em>bowels</em> here. What Scrooge
+had heard said of Marley was that he had no bowels of compassion&mdash;that
+is, no pity.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_277-10" id="Footnote_277-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_277-10" class="label">277-10</a> Scrooge sees and recognizes the heroes of the books
+which had been almost his only comforters in his neglected childhood.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_284-11" id="Footnote_284-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_284-11" class="label">284-11</a> &#8220;Sir Roger de Coverley&#8221; is the English name for the
+old-fashioned country-dance which is called in the United States the
+&#8220;Virginia Reel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_300-12" id="Footnote_300-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_300-12" class="label">300-12</a> Biffins are an excellent variety of apples raised in
+England.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_301-13" id="Footnote_301-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_301-13" class="label">301-13</a> <em>Baker&#8217;s</em> here does not mean exactly what it means
+with us. In England the poorer people often take their dinners to a
+baker&#8217;s to be cooked.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_303-14" id="Footnote_303-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_303-14" class="label">303-14</a> A <em>bob</em>, in English slang, is a shilling.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_311-15" id="Footnote_311-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_311-15" class="label">311-15</a> <em>Five-and-sixpence</em> means five shillings and sixpence,
+or about $1.32.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_319-16" id="Footnote_319-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_319-16" class="label">319-16</a> In what sense has Scrooge &#8220;resorted to the sexton&#8217;s
+spade that buried Jacob Marley&#8221; to cultivate the kindnesses of life?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_320-17" id="Footnote_320-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_320-17" class="label">320-17</a> &#8220;I love my love&#8221; is an old game of which there are
+several slightly different forms. The player says &#8220;I love my love with
+an <em>A</em> because he&#8217;s&mdash;,&#8221; giving some adjective beginning with <em>A</em>; &#8220;I
+hate him with an <em>A</em> because he&#8217;s&mdash;; I took him to&mdash;and fed him on&mdash;,&#8221;
+all the blanks being filled with words beginning with <em>A</em>. This is
+carried out through the whole alphabet.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_346-18" id="Footnote_346-18"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_346-18" class="label">346-18</a> The Laoco&ouml;n is a famous ancient statue of a Trojan
+priest, Laoco&ouml;n, and his two sons, struggling in the grip of two
+monstrous serpents. You have doubtless seen pictures of the group.
+Dickens&#8217;s figure gives us a humorously exaggerated picture of Scrooge
+and his stockings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_349-19" id="Footnote_349-19"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_349-19" class="label">349-19</a> This is a slang expression, used to express
+incredulity. It has somewhat the same meaning as the slang phrase heard
+in the United States&mdash;&#8220;Over the left.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_349-20" id="Footnote_349-20"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_349-20" class="label">349-20</a> Joe Miller was an English comedian who lived from 1684
+to 1738. The year after his death there appeared a little book called
+<cite>Joe Miller&#8217;s Jests</cite>. These stories and jokes, however, were not written
+by Miller.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="CHRISTMAS_IN_OLD_TIME" id="CHRISTMAS_IN_OLD_TIME"></a>CHRISTMAS IN OLD TIME</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> Sir Walter Scott</p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcaph"><span class="hide">H</span></span><span class="upper">eap</span> on more <span class="nowrap">wood!<a name="Anchor_356-1" id="Anchor_356-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-1" href="#Footnote_356-1" class="fnanchor">356-1</a></span>&mdash;the wind is chill;<br />
+But let it whistle as it will,<br />
+We&#8217;ll keep our Christmas merry still.<br />
+Each age has deem&#8217;d the new-born year<br />
+The fittest time for festal <span class="nowrap">cheer:<a name="Anchor_356-2" id="Anchor_356-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-2" href="#Footnote_356-2" class="fnanchor">356-2</a></span><br />
+And well our Christian sires of old<br />
+Loved when the year its course had roll&#8217;d,<br />
+And brought blithe Christmas back again,<br />
+With all his hospitable <span class="nowrap">train.<a name="Anchor_356-3" id="Anchor_356-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-3" href="#Footnote_356-3" class="fnanchor">356-3</a></span><br />
+Domestic and religious <span class="nowrap">rite<a name="Anchor_356-4" id="Anchor_356-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-4" href="#Footnote_356-4" class="fnanchor">356-4</a></span><br />
+Gave honor to the holy night;<br />
+On Christmas Eve the bells were <span class="nowrap">rung;<a name="Anchor_356-5" id="Anchor_356-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-5" href="#Footnote_356-5" class="fnanchor">356-5</a></span><br />
+On <a name="corr20" id="corr20"></a>Christmas Eve the <span class="nowrap">mass<a name="Anchor_356-6" id="Anchor_356-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-6" href="#Footnote_356-6" class="fnanchor">356-6</a></span> was sung:<br />
+That only night in all the year,<br />
+Saw the stoled priest the chalice <span class="nowrap">rear.<a name="Anchor_356-7" id="Anchor_356-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-7" href="#Footnote_356-7" class="fnanchor">356-7</a></span><br />
+The damsel donn&#8217;d her kirtle <span class="nowrap">sheen;<a name="Anchor_356-8" id="Anchor_356-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 356-8" href="#Footnote_356-8" class="fnanchor">356-8</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>The hall was dress&#8217;d with holly green;<br />
+Forth to the wood did merry-men go,<br />
+To gather in the <span class="nowrap">mistletoe.<a name="Anchor_357-9" id="Anchor_357-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-9" href="#Footnote_357-9" class="fnanchor">357-9</a></span><br />
+Then open&#8217;d wide the baron&#8217;s hall<br />
+To <span class="nowrap">vassal,<a name="Anchor_357-10" id="Anchor_357-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-10" href="#Footnote_357-10" class="fnanchor">357-10</a></span> <span class="nowrap">tenant,<a name="Anchor_357-11" id="Anchor_357-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-11" href="#Footnote_357-11" class="fnanchor">357-11</a></span> <span class="nowrap">serf,<a name="Anchor_357-12" id="Anchor_357-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-12" href="#Footnote_357-12" class="fnanchor">357-12</a></span> and all;<br />
+Power laid his rod of rule <span class="nowrap">aside,<a name="Anchor_357-13" id="Anchor_357-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-13" href="#Footnote_357-13" class="fnanchor">357-13</a></span><br />
+And ceremony doff&#8217;d his <span class="nowrap">pride.<a name="Anchor_357-14" id="Anchor_357-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-14" href="#Footnote_357-14" class="fnanchor">357-14</a></span><br />
+The heir, with roses in his <span class="nowrap">shoes,<a name="Anchor_357-15" id="Anchor_357-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-15" href="#Footnote_357-15" class="fnanchor">357-15</a></span><br />
+That night might village partner <span class="nowrap">choose;<a name="Anchor_357-16" id="Anchor_357-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-16" href="#Footnote_357-16" class="fnanchor">357-16</a></span><br />
+The lord, <span class="nowrap">underogating,<a name="Anchor_357-17" id="Anchor_357-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-17" href="#Footnote_357-17" class="fnanchor">357-17</a></span> share<br />
+The vulgar game of &#8220;post and <span class="nowrap">pair.&#8221;<a name="Anchor_357-18" id="Anchor_357-18"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-18" href="#Footnote_357-18" class="fnanchor">357-18</a></span><br />
+All hail&#8217;d, with uncontroll&#8217;d delight<br />
+And general voice, the happy night,<br />
+That to the cottage, as the crown,<br />
+Brought tidings of Salvation <span class="nowrap">down.<a name="Anchor_357-19" id="Anchor_357-19"></a><a title="Go to footnote 357-19" href="#Footnote_357-19" class="fnanchor">357-19</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,<br />
+Went roaring up the chimney wide;<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>The huge hall-table&#8217;s oaken face,<br />
+Scrubb&#8217;d till it shone, the day to grace,<br />
+Bore then upon its massive board<br />
+No mark to part the squire and <span class="nowrap">lord.<a name="Anchor_358-20" id="Anchor_358-20"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-20" href="#Footnote_358-20" class="fnanchor">358-20</a></span><br />
+Then was brought in the lusty <span class="nowrap">brawn,<a name="Anchor_358-21" id="Anchor_358-21"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-21" href="#Footnote_358-21" class="fnanchor">358-21</a></span><br />
+By old blue-coated serving-man;<br />
+Then the grim boar&#8217;s head frown&#8217;d on high,<br />
+Crested with bays and <span class="nowrap">rosemary.<a name="Anchor_358-22" id="Anchor_358-22"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-22" href="#Footnote_358-22" class="fnanchor">358-22</a></span><br />
+Well can the green-garb&#8217;d <span class="nowrap">ranger<a name="Anchor_358-23" id="Anchor_358-23"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-23" href="#Footnote_358-23" class="fnanchor">358-23</a></span> tell,<br />
+How, when, and where, the monster fell;<br />
+What dogs before his death he tore,<br />
+And all the baiting of the <span class="nowrap">boar.<a name="Anchor_358-24" id="Anchor_358-24"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-24" href="#Footnote_358-24" class="fnanchor">358-24</a></span><br />
+The <span class="nowrap">wassail<a name="Anchor_358-25" id="Anchor_358-25"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-25" href="#Footnote_358-25" class="fnanchor">358-25</a></span> round, in good brown bowls,<br />
+Garnish&#8217;d with ribbons, blithely <span class="nowrap">trowls.<a name="Anchor_358-26" id="Anchor_358-26"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-26" href="#Footnote_358-26" class="fnanchor">358-26</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">There the huge sirloin reek&#8217;d; hard by<br />
+Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas <span class="nowrap">pie;<a name="Anchor_358-27" id="Anchor_358-27"></a><a title="Go to footnote 358-27" href="#Footnote_358-27" class="fnanchor">358-27</a></span><br />
+Nor fail&#8217;d old Scotland to produce,<br />
+At such high tide, her savory goose.<br />
+Then came the merry maskers in,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>And carols roar&#8217;d with blithesome din:<br />
+If unmelodious was the song,<br />
+It was a hearty note, and strong.<br />
+Who lists may in their mumming see<br />
+Traces of ancient <span class="nowrap">mystery;<a name="Anchor_359-28" id="Anchor_359-28"></a><a title="Go to footnote 359-28" href="#Footnote_359-28" class="fnanchor">359-28</a></span><br />
+White shirts supplied the masquerade,<br />
+And smutted cheeks the visors <span class="nowrap">made;&mdash;<a name="Anchor_359-29" id="Anchor_359-29"></a><a title="Go to footnote 359-29" href="#Footnote_359-29" class="fnanchor">359-29</a></span><br />
+But, O! what maskers, richly dight,<br />
+Can boast of bosoms, half so <span class="nowrap">light!<a name="Anchor_359-30" id="Anchor_359-30"></a><a title="Go to footnote 359-30" href="#Footnote_359-30" class="fnanchor">359-30</a></span><br />
+England was merry England, when<br />
+Old Christmas brought his sports again.<br />
+&#8217;Twas Christmas broach&#8217;d the mightiest ale;<br />
+&#8217;Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;<br />
+A Christmas gambol oft could cheer<br />
+The poor man&#8217;s heart through half the year.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 180px;">
+<a name="image48" id="image48"></a><a href="images/image48-full.png"><img src="images/image48.png" width="180" height="95" alt="Christmas pudding" title="Christmas pudding" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-1" id="Footnote_356-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-1" class="label">356-1</a> Is there a stove or a fireplace in the room where the
+poet sees Christmas kept?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-2" id="Footnote_356-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-2" class="label">356-2</a> What is cheer? What is festal cheer?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-3" id="Footnote_356-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-3" class="label">356-3</a> What is a &#8220;train&#8221;? How could it be called a hospitable
+train? Whose train was it?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-4" id="Footnote_356-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-4" class="label">356-4</a> What is a rite?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-5" id="Footnote_356-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-5" class="label">356-5</a> What bells were rung?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-6" id="Footnote_356-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-6" class="label">356-6</a> What is a mass?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-7" id="Footnote_356-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-7" class="label">356-7</a> What is a <em>stoled</em> priest? What is a chalice? What did
+the priest do when he reared the chalice?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_356-8" id="Footnote_356-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_356-8" class="label">356-8</a> The kirtle was a dress-skirt or outer petticoat.
+<em>Sheen</em> means <em>gay</em> or <em>bright</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-9" id="Footnote_357-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-9" class="label">357-9</a> What is mistletoe? Is there anything peculiar in its
+habits of growth? What did they want of it? What custom is still said to
+follow the use of mistletoe at Christmastime?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-10" id="Footnote_357-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-10" class="label">357-10</a> A vassal was one of the followers of the baron and
+paid for protection or for lands he held by fighting in the baron&#8217;s
+troops or rendering some other service.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-11" id="Footnote_357-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-11" class="label">357-11</a> A tenant held lands or houses, for which he paid some
+form of rent.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-12" id="Footnote_357-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-12" class="label">357-12</a> A serf was a slave.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-13" id="Footnote_357-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-13" class="label">357-13</a> At Christmastime even the powerful were willing to
+cease from ruling and join with the common people.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-14" id="Footnote_357-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-14" class="label">357-14</a> Instead of grand ceremonies, everybody joined in
+simple amusements, without pride or prejudice.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-15" id="Footnote_357-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-15" class="label">357-15</a> Who was the heir? What was he heir to? Why did he have
+roses in his shoes?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-16" id="Footnote_357-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-16" class="label">357-16</a> Was he permitted to dance with village maidens at any
+other time?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-17" id="Footnote_357-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-17" class="label">357-17</a> Without losing any of his dignity.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-18" id="Footnote_357-18"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-18" class="label">357-18</a> An old-fashioned game of cards.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_357-19" id="Footnote_357-19"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_357-19" class="label">357-19</a> Who brought the tidings of Salvation? To whom was it
+brought? Who was &#8220;the crown&#8221;?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-20" id="Footnote_358-20"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-20" class="label">358-20</a> A lord was one who had power and authority, while a
+squire was merely an attendant upon a lord.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-21" id="Footnote_358-21"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-21" class="label">358-21</a> Brawn, in England, is a preparation of meat, generally
+sheep&#8217;s head, pig&#8217;s head, hock of beef, or boar&#8217;s meat, boiled and
+seasoned, and run into jelly moulds.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-22" id="Footnote_358-22"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-22" class="label">358-22</a> What are bays? What is rosemary? Why should the boar&#8217;s
+head be called <em>crested</em>? Where was it? Why was it there? Why does the
+poet say it <em>frowned</em> on high?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-23" id="Footnote_358-23"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-23" class="label">358-23</a> Who was a ranger? What did he do? Do you see any
+reason for his being green-garbed?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-24" id="Footnote_358-24"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-24" class="label">358-24</a> What is meant by <em>baiting</em>? Who tore the dogs? Why did
+he tear them? What made the monster fall?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-25" id="Footnote_358-25"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-25" class="label">358-25</a> Wassail (<em>wossil</em>): the liquor in which they drank
+their toasts, and which signified the good cheer of Christmastime.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-26" id="Footnote_358-26"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-26" class="label">358-26</a> Moves about; that is, the liquor in good brown bowls
+was merrily passed along the table from hand to hand.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_358-27" id="Footnote_358-27"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_358-27" class="label">358-27</a> What was near the sirloin? How many kinds of meat were
+there on the table? Is anything mentioned besides meat? Do you suppose
+they had other things to eat? Did they have bread and vegetables?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_359-28" id="Footnote_359-28"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_359-28" class="label">359-28</a> In the <em>mumming</em> or acting of these maskers could be
+seen traces of the ancient mystic plays in which religious lessons were
+given in plays that were acted with the approval of the church.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_359-29" id="Footnote_359-29"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_359-29" class="label">359-29</a> Did the maskers have rich costumes? What did they wear
+over their faces? How did they conceal their clothing?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_359-30" id="Footnote_359-30"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_359-30" class="label">359-30</a> Does the poet think that rich maskers would enjoy
+their pleasure as much as the old-fashioned Christmas merrymakers?</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="ELEGY" id="ELEGY"></a>ELEGY</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage">WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Thomas Gray</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;A mournful song written to express grief at the loss of some
+friend or relative, and at the same time to praise the dead person,
+is known as an elegy. Sometimes the word has a wider meaning, and
+includes a poem which expresses the same ideas but applies them to
+a class of people rather than to an individual. Such a poem is not
+so personal, and for that very reason it will be appreciated by a
+larger number of readers. Gray&#8217;s <cite>Elegy</cite> is of the latter class&mdash;is
+perhaps the one great poem of that class; for in all probability
+more people have loved it and found in its gentle sadness, its
+exquisite phraseology and its musical lines more genuine charm than
+in any similar poem in the language.</p>
+
+<p>To one who already loves it, any comments on the poem may at first
+thought seem like desecration, but, on the other hand, there is so
+much more in the <cite>Elegy</cite> than appears at first glance that it is
+worth while to read it in the light of another&#8217;s eyes. Not a few
+persons find some enjoyment in reading, but fall far short of the
+highest pleasure because of their failure really to comprehend the
+meaning of certain words and forms of expression. For that reason,
+notes are appended where they may be needed. A good reader is never
+troubled by notes at the bottom of the page. If they are of no
+interest or benefit to him, he knows it with a glance and passes on
+with his reading. If the note is helpful, he gathers the
+information and returns to his reading, beginning not at the word
+from which the reference was made, but at the beginning of the
+sentence or stanza; then he loses nothing by going to the footnote.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem" style="margin-top: 2em;"><span class="dropcapt"><span class="hide">T</span></span><span class="upper">The</span> <span class="nowrap">curfew<a name="Anchor_361-1" id="Anchor_361-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 361-1" href="#Footnote_361-1" class="fnanchor">361-1</a></span> tolls the <span class="nowrap">knell<a name="Anchor_361-2" id="Anchor_361-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 361-2" href="#Footnote_361-2" class="fnanchor">361-2</a></span> of parting day,<br />
+<span class="i1">The lowing herd winds slowly o&#8217;er the lea,</span><br />
+The plowman homeward plods his weary way<br />
+<span class="i1">And leaves the world to darkness and to me.</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image49" id="image49"></a><a href="images/image49-full.png"><img src="images/image49.png" width="250" height="203" alt="A man walking down a road behind two harnessed horses." title="HOMEWARD PLODS HIS WEARY WAY" /></a>
+<span class="caption">HOMEWARD PLODS HIS WEARY WAY</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,<br />
+<span class="i1">And all the air a solemn stillness holds,</span><br />
+Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,<br />
+<span class="i1">And drowsy tinklings lull the distant <span class="nowrap">folds;<a name="Anchor_361-3" id="Anchor_361-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 361-3" href="#Footnote_361-3" class="fnanchor">361-3</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>Save that from yonder ivy-mantled <span class="nowrap">tower<a name="Anchor_362-4" id="Anchor_362-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 362-4" href="#Footnote_362-4" class="fnanchor">362-4</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">The moping owl does to the moon complain</span><br />
+Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,<br />
+<span class="i1">Molest her ancient solitary <span class="nowrap">reign.<a name="Anchor_362-5" id="Anchor_362-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 362-5" href="#Footnote_362-5" class="fnanchor">362-5</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree&#8217;s shade,<br />
+<span class="i1">Where heaves the turf in many a mold&#8217;ring heap,</span><br />
+Each in his narrow cell forever laid,<br />
+<span class="i1">The <span class="nowrap">rude<a name="Anchor_362-6" id="Anchor_362-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 362-6" href="#Footnote_362-6" class="fnanchor">362-6</a></span> forefathers of the hamlet sleep.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,<br />
+<span class="i1">The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,</span><br />
+The cock&#8217;s shrill <span class="nowrap">clarion,<a name="Anchor_362-7" id="Anchor_362-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 362-7" href="#Footnote_362-7" class="fnanchor">362-7</a></span> or the echoing horn,<br />
+<span class="i1">No more shall rouse them from their lowly <span class="nowrap">bed.<a name="Anchor_362-8" id="Anchor_362-8"></a><a title="Go to footnote 362-8" href="#Footnote_362-8" class="fnanchor">362-8</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,<br />
+<span class="i1">Or busy housewife ply her evening <span class="nowrap">care;<a name="Anchor_362-9" id="Anchor_362-9"></a><a title="Go to footnote 362-9" href="#Footnote_362-9" class="fnanchor">362-9</a></span></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>No children run to lisp their sire&#8217;s <span class="nowrap">return,<a name="Anchor_363-10" id="Anchor_363-10"></a><a title="Go to footnote 363-10" href="#Footnote_363-10" class="fnanchor">363-10</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,<br />
+<span class="i1">Their furrow oft the stubborn <span class="nowrap">glebe<a name="Anchor_363-11" id="Anchor_363-11"></a><a title="Go to footnote 363-11" href="#Footnote_363-11" class="fnanchor">363-11</a></span> has broke;</span><br />
+How <span class="nowrap">jocund<a name="Anchor_363-12" id="Anchor_363-12"></a><a title="Go to footnote 363-12" href="#Footnote_363-12" class="fnanchor">363-12</a></span> did they drive their team a-field!<br />
+<span class="i1">How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Let not <span class="nowrap">Ambition<a name="Anchor_363-13" id="Anchor_363-13"></a><a title="Go to footnote 363-13" href="#Footnote_363-13" class="fnanchor">363-13</a></span> mock their useful toil,<br />
+<span class="i1">Their homely joys and destiny obscure;</span><br />
+Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,<br />
+<span class="i1">The short and simple annals of the poor.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,<br />
+<span class="i1">And all that beauty, all that wealth e&#8217;er gave,</span><br />
+<span class="nowrap">Await<a name="Anchor_363-14" id="Anchor_363-14"></a><a title="Go to footnote 363-14" href="#Footnote_363-14" class="fnanchor">363-14</a></span> alike th&#8217; inevitable hour:<br />
+<span class="i1">The paths of glory lead but to the <span class="nowrap">grave.<a name="Anchor_363-15" id="Anchor_363-15"></a><a title="Go to footnote 363-15" href="#Footnote_363-15" class="fnanchor">363-15</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span>Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,<br />
+<span class="i1">If Memory o&#8217;er their tomb no trophies raise,</span><br />
+Where, through the long-drawn <span class="nowrap">aisle<a name="Anchor_364-16" id="Anchor_364-16"></a><a title="Go to footnote 364-16" href="#Footnote_364-16" class="fnanchor">364-16</a></span> and fretted vault,<br />
+<span class="i1">The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Can storied urn or animated <span class="nowrap">bust<a name="Anchor_364-17" id="Anchor_364-17"></a><a title="Go to footnote 364-17" href="#Footnote_364-17" class="fnanchor">364-17</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?</span><br />
+Can Honour&#8217;s voice <span class="nowrap">provoke<a name="Anchor_364-18" id="Anchor_364-18"></a><a title="Go to footnote 364-18" href="#Footnote_364-18" class="fnanchor">364-18</a></span> the silent dust,<br />
+<span class="i1">Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid<br />
+<span class="i1">Some heart once pregnant with celestial <span class="nowrap">fire;<a name="Anchor_364-19" id="Anchor_364-19"></a><a title="Go to footnote 364-19" href="#Footnote_364-19" class="fnanchor">364-19</a></span></span><br />
+Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,<br />
+<span class="i1">Or waked to ecstasy the living <span class="nowrap">lyre.<a name="Anchor_364-20" id="Anchor_364-20"></a><a title="Go to footnote 364-20" href="#Footnote_364-20" class="fnanchor">364-20</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,<br />
+<span class="i1">Rich with the spoils of time, did ne&#8217;er <span class="nowrap">unroll;<a name="Anchor_364-21" id="Anchor_364-21"></a><a title="Go to footnote 364-21" href="#Footnote_364-21" class="fnanchor">364-21</a></span></span><br />
+Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,<br />
+<span class="i1">And froze the genial current of the soul.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br />
+<span class="i1">The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;</span><br />
+Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br />
+<span class="i1">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast<br />
+<span class="i1">The little tyrant of his fields withstood,</span><br />
+Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country&#8217;s <span class="nowrap">blood.<a name="Anchor_365-22" id="Anchor_365-22"></a><a title="Go to footnote 365-22" href="#Footnote_365-22" class="fnanchor">365-22</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Th&#8217; <span class="nowrap">applause<a name="Anchor_365-23" id="Anchor_365-23"></a><a title="Go to footnote 365-23" href="#Footnote_365-23" class="fnanchor">365-23</a></span> of listening senates to command<br />
+<span class="i1">The threats of pain and ruin to despise,</span><br />
+To scatter plenty o&#8217;er a smiling land,<br />
+<span class="i1">And read their history in a nation&#8217;s eyes,</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone<br />
+<span class="i1">Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;</span><br />
+Forbade to wade through slaughter to a <span class="nowrap">throne,<a name="Anchor_365-24" id="Anchor_365-24"></a><a title="Go to footnote 365-24" href="#Footnote_365-24" class="fnanchor">365-24</a></span><br />
+<span class="i1">And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide<br />
+<span class="i1">To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,</span><br />
+Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride<br />
+<span class="i1">With incense kindled at the Muse&#8217;s <span class="nowrap">flame.<a name="Anchor_366-25" id="Anchor_366-25"></a><a title="Go to footnote 366-25" href="#Footnote_366-25" class="fnanchor">366-25</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Far from the <span class="nowrap">madding<a name="Anchor_366-26" id="Anchor_366-26"></a><a title="Go to footnote 366-26" href="#Footnote_366-26" class="fnanchor">366-26</a></span> crowd&#8217;s ignoble strife,<br />
+<span class="i1">Their sober wishes never learned to stray;</span><br />
+Along the cool, sequestered vale of life<br />
+<span class="i1">They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Yet ev&#8217;n these bones from insult to protect<br />
+<span class="i1">Some frail <span class="nowrap">memorial<a name="Anchor_366-27" id="Anchor_366-27"></a><a title="Go to footnote 366-27" href="#Footnote_366-27" class="fnanchor">366-27</a></span> still erected nigh,</span><br />
+With <span class="nowrap">uncouth<a name="Anchor_366-28" id="Anchor_366-28"></a><a title="Go to footnote 366-28" href="#Footnote_366-28" class="fnanchor">366-28</a></span> rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,<br />
+<span class="i1">Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Their name, their years, spelt by th&#8217; unlettered Muse,<br />
+<span class="i1">The place of fame and elegy supply;</span><br />
+And many a holy text around she strews,<br />
+<span class="i1">That teach the rustic moralist to <span class="nowrap">die.<a name="Anchor_366-29" id="Anchor_366-29"></a><a title="Go to footnote 366-29" href="#Footnote_366-29" class="fnanchor">366-29</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span>For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,<br />
+<span class="i1">This pleasing, anxious being e&#8217;er resigned,</span><br />
+Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,<br />
+<span class="i1">Nor cast one longing, ling&#8217;ring look <span class="nowrap">behind?<a name="Anchor_367-30" id="Anchor_367-30"></a><a title="Go to footnote 367-30" href="#Footnote_367-30" class="fnanchor">367-30</a></span></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">On some fond breast the parting soul relies,<br />
+<span class="i1">Some pious drops the closing eye requires;</span><br />
+E&#8217;en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,<br />
+<span class="i1">E&#8217;en in our ashes live their wonted fires.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">For <span class="nowrap">thee,<a name="Anchor_367-31" id="Anchor_367-31"></a><a title="Go to footnote 367-31" href="#Footnote_367-31" class="fnanchor">367-31</a></span> who, mindful of th&#8217; unhonored dead,<br />
+<span class="i1">Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;</span><br />
+If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,<br />
+<span class="i1">Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn,</span><br />
+Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,<br />
+<span class="i1">To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,<br />
+<span class="i1">That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,</span><br />
+His listless length at noontide would he stretch,<br />
+<span class="i1">And pore upon the brook that babbles by.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>&#8220;Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,<br />
+<span class="i1">Mutt&#8217;ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;</span><br />
+Now drooping, <a name="corr24" id="corr24"></a>woeful-wan, like one forlorn,<br />
+<span class="i1">Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;One morn I missed him from the customed hill,<br />
+<span class="i1">Along the heath, and near his fav&#8217;rite tree.</span><br />
+Another came; nor yet beside the rill,<br />
+<span class="i1">Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;The next, with dirges <span class="nowrap">due,<a name="Anchor_368-32" id="Anchor_368-32"></a><a title="Go to footnote 368-32" href="#Footnote_368-32" class="fnanchor">368-32</a></span> in sad array,<br />
+<span class="i1">Slow through the church way path we saw him borne.&mdash;</span><br />
+Approach and read, for thou canst read, the lay<br />
+<span class="i1">Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.&#8221;<a name="Anchor_368-33" id="Anchor_368-33"></a><a title="Go to footnote 368-33" href="#Footnote_368-33" class="fnanchor">368-33</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poem" style="margin-top: 2em;"><span class="i6">THE EPITAPH</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,<br />
+<span class="i1">A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown:</span><br />
+Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,<br />
+<span class="i1">And Melancholy marked him for her own.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;<br />
+<span class="i1">Heaven did a recompense as largely send:</span><br />
+He gave to Misery, all he had, a tear,<br />
+<span class="i1">He gained from Heaven (&#8217;twas all he wished) a friend.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>No farther seek his merits to disclose,<br />
+<span class="i1">Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,</span><br />
+(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)<br />
+<span class="i1">The bosom of his Father and his God.</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image50" id="image50"></a><a href="images/image50-full.png"><img src="images/image50.png" width="250" height="301" alt="A man sitting on a bench beside a grave in a churchyard." title="THE COUNTRY CHURCHYARD" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE COUNTRY CHURCHYARD</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="opening"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">homas Gray</span> was born in London on the twenty-sixth of December,
+1716, and received his education at Cambridge, where he lived most
+of his quiet life and where <span class='pagenum' style="font-size: 89%"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>he died in 1771. He was a small and
+graceful man with handsome features and rather an effeminate
+appearance, always dressed with extreme care. The greater part of
+his life was spent in neatly furnished rooms among his books, for
+he was a hard student, and became noted as one of the first
+scholars of his time. Among his friends he was witty and
+entertaining, but among strangers, quiet and reserved, almost
+timid. He loved his mother devotedly, and after her death he kept
+her dress neatly folded in his trunk, always by him. Innocent,
+well-meaning, gentle and retiring, he drew many warm friends to
+him, though his great learning and his fondness for giving
+information made many people think him something of a prig.</p>
+
+<p>It might be considered a weakness in the <cite>Elegy</cite> that it drifts
+into an elegy on the writer, who becomes lost in the pathos of his
+own sad end. Yet, knowing the man as we do, we can understand his
+motives and forgive the seeming selfishness. He is not the only
+poet whose own sorrows, real or imaginary, were his greatest
+inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>The metre of the <cite>Elegy</cite> had been used, before Gray&#8217;s time, by Sir
+John Davies for his <cite>Immortality of the Soul</cite>, Sir William Davenant
+in his <cite>Gondibert</cite>, and Dryden in his <cite>Annus Mirabilis</cite>, and
+others; but in no instance so happily as here by Gray. In the
+<cite>Elegy</cite> the quatrain has not the somewhat disjunctive and isolating
+effect that it has in some other works where there is continuous
+argument or narrative that should run on with as few metrical
+hindrances as possible. It is well adapted to convey a series of
+solemn reflections, and that is its work in the <cite>Elegy</cite>.</p></div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_361-1" id="Footnote_361-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_361-1" class="label">361-1</a> In some of our American towns and cities a curfew bell
+is rung as a signal that the children must leave the streets and go to
+their homes. Many years ago it was the custom in English villages to
+ring a bell at nightfall as a signal for people to cover their fires
+with ashes to preserve till morning, and as a signal for bed. The word
+<em>curfew</em>, in fact, is from the French, and means <em>cover fire</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_361-2" id="Footnote_361-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_361-2" class="label">361-2</a> The word <em>knell</em> suggests death, and gives the first
+mournful note to the poem.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_361-3" id="Footnote_361-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_361-3" class="label">361-3</a> The sheep are shut up for the night in the <em>folds</em> or
+pens. What are the <em>tinklings</em>? Why should they be called <em>drowsy</em>?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_362-4" id="Footnote_362-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_362-4" class="label">362-4</a> The poem is supposed to have been written in the yard
+of Stoke-Pogis church, a little building with a square tower, the whole
+covered with a riotous growth of ivy vines. The church is in the
+country, not many miles from Windsor Castle; and even to this day the
+beautiful landscape preserves the rural charms it had in Gray&#8217;s time. We
+must not suppose that Gray actually sat in the churchyard and wrote his
+lines. As a matter of fact, he was a very careful and painstaking
+writer, and for eight years was at work on this poem, selecting each
+word so that it should express just the shade of meaning he wanted and
+give the perfect melody he sought. However, he did begin the poem at
+Stoke in October or November of 1742 and continued it there in November,
+1749; but it was finished in Cambridge in June, 1750.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_362-5" id="Footnote_362-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_362-5" class="label">362-5</a> <em>Reign</em> here means <em>dominion</em> or <em>possessions</em>. Why is
+the bird called a <em>moping</em> owl? Why is her reign <em>solitary</em>? What word
+is understood after <em>such</em> in the third line of this stanza?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_362-6" id="Footnote_362-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_362-6" class="label">362-6</a> <em>Rude</em> means <em>uneducated</em>, <em>uncultured</em>, not
+<em>ill-mannered</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_362-7" id="Footnote_362-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_362-7" class="label">362-7</a> A clarion is a loud, clear-sounding trumpet.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_362-8" id="Footnote_362-8"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_362-8" class="label">362-8</a> In the church are the tombs of the wealthy and titled
+of the neighborhood, and in the building and on the walls are monuments
+that tell the virtues of the lordly dead. It is outside, however, under
+the sod, in their narrow cells, that the virtuous poor, the real
+subjects of the poet&#8217;s thoughts, lie in quiet slumbers.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_362-9" id="Footnote_362-9"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_362-9" class="label">362-9</a> What evening cares has the busy housewife? Was she
+making the clothes of her children, knitting, mending, darning, after
+the supper dishes were put away?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_363-10" id="Footnote_363-10"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_363-10" class="label">363-10</a> Where were the children? Were they waiting for their
+father&#8217;s return? To whom would they run to tell of his coming?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_363-11" id="Footnote_363-11"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_363-11" class="label">363-11</a> The <em>glebe</em> is the turf. Why should it be called
+<em>stubborn</em>?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_363-12" id="Footnote_363-12"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_363-12" class="label">363-12</a> <em>Jocund</em> means <em>joyful</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_363-13" id="Footnote_363-13"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_363-13" class="label">363-13</a> The word <em>Ambition</em> begins with a capital letter
+because Gray speaks of ambition as though it were a person. The line
+means, &#8220;Let not ambitious persons speak lightly of the work the rude
+forefathers did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_363-14" id="Footnote_363-14"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_363-14" class="label">363-14</a> The inevitable hour (death) alike awaits the boast of
+heraldry, the pomp of power, and all that beauty, all that wealth e&#8217;er
+gave.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_363-15" id="Footnote_363-15"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_363-15" class="label">363-15</a> This is perhaps the most famous stanza in the poem.
+The following story is told of General Wolfe as he was leading his
+troops to the daring assault on Quebec in 1759: &#8220;At past midnight, when
+the heavens were hung black with clouds, and the boats were floating
+silently back with the tide to the intended landing-place at the chosen
+ascent <a name="corr22" id="corr22"></a>to the Plains of Abraham, he repeated in low tones to the
+officers around him this touching stanza of Gray&#8217;s <cite>Elegy</cite>. <a name="corr23" id="corr23"></a>&#8216;Now,
+gentlemen,&#8217; said Wolfe, &#8216;I would rather be the author of that poem than
+the possessor of the glory of beating the French to-morrow!&#8217; He fell the
+next day, and expired just as the shouts of the victory of the English
+fell upon his almost unconscious ears.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_364-16" id="Footnote_364-16"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_364-16" class="label">364-16</a> Now, an aisle is the passageway between the pews or
+the seats in a church or other public hall: in the poem it means the
+passageways running to the sides of the main body of the church.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_364-17" id="Footnote_364-17"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_364-17" class="label">364-17</a> A storied urn is an urn-shaped monument on which are
+inscribed the virtues of the dead. Why should a <em>bust</em> be called
+<em>animated</em>? What is the <em>mansion</em> of <em>the fleeting breath</em>?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_364-18" id="Footnote_364-18"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_364-18" class="label">364-18</a> In this instance <em>provoke</em> means what it originally
+meant in the Latin language; namely, <em>call forth</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_364-19" id="Footnote_364-19"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_364-19" class="label">364-19</a> The line <a name="corr21" id="corr21"></a>means, &#8220;Some heart once filled with the
+heavenly inspiration.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_364-20" id="Footnote_364-20"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_364-20" class="label">364-20</a> A poet or musician is said to sing, and the lyre is
+the instrument with which the ancients accompanied their songs. <em>To wake
+to ecstasy the living lyre</em> is to write the noblest poetry, to sing the
+most inspired songs.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_364-21" id="Footnote_364-21"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_364-21" class="label">364-21</a> The books of the ancients were rolls of manuscripts.
+Did any of those persons resting in this neglected spot ever write great
+poetry, rule empires or sing inspiring songs? If not, what prevented
+them from doing such things if they had the ability?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_365-22" id="Footnote_365-22"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_365-22" class="label">365-22</a> At first this stanza was written thus:</p>
+
+<p class="footnote poem">&#8220;Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast<br />
+The little tyrant of his fields withstood;<br />
+Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest;<br />
+Some Caesar guiltless of his country&#8217;s blood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="footnote noindent">It is interesting to notice that at his first writing Gray selected
+three of the famous men of antiquity, but in his revision he substituted
+the names of three of his own countrymen. Who were Hampden, Milton and
+Cromwell?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_365-23" id="Footnote_365-23"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_365-23" class="label">365-23</a> The three stanzas beginning at this point make but one
+sentence. Turned into prose the sentence would read: &#8220;Their lot forbade
+them to command the applause of listening senates, to despise the
+threats of pain and ruin, to scatter plenty o&#8217;er a smiling land, and
+read their history in a nation&#8217;s eyes: their lot not only circumscribed
+their growing virtues but confined their crimes as well; it forbade them
+to wade through slaughter to a throne and shut the gates of mercy on
+mankind, to hide the struggling pangs of conscious truth, to quench the
+blushes of ingenuous shame, and to heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
+with incense kindled at the Muse&#8217;s flame.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_365-24" id="Footnote_365-24"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_365-24" class="label">365-24</a> This line means that they could not become rulers by
+fighting and killing their fellowmen as Napoleon did not long
+afterward.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_366-25" id="Footnote_366-25"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_366-25" class="label">366-25</a> Many of the English poets wrote in praise of the
+wealthy and titled in order to be paid or favored by the men they
+flattered. Gray thinks that such conduct is disgraceful, and rejoices
+that the rude forefathers of the hamlet were prevented from writing
+poetry for such an end. The Greeks thought poetry was inspired by one of
+the Muses, and genius is often spoken as a flame.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_366-26" id="Footnote_366-26"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_366-26" class="label">366-26</a> <em>Madding</em> means <em>excited</em> or <em>raging</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_366-27" id="Footnote_366-27"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_366-27" class="label">366-27</a> The <em>frail memorials</em> were simple headstones, similar
+to those one may see in any country graveyard in America. On such
+headstones may often be seen <em>shapeless sculpture</em> that would almost
+provoke a smile, were it not for its pathetic meaning. A picture of
+Stoke-Pogis churchyard shows many stories of the ordinary type.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_366-28" id="Footnote_366-28"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_366-28" class="label">366-28</a> The rhymes were <em>uncouth</em> in the sense that they were
+unlearned and unpolished.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_366-29" id="Footnote_366-29"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_366-29" class="label">366-29</a> What facts were inscribed on the headstones? <em>Elegy</em>
+here means <em>praise</em>. Where were the texts strewn? Why were the texts
+called <em>holy?</em> What was the nature of the texts? Can you think of one
+that might have been used?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_367-30" id="Footnote_367-30"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_367-30" class="label">367-30</a> This is one of the difficult stanzas, and there is
+some dispute as to its exact meaning, owing to the phrase, <em>to dumb
+forgetfulness a prey</em>. Perhaps the correct meaning is shown in the
+following prose version: &#8220;For who has ever died (resigned this pleasing,
+anxious being, left the warm precincts of this cheerful day), a prey to
+dumb forgetfulness, and cast not one longing, lingering look behind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_367-31" id="Footnote_367-31"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_367-31" class="label">367-31</a> <em>Thee</em> refers to the poet, Gray himself. The remainder
+of the poem is personal. Summed up briefly it means that perhaps a
+sympathetic soul may some day come to inquire as to the poet&#8217;s fate, and
+will be told by some hoary-headed swain a few of the poet&#8217;s habits, and
+then will have pointed out to him the poet&#8217;s own grave, on which may be
+read his epitaph.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_368-32" id="Footnote_368-32"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_368-32" class="label">368-32</a> <em>Due</em> means <em>appropriate</em> or <em>proper</em>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_368-33" id="Footnote_368-33"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_368-33" class="label">368-33</a> As first written, the poem contained the following
+stanza, placed before the epitaph; but in the final revision Gray
+rejected it as unworthy. It seems a very critical taste that would
+reject such lines as these:</p>
+
+<p class="footnote poem">&#8220;There scatter&#8217;d oft, the earliest of the year,<br />
+<span class="i1">By hands unseen are show&#8217;rs of violets found:</span><br />
+The redbreast loves to build and warble there,<br />
+<span class="i1">And little footsteps lightly print the ground.&#8221;</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_SHIPWRECK" id="THE_SHIPWRECK"></a>THE <span class="nowrap">SHIPWRECK<a name="Anchor_371-1" id="Anchor_371-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 371-1" href="#Footnote_371-1" class="fnanchor" style="font-size: smaller;">371-1</a></span></h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapi"><span class="hide">I</span></span><span class="upper"> went</span> down, and drank my fill; and then came up, and got a blink at the
+moon; and then down again. They say a man sinks the third time for good.
+I cannot be made like other folk, then, for I would not like to write
+how often I went down or how often I came up again. All the while, I was
+being hurled along, and beaten upon and choked, and then swallowed
+whole; and the thing was so distracting to my wits, that I was neither
+sorry nor afraid.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, I found I was holding to a spar, which helped me somewhat.
+And then all of a sudden I was in quiet water, and began to come to
+myself.</p>
+
+<p>It was the spare yard I had got hold of, and I was amazed to see how far
+I had traveled from the brig. I hailed her, indeed; but it was plain she
+was already out of cry. She was still holding together; but whether or
+not they had yet launched the boat, I was too far off and too low down
+to see.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image51" id="image51"></a><a href="images/image51-full.png"><img src="images/image51.png" width="249" height="391" alt="A man holding a spar in high seas with the ship sinking in the background." title="I FOUND I WAS HOLDING TO A SPAR" /></a>
+<span class="caption">I FOUND I WAS HOLDING TO A SPAR</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span>While I was hailing the brig, I spied a tract of water lying between us,
+where no great waves came, but which yet boiled white all over and
+bristled in the moon with rings and bubbles. Sometimes the whole tract
+swung to one side, like the tail of a live serpent; sometimes, for a
+glimpse, it would all disappear and then boil up again. What it was I
+had no guess, which for the time increased my fear of it; but I now know
+it must have been the roost or tide-race, which had carried me away so
+fast and tumbled me about so cruelly, and at last, as if tired of that
+play, had flung out me and the spare yard upon its landward margin.</p>
+
+<p>I now lay quite becalmed, and began to feel that a man can die of cold
+as well as of drowning. The shores of Earraid were close in; I could see
+in the moonlight the dots of heather and the sparkling of the mica in
+the rocks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; thought I to myself, &#8220;if I cannot get as far as that, it&#8217;s
+strange.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I had no skill of swimming; but when I laid hold upon the yard with both
+arms, and kicked out with both feet, I soon began to find that I was
+moving. Hard work it was, and mortally slow; but in about an hour of
+kicking and splashing, I had got well in between the points of a sandy
+bay surrounded by low hills.</p>
+
+<p>The sea was here quite quiet; there was no sound of any surf; the moon
+shone clear, and I thought in my heart I had never seen a place so
+desert and desolate. But it was dry land; and when at last it grew so
+shallow that I could leave the yard and wade ashore upon my feet, I
+cannot tell if I was more tired or more grateful. Both at least, I was;
+tired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span> as I never was before that night; and grateful to God, as I trust
+I have been often, though never with more cause.</p>
+
+<p>With my stepping ashore, I began the most unhappy part of my adventures.
+It was half-past twelve in the morning, and though the wind was broken
+by the land, it was a cold night. I dared not sit down (for I thought I
+should have frozen), but took off my shoes and walked to and fro upon
+the sand, barefoot and beating my breast with infinite weariness. There
+was no sound of man or cattle; not a cock crew, though it was about the
+hour of their first waking; only the surf broke outside in the distance,
+which put me in mind of my perils. To walk by the sea at that hour of
+the morning, and in a place so desert-like and lonesome, struck me with
+a kind of fear.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the day began to break, I put on my shoes and climbed a
+hill&mdash;the ruggedest scramble I ever undertook&mdash;falling, the whole way
+between big blocks of granite or leaping from one to another. When I got
+to the top the dawn was come. There was no sign of the brig, which must
+have been lifted from the reef and sunk. The boat, too, was nowhere to
+be seen. There was never a sail upon the ocean; and in what I could see
+of the land, was neither house nor man.</p>
+
+<p>I was afraid to think what had befallen my ship-mates, and afraid to
+look longer at so empty a scene. What with my wet clothes and weariness,
+and my belly that now began to ache with hunger, I had enough to trouble
+me without that. So I set off eastward along the south coast, hoping to
+find a house where I might warm myself, and perhaps get news<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span> of those I
+had lost. And at the worst, I considered the sun would soon rise and dry
+my clothes.</p>
+
+<p>After a little, my way was stopped by a creek or inlet of the sea, which
+seemed to run pretty deep into the land; and as I had no means to get
+across, I must needs change my direction to go about the end of it. It
+was still the roughest kind of walking; indeed the whole, not only of
+Earraid, but of the neighboring part of Mull (which they call the Ross)
+is nothing but a jumble of granite rocks with heather in among. At first
+the creek kept narrowing as I had looked to see; but presently to my
+surprise it began to widen out again. At this I scratched my head, but
+had still no notion of the truth; until at last I came to a rising
+ground, and it burst upon me all in a moment that I was cast upon a
+little, barren isle, and cut off on every side by the salt seas.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of the sun rising to dry me, it came on to rain, with a thick
+mist; so that my case was lamentable.</p>
+
+<p>I stood in the rain, and shivered, and wondered what to do, till it
+occurred to me that perhaps the creek was fordable. Back I went to the
+narrowest point, and waded in. But not three yards from shore, I plunged
+in head over ears; and if ever I was heard of more it was rather by
+God&#8217;s grace than my own prudence. I was no wetter (for that could hardly
+be), but I was all the colder for this mishap; and having lost another
+hope, was the more unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>And now, all at once, the yard came in my head. What had carried me
+through the roost, would surely serve to cross this little quiet creek
+in safety. With that I set off, undaunted, across the top of the isle,
+to fetch and carry it back. It was a weary tramp in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span> all ways, and if
+hope had not buoyed me up, I must have cast myself down and given up.
+Whether with the sea salt, or because I was growing fevered, I was
+distressed with thirst, and had to stop, as I went, and drink the peaty
+water out of the hags.</p>
+
+<p>I came to the bay at last, more dead than alive; and at the first
+glance, I thought the yard was something further out than when I left
+it. In I went, for the third time, into the sea. The sand was smooth and
+firm and shelved gradually down; so that I could wade out till the water
+was almost to my neck and the little waves splashed into my face. But at
+that depth my feet began to leave me and I durst venture no farther. As
+for the yard, I saw it bobbing very quietly some twenty feet in front of
+me.</p>
+
+<p>I had borne up well until this last disappointment; but at that I came
+ashore, and flung myself down upon the sands and wept.</p>
+
+<p>The time I spent upon the island is still so horrible a thought to me,
+that I must pass it lightly over. In all the books I have read of people
+cast away, they had either their pockets full of tools, or a chest of
+things would be thrown upon the beach along with them, as if on purpose.
+My case was very different. I had nothing in my pockets but money; and
+being inland bred, I was as much short of knowledge as of means.</p>
+
+<p>I knew indeed that shell-fish were counted good to eat; and among the
+rocks of the isle I found a great plenty of limpets, which at first I
+could scarcely strike from their places, not knowing quickness to be
+needful. There were, besides, some of the little shells that we call
+buckies; I think periwinkle is the English name. Of these two I made my
+whole diet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span> devouring them cold and raw as I found them; and so hungry
+was I, that at first they seemed to me delicious.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps they were out of season, or perhaps there was something wrong in
+the sea about my island. But at least I had no sooner eaten my first
+meal than I was seized with giddiness and retching, and lay for a long
+time no better than dead. A second trial of the same food (indeed I had
+no other) did better with me and revived my strength. But as long as I
+was on the island, I never knew what to expect when I had eaten;
+sometimes all was well, and sometimes I was thrown into a miserable
+sickness; nor could I ever distinguish what particular fish it was that
+hurt me.</p>
+
+<p>All day it streamed rain; the island ran like a sop, there was no dry
+spot to be found; and when I lay down that night, between two boulders
+that made a kind of roof, my feet were in a bog.</p>
+
+<p>The second day, I crossed the island to all sides. There was no one part
+of it better than another; it was all desolate and rocky; nothing living
+on it but game birds which I lacked the means to kill, and the gulls
+which haunted the outlying rocks in a prodigious number. But the creek,
+or straits, that cut off the isle from the main land of the Ross, opened
+out on the north into a bay, and the bay again opened into the Sound of
+Iona; and it was the neighborhood of this place that I chose to be my
+home; though if I had thought upon the very name of home in such a spot,
+I must have burst out crying.</p>
+
+<p>I had good reasons for my choice. There was in this part of the isle a
+little hut of a house like a pig&#8217;s hut, where fishers used to sleep when
+they came there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span> upon their business; but the turf roof of it had fallen
+entirely in; so that the hut was of no use to me, and gave me less
+shelter than my rocks. What was more important, the shell-fish on which
+I lived grew there in great plenty; when the tide was out I could gather
+a peck at a time: and this was doubtless a convenience. But the other
+reason went deeper. I had become in no way used to the horrid solitude
+of the isle, but still looked round me on all sides (like a man that was
+hunted) between fear and hope that I might see some human creature
+coming. Now, from a little up the hillside over the bay, I could catch a
+sight of the great, ancient church and the roofs of the people&#8217;s houses
+in Iona. And on the other hand, over the low country of the Ross, I saw
+smoke go up, morning and evening, as if from a homestead in a hollow of
+the land.</p>
+
+<p>I used to watch this smoke, when I was wet and cold, and had my head
+half turned with loneliness; and think of the fireside and the company,
+till my heart burned. It was the same with the roofs of Iona.
+Altogether, this sight I had of men&#8217;s homes and comfortable lives,
+although it put a point on my own sufferings, yet it kept hope alive,
+and helped me to eat my raw shell-fish (which had soon grown to be a
+disgust) and saved me from the sense of horror I had whenever I was
+quite alone with dead rocks, and fowls, and the rain, and the cold sea.</p>
+
+<p>I say it kept hope alive; and indeed it seemed impossible that I should
+be left to die on the shores of my own country, and within view of a
+church tower and the smoke of men&#8217;s houses. But the second day passed;
+and though as long as the light lasted I kept a bright lookout for boats
+on the sound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span> or men passing on the Ross, no help came near me. It still
+rained; and I turned in to sleep, as wet as ever and with a cruel sore
+throat, but a little comforted, perhaps, by having said good-night to my
+next neighbors, the people of Iona.</p>
+
+<p>Charles the Second declared a man could stay out doors more days in the
+year in the climate of England than in any other. This was very like a
+king with a palace at his back and changes of dry clothes. But he must
+have had better luck than I had on that miserable isle. It was the
+height of the summer; yet it rained for more than twenty-four hours, and
+did not clear until the afternoon of the third day.</p>
+
+<p>This was the day of incidents. In the morning I saw a red deer, a buck
+with a fine spread of antlers, standing in the rain on the top of the
+island; but he had scarce seen me rise from under my rock, before he
+trotted off upon the other side. I supposed he must have swum the
+straits; though what should bring any creature to Earraid, was more than
+I could fancy.</p>
+
+<p>A little later, as I was jumping about after my limpets, I was startled
+by a guinea piece, which fell upon a rock in front of me and glanced off
+into the sea. When the sailors gave me my money again, they kept back
+not only about a third of the whole sum, but my father&#8217;s leather purse;
+so that from that day out, I carried my gold loose in a pocket with a
+button. I now saw there must be a hole, and clapped my hand to the place
+in a great hurry. But this was to lock the stable door after the steed
+was stolen. I had left the shore at Queensferry with near on fifty
+pounds; now I found no more than two guinea pieces and a silver
+shilling.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>It is true I picked up a third guinea a little after, where it lay
+shining on a piece of turf. That made a fortune of three pounds and four
+shillings, English money, for a lad, the rightful heir of an estate, and
+now starving on an isle at the extreme end of the wild Highlands.</p>
+
+<p>This state of my affairs dashed me still further; and indeed my plight
+on that third morning was truly pitiful. My clothes were beginning to
+rot; my stockings in particular were quite worn through, so that my
+shanks went naked; my hands had grown quite soft with the continual
+soaking; my throat was very sore, my strength had much abated, and my
+heart so turned against the horrid stuff I was condemned to eat, that
+the very sight of it came near to sicken me.</p>
+
+<p>And yet the worst was not yet come.</p>
+
+<p>There is a pretty high rock on the northwest of Earraid, which (because
+it had a flat top and overlooked the sound) I was much in the habit of
+frequenting; not that ever I stayed in one place, save when asleep, my
+misery giving me no rest. Indeed, I wore myself down with continual and
+aimless goings and comings in the rain.</p>
+
+<p>As soon, however, as the sun came out, I lay down on the top of that
+rock to dry myself. The comfort of the sunshine is a thing I cannot
+tell. It set me thinking hopefully of my deliverance, of which I had
+begun to despair; and I scanned the sea and the Ross with a fresh
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>On the south of my rock, a part of the island jutted out and hid the
+open ocean, so that a boat could thus come quite near me upon that side,
+and I be none the wiser.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span>Well, all of a sudden, a <span class="nowrap">coble<a name="Anchor_381-2" id="Anchor_381-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 381-2" href="#Footnote_381-2" class="fnanchor">381-2</a></span> with a brown sail and a pair of
+fishers aboard of it, came flying round that corner of the isle, bound
+for Iona. I shouted out, and then fell on my knees on the rock and
+reached up my hands and prayed to them. They were near enough to hear&mdash;I
+could even see the color of their hair; and there was no doubt but they
+observed me, for they cried out in the Gaelic tongue and laughed. But
+the boat never turned aside, and flew on, right before my eyes, for
+Iona.</p>
+
+<p>I could not believe such wickedness, and ran along the shore from rock
+to rock, crying on them piteously; even after they were out of reach of
+my voice, I still cried and waved to them; and when they were quite
+gone, I thought my heart would have burst. All the time of my troubles,
+I wept only twice. Once, when I could not reach the oar; and now, the
+second time, when these fishers turned a deaf ear to my cries. But this
+time I wept and roared like a wicked child, tearing up the turf with my
+nails and grinding my face in the earth. If a wish would kill men, those
+two fishers would never have seen morning; and I should likely have died
+upon my island.</p>
+
+<p>When I was a little over my anger, I must eat again, but with such
+loathing of the mess as I could now scarcely control. Sure enough, I
+should have done as well to fast, for my fishes poisoned me again. I had
+all my first pains; my throat was so sore I could scarce swallow; I had
+a fit of strong shuddering, which clucked my teeth together; and there
+came on me that dreadful sense of illness, which we have no name for
+either in Scotch or English. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span> thought I should have died, and made my
+peace with God, forgiving all men, even my uncle and the fishers; and as
+soon as I had thus made up my mind to the worst, clearness came upon me:
+I observed the night was falling dry; my clothes were dried a good deal;
+truly, I was in a better case than ever before since I had landed on the
+isle; and so I got to sleep at last, with a thought of gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>The next day (which was the fourth of this horrible life of mine) I
+found my bodily strength run very low. But the sun shone, the air was
+sweet, and what I managed to eat of the shell-fish agreed well with me
+and revived my courage.</p>
+
+<p>I was scarce back on my rock (where I went always the first thing after
+I had eaten) before I observed a boat coming down the sound and with her
+head, as I thought, in my direction.</p>
+
+<p>I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly; for I thought these men
+might have thought better of their cruelty and be coming back to my
+assistance. But another disappointment such as yesterday&#8217;s was more than
+I could bear. I turned my back, accordingly, upon the sea, and did not
+look again till I had counted many hundreds. The boat was still heading
+for the island. The next time I counted the full thousand, as slowly as
+I could, my heart beating so as to hurt me. And then it was out of all
+question. She was coming straight to Earraid!</p>
+
+<p>I could no longer hold myself back, but ran to the seaside and out, from
+one rock to another, as far as I could go. It is a marvel I was not
+drowned; for when I was brought to a stand at last, my legs shook under
+me, and my mouth was so dry, I must wet it with the sea water before I
+was able to shout.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>All this time the boat was coming on; and now I was able to perceive it
+was the same boat and the same two men as yesterday. This I knew by
+their hair, which the one had of a bright yellow and the other black.
+But now there was a third man along with them, who looked to be of a
+better class.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they were come within easy speech, they let down their sail
+and lay quiet. In spite of my supplications, they drew no nearer in, and
+what frightened me most of all, the new man tee-hee&#8217;d with laughter as
+he talked and looked at me.</p>
+
+<p>Then he stood up in the boat and addressed me a long while, speaking
+fast and with many wavings of his hand. I told him I had no Gaelic; and
+at this he became very angry, and I began to suspect he thought he was
+talking English. Listening very close, I caught the word, &#8220;whateffer,&#8221;
+several times; but all the rest was Gaelic, and might have been Greek
+and Hebrew for me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whateffer,&#8221; said I, to show him I had caught a word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes&mdash;yes, yes,&#8221; says he, and then he looked at the other men, as
+much as to say, &#8220;I told you I spoke English,&#8221; and began again as hard as
+ever in the Gaelic.</p>
+
+<p>This time I picked out another word, &#8220;tide.&#8221; Then I had a flash of hope.
+I remembered he was always waving his hand toward the mainland of the
+Ross.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean when the tide is out&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221; I cried, and could not finish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Tide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At that I turned tail upon their boat (where my adviser had once more
+begun to tee-hee with laugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>ter), leaped back the way I had come, from
+one stone to another, and set off running across the isle as I had never
+run before. In about half an hour I came out upon the shores of the
+creek; and, sure enough, it was shrunk into a little trickle of water,
+through which I dashed, not above my knees, and landed with a shout on
+the main island.</p>
+
+<p>A sea-bred boy would not have stayed a day on Earraid; which is only
+what they call a tidal islet; and except in the bottom of the neaps, can
+be entered and left twice in every twenty-four hours, either dry-shod,
+or at the most by wading. Even I, who had the tide going out and in
+before me in the bay, and even watched for the ebbs, the better to get
+my shell-fish&mdash;even I (I say), if I had sat down to think, instead of
+raging at my fate, must have soon guessed the secret and got free. It
+was no wonder the fishers had not understood me. The wonder was rather
+that they had ever guessed my pitiful illusion, and taken the trouble to
+come back. I had starved with cold and hunger on that island for close
+upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I might have left my bones
+there, in pure folly.</p>
+
+<p>And even as it was, I had paid for it pretty dear, not only in past
+sufferings, but in my present case; being clothed like a beggar-man,
+scarce able to walk, and in great pain of my sore throat.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of both; and I believe
+they both get paid in the end; but the fools first.</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_371-1" id="Footnote_371-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_371-1" class="label">371-1</a> This selection is from <em>Kidnapped</em>, the story of a
+young man, David Balfour by name, who, by the treachery of an uncle who
+has usurped David&#8217;s right to the family estate and fortune, is taken by
+force on board a brig bound for the Carolinas in North America. In the
+Carolinas, according to the compact made between David&#8217;s uncle and the
+captain of the brig, David is to be sold. He is saved from this fate by
+the sinking of the brig. The selection as here given begins at the point
+where David is washed from the deck into the sea. The Island of Earraid
+is a small, unimportant island off the coast of Scotland.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_381-2" id="Footnote_381-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_381-2" class="label">381-2</a> A coble is a small boat used in fishing.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="ELEPHANT_HUNTING" id="ELEPHANT_HUNTING"></a>ELEPHANT HUNTING</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Roualeyn Gordon Cumming</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;Mr. Cumming, a native of Scotland, was always passionately
+fond of hunting. Even in boyhood he devoted most of his time to
+sports of the field, and showed a great fondness for all forms of
+natural history.</p>
+
+<p>For a time he served in the English army in India, and hunted the
+big game of those regions. However, he was not satisfied with this,
+and after a visit to Newfoundland, which was more disappointing to
+him, he went to Africa and there spent five adventurous years
+hunting and exploring.</p>
+
+<p>Throughout this time he kept a journal of his exploits and
+adventures, and it is from this journal that he wrote his <cite>A
+Hunter&#8217;s Life Among Lions, Elephants and Other Wild Animals of
+South Africa</cite>, from which the following selection is taken. We may
+judge from his account that he did not find Africa as disappointing
+as India and Newfoundland had proved.</p>
+
+<p>His style is not that of a literary man, but he has the happy
+faculty of presenting things in a very vivid manner, so that we are
+willing to make some allowance for faults in style. He was
+conscious of his weakness in this matter, and partially explained
+it by saying, &#8220;The hand, wearied all day with the grasping of a
+rifle, is not the best suited for wielding the pen.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapo"><span class="hide">O</span></span><span class="upper">n</span> the 25th, at dawn of day, we inspanned, and trekked about five hours
+in a northeasterly course, through a boundless open country sparingly
+adorned with dwarfish old trees. In the distance the long-sought
+mountains of Bamangwato at length loomed blue before me. We halted
+beside a glorious fountain,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> which at once made me forget all the cares
+and difficulties I had encountered in reaching it. The name of this
+fountain was Massouey, but I at once christened it &#8220;the Elephant&#8217;s own
+Fountain.&#8221; This was a very remarkable spot on the southern borders of
+endless elephant forests, at which I had at length arrived. The fountain
+was deep and strong, situated in a hollow at the eastern extremity of an
+extensive <span class="nowrap">vley,<a name="Anchor_386-1" id="Anchor_386-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 386-1" href="#Footnote_386-1" class="fnanchor">386-1</a></span> and its margin was surrounded by a level stratum
+of solid old red sandstone. Here and there lay a thick layer of soil
+upon the rock, and this was packed flat with the fresh spoor of
+elephants. Around the water&#8217;s edge the very rock was worn down by the
+gigantic feet which for ages had trodden there.</p>
+
+<p>The soil of the surrounding country was white and yellow sand, but
+grass, trees, and bushes were abundant. From the borders of the fountain
+a hundred well-trodden elephant foot-paths led away in every direction,
+like the radii of a circle. The breadth of these paths was about three
+feet; those leading to the northward and east were the most frequented,
+the country in those directions being well wooded. We drew up the wagons
+on a hillock on the eastern side of the water. This position commanded a
+good view of any game that might approach to drink. I had just cooked my
+breakfast, and commenced to feed, when I heard my men exclaim, &#8220;Almagtig
+keek de ghroote clomp cameel;&#8221; and, raising my eyes from the
+<span class="nowrap">sassaby<a name="Anchor_386-2" id="Anchor_386-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 386-2" href="#Footnote_386-2" class="fnanchor">386-2</a></span> stew, I beheld a truly beautiful and very unusual scene.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>From the margin of the fountain there extended an open level vley,
+without a tree or bush, that stretched away about a mile to the
+northward, where it was bounded by extensive groves of wide-spreading
+mimosas. Up the middle of the vley stalked a troop of ten colossal
+giraffes, flanked by two large herds of blue wildebeests and zebras,
+with an advanced guard of pallahs. They were all coming to the fountain
+to drink, and would be within rifle-shot of the wagons before I could
+finish my breakfast. I, however, continued to swallow my food with the
+utmost expedition, having directed my men to catch and saddle Colesberg.
+In a few minutes the giraffes were slowly advancing within two hundred
+yards, stretching their graceful necks, and gazing in wonder at the
+unwonted wagons.</p>
+
+<p>Grasping my rifle, I now mounted Colesberg, and rode slowly toward them.
+They continued gazing at the wagons until I was within one hundred yards
+of them, when, whisking their long tails over their rumps, they made off
+at an easy canter. As I pressed upon them they increased their pace; but
+Colesberg had much the speed of them, and before we proceeded half a
+mile I was riding by the shoulder of the dark-chestnut old bull, whose
+head towered high above the rest. Letting fly at the gallop, I wounded
+him behind the shoulder; soon after which I broke him from the herd, and
+presently, going ahead of him, he came to a stand. I then gave him a
+second bullet, somewhere near the first. These two shots had taken
+effect, and he was now in my power, but I would not lay him low so far
+from camp; so, having waited until he had regained his breath, I drove
+him half way back toward the wagons. Here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> he became obstreperous; so,
+loading one barrel, and pointing my rifle toward the clouds, I shot him
+in the throat, when, rearing high, he fell backward and expired.</p>
+
+<p>This was a magnificent specimen of the giraffe, measuring upward of
+eighteen feet in height. I stood for nearly half an hour engrossed in
+the contemplation of his extreme beauty and gigantic proportions; and,
+if there had been no elephants, I could have exclaimed, like Duke
+Alexander of Gordon when he killed the famous old stag with seventeen
+tine, &#8220;Now I can die happy.&#8221; But I longed for an encounter with the
+noble elephants, and I thought little more of the giraffe than if I had
+killed a gemsbok or an eland.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon I removed my wagons to a correct distance from the
+fountain, and drew them up among some bushes about four hundred yards to
+leeward of the water. In the evening I was employed in manufacturing
+hardened bullets for the elephants, using a composition of one of pewter
+to four of lead; and I had just completed my work, when we heard a troop
+of elephants splashing and trumpeting in the water. This was to me a
+joyful sound; I slept little that night.</p>
+
+<p>On the 26th I arose at earliest dawn, and, having fed four of my horses,
+proceeded with Isaac to the fountain to examine the spoor of the
+elephants which had drunk there during the night. A number of the paths
+contained fresh spoor of elephants of all sizes, which had gone from the
+fountain in different directions. We reckoned that at least thirty of
+these gigantic quadrupeds had visited the water during the night.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>We hastily returned to camp, where, having breakfasted, I saddled up,
+and proceeded to take up the spoor of the largest bull elephant,
+accompanied by after-riders and three of the guides to assist in
+spooring. I was also accompanied by my dogs. Having selected the spoor
+of a mighty bull, the Bechuanas went ahead and I followed them. It was
+extremely interesting and exciting work. The footprint of this elephant
+was about two feet in diameter, and was beautifully visible in the soft
+sand. The spoor at first led us for about three miles in an easterly
+direction, along one of the sandy foot-paths, without a check. We then
+entered a very thick forest, and the elephant had gone a little out of
+the path to smash some trees, and to plow up the earth with his tusks.
+He soon, however, again took the path, and held along it for several
+miles.</p>
+
+<p>We were on rather elevated ground, with a fine view of a part of the
+Bamangwato chain of mountains before us. Here the trees were large and
+handsome, but not strong enough to resist the inconceivable strength of
+the mighty monarchs of these forests. Almost every tree had half its
+branches broken short by them, and at every hundred yards I came upon
+entire trees, and these the largest in the forest, uprooted clean out of
+the ground, or broken short across their stems. I observed several large
+trees placed in an inverted position, having their roots uppermost in
+the air. Our friend had here halted, and fed for a long time upon a
+large, wide-spreading tree, which he had broken short across within a
+few feet of the ground. After following the spoor some distance further
+through the dense mazes of the forest, we got into ground so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span> thickly
+trodden by elephants that we were baffled in our endeavors to trace the
+spoor any further; and after wasting several hours in attempting by
+casts to take up the proper spoor, we gave it up, and with a sorrowful
+heart I turned my horse&#8217;s head toward camp.</p>
+
+<p>Having reached the wagons, while drinking my coffee I reviewed the whole
+day&#8217;s work, and felt much regret at my want of luck in my first day&#8217;s
+elephant hunting, and I resolved that night to watch the water, and try
+what could be done with elephants by night shooting. I accordingly
+ordered the usual watching-hole to be constructed, and, having placed my
+bedding in it, repaired thither shortly after sundown. I had lain about
+two hours in the hole, when I heard a low rumbling noise like distant
+thunder, caused (as the Bechuanas affirmed) by the bowels of the
+elephants which were approaching the fountain. I lay on my back, with my
+mouth open, attentively listening, and could hear them plowing up the
+earth with their tusks. Presently they walked up to the water, and
+commenced drinking within fifty yards of me.</p>
+
+<p>They approached with so quiet a step that I fancied it was the footsteps
+of jackals which I had heard, and I was not aware of their presence
+until I heard the water, which they had drawn up in their trunks and
+were pouring into their mouths, dropping into the fountain. I then
+peeped from my sconce with a beating heart, and beheld two enormous bull
+elephants, which looked like two great castles, standing before me. I
+could not see very distinctly, for there was only starlight. Having lain
+on my breast some time taking my aim, I let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span> fly at one of the
+elephants, using the Dutch rifle carrying six to the pound. The ball
+told loudly on his shoulder, and, uttering a loud cry, he stumbled
+through the fountain, when both made off in different directions.</p>
+
+<p>All night large herds of zebras and blue wildebeests capered around me,
+coming sometimes within a few yards. Several parties of rhinoceroses
+also made their appearance. I felt a little apprehensive that lions
+might visit the fountain, and every time that hyaenas or jackals lapped
+the water I looked forth, but no lions appeared. At length I fell into a
+sound sleep, nor did I awake until the bright star of morn had shot far
+above the eastern horizon.</p>
+
+<p>Before proceeding further with my narrative, it may here be interesting
+to make a few remarks on the African elephant and his habits. The
+elephant is widely diffused through the vast forests, and is met with in
+herds of various numbers. The male is very much larger than the female,
+consequently much more difficult to kill. He is provided with two
+enormous tusks. These are long, tapering, and beautifully arched; their
+length averages from six to eight feet, and they weigh from sixty to a
+hundred pounds each. In the vicinity of the equator the elephants attain
+to a greater size than to the southward; and I am in the possession of a
+pair of tusks of the African bull elephant, the larger of which measures
+ten feet nine inches in length, and weighs one hundred and seventy-three
+pounds. The females, unlike Asiatic elephants in this respect, are
+likewise provided with tusks. Old bull elephants are found singly or in
+pairs, or consorting together in small herds, varying from six to twenty
+individ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span>uals. The younger bulls remain for many years in the company of
+their mothers, and these are met together in large herds of from twenty
+to a hundred individuals. The food of the elephant consists of the
+branches, leaves, and roots of trees, and also of a variety of bulbs, of
+the situation of which he is advised by his exquisite sense of smell. To
+obtain these he turns up the ground with his tusks, and whole acres may
+be seen thus plowed up. Elephants consume an immense quantity of food,
+and pass the greater part of the day and night in feeding. Like the
+whale in the ocean, the elephant on land is acquainted with, and roams
+over, wide and extensive tracts. He is extremely particular in always
+frequenting the freshest and most verdant districts of the forest; and
+when one district is parched and barren, he will forsake it for years,
+and wander to great distances in quest of better pasture.</p>
+
+<p>The elephant entertains an extraordinary horror of man, and a child can
+put a hundred of them to flight by passing at a quarter of a mile to
+windward; and when thus disturbed, they go a long way before they halt.
+It is surprising how soon these sagacious animals are aware of the
+presence of a hunter in their domains. When one troop has been attacked,
+all the other elephants frequenting the district are aware of the fact
+within two or three days, when they all forsake it, and migrate to
+distant parts, leaving the hunter no alternative but to inspan his
+wagons, and remove to fresh ground. This constitutes one of the greatest
+difficulties which a skilful elephant-hunter encounters. Even in the
+most remote parts, which may be reckoned the headquarters of the
+elephant, it is only occasionally, and with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span> inconceivable toil and
+hardship, that the eye of the hunter is cheered by the sight of one.
+Owing to habits peculiar to himself, the elephant is more inaccessible,
+and much more rarely seen, than any other game quadruped, excepting
+certain rare antelopes. They choose for their resort the most lonely and
+secluded depths of the forest, generally at a very great distance from
+the rivers and fountains at which they drink. In dry and warm weather
+they visit these waters nightly, but in cool and cloudy weather they
+drink only once every third or fourth day. About sundown the elephant
+leaves his distant midday haunt, and commences his march toward the
+fountain, which is probably from twelve to twenty miles distant. This he
+generally reaches between the hours of nine and midnight, when, having
+slaked his thirst and cooled his body by spouting large volumes of water
+over his back with his trunk, he resumes the path to his forest
+solitudes. Having reached a secluded spot, I have remarked that
+full-grown bulls lie down on their broad-sides, about the hour of
+midnight, and sleep for a few hours. The spot which they usually select
+is an ant-hill, and they lie around it with their backs resting against
+it; these hills, formed by the white ants, are from thirty to forty feet
+in diameter at their base. The mark of the under tusk is always deeply
+imprinted in the ground, proving that they lie upon their sides. I never
+remarked that females had thus lain down, and it is only in the more
+secluded districts that the bulls adopt this practice; for I observed
+that, in districts where the elephants were liable to frequent
+disturbance, they took repose standing on their legs beneath some shady
+tree.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span>Having slept, they then proceed to feed extensively. Spreading out from
+one another, and proceeding in a zigzag course, they smash and destroy
+all the finest trees in the forest which happen to lie in their course.
+The number of goodly trees which a herd of bull elephants will thus
+destroy is utterly incredible. They are extremely capricious, and on
+coming to a group of five or six trees, they break down not unfrequently
+the whole of them, when, having perhaps only tasted one or two small
+branches, they pass on and continue their wanton work of destruction. I
+have repeatedly ridden through forests where the trees thus broken lay
+so thick across one another that it was almost impossible to ride
+through the district, and it is in situations such as these that
+attacking the elephant is attended with most danger. During the night
+they will feed in open plains and thinly-wooded districts, but as day
+dawns they retire to the densest covers within reach, which nine times
+in ten are composed of the impracticable wait-a-bit thorns, and here
+they remain drawn up in a compact herd during the heat of the day. In
+remote districts, however, and in cool weather, I have known herds to
+continue pasturing throughout the whole day.</p>
+
+<p>The appearance of the wild elephant is inconceivably majestic and
+imposing. His gigantic height and colossal bulk, so greatly surpassing
+all other quadrupeds, combined with his sagacious disposition and
+peculiar habits, impart to him an interest in the eyes of the hunter
+which no other animal can call forth. The pace of the elephant, when
+undisturbed, is a bold, free, sweeping step; and from the peculiar
+spongy formation of his foot, his tread is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span> extremely light and
+inaudible, and all his movements are attended with a peculiar gentleness
+and grace. This, however, only applies to the elephant when roaming
+undisturbed in his jungle; for, when roused by the hunter, he proves the
+most dangerous enemy, and far more difficult to conquer than any other
+beast of the chase.</p>
+
+<p>On the 27th, as day dawned, I left my shooting-hole, and proceeded to
+inspect the spoor of my wounded elephant. After following it for some
+distance I came to an abrupt hillock, and fancying that from the summit
+a good view might be obtained of the surrounding country, I left my
+followers to seek the spoor while I ascended. I did not raise my eyes
+from the ground until I had reached the highest pinnacle of rock. I then
+looked east, and, to my inexpressible gratification, beheld a troop of
+nine or ten elephants quietly browsing within a quarter of a mile of me.
+I allowed myself only one glance at them, and then rushed down to warn
+my followers to be silent. A council of war was hastily held, the result
+of which was my ordering Isaac to ride hard to camp, with instructions
+to return as quickly as possible, accompanied by Kleinboy, and to bring
+me my dogs, the large Dutch rifle, and a fresh horse. I once more
+ascended the hillock to feast my eyes upon the enchanting sight before
+me, and, drawing out my spy-glass, narrowly watched the motions of the
+elephants. The herd consisted entirely of females, several of which were
+followed by small calves.</p>
+
+<p>Presently on reconnoitering the surrounding country, I discovered a
+second herd, consisting of five bull elephants, which were quietly
+feeding about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span> a mile to the northward. The cows were feeding toward a
+rocky ridge that stretched away from the base of the hillock on which I
+stood. Burning with impatience to commence the attack, I resolved to try
+the stalking system with these, and to hunt the troop of bulls with dogs
+and horses. Having thus decided, I directed the guides to watch the
+elephants from the summit of the hillock, and with a beating heart I
+approached them. The ground and wind favoring me, I soon gained the
+rocky ridge toward which they were feeding. They were now within one
+hundred yards, and I resolved to enjoy the pleasure of watching their
+movements for a little before I fired. They continued to feed slowly
+toward me, breaking the branches from the trees with their trunks, and
+eating the leaves and tender shoots. I soon selected the finest in the
+herd, and kept my eye on her in particular. At length two of the troop
+had walked slowly past at about sixty yards, and the one which I had
+selected was feeding with two others, on a thorny tree before me.</p>
+
+<p>My hand was now as steady as the rock on which it rested; so, taking a
+deliberate aim, I let fly at her head a little behind the eye. She got
+it hard and sharp, just where I aimed, but it did not seem to affect her
+much. Uttering a loud cry, she wheeled about, when I gave her the second
+ball close behind the shoulder. All the elephants uttered a strange
+rumbling noise, and made off in a line to the northward at a brisk,
+ambling pace, their huge, fan-like ears flapping in the ratio of their
+speed. I did not wait to load, but ran back to the hillock to obtain a
+view. On gaining its summit the guides pointed out the elephants; they
+were standing in a grove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span> of shady trees, but the wounded one was some
+distance behind with another elephant, doubtless its particular friend,
+who was endeavoring to assist it. These elephants had probably never
+before heard the report of a gun, and, having neither seen nor smelt me,
+they were unaware of the presence of man, and did not seem inclined to
+go any further.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span> Presently my men hove in sight, bringing the dogs and
+when these came up, I waited some time before commencing the attack,
+that the dogs and horses might recover their wind. We then rode slowly
+toward the elephants, and had advanced within two hundred yards of them,
+when, the ground being open, they observed us, and made off in an
+easterly direction; but the wounded one immediately dropped astern, and
+the next moment was surrounded by the dogs, which, barking angrily,
+seemed to engross her attention.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image52" id="image52"></a><a href="images/image52-full.png"><img src="images/image52.png" width="249" height="303" alt="A man descending a hill, approaching a herd of elephants." title="WITH BEATING HEART I APPROACHED A VIEW" /></a>
+<span class="caption">WITH BEATING HEART I APPROACHED A VIEW</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Having placed myself between her and the retreating troop, I dismounted
+to fire within forty yards of her, in open ground. Colesberg was
+extremely afraid of the elephants, and gave me much trouble, jerking my
+arm when I tried to fire. At length I let fly; but, on endeavoring to
+regain my saddle, Colesberg declined to allow me to mount; and when I
+tried to lead him, and run for it, he only backed toward the wounded
+elephant. At this moment I heard another elephant close behind; and on
+looking about, I beheld the &#8220;friend,&#8221; with uplifted trunk, charging down
+upon me at top speed, shrilly trumpeting, and following an old black
+pointer name Schwart, that was perfectly deaf, and trotted along before
+the enraged elephant quite unaware of what was behind him. I felt
+certain that she would have either me or my horse. I, however,
+determined not to relinquish my steed, but to hold on by the bridle. My
+men, who of course kept at a safe distance, stood aghast with their
+mouths open, and for a few seconds my position was certainly not an
+enviable one. Fortunately, however, the dogs took off the attention of
+the elephants; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span> just as they were upon me, I managed to spring into
+the saddle, where I was safe. As I turned my back to mount, the
+elephants were so very near that I really expected to feel one of their
+trunks lay hold of me. I rode up to Kleinboy for my double-barreled
+two-grooved rifle; he and Isaac were pale and almost speechless with
+fright. Returning to the charge, I was soon once more alongside, and,
+firing from the saddle, I sent another brace of bullets into the wounded
+elephant. Colesberg was extremely unsteady, and destroyed the
+correctness of my aim.</p>
+
+<p>The friend now seemed resolved to do some mischief, and charged me
+furiously, pursuing me to a distance of several hundred yards. I
+therefore deemed it proper to give her a gentle hint to act less
+officiously, and, accordingly, having loaded, I approached within thirty
+yards, and gave it her sharp, right and left, behind the shoulder, upon
+which she at once made off with drooping trunk, evidently with a mortal
+wound. I never recur to this my first day&#8217;s elephant shooting without
+regretting my folly in contenting myself with securing only one
+elephant. The first was now dying, and could not leave the ground, and
+the second was also mortally wounded, and I had only to follow and
+finish her; but I foolishly allowed her to escape, while I amused myself
+with the first, which kept walking backward, and standing by every tree
+she passed. Two more shots finished her: on receiving them, she tossed
+her trunk up and down two or three times, and, falling on her broadside
+against a thorny tree, which yielded like grass, before her enormous
+weight, she uttered a deep, hoarse cry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span> and expired. This was a very
+handsome old cow elephant, and was decidedly the best in the troop. She
+was in excellent condition, and carried a pair of long and perfect
+tusks.</p>
+
+<p>I was in high spirits at my success, and felt so perfectly satisfied
+with having killed one, that, although it was still early in the day,
+and my horses were fresh, I allowed the troop of five bulls to remain
+unmolested, foolishly trusting to fall in with them next day. How little
+did I then know of the habits of elephants, or the rules to be adopted
+in hunting them, or deem it probable I should never see them more!</p>
+
+<p>Having knee-haltered our horses, we set to work with our knives and
+assagais to prepare the skull for the hatchet, in order to cut out the
+tusks, nearly half the length of which, I may mention, is imbedded in
+bone sockets in the fore part of the skull. To cut out the tusks of a
+cow elephant requires barely one-fifth of the labor requisite to cut out
+those of a bull; and when the sun went down, we had managed by our
+combined efforts to cut out one of the tusks of my first elephant, with
+which we triumphantly returned to camp, having left the guides in charge
+of the carcass, where they volunteered to take up their quarters for the
+night. On reaching my wagons I found Johannus and Carollus in a happy
+state of indifference to all passing events: they were both very drunk,
+having broken into my wine-cask and spirit-case.</p>
+
+<p>On the 28th I arose at an early hour, and, burning with anxiety to look
+forth once more from the summit of the hillock which the day before
+brought me such luck, I made a hasty breakfast, and rode<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span> thither with
+after-riders and my dogs. But, alas! I had allowed the golden
+opportunity to slip. This day I sought in vain; and although I often
+again ascended to the summit of my favorite hillock in that and in the
+succeeding year, my eyes were destined never again to hail from it a
+troop of elephants.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 134px;">
+<a name="image53" id="image53"></a><a href="images/image53-full.png"><img src="images/image53.png" width="134" height="128" alt="Elephant head" title="Elephant head" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_386-1" id="Footnote_386-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_386-1" class="label">386-1</a> A vley is a swamp or morass.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_386-2" id="Footnote_386-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_386-2" class="label">386-2</a> The sassaby is a large African antelope, resembling the
+hartbeest, but having regularly curved horns.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="SOME_CLEVER_MONKEYS" id="SOME_CLEVER_MONKEYS"></a>SOME CLEVER <span class="nowrap">MONKEYS<a name="FNanchor_402-A_220" id="FNanchor_402-A_220"></a><a title="Go to footnote 402-" href="#Footnote_402-A_220" class="fnanchor">402-*</a></span></h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Thomas Belt</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapo"><span class="hide">O</span></span><span class="upper">n</span> the dryer ridges near the Artigua River, a valuable timber tree, the
+&#8220;nispera,&#8221; as it is called by the native, is common. It grows to a great
+size, and its timber is almost indestructible; so that we used it in the
+construction of all our permanent works. White ants do not eat it, nor,
+excepting when first cut, and before it is barked, do any of the
+wood-boring beetles. It bears a round fruit about the size of an apple,
+hard and heavy when green, and at this time is much frequented by the
+large yellowish-brown spider-monkey, which roams over the tops of the
+trees in bands of from ten to twenty. Sometimes they lay quiet until I
+was passing underneath, when, shaking a branch of the nispera tree, they
+would send down a shower of the hard round fruit; but fortunately I was
+never struck by them. As soon as I looked up, they would commence
+yelping and barking, and putting on the most threatening gestures,
+breaking off pieces of branches and letting them fall, and shaking off
+more fruit, but never throwing anything, simply letting it fall. Often,
+when on lower trees, they would hang from the branches two or three
+together, holding on to each other and to the branch with their fore
+feet and long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span> tail, whilst their hind feet hung down, all the time
+making threatening gestures and cries.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes a female would be seen carrying a young one on its back, to
+which it clung with legs and tail, the mother making its way along the
+branches, and leaping from tree to tree, apparently but little
+encumbered with its baby. A large black and white eagle is said to prey
+upon them, but I never saw one, although I was constantly falling in
+with troops of the monkeys. Don Francisco Velasquez, one of our
+officers, told me that one day he heard a monkey crying out in the
+forest for more than two hours, and at last, going out to see what was
+the matter, he saw a monkey on a branch and an eagle beside it trying to
+frighten it to turn its back, when it would have seized it. The monkey,
+however, kept its face to its foe, and the eagle did not care to engage
+with it in this position, but probably would have tired it out.
+Velasquez fired at the eagle, and frightened it away. I think it likely,
+from what I have seen of the habits of this monkey, that they defend
+themselves from its attack by keeping two or three together, thus
+assisting each other, and that it is only when the eagle finds one
+separated from its companions that it dares to attack it.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, but more rarely, a troop of the white-faced cebus monkey
+would be fallen in with, rapidly running away, throwing themselves from
+tree to tree. This monkey feeds also partly on fruit, but is incessantly
+on the look-out for insects, examining the crevices in trees and
+withered leaves, seizing the largest beetles and munching them up with
+the greatest relish. It is also very fond of eggs and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span> young birds, and
+must play havoc among the nestlings. Probably owing to its carnivorous
+habits, its flesh is not considered so good by monkey eaters as that of
+the fruit-feeding spider-monkey.</p>
+
+<p>It is a very intelligent and mischievous animal. I kept one for a long
+time as a pet, and was much amused with its antics. At first, I had it
+fastened with a light chain; but it managed to open the links and escape
+several times, and then made straight for the fowls&#8217; nests, breaking
+every egg it could get hold of. Generally, after being a day or two
+loose, it would allow itself to be caught again. I tried tying it up
+with a cord, and afterwards with a rawhide thong, but had to nail the
+end, as it could loosen any knot in a few minutes. It would sometimes
+entangle itself around a pole to which it was fastened, and then unwind
+the coils again with the greatest discernment. Its chain allowed it to
+swing down below the verandah, but it could not reach to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, when there was a brood of young ducks about, it would hold
+out a piece of bread in one hand and, when it had tempted a duckling
+within reach, seize it by the other, and kill it with a bite in the
+breast. There was such an uproar amongst the fowls on these occasions,
+that we soon knew what was the matter, and would rush out and punish
+Mickey (as we called him) with a switch; so that he was ultimately cured
+of his poultry-killing propensities. One day, when whipping him, I held
+up the dead duckling in front of him, and at each blow of the light
+switch told him to take hold of it, and at last, much to my surprise, he
+did so, taking it and holding it tremblingly in one hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a name="image54" id="image54"></a><a href="images/image54-full.png"><img src="images/image54.png" width="247" height="291" alt="A monkey draped over a branch in a tree." title="A CEBUS MONKEY" /></a>
+<span class="caption">A CEBUS MONKEY</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He would draw things towards him with a stick, and even use a swing for
+the same purpose. It had been put up for the children, and could be
+reached by Mickey, who now and then indulged himself with a swing on it.
+One day, I had put down some bird skins on a chair to dry, far beyond,
+as I thought, Mickey&#8217;s reach; but, fertile in expedients, he took the
+swing and launched it towards the chair, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span> actually managed to knock
+the skins off in the return of the swing, so as to bring them within his
+reach. He also procured some jelly that was set out to cool in the same
+way. Mickey&#8217;s actions were very human like. When any one came near to
+fondle him, he never neglected the opportunity of pocket-picking. He
+would pull out letters, and quickly take them from their envelopes.
+Anything eatable disappeared into his mouth immediately. Once he
+abstracted a small bottle of turpentine from the pocket of our medical
+officer. He drew the cork, held it first to one nostril, then to the
+other, made a wry face, recorked it, and returned it to the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>One day, when he got loose, he was detected carrying off the cream-jug
+from the table, holding it upright with both hands, and trying to move
+off on his hind limbs. He gave the jug up without spilling a drop, all
+the time making an apologetic chuckle he often used when found out in
+any mischief, and which always meant, &#8220;I know I have done wrong, but
+don&#8217;t punish me; in fact, I did not mean to do it&mdash;it was accidental.&#8221;
+Whenever, however, he saw he was going to be punished, he would change
+his tone to a shrill, threatening note, showing his teeth, and trying to
+intimidate. He had quite an extensive vocabulary of sounds, varying from
+a gruff bark to a shrill whistle; and we could tell by them, without
+seeing him, when it was he was hungry, eating, frightened, or menacing;
+doubtless, one of his own species would have understood various minor
+shades of intonation and expression that we, not entering into his
+feelings and wants, passed over as unintelligible.</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_402-A_220" id="Footnote_402-A_220"></a><a href="#FNanchor_402-A_220"><span class="label">402-*</span></a> This selection is taken from <cite>The Naturalist in
+Nicaragua</cite>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="POOR_RICHARDS_ALMANAC" id="POOR_RICHARDS_ALMANAC"></a>POOR RICHARD&#8217;S ALMANAC</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note</span>.&mdash;In the time of Benjamin Franklin, almanacs were a very
+popular form of literature. Few of the poorer people could afford
+newspapers, but almost every one could afford an almanac once a
+year; and the anecdotes and scraps of information which these
+contained in addition to their regular contents, were read and
+re-read everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>In 1732, Franklin began the publication of an almanac. For
+twenty-five years, under the assumed name of Richard Saunders, he
+issued it annually. He himself says of it:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I endeavored to make it both entertaining and useful; and it
+accordingly came to be in such demand that I reaped considerable
+profit from it, vending annually nearly ten thousand. And observing
+that it was generally read, scarce any neighborhood in the province
+being without it, I considered it as a proper vehicle for conveying
+instruction among the common people, who bought scarcely any other
+books; I therefore filled all the little spaces that occurred
+between the remarkable days in the calendar with proverbial
+sentences, chiefly such as inculcated industry and frugality as a
+means of procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being
+more difficult for a man in want to act always honestly as, to use
+here one of the proverbs, it is hard for an empty sack to stand
+upright.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These proverbs, which contain the wisdom of many ages and nations,
+I assembled and formed into a connected discourse, prefixed to the
+almanac of 1757, as the harangue of a wise old man to the people
+attending an auction. The bringing all these scattered counsels
+thus into a focus enabled them to make greater impression. The
+piece, being universally approved, was copied in all the newspapers
+of the continent and reprinted in Britain on a broadside, to be
+stuck up in houses; two translations were made of <span class='pagenum' style="font-size: 89%"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span>it in French and
+great numbers bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis
+among their poor parishioners and tenants. In Pennsylvania, as it
+discouraged useless expense in foreign superfluities, some thought
+it had its share of influence in producing that growing plenty of
+money which was observable for several years after its
+publication.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<h3 class="section"><span class="smcap">The Preface for the Year</span> 1757</h3>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="dropcapc"><span class="hide">C</span></span><span class="upper">ourteous</span> Reader: I have heard that nothing gives an author so great
+pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted by other learned
+authors. This pleasure I have seldom enjoyed. For though I have been, if
+I may say it without vanity, an eminent author of almanacs annually now
+for a full quarter of a century, my brother authors in the same way, for
+what reason I know not, have ever been very sparing in their applauses,
+and no other author has taken the least notice of me; so that did not my
+writings produce me some solid pudding, the great deficiency of praise
+would have quite discouraged me.</p>
+
+<p>I concluded at length that the people were the best judges of my merit,
+for they buy my works; and besides, in my rambles, where I am not
+personally known I have frequently heard one or other of my adages
+repeated, with <em>as Poor Richard says</em> at the end of it. This gave me
+some satisfaction, as it showed not only that my instructions were
+regarded, but discovered likewise some respect for my authority; and I
+own that to encourage the practice of remembering and repeating those
+sentences, I have sometimes quoted myself with great gravity.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span>Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I am
+going to relate to you. I stopped my horse lately where a great number
+of people were collected at a <span class="nowrap">vendue<a name="Anchor_409-1" id="Anchor_409-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 409-1" href="#Footnote_409-1" class="fnanchor">409-1</a></span> of merchants&#8217; goods. The
+hour of sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the
+times; and one of the company called to a plain, clean old man with
+white locks, &#8220;Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the times? Won&#8217;t
+these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we ever be able to
+pay them? What would you advise us to do?&#8221; Father Abraham stood up and
+replied: &#8220;If you would have my advice, I will give it you in short; for,
+&#8216;a word to the wise is <span class="nowrap">enough,&#8217;<a name="Anchor_409-2" id="Anchor_409-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 409-2" href="#Footnote_409-2" class="fnanchor">409-2</a></span> and &#8216;many words won&#8217;t fill a
+<span class="nowrap">bushel,&#8217;<a name="Anchor_409-3" id="Anchor_409-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 409-3" href="#Footnote_409-3" class="fnanchor">409-3</a></span> as Poor Richard says.&#8221; They all joined, desiring him to
+speak his mind, and gathering round him he proceeded as follows:</p>
+
+<p>Friends and neighbors, the taxes are indeed very heavy, and if those
+laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might
+more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more
+grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our <span class="smcap">IDLENESS</span>,
+three times as much by our <span class="smcap">PRIDE</span>, and four times as much by our <span class="smcap">FOLLY</span>;
+and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us by
+allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and
+something may be done for us. &#8220;God helps them that help themselves,&#8221; as
+Poor Richard says in his almanac of 1733.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span>It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people
+one-tenth part of their <span class="smcap">TIME</span>, to be employed in its service, but
+idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that is spent in
+absolute sloth or doing of nothing, with that which is spent in idle
+employments or amusements that amount to nothing. Sloth, by bringing on
+diseases, absolutely shortens life. &#8220;Sloth, like rust, consumes faster
+than labor wears; while the used key is always bright,&#8221; as Poor Richard
+says. &#8220;But dost thou love life? then do not squander time, for that&#8217;s
+the stuff life is made of,&#8221; as Poor Richard says.</p>
+
+<p>How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep? forgetting that
+&#8220;the sleeping fox catches no poultry,&#8221; and that &#8220;there will be sleeping
+enough in the grave,&#8221; as Poor Richard says. If time be of all things the
+most precious, &#8220;wasting of time must be,&#8221; as Poor Richard says, &#8220;the
+greatest prodigality;&#8221; since, as he elsewhere tells us, &#8220;lost time is
+never found again,&#8221; and what we call &#8220;time enough! always proves little
+enough.&#8221; Let us, then, up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by
+diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. &#8220;Sloth makes all things
+difficult, but industry all things easy,&#8221; as Poor Richard says; and &#8220;he
+that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his
+business at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon
+overtakes him,&#8221; as we read in Poor Richard; who adds, &#8220;drive thy
+business! let not that drive thee!&#8221; and</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Early to bed and early to rise<br />
+Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;">
+<a name="image55" id="image55"></a><a href="images/image55-full.png"><img src="images/image55.png" width="251" height="290" alt="A fox carrying a chicken passing behind a fox sleeping under a tree." title="&#8220;THE SLEEPING FOX CATCHES NO POULTRY&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;THE SLEEPING FOX CATCHES NO POULTRY&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these
+times better if we bestir ourselves. &#8220;Industry need not wish,&#8221; as Poor
+Richard says, and &#8220;he that lives on hope will die fasting.&#8221; &#8220;There are
+no gains without pains; then help, hands! for I have no lands;&#8221; or, if I
+have, they are smartly taxed. And as Poor Richard likewise observes, &#8220;he
+that hath a trade hath an estate, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span> he that hath a calling hath an
+office of profit and honor;&#8221; but then the trade must be worked at and
+the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will
+enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious we shall never starve;
+for, as Poor Richard says, &#8220;at the working-man&#8217;s house hunger looks in,
+but dares not enter.&#8221; Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for
+&#8220;industry pays debt, while despair increaseth them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left
+you a legacy, &#8220;diligence is the mother of good luck,&#8221; as Poor Richard
+says, and &#8220;God gives all things to industry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Then plow deep while sluggards sleep,<br />
+And you shall have corn to sell and to keep,&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">says Poor Dick. Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how
+much you may be hindered to-morrow; which makes Poor Richard say, &#8220;one
+to-day is worth two to-morrows;&#8221; and further, &#8220;have you somewhat to do
+to-morrow? Do it to-day!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If you were a servant would you not be ashamed that a good master should
+catch you idle? Are you, then, your own master? &#8220;Be ashamed to catch
+yourself idle,&#8221; as Poor Dick says. When there is so much to be done for
+yourself, your family, your country, and your gracious king, be up by
+peep of day! &#8220;Let not the sun look down and say, &#8216;Inglorious here he
+lies!&#8217;&#8221; Handle your tools without mittens! remember that &#8220;the cat in
+gloves catches no mice!&#8221; as Poor Richard says.</p>
+
+<p>&#8217;Tis true there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but
+stick to it steadily and you will see great effects; for &#8220;constant
+dropping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span> wears away stones;&#8221; and &#8220;by diligence and patience the mouse
+ate in two the cable;&#8221; and &#8220;little strokes fell great oaks,&#8221; as Poor
+Richard says in his almanac, the year I cannot just now remember.</p>
+
+<p>Methinks I hear some of you say, &#8220;Must a man afford himself no leisure?&#8221;
+I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says, &#8220;employ thy time
+well if thou meanest to gain leisure;&#8221; and &#8220;since thou art not sure of a
+minute, throw not away an hour!&#8221; Leisure is time for doing something
+useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man
+never; so that, as Poor Richard says, &#8220;a life of leisure and a life of
+laziness are two things.&#8221; Do you imagine that sloth will afford you more
+comfort than labor? No! for, as Poor Richard says, &#8220;trouble springs from
+idleness and grievous toil from needless ease.&#8221; &#8220;Many, without labor,
+would live by their wits only, but they&#8217;ll break for want of stock;&#8221;
+whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. &#8220;Fly pleasure
+and they&#8217;ll follow you;&#8221; &#8220;the diligent spinner has a large shift;&#8221; and</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Now I have a sheep and a cow,<br />
+Everybody bids me good-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All which is well said by Poor Richard. But with our industry we must
+likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs
+with our own eyes and not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard
+says,</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;I never saw an oft-removed tree<br />
+Nor yet an oft-removed family<br />
+That throve so well as those that settled be.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And again, &#8220;three removes are as bad as a fire&#8221;;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span> and again, &#8220;keep thy
+shop and thy shop will keep thee&#8221;; and again, &#8220;if you would have your
+business done, go; if not, send.&#8221; And again</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;He that by the plow would thrive,<br />
+Himself must either hold or drive.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And again, &#8220;the eye of the master will do more work than both his
+hands;&#8221; and again, &#8220;want of care does us more damage than want of
+knowledge;&#8221; and again, &#8220;not to oversee workmen is to leave them your
+purse open.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Trusting too much to others&#8217; care is the ruin of many; for, as the
+almanac says, &#8220;in the affairs of this world men are saved, not by faith,
+but by the want of it;&#8221; but a man&#8217;s own care is profitable; for, saith
+Poor Dick, &#8220;learning is to the studious and riches to the careful;&#8221; as
+well as &#8220;power to the bold&#8221; and &#8220;heaven to the virtuous.&#8221; And further,
+&#8220;if you would have a faithful servant and one that you like, serve
+yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And again, he adviseth to circumspection and care, even in the smallest
+matters; because sometimes &#8220;a little neglect may breed great mischief;&#8221;
+adding, &#8220;for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the
+horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost;&#8221; being
+overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for the want of a little care
+about a horseshoe nail!</p>
+
+<p>So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one&#8217;s own business;
+but to these we must add frugality if we would make our industry more
+certainly successful. &#8220;A man may,&#8221; if he knows not how to save as he
+goes &#8220;keep his nose all his life to the grindstone and die not worth a
+groat at last.&#8221;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span> &#8220;A fat kitchen makes a lean will,&#8221; as Poor Richard
+says; and</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Many estates are spent in the getting,<br />
+Since women for <span class="nowrap">tea<a name="Anchor_415-4" id="Anchor_415-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 415-4" href="#Footnote_415-4" class="fnanchor">415-4</a></span> forsook spinning and knitting,<br />
+And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">If you would be wealthy, says he in another almanac, &#8220;think of saving as
+well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her
+outgoes are greater than her incomes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not have so much
+cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families;
+for, as Poor Dick says,</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Women and wine, game and deceit,<br />
+Make the wealth small and the wants great.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">And further, &#8220;what maintains one vice would bring up two children.&#8221; You
+may think, perhaps, that a little tea or a little punch now and then, a
+diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little more
+entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember what
+Poor Richard says, &#8220;many a little makes a mickle&#8221;; and further, &#8220;beware
+of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship&#8221;; and again,</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Who dainties love shall beggars prove&#8221;;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">and moreover, &#8220;fools make feasts and wise men eat them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here are you all got together at this vendue of fineries and
+knick-knacks. You call them goods;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span> but if you do not take care they
+will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and
+perhaps they may for less than they cost; but if you have no occasion
+for them they must be dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says: &#8220;Buy
+what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy
+necessaries.&#8221; And again, &#8220;at a great pennyworth pause awhile.&#8221; He means
+that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only and not real; or the bargain
+by straitening thee in thy business may do thee more harm than good. For
+in another place he says, &#8220;many have been ruined by buying good
+pennyworths.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again, Poor Richard says, &#8220;&#8217;tis foolish to lay out money in a purchase
+of repentance;&#8221; and yet this folly is practiced every day at vendues for
+want of minding the almanac.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wise men,&#8221; as Poor Richard says, &#8220;learn by others&#8217; harm; fools scarcely
+by their own;&#8221; but <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula </em><span class="nowrap"><em lang="la" xml:lang="la">cautum</em>.<a name="Anchor_416-5" id="Anchor_416-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 416-5" href="#Footnote_416-5" class="fnanchor">416-5</a></span>
+Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, has gone with a hungry
+belly and half-starved his family. &#8220;Silks and satins, scarlets and
+velvets,&#8221; as Poor Richard says, &#8220;put out the kitchen fire.&#8221; These are
+not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called the
+conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to
+have them! The artificial wants of mankind thus become more numerous
+than the natural; and as Poor Dick says, &#8220;for one poor person there are
+a hundred indigent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>By these and other extravagances the genteel are reduced to poverty and
+forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span>
+industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it
+appears plainly that &#8220;a plowman on his legs is higher than a gentleman
+on his knees,&#8221; as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small
+estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; they think, &#8220;&#8217;tis
+day and will never be night;&#8221; that &#8220;a little to be spent out of so much
+is not worth minding&#8221; (a child and a fool, as Poor Richard says, imagine
+twenty shillings and twenty years can never be spent); but &#8220;always
+taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the
+bottom.&#8221; Then, as Poor Dick says, &#8220;when the well&#8217;s dry they know the
+worth of water.&#8221; But this they might have known before if they had taken
+his advice. &#8220;If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow
+some;&#8221; for &#8220;he that goes a-borrowing goes a sorrowing,&#8221; and indeed so
+does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it in again.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Dick further advises and says:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Fond pride of dress is, sure, a very curse;<br />
+Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">And again, &#8220;pride is as loud a beggar as want and a great deal more
+saucy.&#8221; When you have bought one fine thing you must buy ten more, that
+your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, &#8220;&#8217;tis easier
+to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it.&#8221; And
+&#8217;tis as true folly for the poor to ape the rich as for the frog to swell
+in order to equal the ox.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Great estates may venture more,<br />
+But little boats should keep near shore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span>&#8217;Tis, however, a folly soon punished; for &#8220;pride that dines on vanity
+sups on contempt,&#8221; as Poor Richard says. And in another place, &#8220;pride
+breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for which so
+much is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot promote health or ease
+pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy; it
+hastens misfortune.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;What is a butterfly? At best<br />
+He&#8217;s but a caterpillar drest,<br />
+The gaudy fop&#8217;s his picture just,&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">as Poor Richard says.</p>
+
+<p>But what madness must it be to run into debt for these superfluities! We
+are offered by the terms of this vendue six months&#8217; credit; and that,
+perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare
+the ready money and hope now to be fine without it. But ah! think what
+you do when you run in debt: you give to another power over your
+liberty. If you cannot pay at the time you will be ashamed to see your
+creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor,
+pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your veracity and
+sink into base, downright lying; for, as Poor Richard says, &#8220;the second
+vice is lying, the first is running into debt;&#8221; and again, to the same
+purpose, &#8220;lying rides upon debt&#8217;s back;&#8221; whereas a free-born Englishman
+ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any man living. But
+poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. &#8220;&#8217;Tis hard for an
+empty bag to stand up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span>right!&#8221; as Poor Richard truly says. What would you
+think of that prince or the government who should issue an edict
+forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of
+imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you are free, have a
+right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach
+of your privileges and such a government tyrannical? And yet you are
+about to put yourself under such tyranny when you run in debt for such
+dress! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of
+your liberty by confining you in jail for life or to sell you for a
+servant if you should not be able to pay him. When you have got your
+bargain you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but &#8220;creditors,&#8221; Poor
+Richard tells us, &#8220;have better memories than debtors;&#8221; and in another
+place says, &#8220;creditors are a superstitious set, great observers of set
+days and times.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before
+you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the
+term which at first seemed so long will, as it lessens, appear extremely
+short. Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his
+shoulders. &#8220;Those have a short Lent,&#8221; saith Poor Richard, &#8220;who owe money
+to be paid at Easter.&#8221; Then since, as he says, &#8220;the borrower is a slave
+to the lender and the debtor to the creditor,&#8221; disdain the chain,
+preserve your freedom, and maintain your independence. Be industrious
+and free; be frugal and free. At present, perhaps, you may think
+yourself in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little
+extravagance without injury; but</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;For age and want, save while you may;<br />
+No morning sun lasts a whole day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As Poor Richard says, gain may be temporary and uncertain; but ever
+while you live expense is constant and certain; and &#8220;&#8217;tis easier to
+build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel,&#8221; as Poor Richard says; so,
+&#8220;rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Get what you can, and what you get hold;<br />
+&#8217;Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into <span class="nowrap">gold,&#8221;<a name="Anchor_420-6" id="Anchor_420-6"></a><a title="Go to footnote 420-6" href="#Footnote_420-6" class="fnanchor">420-6</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">as Poor Richard says: and when you have got the philosopher&#8217;s stone,
+sure, you will no longer complain of bad times or the difficulty of
+paying taxes.</p>
+
+<p>This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do not
+depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence,
+though excellent things, for they may all be blasted without the
+blessing of Heaven; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not
+uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and
+help them. Remember Job suffered and was afterward prosperous.</p>
+
+<p>And now, to conclude, &#8220;experience keeps a dear school, but fools will
+learn in no other, and scarce in that;&#8221; for it is true, &#8220;we may give
+advice, but we cannot give conduct,&#8221; as Poor Richard says. However,
+remember this: &#8220;they that won&#8217;t be counseled can&#8217;t be helped,&#8221; as Poor
+Richard says; and further, that &#8220;if you will not hear reason she&#8217;ll
+surely rap your knuckles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span>Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it and
+approved the doctrine, and immediately practiced the contrary, just as
+if it had been a common sermon. For the vendue opened and they began to
+buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his cautions and their own fear
+of taxes. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my almanacs and
+digested all I had dropped on those topics during the course of
+twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired
+any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I
+was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he
+ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made of the sense of
+all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the echo
+of it, and though I had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat,
+I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, if thou
+wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine. I am, as ever,
+thine to serve thee.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Richard Saunders</span>.</p>
+
+<p><em>July 7th, 1757.</em></p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_409-1" id="Footnote_409-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_409-1" class="label">409-1</a> A vendue is an auction.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_409-2" id="Footnote_409-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_409-2" class="label">409-2</a> Very few of the proverbs which Franklin made use of in
+his almanacs were original with him. As he said in his comment, they
+represented &#8220;the wisdom of many ages and nations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_409-3" id="Footnote_409-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_409-3" class="label">409-3</a> This is similar to that other proverbial
+expression&mdash;&#8220;Fine words butter no parsnips.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_415-4" id="Footnote_415-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_415-4" class="label">415-4</a> Tea at this time was expensive and regarded as a
+luxury.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_416-5" id="Footnote_416-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_416-5" class="label">416-5</a> He&#8217;s a lucky fellow who is made prudent by other men&#8217;s
+perils.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_420-6" id="Footnote_420-6"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_420-6" class="label">420-6</a> The philosopher&#8217;s stone, so called; a mineral having
+the power of turning base metals into gold.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="GEORGE_ROGERS_CLARK" id="GEORGE_ROGERS_CLARK"></a>GEORGE ROGERS CLARK</h2>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapo"><span class="hide">O</span></span><span class="upper">ne</span> of the most remarkable men of Revolutionary times was George Rogers
+Clark, and his exploits read more like those of the hero of some novel
+than like the deeds of a simple soldier and patriot.</p>
+
+<p>In early boyhood and youth he acquired the rather scanty education which
+was then considered necessary for a child of fairly well-to-do parents,
+but he never applied himself so closely to his books as to lose his love
+for the woods and streams of the wild country that surrounded him. He
+became a surveyor, and among the wonders and trials of the wilderness
+lost much of the little polish he had acquired. But he learned the
+woods, the mountain passes and the river courses, and became fully
+acquainted with the wild human denizens of the forests. His six feet of
+muscular body, his courage and his fierce passions fitted him to lead
+men and to overawe his enemies, red or white. He had &#8220;red hair and a
+black penetrating eye,&#8221; two gifts that marked him among the adventurous
+men who were finding their way across the Alleghanies. He tried farming,
+but succeeded better as a fighter in those fierce conflicts with Indians
+and border desperadoes which gave to Kentucky the name of &#8220;Dark and
+Bloody Ground.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In 1777, after the breaking out of the Revolution, there were several
+French settlements lying to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span> north of the Ohio and scattered from
+Detroit to the Mississippi. Among these were Mackinac, Green Bay,
+Prairie du Chien, Vincennes, Kaskaskia and Cahokia. The English were in
+possession of all these and held them usually by a single commanding
+officer and a very small garrison. The French inhabitants had made
+friends with the Indians, and in many instances had intermarried with
+them. Moreover, while they were submissive to the British they were by
+no means attached to them and were apparently quite likely to submit
+with equal willingness to the Americans should they succeed in the
+struggle. This was what Clark understood so thoroughly that he early
+became possessed of the idea that it would be a comparatively simple
+matter to secure to the United States all that promising land lying
+between the Alleghanies, the Ohio and the Mississippi.</p>
+
+<p>The jealousy that existed between Pennsylvania and Virginia over an
+extension westward made it extremely difficult for Clark to get aid from
+the Colonies or even from Virginia, his native state. However, he
+succeeded in interesting Patrick Henry, then governor of Virginia, and
+preserving the greatest secrecy, he set about recruiting his forces.</p>
+
+<p>It was a desperate undertaking, and the obstacles, naturally great, were
+made infinitely more trying by the fact that he could tell none of his
+men the real purpose for which they were enlisting. By May, 1778,
+however, he had secured one hundred and fifty backwoodsmen from the
+western reaches of Virginia. With these he started on his venturous
+undertaking.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span>Reuben Gold Thwaites, in his <cite>How George Rogers Clark Won the
+Northwest</cite>, describes the volunteers as follows:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There was of course no attempt among them at military uniform, officers
+in no wise being distinguished from men. The conventional dress of
+eighteenth-century borderers was an adaptation to local conditions,
+being in part borrowed from the Indians. Their feet were encased in
+moccasins. Perhaps the majority of the corps had loose, thin trousers of
+homespun or buckskin, with a fringe of leather thongs down each outer
+seam of the legs; but many wore only leggings of leather, and were as
+bare of knee and thigh as a Highland clansman; indeed, many of the
+pioneers were Scotch-Irish, some of whom had been accustomed to this
+airy costume in the mother-land. Common to all were fringed hunting
+shirts or smocks, generally of buckskin&mdash;a picturesque, flowing garment
+reaching from neck to knees, and girded about the waist by a leathern
+belt, from which dangled the tomahawk and scalping-knife. On one hip
+hung the carefully scraped powder horn; on the other, a leather sack,
+serving both as game-bag and provision-pouch, although often the folds
+of the shirt, full and ample above the belt, were the depository for
+food and ammunition. A broad-brimmed felt hat, or a cap of fox-skin or
+squirrel-skin, with the tail dangling behind, crowned the often tall and
+always sinewy frontiersman. His constant companion was his home-made
+flint-lock rifle&mdash;a clumsy, heavy weapon, so long that it reached to the
+chin of the tallest man, but unerring in the hands of an expert
+marksman, such as was each of these backwoodsmen.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span>&#8220;They were rough in manners and in speech. Among them, we must confess,
+were men who had fled from the coast settlements because no longer to be
+tolerated in a law-abiding community. There were not lacking mean,
+brutal fellows, whose innate badness had on the untrammelled frontier
+developed into wickedness. Many joined Clark for mere adventure, for
+plunder and deviltry. The majority, however, were men of good parts, who
+sought to protect their homes at whatever peril&mdash;sincere men, as large
+of heart as they were of frame, many of them in later years developing
+into citizens of a high type of effectiveness in a frontier
+commonwealth. As a matter of history, most of them proved upon this
+expedition to be heroes worthy of the fame they won and the leader whom
+they followed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Early in June Clark had reached the falls in the Ohio at the present
+city of Louisville, and here on an island commanding the falls he built
+a block house and planted some corn. Here he left the weak and
+dissatisfied members of his company, and having been joined by a few
+Kentucky volunteers, he resumed his journey down the river. His first
+goal was Kaskaskia on the Mississippi, and after a long and perilous
+journey, the latter part across the country, he captured the post by
+surprise, seizing the French commandant of the English garrison in an
+upper room of his own house. He had little difficulty in winning the
+confidence of the French settlers, who then willingly transferred their
+loyalty to the new Republic that claimed to be their friend.</p>
+
+<p>A different situation developed with the Indians, but after skilful
+treatment and a long interview with representatives of the many tribes
+he succeeded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span> in winning their friendship, or at least a quiet
+neutrality. In the meantime, Father Gibault, an active, friendly French
+priest, had crossed the country and induced the inhabitants of Vincennes
+to raise the American flag. Clark sent Captain Helm to take charge of
+the fort and to lead the French militia.</p>
+
+<p>Clark&#8217;s ambition was to capture Detroit, but so great were the
+difficulties besetting him that he was compelled to winter at Kaskaskia
+with insufficient forces, struggling to keep peace and to hold the
+country he had so successfully seized. In January, a month after the
+event happened, Clark heard that Hamilton had recaptured Vincennes for
+the British and was preparing to advance on Kaskaskia. Had Hamilton been
+prompt in his actions and proceeded at once against Clark he might
+easily have driven the latter from Kaskaskia and secured to the British
+the wonderful Northwest territory. His delays, however, gave Clark time
+to gather a larger force and to show his wonderful power as a leader and
+his skill as a military campaigner.</p>
+
+<p>Few men could have accomplished what Clark did, for few have either the
+ability or the devotion. &#8220;I would have bound myself seven years a
+Slave,&#8221; he says, &#8220;to have had five hundred troops.&#8221; Nothing, however,
+deterred him. He built a large barge or galley, mounted small cannon
+upon it and manned it with a crew of forty men. This was dispatched to
+patrol the Ohio, and if possible to get within ten leagues of Vincennes
+on the Wabash. It was Clark&#8217;s determination not to wait for attack from
+the British but to surprise Hamilton in his own fort. It required almost
+superhuman power to gather the men necessary from the motley crowds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span> at
+Kaskaskia and from other posts on the river, but the day after the
+&#8220;Willing&#8221; (for so he named his barge) sailed, he moved out of Kaskaskia,
+with a hundred and seventy men following him, to march the two hundred
+and thirty miles across the wintry wilderness to Vincennes. How he fared
+and how he accomplished his desire you may read in the selection from
+his journal.</p>
+
+<p>Clark&#8217;s activity did not end with the capture of Vincennes, but that was
+the most remarkable of his long series of military achievements. No more
+heroic man ever lived, and few Americans have left such a memory for
+high patriotism, self-sacrifice and wonderful achievement. His
+accomplishments are unparalleled in the history of the Mississippi
+valley, and the youth of the region may well be proud that to such a man
+they are indebted for their right to live in the United States.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, Clark&#8217;s later years were not in keeping with his early
+character. He felt that his country was ungrateful to him, the liquor
+habit mastered him, he was mixed up in unfortunate political deals with
+France, and at last sank into poverty and was almost forgotten. It is
+said that once when in his latter years the State of Virginia sent him a
+sword in token of their appreciation of his services, he angrily thrust
+the sword into the ground and broke the blade with his crutch, while he
+cried out: &#8220;When Virginia needed a sword I gave her one. She sends me
+now a toy. I want bread!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He lived until 1818, and then died at his sister&#8217;s house near
+Louisville, and was buried at Cave Hill Cemetery in that city.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_CAPTURE_OF_VINCENNES" id="THE_CAPTURE_OF_VINCENNES"></a>THE CAPTURE OF <span class="nowrap">VINCENNES<a name="Anchor_428-1" id="Anchor_428-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 428-1" href="#Footnote_428-1" class="fnanchor">428-1</a></span></h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">George Rogers </span><span class="nowrap smcap">Clark<a name="Anchor_428-2" id="Anchor_428-2"></a><a title="Go to footnote 428-2" href="#Footnote_428-2" class="fnanchor">428-2</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcape"><span class="hide">E</span></span><span class="upper">verything</span> being ready, on the 5th of February, after receiving a
+lecture and absolution from the priest, we crossed the Kaskaskia River
+with one hundred and seventy men, marched about three miles and
+encamped, where we lay until the 7th, and set out. The weather wet (but
+fortunately not cold for the season) and a great part of the plains
+under water several inches deep. It was very difficult and fatiguing
+marching. My object was now to keep the men in spirits. I suffered them
+to shoot game on all occasions, and feast on it like Indian war-dancers,
+each company by turns inviting the others to their feasts, which was the
+case every night, as the company that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span> was to give the feast was always
+supplied with horses to lay up a sufficient store of wild meat in the
+course of the day, myself and principal officers putting on the
+woodsmen, shouting now and then, and running as much through the mud and
+water as any of them.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, insensibly, without a murmur, were those men led on to the banks
+of the Little Wabash, which we reached on the 13th, through incredible
+difficulties, far surpassing anything that any of us had ever
+experienced. Frequently the diversions of the night wore off the
+thoughts of the preceding day. We formed a camp on a height which we
+found on the bank of the river, and suffered our troops to amuse
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>I viewed this sheet of water for some time with distrust; but, accusing
+myself of doubting, I immediately set to work, without holding any
+consultation about it, or suffering anybody else to do so in my
+presence; ordered a pirogue to be built immediately, and acted as though
+crossing the water would be only a piece of diversion. As but few could
+work at the pirogue at a time, pains were taken to find diversion for
+the rest to keep them in high spirits. In the evening of the 14th, our
+vessel was finished, manned, and sent to explore the drowned lands, on
+the opposite side of the Little Wabash, with private instructions what
+report to make, and, if possible, to find some spot of dry land. They
+found about half an acre, and marked the trees from thence back to the
+camp, and made a very favorable report.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, the 15th happened to be a warm, moist day for the season.
+The channel of the river where we lay was about thirty yards wide. A
+scaf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span>fold was built on the opposite shore (which was about three feet
+under water), and our baggage ferried across, and put on it. Our horses
+swam across, and received their loads at the scaffold, by which time the
+troops were also brought across, and we began our march through the
+water.</p>
+
+<p>By evening we found ourselves encamped on a pretty height, in high
+spirits, each party laughing at the other, in consequence of something
+that had happened in the course of this ferrying business, as they
+called it. A little antic drummer afforded them great diversion by
+floating on his drum, etc. All this was greatly encouraged; and they
+really began to think themselves superior to other men, and that neither
+the rivers nor the seasons could stop their progress. Their whole
+conversation now was concerning what they would do when they got about
+the enemy. They now began to view the main Wabash as a creek, and made
+no doubt but such men as they were could find a way to cross it. They
+wound themselves up to such a pitch that they soon took Post Vincennes,
+divided the spoil, and before bedtime were far advanced on their route
+to Detroit. All this was, no doubt, pleasing to those of us who had more
+serious thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>We were now convinced that the whole of the low country on the Wabash
+was drowned, and that the enemy could easily get to us, if they
+discovered us, and wished to risk an action; if they did not, we made no
+doubt of crossing the river by some means or other. Even if Captain
+Rogers, with our galley, did not get to his station agreeable to his
+appointment, we flattered ourselves that all would be well, and marched
+on in high spirits.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span>The last day&#8217;s march through the water was far superior to anything the
+<span class="nowrap">Frenchmen<a name="Anchor_431-3" id="Anchor_431-3"></a><a title="Go to footnote 431-3" href="#Footnote_431-3" class="fnanchor">431-3</a></span> had an idea of. They were backward in speaking; said
+that the nearest land to us was a small league called the Sugar Camp, on
+the bank of the [river?]. A canoe was sent off, and returned without
+finding that we could pass. I went in her myself, and sounded the water;
+found it deep as to my neck. I returned with a design to have the men
+transported on board the canoes to the Sugar Camp, which I knew would
+spend the whole day and ensuing night, as the vessels would pass slowly
+through the bushes. The loss of so much time, to men half-starved, was a
+matter of consequence. I would have given now a great deal for a day&#8217;s
+provision or for one of our horses. I returned but slowly to the troops,
+giving myself time to think.</p>
+
+<p>On our arrival, all ran to hear what was the report. Every eye was fixed
+on me. I unfortunately spoke in a serious manner to one of the officers.
+The whole were alarmed without knowing what I said. I viewed their
+confusion for about one minute, whispered to those near me to do as I
+did: immediately put some water in my hand, poured on powder, blackened
+my face, gave the war-whoop, and marched into the water without saying a
+word. The party gazed, and fell in, one after another, without saying a
+word, like a flock of sheep. I ordered those near me to begin a favorite
+song of theirs. It soon passed through the line, and the whole went on
+cheerfully. I now intended to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span> them transported across the deepest
+part of the water; but, when about waist deep, one of the men informed
+me that he thought he felt a path. We examined, and found it so, and
+concluded that it kept on the highest ground, which it did; and, by
+taking pains to follow it we got to the Sugar Camp without the least
+difficulty, where there was about half an acre of dry ground, at least
+not under water, where we took up our lodging.</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchmen that we had taken on the river appeared to be uneasy at
+our situation. They begged that they might be permitted to go in the two
+canoes to town in the night. They said that they would bring from their
+own houses provisions, without a possibility of any persons knowing it;
+that some of our men should go with them as a surety of their good
+conduct; that it was impossible we could march from that place till the
+water fell, for the plain was too deep to march. Some of the [officers?]
+believed that it might be done. I would not suffer it. I never could
+well <a name="corr25" id="corr25"></a>account for this piece of obstinacy, and give satisfactory reasons
+to myself or anybody else why I denied a proposition apparently so easy
+to execute and of so much advantage; but something seemed to tell me
+that it should not be done, and it was not done.</p>
+
+<p>The most of the weather that we had on this march was moist and warm for
+the season. This was the coldest night we had. The ice, in the morning,
+was from one-half to three-quarters of an inch thick near the shores and
+in still water. The morning was the finest we had on our march. A little
+after sunrise I lectured the whole. What I said to them I forgot, but it
+may be easily imagined by a person that could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span> possess my affections for
+them at that time. I concluded by informing them that passing the plain
+that was then in full view and reaching the opposite woods would put an
+end to their fatigue, that in a few hours they would have a sight of
+their long-wished-for object, and immediately stepped into the water
+without waiting for any reply. A huzza took place.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image56" id="image56"></a><a href="images/image56-full.png"><img src="images/image56.png" width="248" height="301" alt="A line of men crossing a waist-deep river, carrying their rifles high and their belongings on their heads." title="CLARK TOOK THE LEAD" /></a>
+<span class="caption">CLARK TOOK THE LEAD</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span>As we generally marched through the water in a line, before the third
+entered I halted, and called to Major Bowman, ordering him to fall in
+the rear with twenty-five men, and put to death any man who refused to
+march, as we wished to have no such person among us. The whole gave a
+cry of approbation, and on we went. This was the most trying of all the
+difficulties we had experienced. I generally kept fifteen or twenty of
+the strongest men next myself, and judged from my own feelings what must
+be that of others. Getting about the middle of the plain, the water
+about mid-deep, I found myself sensibly failing; and, as there were no
+trees nor bushes for the men to support themselves by, I feared that
+many of the most weak would be drowned.</p>
+
+<p>I ordered the canoes to make the land, discharge their loading, and play
+backward and forward with all diligence, and pick up the men; and, to
+encourage the party, sent some of the strongest men forward, with
+orders, when they got to a certain distance, to pass the word back that
+the water was getting shallow, and when getting near the woods to cry
+out, &#8216;Land!&#8217; This stratagem had its desired effect. The men, encouraged
+by it, exerted themselves almost beyond their abilities; the weak
+holding by the stronger.</p>
+
+<p>The water never got shallower, but continued deepening. Getting to the
+woods, where the men expected land, the water was up to my shoulders;
+but gaining the woods was of great consequence. All the low men and the
+weakly hung to the trees, and floated on the old logs until they were
+taken off by the canoes. The strong and tall got ashore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span> and built
+fires. Many would reach the shore, and fall with their bodies half in
+the water, not being able to support themselves without it.</p>
+
+<p>This was a delightful dry spot of ground of about ten acres. We soon
+found that the fires answered no purpose, but that two strong men taking
+a weaker one by the arms was the only way to recover him; and, being a
+delightful day, it soon did. But, fortunately, as if designed by
+Providence, a canoe of Indian squaws and children was coming up to town,
+and took through part of this plain as a nigh way. It was discovered by
+our canoes as they were out after the men. They gave chase, and took the
+Indian canoe, on board of which was near half a quarter of a buffalo,
+some corn, tallow, kettles, and other provisions. This was a grand
+prize, and was invaluable. Broth was immediately made, and served out to
+the most weakly with great care. Most of the whole got a little; but a
+great many gave their part to the weakly, jocosely saying something
+cheering to their comrades. This little refreshment and fine weather by
+the afternoon gave new life to the whole.</p>
+
+<p>Crossing a narrow deep lake in the canoes, and marching some distance,
+we came to a copse of timber called the Warrior&#8217;s Island. We were now in
+full view of the fort and town, not a shrub between us, at about two
+miles distance. Every man now feasted his eyes, and forgot that he had
+suffered anything, saying that all that had passed was owing to good
+policy and nothing but what a man could bear; and that a soldier had no
+right to think, etc.,&mdash;passing from one extreme to another, which is
+common in such cases.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span>It was now we had to display our abilities. The plain between us and the
+town was not a perfect level. The sunken grounds were covered with water
+full of ducks. We observed several men out on horseback, shooting them,
+within a half mile of us, and sent out as many of our active young
+Frenchmen to decoy and take one of these men prisoner in such a manner
+as not to alarm the others, which they did. The information we got from
+this person was similar to that which we got from those we took on the
+river, except that of the British having that evening completed the wall
+of the fort, and that there were a good many Indians in town.</p>
+
+<p>Our situation was now truly critical,&mdash;no possibility of retreating in
+case of defeat, and in full view of a town that had, at this time,
+upward of six hundred men in it,&mdash;troops, inhabitants, and Indians. The
+crew of the galley, though not fifty men, would have been now a
+re&euml;nforcement of immense magnitude to our little army (if I may so call
+it), but we would not think of them. We were now in the situation that I
+had labored to get ourselves in. The idea of being made prisoner was
+foreign to almost every man, as they expected nothing but torture from
+the savages, if they fell into their hands. Our fate was now to be
+determined, probably in a few hours. We knew that nothing but the most
+daring conduct would insure success.</p>
+
+<p>I knew that a number of the inhabitants wished us well, that many were
+lukewarm to the interest of either, and I also learned that the grand
+chief, the Tobacco&#8217;s son, had but a few days before openly declared, in
+council with the British, that he was a brother and friend to the Big
+Knives. These were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span> favorable circumstances; and, as there was but
+little probability of our remaining until dark undiscovered, I
+determined to begin the career immediately, and wrote the following
+placard to the inhabitants:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">&#8220;<span class="smcap">To the Inhabitants of Post Vincennes</span>:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>Gentlemen:</em>&mdash;Being now within two miles of your village, with my
+army, determined to take your fort this night, and not being
+willing to surprise you, I take this method to request such of you
+as are true citizens and willing to enjoy the liberty I bring you
+to remain still in your houses; and those, if any there be, that
+are friends to the king will instantly repair to the fort, and join
+the <span class="nowrap">hair-buyer<a name="Anchor_437-4" id="Anchor_437-4"></a><a title="Go to footnote 437-4" href="#Footnote_437-4" class="fnanchor">437-4</a></span> general, and fight like men. And, if any such
+as do not go to the fort shall be discovered afterward, they may
+depend on severe punishment. On the contrary, those who are true
+friends to liberty may depend on being well treated; and I once
+more request them to keep out of the streets. For every one I find
+in arms on my arrival I shall treat him as an enemy.</p>
+
+<p class="right" style="margin-bottom: 2em;">&#8220;(Signed)     <span style="padding-left: 4em;">G. R. CLARK.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+
+<p>I had various ideas on the supposed results of this letter. I knew that
+it could do us no damage, but that it would cause the lukewarm to be
+decided, encourage our friends, and astonish our enemies.</p>
+
+<p>We anxiously viewed this messenger until he entered the town, and in a
+few minutes could discover by our glasses some stir in every street that
+we could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span> penetrate into, and great numbers running or riding out into
+the commons, we supposed, to view us, which was the case. But what
+surprised us was that nothing had yet happened that had the appearance
+of the garrison being alarmed,&mdash;no drum nor gun. We began to suppose
+that the information we got from our prisoners was false, and that the
+enemy already knew of us, and were prepared.</p>
+
+<p>A little before sunset we moved, and displayed ourselves in full view of
+the town, crowds gazing at us. We were plunging ourselves into certain
+destruction or success. There was no midway thought of. We had but
+little to say to our men, except inculcating an idea of the necessity of
+obedience, etc. We knew they did not want encouraging, and that anything
+might be attempted with them that was possible for such a
+number,&mdash;perfectly cool, under proper subordination, pleased with the
+prospect before them, and much attached to their officers. They all
+declared that they were convinced that an implicit obedience to orders
+was the only thing that would insure success, and hoped that no mercy
+would be shown the person that should violate them. Such language as
+this from soldiers to persons in our station must have been exceedingly
+agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>We moved on slowly in full view of the town; but, as it was a point of
+some consequence to us to make ourselves appear as formidable, we, in
+leaving the covert that we were in, marched and counter-marched in such
+a manner that we appeared numerous. In raising volunteers in the
+Illinois, every person that set about the business had a set of colors
+given him, which they brought with them to the amount of ten or twelve
+pairs. These were displayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span> to the best advantage; and, as the low
+plain we marched through was not a perfect level, but had frequent
+risings in it seven or eight feet higher than the common level (which
+was covered with water), and as these risings generally run in an
+oblique direction to the town, we took the advantage of one of them,
+marching through the water under it, which completely prevented our
+being numbered. But our colors showed considerably above the heights, as
+they were fixed on long poles procured for the purpose, and at a
+distance made no despicable appearance; and, as our young Frenchmen had,
+while we lay on the Warrior&#8217;s Island, decoyed and taken several fowlers
+with their horses, officers were mounted on these horses, and rode
+about, more completely to deceive the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>In this manner we moved, and directed our march in such a way as to
+suffer it to be dark before we had advanced more than half-way to the
+town. We then suddenly altered our direction, and crossed ponds where
+they could not have suspected us, and about eight o&#8217;clock gained the
+heights back of the town. As there was yet no hostile appearance, we
+were impatient to have the cause unriddled. Lieutenant Bayley was
+ordered, with fourteen men, to march and fire on the fort. The main body
+moved in a different direction, and took possession of the strongest
+part of the town.</p>
+
+<p>The firing now commenced on the fort, but they did not believe it was an
+enemy until one of their men was shot down through a port, as drunken
+Indians frequently saluted the fort after night. The drums now sounded,
+and the business fairly commenced on both sides. Re-enforcements were
+sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span> to the attack of the garrison, while other arrangements were
+making in town.</p>
+
+<p>We now found that the garrison had known nothing of us; that, having
+finished the fort that evening, they had amused themselves at different
+games, and had just retired before my letter arrived, as it was near
+roll-call. The placard being made public, many of the inhabitants were
+afraid to show themselves out of the houses for fear of giving offence,
+and not one dare give information. Our friends flew to the commons and
+other convenient places to view the pleasing sight. This was observed
+from the garrison, and the reason asked, but a satisfactory excuse was
+given; and, as a part of the town lay between our line of march and the
+garrison, we could not be seen by the sentinels on the walls.</p>
+
+<p>Captain W. Shannon and another being some time before taken prisoners by
+one of their [scouting parties], and that evening brought in, the party
+had discovered at the Sugar Camp some signs of us. They supposed it to
+be a party of observation that intended to land on the height some
+distance below the town. Captain Lamotte was sent to intercept them. It
+was at him the people said they were looking, when they were asked the
+reason of their unusual stir.</p>
+
+<p>Several suspected persons had been taken to the garrison; among them was
+Mr. Moses Henry. Mrs. Henry went, under the pretense of carrying him
+provisions, and whispered him the news and what she had seen. Mr. Henry
+conveyed it to the rest of his fellow-prisoners, which gave them much
+pleasure, particularly Captain Helm, who amused himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span> very much
+during the siege, and, I believe, did much damage.</p>
+
+<p>Ammunition was scarce with us, as the most of our stores had been put on
+board of the galley. Though her crew was but few, such a re&euml;nforcement
+to us at this time would have been invaluable in many instances. But,
+fortunately, at the time of its being reported that the whole of the
+goods in the town were to be taken for the king&#8217;s use (for which the
+owners were to receive bills), Colonel Legras, Major Bosseron, and
+others had buried the greatest part of their powder and ball. This was
+immediately produced, and we found ourselves well supplied by those
+gentlemen.</p>
+
+<p>The Tobacco&#8217;s son, being in town with a number of warriors, immediately
+mustered them, and let us know that he wished to join us, saying that by
+morning he would have a hundred men. He received for answer that we
+thanked for his friendly disposition; and, as we were sufficiently
+strong ourselves, we wished him to desist, and that we would counsel on
+the subject in the morning; and, as we knew that there were a number of
+Indians in and near the town that were our enemies, some confusion might
+happen if our men should mix in the dark, but hoped that we might be
+favored with his counsel and company during the night, which was
+agreeable to him.</p>
+
+<p>The garrison was soon completely surrounded, and the firing continued
+without intermission (except about fifteen minutes a little before day)
+until about nine o&#8217;clock the following morning. It was kept up by the
+whole of the troops, joined by a few of the young men of the town, who
+got permission, except fifty men kept as a reserve.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span>I had made myself fully acquainted with the situation of the fort and
+town and the parts relative to each. The cannon of the garrison was on
+the upper floors of strong blockhouses at each angle of the fort, eleven
+feet above the surface, and the ports so badly cut that many of our
+troops lay under the fire of them within twenty or thirty yards of the
+walls. They did no damage, except to the buildings of the town, some of
+which they much shattered; and their musketry, in the dark, employed
+against woodsmen covered by houses, palings, ditches, the banks of the
+river, etc., was but of little avail, and did no injury to us except
+wounding a man or two.</p>
+
+<p>As we could not afford to lose men, great care was taken to preserve
+them, sufficiently covered, and to keep up a hot fire in order to
+intimidate the enemy as well as to destroy them. The embrasures of their
+cannon were frequently shut, for our riflemen, finding the true
+direction of them, would pour in such volleys when they were opened that
+the men could not stand to the guns. Seven or eight of them in a short
+time got cut down. Our troops would frequently abuse the enemy, in order
+to aggravate them to open their ports and fire their cannon, that they
+might have the pleasure of cutting them down with their rifles, fifty of
+which, perhaps, would be levelled the moment the port flew open; and I
+believe that, if they had stood at their artillery, the greater part of
+them would have been destroyed in the course of the night, as the
+greater part of our men lay within thirty yards of the walls, and in a
+few hours were covered equally to those within the walls, and much more
+experienced in that mode of fighting.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span>Sometimes an irregular fire, as hot as possible, was kept up from
+different directions for a few minutes, and then only a continual
+scattering fire at the ports as usual; and a great noise and laughter
+immediately commenced in different parts of the town, by the reserved
+parties, as if they had only fired on the fort a few minutes for
+amusement, and as if those continually firing at the fort were only
+regularly relieved. Conduct similar to this kept the garrison constantly
+alarmed. They did not know what moment they might be stormed or [blown
+up?], as they could plainly discover that we had flung up some
+entrenchments across the streets, and appeared to be frequently very
+busy under the bank of the river, which was within thirty feet of the
+walls.</p>
+
+<p>The situation of the magazine we knew well. Captain Bowman began some
+works in order to blow it up, in the case our artillery should arrive;
+but, as we knew that we were daily liable to be overpowered by the
+numerous bands of Indians on the river, in case they had again joined
+the enemy (the certainty of which we were unacquainted with), we
+resolved to lose no time, but to get the fort in our possession as soon
+as possible. If the vessel did not arrive before the ensuing night, we
+resolved to undermine the fort, and fixed on the spot and plan of
+executing this work, which we intended to commence the next day.</p>
+
+<p>The Indians of different tribes that were inimical had left the town and
+neighborhood. Captain Lamotte continued to hover about it in order, if
+possible, to make his way good into the fort. Parties attempted in vain
+to surprise him. A few of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span> his party were taken, one of which was
+Maisonville, a famous Indian partisan. Two lads had captured him, tied
+him to a post in the street, and fought from behind him as a breastwork,
+supposing that the enemy would not fire at them for fear of killing him,
+as he would alarm them by his voice. The lads were ordered, by an
+officer who discovered them at their amusement, to untie their prisoner,
+and take him off to the guard, which they did, but were so inhuman as to
+take part of his scalp on the way. There happened to him no other
+damage.</p>
+
+<p>As almost the whole of the persons who were most active in the
+department of Detroit were either in the fort or with Captain Lamotte, I
+got extremely uneasy for fear that he would not fall into our power,
+knowing that he would go off, if he could not get into the fort in the
+course of the night. Finding that, without some unforeseen accident, the
+fort must inevitably be ours, and that a re&euml;nforcement of twenty men,
+although considerable to them, would not be of great moment to us in the
+present situation of affairs, and knowing that we had weakened them by
+killing or wounding many of their gunners, after some deliberation, we
+concluded to risk the re&euml;nforcement in preference of his going again
+among the Indians. The garrison had at least a month&#8217;s provisions; and,
+if they could hold out, in the course of that time he might do us much
+damage.</p>
+
+<p>A little before day the troops were withdrawn from their positions about
+the fort, except a few parties of observation, and the firing totally
+ceased. Orders were given, in case of Lamotte&#8217;s approach, not to alarm
+or fire on him without a certainty of killing or taking the whole. In
+less than a quarter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span> of an hour, he passed within ten feet of an officer
+and a party that lay concealed. Ladders were flung over to them; and, as
+they mounted them, our party shouted. Many of them fell from the top of
+the walls,&mdash;some within, and others back; but, as they were not fired
+on, they all got over, much to the joy of their friends. But, on
+considering the matter, they must have been convinced that it was a
+scheme of ours to let them in, and that we were so strong as to care but
+little about them or the manner of their getting into the garrison.</p>
+
+<p>The firing immediately commenced on both sides with double vigor; and I
+believe that more noise could not have been made by the same number of
+men. Their shouts could not be heard for the fire-arms; but a continual
+blaze was kept around the garrison, without much being done, until about
+daybreak, when our troops were drawn off to posts prepared for them,
+about sixty or seventy yards from the fort. A loophole then could
+scarcely be darkened but a rifle-ball would pass through it. To have
+stood to their cannon would have destroyed their men, without a
+probability of doing much service. Our situation was nearly similar. It
+would have been imprudent in either party to have wasted their men,
+without some decisive stroke required it.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the attack continued until about nine o&#8217;clock on the morning of the
+24th. Learning that the two prisoners they had brought in the day before
+had a considerable number of letters with them, I supposed it an express
+that we expected about this time, which I knew to be of the greatest
+moment to us, as we had not received one since our arrival in the
+country; and, not being fully acquainted with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span> character of our
+enemy, we were doubtful that those papers might be destroyed, to prevent
+which I sent a flag [with a letter] demanding the <span class="nowrap">garrison.<a name="Anchor_446-5" id="Anchor_446-5"></a><a title="Go to footnote 446-5" href="#Footnote_446-5" class="fnanchor">446-5</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="letter-spacing: 1em;">* * *</p>
+
+<p>The firing then commenced warmly for a considerable time; and we were
+obliged to be careful in preventing our men from exposing themselves too
+much, as they were now much animated, having been refreshed during the
+flag. They frequently mentioned their wishes to storm the place, and put
+an end to the business at once. The firing was heavy through every crack
+that could be discovered in any part of the fort. Several of the
+garrison got wounded, and no possibility of standing near the
+embrasures. Toward the evening a flag appeared with the following
+proposals:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">&#8220;Lieutenant-governor Hamilton proposes to Colonel Clark a truce for
+three days, during which time he promises there shall be no defensive
+works carried on in the garrison, on condition that Colonel Clark shall
+observe, on his part, a like cessation of any defensive work,&mdash;that is,
+he wishes to confer with Colonel Clark as soon as can be, and promises<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span>
+that whatever may pass between them two and another person mutually
+agreed upon to be present shall remain secret till matters be finished,
+as he wishes that, whatever the result of the conference may be, it may
+tend to the honor and credit of each party. If Colonel Clark makes a
+difficulty of coming into the fort, Lieutenant-governor Hamilton will
+speak to him by the gate.</p>
+
+<p class="right" style="margin-bottom: 0em;">&#8220;(Signed) HENRY HAMILTON.</p>
+<p style="margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8220;24th February, 1779.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>I was at a great loss to conceive what reason Lieutenant-governor
+Hamilton could have for wishing a truce of three days on such terms as
+he proposed. Numbers said it was a scheme to get me into their
+possession. I had a different opinion and no idea of his possessing such
+sentiments, as an act of that kind would infallibly ruin him. Although
+we had the greatest reason to expect a re&euml;nforcement in less than three
+days, that would at once put an end to the siege, I yet did not think it
+prudent to agree to the proposals, and sent the following answer:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">&#8220;Colonel Clark&#8217;s compliments to Lieutenant-governor Hamilton, and begs
+leave to inform him that he will not agree to any terms other than Mr.
+Hamilton&#8217;s surrendering himself and garrison prisoners at discretion. If
+Mr. Hamilton is desirous of a conference with Colonel Clark, he will
+meet him at the church with Captain Helm.</p>
+
+<p class="right" style="margin-bottom: 0em;">&#8220;(Signed) G. R. C.</p>
+<p style="margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8220;February 24th, 1779.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>We met at the church, about eighty yards from the fort,
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton, Major<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span> Hay, superintendent of Indian
+affairs, Captain Helm, their prisoner, Major Bowman, and myself. The
+conference began. Hamilton produced terms of capitulation, signed, that
+contained various articles, one of which was that the garrison should be
+surrendered on their being permitted to go to Pensacola on parole. After
+deliberating on every article, I rejected the whole.</p>
+
+<p>He then wished that I would make some proposition. I told him that I had
+no other to make than what I had already made,&mdash;that of his surrendering
+as prisoners at discretion. I said that his troops had behaved with
+spirit; that they could not suppose that they would be worse treated in
+consequence of it; that, if he chose to comply with the demand, though
+hard, perhaps the sooner the better; that it was in vain to make any
+proposition to me; that he, by this time, must be sensible that the
+garrison would fall; that both of us must [view?] all blood spilt for
+the future by the garrison as murder; that my troops were already
+impatient, and called aloud for permission to tear down and storm the
+fort. If such a step was taken, many, of course, would be cut down; and
+the result of an enraged body of woodsmen breaking in must be obvious to
+him. It would be out of the power of an American officer to save a
+single man.</p>
+
+<p>Various altercation took place for a considerable time. Captain Helm
+attempted to moderate our fixed determination. I told him he was a
+British prisoner; and it was doubtful whether or not he could, with
+propriety, speak on the subject. Hamilton then said that Captain Helm
+was from that moment liberated, and might use his pleasure. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span> informed
+the Captain that I would not receive him on such terms; that he must
+return to the garrison, and await his fate. I then told
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton that hostilities should not commence until
+five minutes after the drums gave the alarm.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image57" id="image57"></a><a href="images/image57-full.png"><img src="images/image57.png" width="250" height="302" alt="Three men in uniform approaching a man in buckskins and a man in uniform in front of a church. " title="WE MET AT THE CHURCH" /></a>
+<span class="caption">WE MET AT THE CHURCH</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We took our leave, and parted but a few steps, when Hamilton stopped,
+and politely asked me if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span> I would be so kind as to give him my reasons
+for refusing the garrison any other terms than those I had offered. I
+told him I had no objections in giving him my real reasons, which were
+simply these: that I knew the greater part of the principal Indian
+partisans of Detroit were with him; that I wanted an excuse to put them
+to death or otherwise treat them as I thought proper; that the cries of
+the widows and the fatherless on the frontiers, which they had
+occasioned, now required their blood from my hand; and that I did not
+choose to be so timorous as to disobey the absolute commands of their
+authority, which I looked upon to be next to divine; that I would rather
+lose fifty men than not to empower myself to execute this piece of
+business with propriety; that, if he chose to risk the massacre of his
+garrison for their sakes, it was his own pleasure; and that I might,
+perhaps, take it into my head to send for some of those widows to see it
+executed.</p>
+
+<p>Major Hay paying great attention, I had observed a kind of distrust in
+his countenance, which in a great measure influenced my conversation
+during this time. On my concluding, &#8220;Pray, sir,&#8221; said he, &#8220;who is it
+that you call Indian partisans?&#8221; &#8220;Sir,&#8221; I replied, &#8220;I take Major Hay to
+be one of the principal.&#8221; I never saw a man in the moment of execution
+so struck as he appeared to be,&mdash;pale and trembling, scarcely able to
+stand. Hamilton blushed, and, I observed, was much affected at his
+behavior. Major Bowman&#8217;s countenance sufficiently explained his disdain
+for the one and his sorrow for the other.</p>
+
+<p>Some moments elapsed without a word passing on either side. From that
+moment my resolutions changed respecting Hamilton&#8217;s situation. I told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span>
+him that we would return to our respective posts; that I would
+reconsider the matter, and let him know the result. No offensive
+measures should be taken in the meantime. Agreed to; and we parted. What
+had passed being made known to our officers, it was agreed that we
+should moderate our resolutions.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon the following articles were signed and the garrison
+surrendered:</p>
+
+<p><abbr title="One">I.</abbr>  Lieutenant-governor Hamilton engages to deliver up to Colonel Clark,
+Fort Sackville, as it is at present, with all the stores, etc.</p>
+
+<p><abbr title="Two">II.</abbr> The garrison are to deliver themselves as prisoners of war, and
+march out with their arms and accoutrements, etc.</p>
+
+<p><abbr title="Three">III.</abbr> The garrison to be delivered up at ten o&#8217;clock tomorrow.</p>
+
+<p><abbr title="Four">IV.</abbr> Three days time to be allowed the garrison to settle their accounts
+with the inhabitants and traders of this place.</p>
+
+<p><abbr title="Five">V.</abbr> The officers of the garrison to be allowed their necessary baggage,
+etc.</p>
+
+<p>Signed at Post <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Vincent (Vincennes), 24th of February, 1779.</p>
+
+<p>Agreed for the following reasons: the remoteness from succor; the state
+and quantity of provisions, etc.; unanimity of officers and men in its
+expediency; the honorable terms allowed; and, lastly, the confidence in
+a generous enemy.</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">(Signed) HENRY HAMILTON,</span><br />
+<em>Lieut.-Gov. and Superintendent.</em></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage" style="letter-spacing: 1em;">* * *</p>
+
+<p>The business being now nearly at an end, troops were posted in several
+strong houses around the garrison and <a name="corr26" id="corr26"></a>patrolled during the night to
+prevent any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span> deception that might be attempted. The remainder on duty
+lay on their arms, and for the first time for many days past got some
+rest.</p>
+
+<p>During the siege, I got only one man wounded. Not being able to lose
+many, I made them secure themselves well. Seven were <a name="corr27" id="corr27"></a>badly wounded in
+the fort through ports.</p>
+
+<p>Almost every man had conceived a favorable opinion of
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton,&mdash;I believe what affected myself made some
+impression on the whole; and I was happy to find that he never deviated,
+while he stayed with us, from that dignity of conduct that became an
+officer in his situation. The morning of the 25th approaching,
+arrangements were made for receiving the garrison [which consisted of
+seventy-nine men], and about ten o&#8217;clock it was delivered in form; and
+everything was immediately arranged to the best <span class="nowrap">advantage.<a name="Anchor_452-7" id="Anchor_452-7"></a><a title="Go to footnote 452-7" href="#Footnote_452-7" class="fnanchor">452-7</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_428-1" id="Footnote_428-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_428-1" class="label">428-1</a> The first permanent settlement in Indiana was made on
+the Wabash River 117 miles southwest of the present city of
+Indianapolis. On what was originally the location of a prominent Indian
+village, the French established a fort in 1702, and it was generally
+known as <em>The Post</em>. In 1736 the name of Vinsenne, an early commandant
+of the post, was applied to the little settlement, and this name later
+came to be written <em>Vincennes</em>, in its present form.</p>
+
+<p>The English took the place in 1763; in 1778 the weak English garrison
+was driven out by the forerunners of George Rogers Clark, who from
+Kaskaskia sent Captain Helm to take charge. The same winter Captain Helm
+and the one soldier who constituted his garrison were compelled to
+surrender to the British General, Hamilton, who had come from Detroit to
+recapture the fort. It was in the following February that Clark made the
+final capture as told in these memoirs. Thereafter Vincennes belonged to
+Virginia, who ceded it to the United States in 1783. Vincennes was the
+capital of Indiana territory from 1801 to 1816.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_428-2" id="Footnote_428-2"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_428-2" class="label">428-2</a> The selection is taken from General Clark&#8217;s Memoirs.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_431-3" id="Footnote_431-3"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_431-3" class="label">431-3</a> These were men from Vincennes whom Clark had taken from
+canoes and from whom he obtained much information, although it was not
+given with perfect willingness.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_437-4" id="Footnote_437-4"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_437-4" class="label">437-4</a> It was said with some show of justice that General
+Hamilton had paid the Indians a bounty on the scalps of American
+settlers. His course in many ways had aroused the bitterest hatred among
+the colonists, and especially among the &#8220;Big Knives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_446-5" id="Footnote_446-5"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_446-5" class="label">446-5</a> The letter addressed to Lieutenant-governor Hamilton
+read as follows:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Sir</span>:&mdash;In order to save yourself from the impending storm that now
+threatens you, I order you immediately to surrender yourself, with all
+your garrison, stores, etc. For, if I am obliged to storm, you may
+depend on such treatment as is justly due to a murderer. Beware of
+destroying stores of any kind or any papers or letters that are in your
+possession, or hurting one house in town: for, by heavens! if you do,
+there shall be no mercy shown you.</p>
+
+<p class="footnote" style="text-align: right;">(Signed) G. R. CLARK.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In reply the British officer sent the following:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lieutenant-governor Hamilton begs leave to acquaint Colonel Clark that
+he and his garrison are not disposed to be awed into any action unworthy
+British subjects.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_452-7" id="Footnote_452-7"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_452-7" class="label">452-7</a> Clark was a man of action, not a scholar; and the
+errors of which his writings are full may well be overlooked, so full of
+interest is what he says. The selections above have been slightly
+changed, principally, however, in spelling and the use of capital
+letters.</p>
+
+<p>Hamilton was sent in irons to Virginia and was kept in close
+confinement, at Williamsburg, till nearly the end of the Revolution.
+Washington wrote, as a reason for not exchanging the British prisoner,
+that he &#8220;had issued proclamations and approved of practices, which were
+marked with cruelty towards the people that fell into his hands, such as
+inciting the Indians to bring in scalps, putting prisoners in irons, and
+giving men up to be the victims of savage barbarity.&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THREE_SUNDAYS_IN_A_WEEK" id="THREE_SUNDAYS_IN_A_WEEK"></a>THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>Adapted from</em> <span class="smcap">Edgar A. Poe</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note</span>.&mdash;The ingeniousness of the idea in this story marks it as
+Poe&#8217;s, though it lacks some of the characteristics which we expect
+to find in everything that came from the brain of that most unusual
+writer. Many of his poems and many of his most famous stories, such
+as <cite>Ligeia</cite>, <cite>The Fall of the House of Usher</cite>, <cite>Eleanora</cite> and <cite>The
+Masque of the Red Death</cite>, have a fantastic horror about them which
+is scarcely to be found in the writings of any other man. <cite>The Gold
+Bug</cite>, which is included in Volume IX of this series is a
+characteristic example of another type of Poe&#8217;s stories; it shows
+at its best his marvelous inventive power.</p>
+
+<p><cite>Three Sundays in a Week</cite>, as given here, has been abridged
+somewhat, though nothing that is essential to the story has been
+omitted.</p></div>
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapy"><span class="hide">&#8220;Y</span></span><span class="upper">ou</span> hard-hearted, dunder-headed, obstinate, rusty, crusty, musty,
+fusty, old savage!&#8221; said I, in fancy, one afternoon, to my granduncle,
+Rumgudgeon, shaking my fist at him in imagination. Only in imagination.
+The fact is, some trivial difference did exist, just then, between what
+I said and what I had not the courage to say&mdash;between what I did and
+what I had half a mind to do.</p>
+
+<p>The old porpoise, as I opened the drawing-room door, was sitting with
+his feet upon the mantelpiece, making strenuous efforts to accomplish a
+ditty.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My <em>dear</em> uncle,&#8221; said I, closing the door gently and approaching him
+with the blandest of smiles,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span> &#8220;you are always so very kind and
+considerate, and have evinced your benevolence in so many&mdash;so very many
+ways&mdash;that&mdash;that I feel I have only to suggest this little point to you
+once more to make sure of your full acquiescence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hem!&#8221; said he, &#8220;good boy! go on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am sure, my dearest uncle (you confounded old rascal!) that you have
+no design really and seriously to oppose my union with Kate. This is
+merely a joke of yours, I know&mdash;ha! ha! ha!&mdash;how very pleasant you are
+at times.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ha! ha! ha!&#8221; said he, &#8220;curse you! yes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To be sure&mdash;of course! I knew you were jesting. Now, uncle, all that
+Kate and myself wish at present, is that you would oblige us&mdash;as regards
+the <em>time</em>&mdash;you know, uncle&mdash;in short, when will it be most convenient
+for yourself that the wedding shall&mdash;shall come off, you know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come off, you scoundrel! what do you mean by that?&mdash;Better wait till it
+goes on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ha! ha! ha!&mdash;he! he! he!&mdash;oh, that&#8217;s good&mdash;oh, that&#8217;s capital&mdash;such a
+wit! But all we want, just now, you know, uncle, is that you should
+indicate the time precisely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&mdash;precisely?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, uncle&mdash;that is, if it would be quite agreeable to yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t it answer, Bobby, if I were to leave it at random&mdash;sometime
+within a year or so, for example?&mdash;<em>must</em> I say precisely?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>If</em> you please, uncle&mdash;precisely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, Bobby, my boy&mdash;you&#8217;re a fine fellow, aren&#8217;t you?&mdash;since you
+<em>will</em> have the exact time, I&#8217;ll&mdash;why, I&#8217;ll oblige you for once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span>&#8220;Dear uncle!&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a name="image58" id="image58"></a><a href="images/image58-full.png"><img src="images/image58.png" width="249" height="196" alt="A younger man standing by a seated older man in an elegant parlor." title="&#8220;WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush, sir!&#8221; (drowning my voice)&mdash;&#8220;I&#8217;ll oblige you for once. You shall
+have my consent&mdash;and the <em>plum</em>, we mustn&#8217;t forget the plum&mdash;let me see!
+When shall it be? To-day&#8217;s Sunday&mdash;isn&#8217;t it! Well, then, you shall be
+married precisely&mdash;<em>precisely</em>, now mind!&mdash;<em>when three Sundays come
+together in a week!</em> Do you hear me, sir! What are you gaping at? I say,
+you shall have Kate and her plum when three Sundays come together in a
+week&mdash;but not <em>till</em> then&mdash;you young scapegrace&mdash;not <em>till</em> then, if I
+die for it. You know me&mdash;<em>I&#8217;m a man of my word</em>&mdash;<em>now be off!</em>&#8221; Here he
+grinned at me viciously, and I rushed from the room in despair.</p>
+
+<p>A very &#8220;fine old English gentleman&#8221; was my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, but,
+unlike him of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span> song, he had his weak points. He was a little, pursy,
+pompous, passionate, semi-circular somebody, with a red nose, a thick
+skull, a long purse, and a strong sense of his own consequence. With the
+best heart in the world, he contrived, through a predominate whim of
+contradiction, to earn for himself, among those who only knew him
+superficially, the character of a curmudgeon. Like many excellent
+people, he seemed possessed with a spirit of tantalization, which might
+easily, at a casual glance, be mistaken for malevolence. To every
+request, a positive &#8220;No!&#8221; was his immediate answer; but in the end&mdash;in
+the long, long end&mdash;there were exceedingly few requests which he
+refused. Against all attacks upon his purse he made the most sturdy
+defence; but the amount extorted from him at last, was generally in
+direct ratio with the length of the siege and the stubbornness of the
+resistance. In charity, no one gave more liberally, or with a worse
+grace.</p>
+
+<p>For the fine arts, especially for the belles-lettres, he entertained a
+profound contempt. Thus my own inkling for the Muses had excited his
+entire displeasure. He assured me one day, when I asked him for a new
+copy of Horace, that the translation of &#8220;<em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Poeta nascitur, non</em>
+<span class="nowrap"><em lang="la" xml:lang="la">fit</em>&#8221;<a name="Anchor_456-1" id="Anchor_456-1"></a><a title="Go to footnote 456-1" href="#Footnote_456-1" class="fnanchor">456-1</a></span> was &#8220;a nasty poet for nothing fit&#8221;&mdash;a remark which I took
+in high dudgeon. His repugnance to the &#8220;humanities&#8221; had, also, much
+increased of late, by an accidental bias in favor of what he supposed to
+be natural science. Somebody had accosted him in the street, mistaking
+him for a no less personage than Doctor Dubble L. Dee, the lecturer upon
+quack physics. This set him off at a tangent; and just at the epoch of
+this story,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span> my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, was accessible and pacific only
+upon the points which happened to chime in with the hobby he was riding.</p>
+
+<p>I had lived with the old gentleman all my life. My parents in dying had
+bequeathed me to him as a rich legacy. I believe the old villain loved
+me as his own child&mdash;nearly if not quite as well as he loved Kate&mdash;but
+it was a dog&#8217;s existence that he led me after all. From my first year
+until my fifth, he obliged me with very regular floggings. From five to
+fifteen, he threatened me, hourly, with the House of Correction. From
+fifteen to twenty not a day passed in which he did not promise to cut me
+off with a shilling. I was a sad dog it is true, but then it was a part
+of my nature&mdash;a point of my faith.</p>
+
+<p>In Kate, however, I had a firm friend, and I knew it. She was a good
+girl, and told me very sweetly that I might have her (plum and all)
+whenever I could badger my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, into the necessary
+consent. Poor girl! she was barely fifteen, and without this consent her
+little amount in the funds was not come-at-able until five immeasurable
+summers had &#8220;dragged their slow length along.&#8221; What then to do? In vain
+we besieged the old gentleman with importunities. It would have stirred
+the indignation of Job himself to see how much like an old mouser he
+behaved to us two little mice. In his heart he wished for nothing more
+ardently than our union. He had made up his mind to this all along. In
+fact he would have given ten thousand pounds from his own pocket (Kate&#8217;s
+plum was <em>her own</em>) if he could have invented anything like an excuse
+for complying with our very natural wishes. But then we had been so
+imprudent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459"><br />[459]</a></span> as to broach the matter ourselves. Not to oppose it under
+the circumstances, I sincerely believe, was not in his power.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a name="image59" id="image59"></a><a href="images/image59-full.png"><img src="images/image59.png" width="250" height="389" alt="A young woman seated on a low branch of a tree, with a young man leaning in to talk to her." title="&#8220;IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>My granduncle was, after his own fashion, a man of his word, no doubt.
+The spirit of his vows he made no scruple of setting at naught, but the
+letter was a bond inviolable. Now it was this peculiarity in his
+disposition of which Kate&#8217;s ingenuity enabled us one fine day, not long
+after our interview in the drawing-room, to take a very unexpected
+advantage.</p>
+
+<p>It happened then&mdash;so the Fates ordered it&mdash;that among the naval
+acquaintances of my betrothed were two gentlemen who had just set foot
+upon the shores of England, after a year&#8217;s absence, each, in foreign
+travel. In company with these gentlemen, Kate and I, preconcertedly,
+paid uncle Rumgudgeon a visit on the afternoon of Sunday, October the
+tenth&mdash;just three weeks after the memorable decision which had so
+cruelly defeated our hopes. For about half an hour the conversation ran
+upon ordinary topics; but at last we contrived, quite naturally, to give
+it the following turn:</p>
+
+<p><em>Capt. Pratt.</em> &#8220;Well, I have been absent just one year. Just one year
+to-day, as I live&mdash;let me see! yes!&mdash;this is October the tenth. You
+remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, I called this day year, to bid you good-bye.
+And by the way, it does seem something like a coincidence, does it
+not&mdash;that our friend, Captain Smitherton, has been absent exactly a year
+also, a year to-day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Smitherton.</em> &#8220;Yes! just one year to a fraction. You will remember, Mr.
+Rumgudgeon, that I called with Captain Pratt on this very day last year,
+to pay my parting respects.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;Yes, yes, yes&mdash;I remember it very well&mdash;very queer indeed!
+Both of you gone just one year. A very strange coincidence indeed! Just
+what Doctor Dubble L. Dee would denominate an extraordinary concurrence
+of events. Doctor Dub&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Kate</em> (<em>interrupting</em>). &#8220;To be sure papa, it <em>is</em> something strange;
+but then Captain Pratt and Captain Smitherton didn&#8217;t go altogether the
+same route, and that makes a difference you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;I don&#8217;t know any such thing, you hussy! How should I? I think
+it only makes the matter more remarkable. Doctor Dubble L. Dee&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Kate.</em> <a name="corr28" id="corr28"></a>&#8220;Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round Cape Horn, and Captain
+Smitherton doubled the Cape of Good Hope.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;Precisely! the one went east and the other went west, you
+jade, and they have both gone quite round the world. By the bye, Doctor
+Dub&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Myself</em> (<em>hurriedly</em>). &#8220;Captain Pratt, you must come and spend the
+evening with us to-morrow&mdash;you and Smitherton&mdash;you can tell us all about
+your voyage, and we&#8217;ll have a game of whist, and&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Pratt.</em> &#8220;Whist, my dear fellow&mdash;you forget. To-morrow will be Sunday.
+Some other evening&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Kate.</em> &#8220;Oh, no, fie!&mdash;Robert&#8217;s not <em>quite</em> so bad as that. <em>To-day&#8217;s</em>
+Sunday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;To be sure&mdash;to be sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Pratt.</em> &#8220;I beg both your pardons&mdash;but I can&#8217;t be so much mistaken. I
+know to-morrow&#8217;s Sunday, because&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Smitherton</em> (<em>much surprised</em>). &#8220;What <em>are</em> you all thinking about?
+Wasn&#8217;t <em>yesterday</em> Sunday, I should like to know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span><em>All.</em> &#8220;Yesterday, indeed! you <em>are</em> out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;To-day&#8217;s Sunday, I say&mdash;don&#8217;t I know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Pratt.</em> &#8220;Oh, no!&mdash;to-morrow&#8217;s Sunday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Smitherton.</em> &#8220;You are <em>all</em> mad&mdash;every one of you. I am as positive
+that yesterday was Sunday as I am that I sit upon this chair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Kate</em> (<em>jumping up eagerly</em>). &#8220;I see it&mdash;I see it all. Papa, this is a
+judgment upon you, about&mdash;about you know what. Let me alone, and I&#8217;ll
+explain it all in a minute. It&#8217;s a very simple thing, indeed. Captain
+Smitherton says that yesterday was Sunday: so it was; he is right.
+Cousin Bobby, and papa and I, say that to-day is Sunday: so it is, we
+are right. Captain Pratt maintains that to-morrow will be Sunday: so it
+will, he is right, too. The fact is, we are all right, and thus <em>three
+Sundays have come together in a week</em>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Smitherton</em> (<em>after a pause</em>). &#8220;By the bye, Pratt, Kate has us
+completely. What fools we two are! Mr. Rumgudgeon, the matter stands
+thus: the earth, you know, is twenty-four thousand miles in
+circumference. Now this globe turns upon its own axis&mdash;revolves&mdash;spins
+around&mdash;these twenty-four thousand miles of extent, going from west to
+east, in precisely twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr.
+Rumgudgeon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;To be sure&mdash;to be sure. Doctor Dub&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Smitherton</em> (<em>drowning his voice</em>). &#8220;Well sir, that is at the rate of
+one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail from this position
+a thousand miles east. Of course I anticipate the rising of the sun here
+at London by just one hour. I see the sun rise one hour before you do.
+Proceeding,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span> in the same direction, yet another thousand miles, I
+anticipate the rising by two hours&mdash;another thousand, and I anticipate
+it by three hours, and so on, until I go entirely round the globe, and
+back to this spot, when having gone twenty-four thousand miles east, I
+anticipate the rising of the London sun by no less than twenty-four
+hours; that is to say, I am a day <em>in advance</em> of your time. Understand,
+eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;But Dubble L. Dee&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Smitherton</em> (<em>speaking very loud</em>). &#8220;Captain Pratt, on the contrary,
+when he had sailed a thousand miles west of this position, was an hour,
+and when he had sailed twenty-four thousand miles west was twenty-four
+hours, or one day, <em>behind</em> the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday
+was Sunday&mdash;thus with you, to-day is Sunday&mdash;and thus with Pratt,
+to-morrow will be Sunday. And what is more, Mr. Rumgudgeon, it is
+positively clear that that we are <em>all right</em>; for there can be no
+philosophical reason assigned why the idea of one of us should have
+preference over that of the other.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><em>Uncle.</em> &#8220;My eyes!&mdash;well, Kate&mdash;well Bobby!&mdash;this <em>is</em> a judgment upon
+me as you say. But I am a man of my word&mdash;<em>mark that!</em> You shall have
+her, my boy (plum and all), when you please. Done up, by Jove! Three
+Sundays in a row! I&#8217;ll go and take Dubble L. Dee&#8217;s opinion upon <em>that</em>.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_456-1" id="Footnote_456-1"></a><a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor_456-1" class="label">456-1</a> A poet is born, not made.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_MODERN_BELLE" id="THE_MODERN_BELLE"></a>THE MODERN BELLE</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Stark</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">S</span><span class="upper">he</span> sits in a fashionable parlor,<br />
+<span class="i1">And rocks in her easy chair;</span><br />
+She is clad in silks and satins,<br />
+<span class="i1">And jewels are in her hair;</span><br />
+She winks and giggles and simpers,<br />
+<span class="i1">And simpers and giggles and winks;</span><br />
+And though she talks but little,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8217;Tis a good deal more than she thinks.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">She lies abed in the morning<br />
+<span class="i1">Till nearly the hour of noon,</span><br />
+Then comes down snapping and snarling<br />
+<span class="i1">Because she was called so soon;</span><br />
+Her hair is still in papers,<br />
+<span class="i1">Her cheeks still fresh with paint,&mdash;</span><br />
+Remains of her last night&#8217;s blushes,<br />
+<span class="i1">Before she intended to faint.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">She dotes upon men unshaven,<br />
+<span class="i1">And men with &#8220;flowing hair;&#8221;</span><br />
+She&#8217;s eloquent over mustaches,<br />
+<span class="i1">They give such a foreign air.</span><br />
+She talks of Italian music,<br />
+<span class="i1">And falls in love with the moon;</span><br />
+And, if a mouse were to meet her,<br />
+<span class="i1">She would sink away in a swoon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Her feet are so very little,<br />
+<span class="i1">Her hands are so very white,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</a></span>Her jewels so very heavy,<br />
+<span class="i1">And her head so very light;</span><br />
+Her color is made of cosmetics<br />
+<span class="i1">(Though this she will never own),</span><br />
+Her body is made mostly of cotton,<br />
+<span class="i1">Her heart is made wholly of stone.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">She falls in love with a fellow<br />
+<span class="i1">Who swells with a foreign air;</span><br />
+He marries her for her money,<br />
+<span class="i1">She marries him for his hair!</span><br />
+One of the very best matches,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">Both are well mated in life;</span><br />
+<em>She&#8217;s got a fool for a husband,</em><br />
+<span class="i1"><em>He&#8217;s got a fool for a wife!</em></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<h2 class="story"><a name="WIDOW_MACHREE" id="WIDOW_MACHREE"></a>WIDOW MACHREE</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Samuel Lover</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">W</span><span class="upper">idow</span> machree, it&#8217;s no wonder you frown,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree;</span><br />
+Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree.</span><br />
+<span class="i1">How altered your air,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">With that close cap you wear,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">&#8217;Tis destroying your hair,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Which should be flowing free;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Be no longer a churl</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Of its black silken curl,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree!</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Widow machree, now the summer is come,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span>When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum?<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree!</span><br />
+<span class="i1">See the birds go in pairs,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And the rabbits and hares;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Why, even the bears</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Now in couples agree;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And the mute little fish,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Though they can&#8217;t spake, they wish,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree.</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;">
+<a name="image60" id="image60"></a><a href="images/image60-full.png"><img src="images/image60.png" width="252" height="199" alt="A man and a woman seated in a kitchen with open hearth." title="FAITH, I WISH YOU&#8217;D TAKE ME!" /></a>
+<span class="caption">FAITH, I WISH YOU&#8217;D TAKE ME!</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">Widow machree, and when winter comes in,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree,&mdash;</span><br />
+To be poking the fire all alone is a sin,<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree.</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Sure the shovel and tongs</span><br />
+<span class="i1">To each other belongs,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And the kettle sings songs</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span><span class="i2">Full of family glee;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">While alone with your cup</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Like a hermit you sup,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Och hone! widow machree.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">And how do you know, with the comforts I&#8217;ve towld,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree,&mdash;</span><br />
+But you&#8217;re keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld,<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree!</span><br />
+<span class="i1">With such sins on your head,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Sure your peace would be fled;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Could you sleep in your bed</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Without thinking to see</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Some ghost or some sprite,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">That would wake you each night,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Crying &#8220;Och hone! widow machree!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Then take my advice, darling widow machree,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree,&mdash;</span><br />
+And with my advice, Faith, I wish you&#8217;d take me,<br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree!</span><br />
+<span class="i1">You&#8217;d have me to desire</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Then to stir up the fire;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And sure hope is no liar</span><br />
+<span class="i2">In whispering to me,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">That the ghosts would depart</span><br />
+<span class="i1">When you&#8217;d me near your heart,&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Och hone! widow machree!</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="LIMESTONE_BROTH" id="LIMESTONE_BROTH"></a>LIMESTONE BROTH</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> <span class="smcap">Gerald Griffin</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapm"><span class="hide">"M</span></span><span class="upper">y</span> father went once upon a time about the country, in the idle season,
+seeing if he could make a penny at all by cutting hair or setting
+rashurs or pen-knives, or any other job that would fall in his way.</p>
+
+<p>Weel an&#8217; good&mdash;he was one day walking alone in the mountains of Kerry,
+without a ha&#8217;p&#8217;ny in his pocket (for though he traveled afoot, it cost
+him more than he earned), an&#8217; knowing there was but little love for a
+County Limerick man in the place where he was, an&#8217; being half perished
+with the hunger, an&#8217; evening drawing nigh, he didn&#8217;t know well what to
+do with himself till morning.</p>
+
+<p>Very good&mdash;he went along the wild road; an&#8217; if he did, he soon sees a
+farmhouse at a little distance o&#8217; one side&mdash;a snug-looking place, with
+the smoke curling up out of the chimney, an&#8217; all tokens of good living
+inside. Well, some people would live where a fox would starve.</p>
+
+<p>What do you think did my father do? He wouldn&#8217;t beg (a thing one of our
+people never done yet, thank heaven!) an&#8217; he hadn&#8217;t the money to buy a
+thing, so what does he do? He takes up a couple o&#8217; the big limestones
+that were lying in the road, in his two hands, an&#8217; away with him to the
+house.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;">
+<a name="image61" id="image61"></a><a href="images/image61-full.png"><img src="images/image61.png" width="252" height="395" alt="A man with a staff approaching a small farmhouse." title="HE SOON SEES A FARMHOUSE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE" /></a>
+<span class="caption">HE SOON SEES A FARMHOUSE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span>&#8216;Lord save all here!&#8217; says he, walking in the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;And you kindly,&#8217; says they.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;I&#8217;m come to you,&#8217; says he, this way, looking at the two limestones, &#8216;to
+know would ye let me make a little limestone broth over your fire, until
+I&#8217;ll make my dinner?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Limestone broth!&#8217; says they to him again: &#8216;what&#8217;s that, <em>aroo</em>?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Broth made of limestone,&#8217; says he; &#8216;what else?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;We never heard of such a thing,&#8217; says they.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Why, then, you may hear it now,&#8217; says he, &#8216;an&#8217; see it also, if you&#8217;ll
+gi&#8217; me a pot an&#8217; a couple o&#8217; quarts o&#8217; soft water.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;You can have it an&#8217; welcome,&#8217; says they.</p>
+
+<p>So they put down the pot an&#8217; the water, an&#8217; my father went over an&#8217; tuk
+a chair hard by the pleasant fire for himself, an&#8217; put down his two
+limestones to boil, an&#8217; kept stirrin&#8217; them round like stir-about.</p>
+
+<p>Very good&mdash;well, by-an&#8217;-by, when the wather began to boil&mdash;&#8216;&#8217;Tis
+thickening finely,&#8217; says my father; &#8216;now if it had a grain o&#8217; salt at
+all, &#8217;twould be a great improvement to it.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Raich down the salt-box, Nell,&#8217; says the man o&#8217; the house to his wife.
+So she did.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Oh, that&#8217;s the very thing, just,&#8217; says my father, shaking some of it
+into the pot. So he stirred it again a while, looking as sober as a
+minister. By-an&#8217;-by he takes the spoon he had stirring it an&#8217; tastes it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;It is very good now,&#8217; says he, &#8216;altho&#8217; it wants something yet.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;What is it?&#8217; says they.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Oyeh, wisha nothin&#8217;,&#8217; says he; &#8216;maybe &#8217;t is only fancy o&#8217; me.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span>&#8216;If it&#8217;s anything we can give you,&#8217; says they, &#8216;you&#8217;re welcome to it.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;&#8217;Tis very good as it is,&#8217; says he; &#8216;but when I&#8217;m at home, I find it
+gives it a fine flavor just to boil a little knuckle o&#8217; bacon, or mutton
+trotters, or anything that way along with it.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Raich hether that bone o&#8217; sheep&#8217;s head we had at dinner yesterday,
+Nell,&#8217; says the man o&#8217; the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Oyeh, don&#8217;t mind it,&#8217; says my father; &#8216;let it be as it is.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Sure if it improves it, you may as well,&#8217; says they.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Baithershin!&#8217; says my father, putting it down.</p>
+
+<p>So after boiling it a good piece longer, &#8216;&#8217;Tis fine limestone broth,&#8217;
+says he, &#8216;as ever was tasted, and if a man had a few piatez,&#8217; says he,
+looking at a pot o&#8217; them that was smoking in the chimney corner, &#8216;he
+couldn&#8217;t desire a better dinner.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>They gave him the piatez, and he made a good dinner of themselves and
+the broth, not forgetting the bone, which he polished equal to chaney
+before he let it go. The people themselves tasted it, an&#8217; tho&#8217;t it as
+good as any mutton broth in the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[471]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_KNOCKOUT" id="THE_KNOCKOUT"></a>THE KNOCKOUT</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>Adapted From The Autobiography of</em> <span class="smcap">Davy Crockett</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="dropcapo"><span class="hide">O</span></span><span class="upper">ne</span> day as I was walking through the woods, I came to a clearing on a
+hillside, and as I climbed the slope I was startled by loud, profane and
+boisterous voices which seemed to proceed from a thick cover of
+undergrowth about two hundred yards in advance of me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You kin, kin you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes I kin and I&#8217;m able to do it! Boo-oo-oo!&mdash;O wake snakes, brimstone
+and fire! Don&#8217;t hold me, Nick Stoval; the fight&#8217;s made up and I&#8217;ll jump
+down your throat before you kin say &#8216;quit.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now Nick, don&#8217;t hold him! Just let the wildcat come, and I&#8217;ll tame him.
+Ned&#8217;ll see me a fair fight, won&#8217;t you Ned?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O yes, I&#8217;ll see you a fair fight; blast my old shoes if I don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s sufficient, as Tom Haines said when he saw the elephant; now let
+him come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus they went on with countless oaths and with much that I could not
+distinctly hear. In mercy&#8217;s name, I thought, what a band of ruffians is
+at work here. I quickened my gait and had come nearly opposite the thick
+grove, whence the noises proceeded, when my eye caught, indistinctly
+through the foliage of the scrub oaks and hickories that inter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[472]</a></span>vened,
+glimpses of a man or men who seemed to be in a violent struggle.
+Occasionally, too, I could catch those deep-drawn, emphatic oaths which
+men utter when they deal heavy blows in conflict. As I was hurrying to
+the spot, I saw the combatants fall to the ground, and after a short
+struggle I saw the uppermost one (for I could not see the others) make a
+heavy plunge with both his thumbs. At the same instant I heard a cry in
+the accent of keenest torture&mdash;&#8220;Enough, my eye is out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment I stood completely horror-struck. The accomplices in this
+brutal deed had apparently all fled at my approach, for not a one was to
+be seen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now blast your corn-shucking soul,&#8221; said the victor, a lad of about
+eighteen, as he arose from the ground, &#8220;come cuttin&#8217; your shines &#8217;bout
+me agin next time I come to the court-house will you? Get your owl-eye
+in agin if you kin.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At this moment he saw me for the first time. He looked frightened and
+was about to run away when I called out&mdash;&#8220;Come back, you brute, and help
+me relieve the poor critter you have ruined forever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Upon this rough salutation he stopped, and with a taunting curl of the
+nose, replied. &#8220;You needn&#8217;t kick before you&#8217;re spurred. There an&#8217;t
+nobody here nor han&#8217;t been, nuther. I was just seeing how I could have
+fout.&#8221; So saying, he pointed to his plow, which stood in the corner of
+the fence about fifty yards from the battle ground. Would any man in his
+senses believe that a rational being could make such a fool of himself?
+All that I had heard and seen was nothing more nor less than a rehearsal
+of a knock-down and drag-out fight in which the young man had played all
+the parts for his own amuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[473]</a></span>ment. I went to the ground from which he had
+risen, and there were the prints of his two thumbs plunged up to the
+balls in the mellow earth, and the ground around was broken up as if two
+stags had been fighting on it.</p>
+
+<p>As I resumed my journey, I laughed outright at this adventure, for it
+reminded me of Andrew Jackson&#8217;s attack on the United States bank. He had
+magnified it into a monster and then began to swear and gouge until he
+thought he had the monster on his back, and when the fight was over and
+he got up to look for his enemy, he could find none anywhere.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 107px;">
+<a name="image62" id="image62"></a><a href="images/image62-full.png"><img src="images/image62.png" width="107" height="108" alt="Man with plow" title="Man with plow" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[474]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="THE_COUNTRY_SQUIRE" id="THE_COUNTRY_SQUIRE"></a>THE COUNTRY SQUIRE</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>Translated From The Spanish of</em> <span class="smcap">Thomas Yriarte</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcapa"><span class="hide">A</span></span> <span class="upper">country</span> squire of greater wealth than wit<br />
+<span class="i1">(For fools are often blessed with fortune&#8217;s smile),</span><br />
+Had built a splendid house and furnished it<br />
+<span class="i6">In splendid style.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;One thing is wanting,&#8221; said a friend; &#8220;for though<br />
+<span class="i1">The rooms are fine, the furniture profuse,</span><br />
+You lack a library, dear sir, for show,<br />
+<span class="i6">If not for use.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;&#8217;Tis true, but zounds!&#8221; replied the squire with glee,<br />
+<span class="i1">&#8220;The lumber-room in yonder northern wing</span><br />
+(I wonder I ne&#8217;er thought of it) will be<br />
+<span class="i6">The very thing.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;I&#8217;ll have it fitted up without delay<br />
+<span class="i1">With shelves and presses of the newest mode,</span><br />
+And rarest wood, befitting every way<br />
+<span class="i6">A squire&#8217;s abode.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;And when the whole is ready, I&#8217;ll dispatch<br />
+<span class="i1">My coachman&mdash;a most knowing fellow&mdash;down</span><br />
+To buy me, by admeasurement, a batch<br />
+<span class="i6">Of books in town.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[475]</a></span>But ere the library was half supplied<br />
+<span class="i1">With all its pomps of cabinet and shelf,</span><br />
+The booby squire repented him, and cried<br />
+<span class="i6">Unto himself:</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;This room is much more roomy than I thought;<br />
+<span class="i1">Ten thousand volumes hardly would suffice</span><br />
+To fill it, and would cost, however bought,<br />
+<span class="i6">A plaguey price.</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image63" id="image63"></a><a href="images/image63-full.png"><img src="images/image63.png" width="248" height="204" alt="A man standing in front of a table in his library." title="THE SQUIRE&#8217;S LIBRARY" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE SQUIRE&#8217;S LIBRARY</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;Now, as I only want them for their looks,<br />
+<span class="i1">It might, on second thoughts, be just as good,</span><br />
+And cost me next to nothing, if the books<br />
+<span class="i6">Were made of wood.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;It shall be so, I&#8217;ll give the shaven deal<br />
+<span class="i1">A coat of paint&mdash;a colorable dress,</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[476]</a></span>To look like calf or vellum and conceal<br />
+<span class="i6">Its nakedness.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8220;And, gilt and lettered with the author&#8217;s name,<br />
+<span class="i1">Whatever is most excellent and rare</span><br />
+Shall be, or seem to be (&#8217;tis all the same),<br />
+<span class="i6">Assembled there.&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">The work was done, the simulated hoards<br />
+<span class="i1">Of wit and wisdom round the chamber stood,</span><br />
+In binding some; and some, of course, in <em>boards</em><br />
+<span class="i6">Where all were wood.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">From bulky folios down to slender twelves<br />
+<span class="i1">The choicest tomes, in many an even row</span><br />
+Displayed their lettered backs upon the shelves,<br />
+<span class="i6">A goodly show.</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">With such a stock as seemingly surpassed<br />
+<span class="i1">The best collections ever formed in Spain,</span><br />
+What wonder if the owner grew at last<br />
+<span class="i6">Supremely vain?</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf<br />
+<span class="i1">And conned their titles, that the squire began,</span><br />
+Despite his ignorance, to think himself<br />
+<span class="i6">A learned man?</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Let every amateur, who merely looks<br />
+<span class="i1">To backs and binding, take the hint, and sell</span><br />
+His costly library&mdash;<em>for painted books</em><br />
+<span class="i6"><em>Would serve as well</em>.</span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot" style="margin-top: 2em;"><p>Poetry means more to us and we get more enjoyment from reading it
+when we understand some of the difficulties that the poet has in
+writing it and can recognize those things which make it poetry in
+form.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum' style="font-size: 89%"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[477]</a></span>For instance, you will notice in the poem which we have just read
+that every stanza has four lines; that, in printing, the first and
+third lines begin close to the margin, while the second and fourth
+lines begin a little farther in on the page&mdash;that is, they are
+<em>indented</em>. Now if you will look at the ends of the lines you will
+see that the words with which the first and third lines terminate
+are in rhyme, and that the words with which the second and fourth
+lines terminate are in rhyme. In other words, the indentation at
+beginning of lines in poetry calls attention to the rhymes.</p>
+
+<p>It is true throughout <cite>The Country Squire</cite> that every pair of lines
+taken alternately ends in rhymes which are perfect or nearly so.
+Now a perfect rhyme is one in which the two rhyming syllables are
+both accented, the vowel sound and the consonants which follow the
+vowels are identical, and the sounds preceding the vowel are
+different. For instance, the words <em>smile</em> and <em>style</em> rhyme. Both
+of these are monosyllables and hence accented. The vowel sound is
+the long sound of <em>i</em>; the consonant sound of <em>l</em> follows. The
+sounds preceding the <em>i</em> are similar but not identical, represented
+by <em>sm</em> in the first case and <em>st</em> in the second. In the fifth
+stanza the first line ends with the word <em>dispatch</em>, the third with
+the word <em>batch</em>. This rhyme is perfect, because the accent on the
+word <em>dispatch</em> is naturally on the second syllable. In the ninth
+stanza the word <em>dress</em> is made to rhyme with <em>nakedness</em>. This is
+not strictly perfect, for the natural accent of <em>nakedness</em> is on
+the first syllable.</p>
+
+<p>It may be interesting for beginners to work out the rhyme scheme of
+a poem and write it down. This is very easily done. Take the first
+stanza in <cite>The Country Squire</cite>. Represent the rhyming syllable of
+the first line by <em>a</em>, the rhyming syllable of the second line by
+<em>b</em>. It follows then that the rhyming syllable of the third line
+must be represented by <em>a</em>, and the rhyming syllable of the fourth
+line by <em>b</em>. Writing these letters in succession we have the
+nonsense word <em>abab</em>, which will always stand for stanzas of this
+kind. If you are interested in this turn to the studies at the end
+of the next poem, <cite>To My Infant Son</cite>.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[478]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="story"><a name="TO_MY_INFANT_SON" id="TO_MY_INFANT_SON"></a>TO MY INFANT SON</h2>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><em>By</em> Thomas Hood</p>
+
+
+<p class="poemopening"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">hou</span> happy, happy elf!<br />
+(But stop, first let me kiss away that tear,)<br />
+Thou tiny image of myself!<br />
+(My love, he&#8217;s poking peas into his ear,)<br />
+Thou merry, laughing sprite,<br />
+With spirits, feather light,<br />
+Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin;<br />
+(My dear, the child is swallowing a pin!)</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Thou little tricksy Puck!<br />
+With antic toys so funnily bestuck,<br />
+Light as the singing bird that rings the air,&mdash;<br />
+(The door! the door! he&#8217;ll tumble down the stair!)<br />
+Thou darling of thy sire!<br />
+(Why, Jane, he&#8217;ll set his pinafore afire!)<br />
+<span class="i1">Thou imp of mirth and joy!</span><br />
+In love&#8217;s dear chain so bright a link,<br />
+<span class="i1">Thou idol of thy parents;&mdash;(Drat the boy!</span><br />
+There goes my ink.)</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class="i1">Thou cherub, but of earth;</span><br />
+Fit playfellow for fairies, by moonlight pale,<br />
+<span class="i1">In harmless sport and mirth,</span><br />
+(That dog will bite him, if he pulls his tail!)<br />
+<span class="i1">Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey</span><br />
+From every blossom in the world that blows,<br />
+<span class="i1">Singing in youth&#8217;s Elysium ever sunny,&mdash;</span><br />
+(Another tumble! That&#8217;s his precious nose!)</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[479]</a></span>Thy father&#8217;s pride and hope!<br />
+(He&#8217;ll break that mirror with that skipping rope!)<br />
+With pure heart newly stamped from nature&#8217;s mint,<br />
+(Where did he learn that squint?)<br />
+Thou young domestic dove!<br />
+(He&#8217;ll have that ring off with another shove,)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<a name="image64" id="image64"></a><a href="images/image64-full.png"><img src="images/image64.png" width="248" height="199" alt="A small child tipping over an inkwell onto his father's paper." title="&#8220;THERE GOES MY INK!&#8221;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&#8220;THERE GOES MY INK!&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="poem">Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest!<br />
+(Are these torn clothes his best?)<br />
+Little epitome of man!<br />
+(He&#8217;ll climb upon the table, that&#8217;s his plan,)<br />
+Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life,<br />
+(He&#8217;s got a knife!)</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Thou enviable being!<br />
+No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[480]</a></span><span class="i1">Play on, play on,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">My elfin John!</span><br />
+Toss the light ball, bestride the stick,&mdash;<br />
+(I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)<br />
+<span class="i1">With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,</span><br />
+Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,<br />
+With many a lamb-like frisk!<br />
+<span class="i1">(He&#8217;s got the scissors snipping at your gown!)</span><br />
+Thou pretty opening rose!<br />
+(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)<br />
+Balmy and breathing music like the south<br />
+(He really brings my heart into my mouth!)<br />
+Bold as a hawk, yet gentle as the dove;<br />
+(I&#8217;ll tell you what, my love,<br />
+I cannot write unless he&#8217;s sent above.)</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot" style="margin-top: 2em;"><p>The stanzas of this poem vary considerably in length, but it will
+be interesting to examine them according to the plans suggested at
+the end of the preceding poem, <cite>The Country Squire</cite>. The first
+stanza here has eight lines, the first four of them rhyming
+alternately in pairs, the next four in couplets. If now we apply
+the plan that is suggested for writing out the rhyme scheme, the
+word for the first stanza is <em>ababccdd</em>.</p>
+
+<p>The second stanza has ten lines. Its rhyme scheme is evidently
+quite different, for here the first six lines rhyme in couplets and
+the last four alternately in pairs. The word to represent such a
+scheme is <em>aabbccdede</em>.</p>
+
+<p>Can you write out the words which will represent the rhyme scheme
+in the other stanzas in this poem?</p>
+
+<p>Find the other poems in this book and write out the rhyme scheme
+for them. Notice that in most poems the stanzas have the same
+number of lines, and that the rhyme scheme of one stanza is just
+like that of another. Take the other books in this series and turn
+to the poems, find what an endless variety of rhymes there is and
+how the scheme differs in different poems.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[481]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="PRONUNCIATION_OF_PROPER_NAMES" id="PRONUNCIATION_OF_PROPER_NAMES"></a>PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES</h2>
+
+
+<p class="opening"><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;The pronunciation of difficult words is indicated by respelling
+them phonetically. <em>N</em> is used to indicate the French nasal sound; <em>K</em>
+the sound of <em lang="de" xml:lang="de">ch</em> in German; <em lang="de" xml:lang="de">&uuml;</em> the sound of the German <em lang="de" xml:lang="de">&uuml;</em>, and French
+<em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">u</em>; <em>&ouml;</em> the sound of <em>&ouml;</em> in foreign languages.</p>
+
+<ul class="vocab">
+  <li><span class="smcap">Algidus</span>, <em>al&acute; ji dus</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Anjou</span>, <em>oN&acute;&acute; zhoo&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Athelstane</span>, <em>ath&acute; el stane</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Bangweolo</span>, <em>bang&acute;&acute; we o&acute; lo</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Bechuanaland</span>, <em>beck&acute;&acute; oo ah&acute; na land</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Bois-Guilbert, Brian de</span>, <em>bwah geel bayr&acute;</em>, <em>bre oN&acute; deh</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Cedric</span>, <em>ked&acute; rick</em>, or <em>sed&acute; rick</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Chaldea</span>, <em>kal de&acute; ah</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Charg&eacute; D&#8217;Affaires</span>, <em>shahr&acute;&acute; zhay&acute; daf fayr&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Chiaja</span>, <em>kyah&acute; ya</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Falerii</span>, <em>fah le&acute; ry i</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Front-de-Boeuf</span>, <em>froN deh beuf&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Gibault</span>, <em>zhee bo&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Khiva</span>, <em>ke&acute; vah</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Ligeia</span>, <em>li je&acute; yah</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Maisonville</span>, <em>may&acute;&acute; zoN veel&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Malvoisin</span>, <em>mal vwah saN&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Mareschal</span>, <em>mahr&acute; shal</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Massouey</span>, <em>mas su&acute; y</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Naomi</span>, <em>nay o&acute; mi</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Ngami</span>, <em>ngah&acute; me</em></li>
+  <li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[482]</a></span><span class="smcap">Nicaragua</span>, <em>nee&acute;&acute; kar ah&acute; gwah</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Oneida</span>, <em>o ni&acute; dah</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Psalms</span>, <em>sahms</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Raksh</span>, <em>rahksh</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Rowena</span>, <em>ro e&acute; na</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Rustum</span>, <em>roos&acute; tum</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Saga</span>, <em>say&acute; gah</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Seius</span>, <em>se&acute; yus</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Seistan</span>, <em>says&acute; tahn</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Sennacherib</span>, <em>sen nak&acute; e rib</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Sohrab</span>, <em>so&acute; rahb</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Tarpeian</span>, <em>tahr pe&acute; yan</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Tongres</span>, <em>toN&acute; gr&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Velasquez</span>, <em>vay lahs&acute; kayth</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Venezuela</span>, <em>ven e zwe&acute; lah</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Vincennes</span>, <em>vin senz&acute;</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Yriarte</span>, <em>e re ahr&acute; tay</em></li>
+  <li><span class="smcap">Zouche</span>, <em>zooch</em></li>
+</ul>
+
+
+<hr class="storybreak" />
+
+
+<div style="background-color: #EEE; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;">
+<p class="center noindent"><a name="trans_note" id="trans_note"></a><b>Transcriber&rsquo;s&nbsp;Note</b></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">The following typographical errors have been corrected.</p>
+
+<table style="margin-left: 0%;" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="typos">
+<tr>
+  <td>Page</td>
+  <td>Error</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#corr1">ix</a></td>
+  <td>Babocck changed to Babcock</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr2">Plate facing p. 30</a></td>
+  <td>Abbottsford changed to Abbotsford</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#corr3">37</a></td>
+  <td>glady changed to gladly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#corr4">45</a></td>
+  <td>Saxon, Rowena. changed to Saxon, Rowena.&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#corr5">60</a></td>
+  <td>avow-himself changed to avow himself</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#corr6">76</a></td>
+  <td>occupy. &#8220;Ladies,&#8221; changed to occupy. Ladies,&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#corr7">86</a></td>
+  <td>puting changed to putting</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr8">106</a></td>
+  <td>burden?&#8221; changed to burden?</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr9">108</a></td>
+  <td>landingplace changed to landing-place</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr10">161</a></td>
+  <td>carelessnesss changed to carelessness</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr11">172</a></td>
+  <td>&#8220;It is yours changed to &#8216;It is yours</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr12">174</a></td>
+  <td>Aber-baijan changed to Ader-baijan</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr13">182</a></td>
+  <td>Gudruz changed to Gudurz</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr14">196, fn. 23</a></td>
+  <td>indentification changed to identification</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr15">221</a></td>
+  <td>Engand changed to England</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr16">264</a></td>
+  <td>its breast!&#8221; changed to its breast!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr17">308</a></td>
+  <td>with Chrismas holly changed to with Christmas holly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr18">345</a></td>
+  <td>hear me! changed to &#8220;hear me!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr19">352</a></td>
+  <td>footsool changed to footstool</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr20">356</a></td>
+  <td>Chrismas Eve the mass changed to Christmas Eve the mass</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr21">363, fn. 13</a></td>
+  <td>line means. changed to line means,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr22">363, fn. 15</a></td>
+  <td>ascent to to changed to ascent to</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr23">363, fn. 15</a></td>
+  <td>Now. gentlemen changed to Now, gentlemen</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr24">368</a></td>
+  <td>woful-wan changed to woeful-wan</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr25">432</a></td>
+  <td>well acount for changed to well account for</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr26">451</a></td>
+  <td>and patroled during changed to and patrolled during</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr27">452</a></td>
+  <td>bady changed to badly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#corr28">460</a></td>
+  <td>Why, papa changed to &#8220;Why, papa</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="noindent">The following words had inconsistent spelling and hyphenation:</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">blindman&#8217;s-buff / blind-man&#8217;s buff<br />
+candle-light / candlelight<br />
+eye-brows / eyebrows<br />
+farm-house / farmhouse<br />
+fellow-men / fellowmen<br />
+fore-feet / forefeet<br />
+Front-de-Boeuf / Front-de-B&oelig;uf<br />
+home-made / homemade<br />
+house-tops / housetops<br />
+look-out / lookout<br />
+on-looking / onlooking<br />
+plow-man / plowman<br />
+sea-weed / seaweed<br />
+snuff-box / snuffbox<br />
+to-morrow / tomorrow<br />
+wild-cat / wildcat</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6, by 
+Charles H. Sylvester
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6, by
+Charles H. Sylvester
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6
+
+Author: Charles H. Sylvester
+
+Release Date: June 19, 2007 [EBook #21864]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND, VOL. 6 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Julia Miller, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of changes is
+found at the end of the book. Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation
+have been maintained. A list of those words is found at the end of the
+book. Oe ligatures have been expanded. The original book used both
+numerical and symbolic footnote markers. This version follows the
+original usage.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE TOURNAMENT]
+
+
+
+
+                    Journeys
+                Through Bookland
+
+               A NEW AND ORIGINAL
+        PLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE
+            WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE
+                  FOR CHILDREN
+
+                      _BY_
+             CHARLES H. SYLVESTER
+  _Author of English and American Literature_
+
+                   VOLUME SIX
+                 _New Edition_
+
+                 [Illustration]
+
+                    Chicago
+             BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY
+                   PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+  Copyright, 1922
+  BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                     PAGE
+  HORATIUS                                           _Lord Macaulay_    1
+  LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER                            _Thomas Campbell_   23
+  SIR WALTER SCOTT                                 _Grace E. Sellon_   26
+  THE TOURNAMENT                                  _Sir Walter Scott_   38
+  THE RAINBOW                                      _Thomas Campbell_   91
+  THE LION AND THE MISSIONARY                    _David Livingstone_   93
+  THE MOSS ROSE                         _Translated from Krummacher_   98
+  FOUR DUCKS ON A POND                           _William Allingham_   98
+  RAB AND HIS FRIENDS                             _John Brown, M.D._   99
+  ANNIE LAURIE                                     _William Douglas_  119
+  THE BLIND LASSIE                                     _T. C. Latto_  120
+  BOYHOOD                                       _Washington Allston_  122
+  SWEET AND LOW                                    _Alfred Tennyson_  122
+  CHILDHOOD                                     _Donald G. Mitchell_  124
+  THE BUGLE SONG                                   _Alfred Tennyson_  133
+  THE IMITATION OF CHRIST                          _Thomas a Kempis_  134
+  THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB                        _Lord Byron_  141
+  RUTH                                                                143
+  THE VISION OF BELSHAZZAR                              _Lord Byron_  153
+  SOHRAB AND RUSTEM                                                   157
+  SOHRAB AND RUSTUM                                 _Matthew Arnold_  173
+  THE POET AND THE PEASANT                         _Emile Souvestre_  206
+  JOHN HOWARD PAYNE AND _Home, Sweet Home_                            221
+  AULD LANG SYNE                                      _Robert Burns_  228
+  HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD               _Alfred Tennyson_  231
+  CHARLES DICKENS                                                     232
+  A CHRISTMAS CAROL                                _Charles Dickens_  244
+  CHRISTMAS IN OLD TIME                           _Sir Walter Scott_  356
+  ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD                _Thomas Gray_  360
+  THE SHIPWRECK                             _Robert Louis Stevenson_  371
+  ELEPHANT HUNTING                         _Roualeyn Gordon Cumming_  385
+  SOME CLEVER MONKEYS                                  _Thomas Belt_  402
+  POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC                         _Benjamin Franklin_  407
+  GEORGE ROGERS CLARK                                                 422
+  THE CAPTURE OF VINCENNES                     _George Rogers Clark_  428
+  THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK                          _Edgar Allan Poe_  453
+  THE MODERN BELLE                                           _Stark_  463
+  WIDOW MACHREE                                       _Samuel Lover_  464
+  LIMESTONE BROTH                                   _Gerald Griffin_  467
+  THE KNOCK-OUT                                      _Davy Crockett_  471
+  THE COUNTRY SQUIRE                                _Thomas Yriarte_  474
+  TO MY INFANT SON                                     _Thomas Hood_  478
+
+  PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES                                       481
+
+For Classification of Selections, see General Index, at end of Volume X
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                     PAGE
+  THE TOURNAMENT (Color Plate)              _Donn P. Crane_  FRONTISPIECE
+  THE LONG ARRAY OF HELMETS BRIGHT               _Herbert N. Rudeen_    5
+  "LIE THERE," HE CRIED, "FELL PIRATE"           _Herbert N. Rudeen_   13
+  HORATIO IN HIS HARNESS, HALTING UPON ONE KNEE  _Herbert N. Rudeen_   21
+  "BOATMAN, DO NOT TARRY"                        _Herbert N. Rudeen_   24
+  SIR WALTER SCOTT (Halftone)                                          26
+  ABBOTSFORD (Color Plate)                                             30
+  THRONG GOING TO THE LISTS                          _R. F. Babcock_   41
+  THE DISINHERITED KNIGHT UNHORSES BRYAN             _R. F. Babcock_   59
+  THE ARMOUR MAKERS                                  _R. F. Babcock_   69
+  PRINCE JOHN THROWS DOWN THE TRUNCHEON              _R. F. Babcock_   85
+  ROWENA CROWNING DISINHERITED KNIGHT                _R. F. Babcock_   89
+  "RAB, YE THIEF!"                               _Herbert N. Rudeen_  103
+  JAMES BURIED HIS WIFE                          _Herbert N. Rudeen_  117
+  SHE REACHES DOWN TO DIP HER TOE                _Herbert N. Rudeen_  125
+  POOR TRAY IS DEAD                              _Herbert N. Rudeen_  132
+  "WHITHER THOU GOEST, I WILL GO"                    _R. F. Babcock_  145
+  RUTH GLEANING                                      _R. F. Babcock_  147
+  THE WRITING ON THE WALL                              _Louis Grell_  155
+  SOHRAB AND PERAN-WISA (Color Plate)                  _Louis Grell_  174
+  PERAN-WISA GIVES SOHRAB'S CHALLENGE                _R. F. Babcock_  179
+  THE SPEAR RENT THE TOUGH PLATES                    _R. F. Babcock_  191
+  RUSTUM SORROWS OVER SOHRAB                         _R. F. Babcock_  203
+  MATTHEW ARNOLD (Halftone)                                           204
+  JOHN HOWARD PAYNE (Halftone)                                        222
+  THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME                   _Iris Weddell White_  225
+  FOR AULD LANG SYNE                             _Herbert N. Rudeen_  230
+  CHARLES DICKENS (Halftone)                                          232
+  THE CLERK SMILED FAINTLY                      _Iris Weddell White_  255
+  "IN LIFE I WAS YOUR PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY"    _Iris Weddell White_  263
+  IN THE BEST PARLOR                            _Iris Weddell White_  281
+  THE FIDDLER STRUCK UP "SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY" _Iris Weddell White_  285
+  UPON THE COUCH THERE SAT A JOLLY GIANT        _Iris Weddell White_  297
+  BOB AND TINY TIM (Color Plate)                      _Hazel Frazee_  304
+  THERE NEVER WAS SUCH A GOOSE                  _Iris Weddell White_  307
+  "SO I AM TOLD," RETURNED THE SECOND           _Iris Weddell White_  329
+  HE READ HIS OWN NAME                          _Iris Weddell White_  344
+  HE STOOD BY THE WINDOW--GLORIOUS!             _Iris Weddell White_  348
+  "A MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOB!"                     _Iris Weddell White_  355
+  HOMEWARD PLODS HIS WEARY WAY                       _R. F. Babcock_  361
+  THE COUNTRY CHURCHYARD                             _R. F. Babcock_  369
+  I FOUND I WAS HOLDING TO A SPAR                _Herbert N. Rudeen_  372
+  WITH BEATING HEART I APPROACHED A VIEW             _R. F. Babcock_  397
+  A CEBUS MONKEY                                 _Herbert N. Rudeen_  405
+  THE SLEEPING FOX CATCHES NO POULTRY            _Herbert N. Rudeen_  411
+  CLARK TOOK THE LEAD                                _R. F. Babcock_  433
+  WE MET AT THE CHURCH                               _R. F. Babcock_  449
+  "WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY"                    _Herbert N. Rudeen_  455
+  IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND          _Herbert N. Rudeen_  458
+  "FAITH, I WISH YOU'D TAKE ME!"                 _Herbert N. Rudeen_  465
+  HE SOON SEES A FARMHOUSE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE  _Herbert N. Rudeen_  468
+  THE SQUIRE'S LIBRARY                          _Iris Weddell White_  475
+  "THERE GOES MY INK!"                              _Lucille Enders_  479
+
+
+
+HORATIUS
+
+_By_ LORD MACAULAY
+
+
+     NOTE.--This spirited poem by Lord Macaulay is founded on one of the
+     most popular Roman legends. While the story is based on facts, we
+     can by no means be certain that all of the details are historical.
+
+     According to Roman legendary history, the Tarquins, Lucius
+     Tarquinius Priscus and Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, were among the
+     early kings of Rome. The reign of the former was glorious, but that
+     of the latter was most unjust and tyrannical. Finally the
+     unscrupulousness of the king and his son reached such a point that
+     it became unendurable to the people, who in 509 B. C. rose in
+     rebellion and drove the entire family from Rome. Tarquinius
+     Superbus appealed to Lars Porsena, the powerful king of Clusium for
+     aid and the story of the expedition against Rome is told in this
+     poem.
+
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium[1-1]
+      By the Nine Gods[1-2] he swore
+    That the great house of Tarquin
+      Should suffer wrong no more.
+    By the Nine Gods he swore it,
+      And named a trysting day,
+    And bade his messengers ride forth
+    East and west and south and north,
+      To summon his array.
+
+    East and west and south and north
+      The messengers ride fast,
+    And tower and town and cottage
+      Have heard the trumpet's blast.
+    Shame on the false Etruscan
+      Who lingers in his home,
+    When Porsena of Clusium
+      Is on the march for Rome.
+
+    The horsemen and the footmen
+      Are pouring in amain
+    From many a stately market-place;
+      From many a fruitful plain.
+    From many a lonely hamlet,
+      Which, hid by beech and pine,
+    Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest
+      Of purple Apennine;
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    There be thirty chosen prophets,
+      The wisest of the land,
+    Who alway by Lars Porsena
+      Both morn and evening stand:
+    Evening and morn the Thirty
+      Have turned the verses o'er,
+    Traced from the right on linen white[2-3]
+      By mighty seers of yore.
+
+    And with one voice the Thirty
+      Have their glad answer given:
+    "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;
+      Go forth, beloved of Heaven:
+    Go, and return in glory
+      To Clusium's royal dome;
+    And hang round Nurscia's[3-4] altars
+      The golden shields of Rome."
+
+    And now hath every city
+      Sent up her tale[3-5] of men:
+    The foot are fourscore thousand,
+      The horse are thousand ten.
+    Before the gates of Sutrium[3-6]
+      Is met the great array.
+    A proud man was Lars Porsena
+      Upon the trysting day.
+
+    For all the Etruscan armies
+      Were ranged beneath his eye,
+    And many a banished Roman,
+      And many a stout ally;
+    And with a mighty following
+      To join the muster came
+    The Tusculan Mamilius,
+      Prince of the Latian[3-7] name.
+
+    But by the yellow Tiber
+      Was tumult and affright:
+    From all the spacious champaign[3-8]
+      To Rome men took their flight.
+    A mile around the city,
+      The throng stopped up the ways;
+    A fearful sight it was to see
+      Through two long nights and days.
+
+    For aged folks on crutches,
+      And women great with child,
+    And mothers sobbing over babes
+      That clung to them and smiled,
+    And sick men borne in litters
+      High on the necks of slaves,
+    And troops of sunburnt husbandmen
+      With reaping-hooks and staves,
+
+    And droves of mules and asses
+      Laden with skins of wine,
+    And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
+      And endless herds of kine,
+    And endless trains of wagons
+      That creaked beneath the weight
+    Of corn-sacks and of household goods,
+      Choked every roaring gate.
+
+    Now, from the rock Tarpeian[4-9]
+      Could the wan burghers spy
+    The line of blazing villages
+      Red in the midnight sky.
+    The Fathers of the City,[5-10]
+      They sat all night and day,
+    For every hour some horseman came
+      With tidings of dismay.
+
+    To eastward and to westward
+      Have spread the Tuscan bands;
+    Nor house nor fence nor dovecote
+      In Crustumerium stands.
+    Verbenna down to Ostia[5-11]
+      Hath wasted all the plain;
+    Astur hath stormed Janiculum,[5-12]
+      And the stout guards are slain.
+
+    Iwis,[5-13] in all the Senate,
+      There was no heart so bold,
+    But sore it ached, and fast it beat,
+      When that ill news was told.
+    Forthwith up rose the Consul,[5-14]
+      Uprose the Fathers all;
+    In haste they girded up their gowns,
+      And hied them to the wall.
+
+    They held a council standing
+      Before the River-Gate;
+    Short time was there, ye well may guess,
+      For musing or debate.
+    Out spake the Consul roundly:
+      "The bridge must straight go down;
+    For since Janiculum is lost,
+      Naught else can save the town."
+
+    Just then a scout came flying,
+      All wild with haste and fear;
+    "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
+      Lars Porsena is here."
+    On the low hills to westward
+      The Consul fixed his eye,
+    And saw the swarthy storm of dust
+      Rise fast along the sky.
+
+    And nearer fast and nearer
+      Doth the red whirlwind come;
+    And louder still and still more loud,
+    From underneath that rolling cloud,
+    Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud,
+      The trampling, and the hum.
+    And plainly and more plainly
+      Now through the gloom appears,
+    Far to left and far to right,
+    In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
+    The long array of helmets bright,
+      The long array of spears.
+
+    And plainly, and more plainly
+      Above that glimmering line,
+    Now might ye see the banners
+      Of twelve fair cities shine;
+    But the banner of proud Clusium
+      Was highest of them all,
+    The terror of the Umbrian,
+      The terror of the Gaul.
+
+    Fast by the royal standard,
+      O'erlooking all the war,
+    Lars Porsena of Clusium
+      Sat in his ivory car.
+    By the right wheel rode Mamilius,
+      Prince of the Latian name,
+    And by the left false Sextus,[7-15]
+      That wrought the deed of shame.
+
+[Illustration: THE LONG ARRAY OF HELMETS BRIGHT]
+
+    But when the face of Sextus
+      Was seen among the foes,
+    A yell that bent the firmament
+      From all the town arose.
+    On the house-tops was no woman
+      But spat toward him and hissed,
+    No child but screamed out curses,
+      And shook its little fist.
+
+    But the Consul's brow was sad,
+      And the Consul's speech was low,
+    And darkly looked he at the wall,
+      And darkly at the foe.
+    "Their van will be upon us
+      Before the bridge goes down;
+    And if they once may win the bridge,
+      What hope to save the town?"
+
+    Then out spake brave Horatius,
+      The Captain of the Gate:
+    "To every man upon this earth
+      Death cometh soon or late.
+    And how can man die better
+      Than facing fearful odds,
+    For the ashes of his fathers,
+      And the temples of his gods,
+
+    "And for the tender mother
+      Who dandled him to rest,
+    And for the wife who nurses
+      His baby at her breast,
+    And for the holy maidens
+      Who feed the eternal flame,[8-16]
+    To save them from false Sextus
+      That wrought the deed of shame?
+
+    "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
+      With all the speed ye may;
+    I, with two more to help me,
+      Will hold the foe in play.
+    In yon strait path a thousand
+      May well be stopped by three.
+    Now who will stand on either hand,
+      And keep the bridge with me?"
+
+    Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
+      A Ramnian proud was he:
+    "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
+      And keep the bridge with thee."
+    And out spake strong Herminius;
+      Of Titian blood was he:
+    "I will abide on thy left side,
+      And keep the bridge with thee."
+
+    "Horatius," quoth the Consul,
+      "As thou sayest, so let it be."
+    And straight against that great array
+      Forth went the dauntless Three.
+    For Romans in Rome's quarrel
+      Spared neither land nor gold,
+    Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    Then none was for a party;
+      Then all were for the state;
+    Then the great man helped the poor,
+      And the poor man loved the great:
+    Then lands were fairly portioned;
+      Then spoils were fairly sold:
+    The Romans were like brothers
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    Now while the Three were tightening
+      Their harness on their backs,
+    The Consul was the foremost man
+      To take in hand an axe:
+    And Fathers mixed with Commons[10-17]
+      Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
+    And smote upon the planks above,
+      And loosed the props below.
+
+    Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
+      Right glorious to behold,
+    Came flashing back the noonday light,
+    Rank behind rank, like surges bright
+      Of a broad sea of gold.
+    Four hundred trumpets sounded
+      A peal of warlike glee,
+    As that great host, with measured tread,
+    And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
+    Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head,
+      Where stood the dauntless Three.
+
+    The Three stood calm and silent,
+      And looked upon the foes,
+    And a great shout of laughter
+      From all the vanguard rose;
+    And forth three chiefs came spurring
+      Before that deep array;
+    To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
+    And lifted high their shields, and flew
+      To win the narrow way;
+
+    Aunus from green Tifernum,[11-18]
+      Lord of the Hill of Vines;
+    And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
+      Sicken in Ilva's mines;
+    And Picus, long to Clusium
+      Vassal in peace and war,
+    Who led to fight his Umbrian powers
+    From that gray crag where, girt with towers,
+    The fortress of Nequinum lowers
+      O'er the pale waves of Nar.
+
+    Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
+      Into the stream beneath:
+    Herminius struck at Seius,
+      And clove him to the teeth:
+    At Picus brave Horatius
+      Darted one fiery thrust;
+    And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms
+      Clashed in the bloody dust.
+
+    Then Ocnus of Falerii
+      Rushed on the Roman Three:
+    And Lausulus of Urgo,
+      The rover of the sea;
+    And Aruns of Volsinium,
+      Who slew the great wild boar,
+    The great wild boar that had his den
+    Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen,
+    And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
+      Along Albinia's shore.
+
+    Herminius smote down Aruns:
+      Lartius laid Ocnus low:
+    Right to the heart of Lausulus
+      Horatius sent a blow.
+    "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate!
+      No more, aghast and pale,
+    From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark
+    The track of thy destroying bark.
+    No more Campania's[12-19] hinds[12-20] shall fly
+    To woods and caverns when they spy
+      Thy thrice accursed sail."
+
+    But now no sound of laughter
+      Was heard among the foes.
+    A wild and wrathful clamor
+      From all the vanguard rose.
+    Six spears' lengths from the entrance
+      Halted that deep array,
+    And for a space no man came forth
+      To win the narrow way.
+
+    But hark! the cry is Astur:
+      And lo! the ranks divide;
+    And the great Lord of Luna
+      Comes with his stately stride.
+    Upon his ample shoulders
+      Clangs loud the fourfold shield,
+    And in his hand he shakes the brand
+      Which none but he can wield.
+
+[Illustration: "LIE THERE," HE CRIED, "FELL PIRATE!"]
+
+    He smiled on those bold Romans
+      A smile serene and high;
+    He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
+      And scorn was in his eye.
+    Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter[14-21]
+      Stand savagely at bay:
+    But will ye dare to follow,
+      If Astur clears the way?"
+
+    Then, whirling up his broadsword
+      With both hands to the height,
+    He rushed against Horatius,
+      And smote with all his might.
+    With shield and blade Horatius
+      Right deftly turned the blow.
+    The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;
+    It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
+    The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
+      To see the red blood flow.
+
+    He reeled, and on Herminius
+      He leaned one breathing-space;
+    Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds,
+      Sprang right at Astur's face.
+    Through teeth, and skull, and helmet,
+      So fierce a thrust he sped,
+    The good sword stood a handbreadth out
+      Behind the Tuscan's head.
+
+    And the great Lord of Luna
+      Fell at that deadly stroke,
+    As falls on Mount Alvernus
+      A thunder-smitten oak.
+    Far o'er the crashing forest
+      The giant arms lie spread;
+    And the pale augurs, muttering low,
+      Gaze on the blasted head.
+
+    On Astur's throat Horatius
+      Right firmly pressed his heel,
+    And thrice and four times tugged amain,
+      Ere he wrenched out the steel.
+    "And see," he cried, "the welcome,
+      Fair guests, that waits you here!
+    What noble Lucumo comes next
+      To taste our Roman cheer?"
+
+    But at his haughty challenge
+      A sullen murmur ran,
+    Mingled of wrath and shame and dread,
+      Along that glittering van.
+    There lacked not men of prowess,
+      Nor men of lordly race;
+    For all Etruria's noblest
+      Were round the fatal place.
+
+    But all Etruria's noblest
+      Felt their hearts sink to see
+    On the earth the bloody corpses,
+      In the path the dauntless Three:
+    And, from the ghastly entrance
+      Where those bold Romans stood,
+    All shrank, like boys who unaware,
+    Ranging the woods to start a hare,
+    Come to the mouth of the dark lair
+    Where, growling low, a fierce old bear
+      Lies amidst bones and blood.
+
+    Was none who would be foremost
+      To lead such dire attack:
+    But those behind cried "Forward!"
+      And those before cried "Back!"
+    And backward now and forward
+      Wavers the deep array;
+    And on the tossing sea of steel,
+    To and fro the standards reel;
+    And the victorious trumpet-peal
+      Dies fitfully away.
+
+    Yet one man for one moment
+      Stood out before the crowd;
+    Well known was he to all the Three,
+      And they gave him greeting loud.
+    "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
+      Now welcome to thy home!
+    Why dost thou stay, and turn away?
+      Here lies the road to Rome."
+
+    Thrice looked he at the city;
+      Thrice looked he at the dead;
+    And thrice came on in fury,
+      And thrice turned back in dread;
+    And, white with fear and hatred,
+      Scowled at the narrow way
+    Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
+      The bravest Tuscans lay.
+
+    But meanwhile axe and lever
+      Have manfully been plied;
+    And now the bridge hangs tottering
+      Above the boiling tide.
+    "Come back, come back, Horatius!"
+      Loud cried the Fathers all.
+    "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
+      Back, ere the ruin fall!"
+
+    Back darted Spurius Lartius;
+      Herminius darted back:
+    And, as they passed, beneath their feet
+      They felt the timbers crack.
+    But when they turned their faces,
+      And on the farther shore
+    Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
+      They would have crossed once more.
+
+    But with a crash like thunder
+      Fell every loosened beam,
+    And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
+      Lay right athwart the stream;
+    And a long shout of triumph
+      Rose from the walls of Rome,
+    As to the highest turret-tops
+      Was splashed the yellow foam.
+
+    And, like a horse unbroken
+      When first he feels the rein,
+    The furious river struggled hard,
+      And tossed his tawny mane,
+    And burst the curb, and bounded,
+      Rejoicing to be free,
+    And whirling down, in fierce career,
+    Battlement, and plank, and pier,
+      Rushed headlong to the sea.
+
+    Alone stood brave Horatius,
+      But constant still in mind;
+    Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
+      And the broad flood behind.
+    "Down with him!" cried false Sextus,
+      With a smile on his pale face.
+    "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena,
+      "Now yield thee to our grace."
+
+    Round turned he, as not deigning
+      Those craven ranks to see;
+    Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,
+      To Sextus naught spake he;
+    But he saw on Palatinus[18-22]
+      The white porch of his home;
+    And he spake to the noble river
+      That rolls by the towers of Rome.
+
+    "O Tiber! father Tiber![18-23]
+      To whom the Romans pray,
+    A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
+      Take thou in charge this day!"
+    So he spake, and speaking sheathed
+      The good sword by his side,
+    And with his harness on his back
+      Plunged headlong in the tide.
+
+    No sound of joy or sorrow
+      Was heard from either bank;
+    But friends and foes in dumb surprise,
+    With parted lips and straining eyes,
+      Stood gazing where he sank;
+    And when above the surges
+      They saw his crest appear,
+    All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
+    And even the ranks of Tuscany
+      Could scarce forbear to cheer.
+
+    But fiercely ran the current,
+      Swollen high by months of rain:
+    And fast his blood was flowing,
+      And he was sore in pain,
+    And heavy with his armor,
+      And spent with changing blows:
+    And oft they thought him sinking,
+      But still again he rose.
+
+    Never, I ween, did swimmer,
+      In such an evil case,
+    Struggle through such a raging flood
+      Safe to the landing-place:
+    But his limbs were borne up bravely
+      By the brave heart within,
+    And our good father Tiber
+      Bore bravely up his chin.
+
+    "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus;
+      "Will not the villain drown?
+    But for this stay, ere close of day
+      We should have sacked the town!"
+    "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena,
+      "And bring him safe to shore;
+    For such a gallant feat of arms
+      Was never seen before."
+
+    And now he feels the bottom;
+      Now on dry earth he stands;
+    Now round him throng the Fathers
+      To press his gory hands;
+    And now, with shouts and clapping,
+      And noise of weeping loud,
+    He enters through the River-Gate,
+      Borne by the joyous crowd.
+
+    They gave him of the corn-land,
+      That was of public right,
+    As much as two strong oxen
+      Could plow from morn till night;
+    And they made a molten image,
+      And set it up on high,
+    And there it stands unto this day
+      To witness if I lie.
+
+    It stands in the Comitium,[20-24]
+      Plain for all folk to see;
+    Horatius in his harness,
+      Halting upon one knee:
+    And underneath is written,
+      In letters all of gold,
+    How valiantly he kept the bridge
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    And still his name sounds stirring
+      Unto the men of Rome,
+    As the trumpet-blast that cries to them
+      To charge the Volscian[20-25] home;
+    And wives still pray to Juno[20-26]
+      For boys with hearts as bold
+    As his who kept the bridge so well
+      In the brave days of old.
+
+    And in the nights of winter,
+      When the cold north-winds blow,
+    And the long howling of the wolves
+      Is heard amidst the snow;
+    When round the lonely cottage
+      Roars loud the tempest's din,
+    And the good logs of Algidus
+      Roar louder yet within:
+
+[Illustration: HORATIUS IN HIS HARNESS, HALTING UPON ONE KNEE]
+
+    When the oldest cask is opened,
+      And the largest lamp is lit;
+    When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
+      And the kid turns on the spit;
+    When young and old in circle
+      Around the firebrands close;
+    And the girls are weaving baskets,
+      And the lads are shaping bows;
+
+    When the goodman mends his armor,
+      And trims his helmet's plume;
+    When the goodwife's shuttle merrily
+      Goes flashing through the loom,--
+    With weeping and with laughter
+      Still is the story told,
+    How well Horatius kept the bridge
+      In the brave days of old.[22-27]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1-1] Clusium was a powerful town in Etruria.
+
+[1-2] According to the religion of the Etruscans there were nine great
+gods. An oath by them was considered the most binding oath that a man
+could take.
+
+[2-3] This line shows us that the writing of the Etruscans was done
+backwards, as we should consider it; that is, they wrote from right to
+left instead of from left to right.
+
+[3-4] Nurscia was a city of the Sabines.
+
+[3-5] _Tale_ here means _number_.
+
+[3-6] Sutrium was an Etruscan town twenty-nine miles from Rome.
+
+[3-7] The Latins were an Italian race who, even before the dawn of
+history, dwelt on the plains south of the Tiber. Rome was supposed to be
+a colony of Alba Longa, the chief Latin city, but the Latin peoples were
+in the fourth century brought into complete subjection to Rome.
+
+[3-8] _Champaign_, or _campagna_, means any open, level tract of
+country. The name is specifically applied to the extensive plains about
+Rome.
+
+[4-9] A part of the Capitoline, one of the seven hills on which Rome is
+built, was called the Tarpeian Rock, after Tarpeia, daughter of an early
+governor of the citadel on the Capitoline. According to the popular
+legend, when the Sabines came against Rome, Tarpeia promised to open the
+gate of the fortress to them if they would give her what they wore on
+their left arms. It was their jewelry which she coveted, but she was
+punished for her greed and treachery, for when the soldiers had entered
+the fortress they hurled their shields upon her, crushing her to death.
+
+[5-10] _Fathers of the City_ was the name given to the members of the
+Roman Senate.
+
+[5-11] Ostia was the port of Rome, situated at the mouth of the Tiber.
+
+[5-12] Janiculum is a hill on the west bank of the Tiber at Rome. It was
+strongly fortified, and commanded the approach to Rome.
+
+[5-13] _Iwis_ is an obsolete word meaning _truly_.
+
+[5-14] When the kings were banished from Rome the people vowed that
+never again should one man hold the supreme power. Two chief rulers were
+therefore chosen, and were given the name of _consuls_.
+
+[7-15] Sextus was the son of the last king of Rome. It was a shameful
+deed of his which finally roused the people against the Tarquin family.
+
+[8-16] In the temple of the goddess Vesta a sacred flame was kept
+burning constantly, and it was thought that the consequences to the city
+would be most dire if the fire were allowed to go out. The Vestal
+virgins, priestesses who tended the flame, were held in the highest
+honor.
+
+[10-17] The Roman people were divided into two classes, the patricians,
+to whom belonged all the privileges of citizenship, and the plebeians,
+who were not allowed to hold office or even to own property. Macaulay
+gives the English name _Commons_ to the plebeians.
+
+[11-18] A discussion as to who these chiefs were, or as to where the
+places mentioned were located, would be profitless. The notes attempt to
+give only such information as will aid in understanding the story.
+
+[12-19] _Campania_ is another name for the campagna.
+
+[12-20] _Hinds_ here means _peasants_.
+
+[14-21] Romulus, the founder of Rome, and Remus, his brother, were,
+according to the legend, rescued and brought up by a she-wolf, after
+they had been cast into the Tiber to die.
+
+[18-22] The Palatine is one of the seven hills of Rome.
+
+[18-23] The Romans personified the Tiber River, and even offered prayers
+to it.
+
+[20-24] The Comitium was the old Roman polling-place, a square situated
+between the Forum and the Senate House.
+
+[20-25] The Volscians were among the most determined of the Italian
+enemies of Rome.
+
+[20-26] Juno was the goddess who was thought of as presiding over
+marriage and the birth of children.
+
+[22-27] You can tell from these last three stanzas, that Macaulay is
+writing his poem, not as an Englishman of the nineteenth century, but as
+if he were a Roman in the days when Rome, though powerful, had not yet
+become the luxurious city which it afterward was. That is, he thought of
+himself as writing in the days of the Republic, not in the days of the
+Empire.
+
+
+
+
+LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER
+
+_By_ THOMAS CAMPBELL
+
+
+    A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
+      Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
+    And I'll give thee a silver pound,
+      To row us o'er the ferry."
+
+    "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
+      This dark and stormy water?"
+    "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
+      And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
+
+    "And fast before her father's men
+      Three days we've fled together,
+    For should he find us in the glen,
+      My blood would stain the heather.
+
+    "His horsemen hard behind us ride;
+      Should they our steps discover,
+    Then who will cheer my bonny bride
+      When they have slain her lover?"
+
+    Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
+      "I'll go, my chief--I'm ready;
+    It is not for your silver bright,
+      But for your winsome lady:
+
+    "And by my word! the bonny bird
+      In danger shall not tarry;
+    So though the waves are raging white,
+      I'll row you o'er the ferry."
+
+[Illustration: "BOATMAN, DO NOT TARRY!"]
+
+    By this the storm grew loud apace,
+      The water-wraith was shrieking;
+    And in the scowl of heaven each face
+      Grew dark as they were speaking.
+
+    But still as wilder blew the wind,
+      And as the night grew drearer,
+    Adown the glen rode armed men,
+      Their trampling sounded nearer.
+
+    "O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
+      "Though tempests round us gather;
+    I'll meet the raging of the skies,
+      But not an angry father."
+
+    The boat had left a stormy land,
+      A stormy sea before her,--
+    When, oh! too strong for human hand,
+      The tempest gather'd o'er her.
+
+    And still they row'd amidst the roar
+      Of waters fast prevailing:
+    Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,
+      His wrath was changed to wailing.
+
+    For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade,
+      His child he did discover:--
+    One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,
+      And one was round her lover.
+
+    "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
+      "Across this stormy water:
+    And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
+      My daughter!--oh my daughter!"
+
+    'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,
+      Return or aid preventing;
+    The waters wild went o'er his child,
+      And he was left lamenting.
+
+
+
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+_By_ GRACE E. SELLON
+
+
+Of the old and honorable families of Scotland there are perhaps none
+more worthy than those from which were descended the parents of Sir
+Walter Scott. In the long line of ancestors on either side were fearless
+knights and bold chiefs of the Scottish Border whose adventures became a
+delightful heritage to the little boy born into the Edinburgh family of
+Scott in 1771. Perhaps his natural liking for strange and exciting
+events would have made him even more eager than other children to be
+told fairy stories and tales of real heroes of his own land. But even
+had this not been so, the way in which he was forced to spend his early
+childhood was such that entertainment of this kind was about all that he
+could enjoy. He was not two years old when, after a brief illness, he
+lost the use of one of his legs and thus became unable to run about as
+before, or even to stand. Soon afterward he was sent to his
+grandfather's farm at Sandy-Knowe, where it was thought that the country
+life would help him. There he spent his days in listening to lively
+stories of Scotsmen who had lived in the brave and rollicking fashion of
+Robin Hood, in being read to by his aunt or in lying out among the
+rocks, cared for by his grandfather's old shepherd. When thus out of
+doors he found so much of interest about him that he could not lie
+still and would try so hard to move himself about that at length he
+became able to rise to his feet and even to walk and run.
+
+[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT 1771-1832]
+
+Except for his lameness, he grew so well and strong that when he was
+about eight years old he was placed with his brothers in the upper class
+of the Edinburgh grammar school, known as the High School. Though he had
+had some lessons in Latin with a private tutor, he was behind his class
+in this subject, and being a high-spirited and sensitive boy, he felt
+rather keenly this disadvantage. Perhaps the fact that he could not be
+one of the leaders of his class made him careless; at any rate, he could
+never be depended upon to prepare his lesson, and at no time did he make
+a consistently good record. However, he found not a little comfort for
+his failure as a student in his popularity as a storyteller and
+kind-hearted comrade. Among the boys of his own rank in the school he
+won great admiration for his never-ending supply of exciting narratives
+and his willingness to give help upon lessons that he would otherwise
+have left undone.
+
+At the end of three years his class was promoted, and he found the new
+teacher much more to his liking. Indeed, his ability to appreciate the
+meaning and beauty of the Latin works studied became recognized: he
+began to make translations in verse that won praise, and, with a new
+feeling of distinction, he was thus urged on to earnest efforts. After
+leaving this school, he continued his excellent progress in the study of
+Latin for a short time under a teacher in the village of Kelso, where he
+had gone to visit an aunt.
+
+Meanwhile his hours out of school were spent in ways most pleasing to
+his lively imagination. His lameness did not debar him from the most
+active sports, nor even from the vigorous encounters in which, either
+with a single opponent or with company set against company, the Scotch
+schoolboys defended their reputation as hard fighters. One of these
+skirmishes that made a lasting impression upon Walter Scott he himself
+tells us of, and his biographer, Lockhart, has quoted it in describing
+the hardy boyhood days of the great writer. It frequently happened that
+bands of children from different parts of Edinburgh would wage war with
+each other, fighting with stones and clubs and other like weapons.
+Perhaps the city authorities thought that these miniature battles
+afforded good training: at least the police seem not to have interfered.
+The boys in the neighborhood where Walter lived had formed a company
+that had been given a beautiful standard by a young noblewoman. This
+company fought every week with a band composed of boys of the poorer
+classes. The leader of the latter was a fine-looking young fellow who
+bore himself as bravely as any chieftain. In the midst of a hotly fought
+contest, this boy had all but captured the enemy's proudly erected
+standard when he was struck severely to the ground with a cruelly heavy
+weapon. The dismayed companies fled in all directions, and the lad was
+taken to the hospital. In a few days, however, he recovered; and then it
+was that through a friendly baker Walter Scott and his brothers were
+able to get word to their mistreated opponent and to offer a sum of
+money in token of their regret. But Green-breeks, as the young leader
+had been dubbed, refused to accept this, and said besides that they
+might be sure of his not telling what he knew of the affair in which he
+had been hurt, for he felt it a disgrace to be a talebearer. This
+generous conduct so impressed young Scott and his companions that always
+afterward the fighting was fair.
+
+It must have been with not a little difficulty that this warlike spirit
+was subdued and made obedient to the strict rules observed in the
+Presbyterian home on Sunday. To a boy whose mind was filled with
+stirring deeds of adventure and all sorts of vivid legends and romances,
+the long, gloomy services seemed a tiresome burden. Monday, however,
+brought new opportunities for reading favorite poets and works of
+history and travel, and many were the spare moments through the week
+that were spent thus. The marvelous characters and incidents in
+Spenser's _Faerie Queene_ were a never-ending source of enjoyment, and
+later Percy's _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_ was discovered by the
+young reader with a gladness that made him forget everything else in the
+world. "I remember well," he has written, "the spot where I read these
+volumes for the first time. It was beneath a huge platanus tree, in the
+ruins of what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbor in the garden
+I have mentioned. The summer day sped onward so fast that,
+notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of
+dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was found still entranced in my
+intellectual banquet. To read and to remember was in this instance the
+same thing, and henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows, and all who
+would hearken to me, with tragical recitations from the ballads of
+Bishop Percy. The first time, too, I could scrape a few shillings
+together, which were not common occurrences with me, I bought unto
+myself a copy of these beloved volumes; nor do I believe I ever read a
+book half so frequently, or with half the enthusiasm."
+
+After his return from Kelso, Walter was sent to college, but with no
+better results than in the early years at the High School. The Latin
+teacher was so mild in his requirements that it was easy to neglect the
+lessons, and in beginning the study of Greek the boy was again at a
+disadvantage, for nearly all his classmates, unlike himself, knew a
+little of the language. He was scarcely more successful in a private
+course in mathematics, but did well in his classes in moral philosophy.
+History and civil and municipal law completed his list of studies. So
+meager did this education seem that in later years Scott wrote in a
+brief autobiography, "If, however, it should ever fall to the lot of
+youth to peruse these pages--let such a reader remember that it is with
+the deepest regret that I recollect in my manhood the opportunities of
+learning which I neglected in my youth: that through every part of my
+literary career I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance:
+and that I would at this moment give half the reputation I have had the
+good fortune to acquire, if by doing so I could rest the remaining part
+upon a sound foundation of learning and science."
+
+[Illustration: ABBOTSFORD]
+
+It had been decided that Walter should follow his father's profession,
+that of the law, and accordingly he entered his father's office, to
+serve a five years' apprenticeship. Though it may seem surprising, in
+view of his former indolence, it is true that he gave himself to his
+work with great industry. At the same time, however, he continued to
+read stories of adventure and history and other similar works with as
+much zest as ever, and entered into an agreement with a friend whereby
+each was to entertain the other with original romances. The monotony of
+office duties was also relieved by many trips about the country, in
+which the keenest delight was felt in natural beauties and in the
+historical associations of old ruins and battlefields and other places
+of like interest. Then, too, there were literary societies that advanced
+the young law-apprentice both intellectually and socially. Thus the
+years with his father passed. Then, as he was to prepare himself for
+admission to the bar, he entered law classes in the University of
+Edinburgh, with the result that in 1792 he was admitted into the Faculty
+of Advocates.
+
+The first years of his practice, though not without profit, might have
+seemed dull and irksome to the young lawyer, had not his summers been
+spent in journeys about Scotland in which he came into possession of a
+wealth of popular legends and ballads. It was during one of these
+excursions, made in 1797, that he met the attractive young French woman,
+Charlotte Carpenter, who a few months later became his wife. A previous
+and unfortunate love affair had considerably sobered Scott's ardent
+nature, but his friendship and marriage with Miss Carpenter brought him
+much of the happiness of which he had believed himself to have been
+deprived.
+
+The young couple spent their winters in Edinburgh and their summers at
+the suburb Lasswade. During the resting time passed in the country
+cottage, Scott found enjoyment in composing poems based upon some of the
+legends and superstitions with which he had become familiar in his
+jaunts among ruined castles and scenes in the Highlands. Some of these
+verses, shown in an offhand manner to James Ballantyne, who was the head
+of a printing establishment in Kelso, met with such favorable
+recognition that Scott was encouraged to lay bare to his friend a plan
+that had been forming in his mind for publishing a great collection of
+Scotch ballads. As a result Scott entered upon the work of editing them
+and by 1803 had published the three volumes of his _Minstrelsy of the
+Scottish Border_. So successful was this venture that shortly afterward
+he began the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_, a lengthy poem in which his
+keen interest in the thrilling history of the Scottish Border found full
+expression. This poem, published in 1805, was heartily welcomed, and
+opened to its author the career for which he was best fitted.
+
+The popularity of the _Lay_, together with the fact that the young poet
+had won no honors as an advocate, doubtless accounts for his retiring
+from the bar in 1806. He had been made sheriff of Selkirkshire in 1799,
+and to the income thus received was added that of a clerk of the Court
+of Sessions, an office to which he was appointed in 1806. More than
+this, he had in the preceding year become a partner in the Ballantyne
+printing establishment, which had moved to Edinburgh, and his growing
+fame as a writer seemed to promise that his association with this firm
+would bring considerable profit.
+
+With a good income thus assured, Scott was able within the following
+four years to produce besides minor works, two other great poems,
+_Marmion, a Tale of Flodden Field_, and _The Lady of the Lake_. These
+rank with the most stirring and richly colored narrative poems in our
+language. So vivid, indeed, are the pictures of Scottish scenery found
+in _The Lady of the Lake_, that, according to a writer who was living
+when it was published, "The whole country rang with the praises of the
+poet--crowds set off to view the scenery of Loch Katrine, till then
+comparatively unknown; and as the book came out just before the season
+for excursions, every house and inn in that neighborhood was crammed
+with a constant succession of visitors."
+
+This lively and pleasing story, with its graceful verse form, has become
+such a favorite for children's reading, that it seems very amusing to be
+told of the answer given by one of Scott's little daughters to a family
+friend who had asked her how she liked the poem: "Oh, I have not read
+it; papa says there's nothing so bad for young people as reading bad
+poetry." The biographer Lockhart recounts also a little incident in
+which young Walter Scott, returning from school with the marks of battle
+showing plainly on his face, was asked why he had been fighting, and
+replied, looking down in shame, that he had been called a _lassie_.
+Never having heard of even the title of his father's poem, the boy had
+fiercely resented being named, by some of his playmates, _The Lady of
+the Lake_.
+
+In order to fulfil his duties as sheriff, Scott had in 1804 leased the
+estate of Ashestiel, and in this wild and beautiful stretch of country
+on the Tweed River had spent his summers. When his lease expired in
+1811, he bought a farm of one hundred acres extending along the same
+river, and in the following year removed with his family to the cottage
+on this new property. This was the simple beginning of the magnificent
+Abbotsford home. Year after year changes were made, and land was added
+to the estate until by the close of 1824 a great castle had been
+erected. The building and furnishing of this mansion were of the keenest
+interest to its owner, an interest that was expressed probably with most
+delight in the two wonderful armories containing weapons borne by many
+heroes of history, and in the library with its carved oak ceiling, its
+bookcases filled with from fifteen to twenty thousand volumes, among
+which are some of unusual value, and its handsome portrait of the eldest
+of Scott's sons.
+
+The building of this splendid dwelling place shows Scott to have been
+exceptionally prosperous as a writer. Yet his way was by no means always
+smooth. In 1808 he had formed with the Ballantynes a publishing house
+that, as a result of poor management, failed completely in 1813. Scott
+bore the trouble with admirable coolness, and by means of good
+management averted further disaster and made arrangements for the
+continued publication of his works.
+
+By this time he had found through the marked success of his novel
+_Waverley_, published in 1814, that a new and promising field lay before
+him. He decided then to give up poetry and devote himself especially to
+writing romances, in which his love of the picturesque and thrilling in
+history and of the noble and chivalrous in human character could find
+the widest range of expression. With marvelous industry he added one
+after another to the long series of his famous Waverley Novels. Perhaps
+the height of his power was reached in 1819 in the production of
+_Ivanhoe_, though _Waverley_, _Guy Mannering_ and _The Heart of
+Midlothian_, previously written, as well as _Kenilworth_ and _Quentin
+Durward_, published later, must also be given first rank. In the
+intervals of his work on these novels, Scott also wrote reviews and
+essays and miscellaneous articles. He became recognized as the most
+gifted prose writer of his age, and his works, it is said, became "the
+daily food, not only of his countrymen, but of all educated Europe." He
+was sought after with eager homage by the wealthy and notable, and was
+given the title of baronet, yet remained as simple and sincere at heart
+as in the early days of his career.
+
+With the sales of his books amounting to $50,000 or more a year, it is
+not strange that he should have felt his fortune assured. But again, and
+this time with the most serious results, he was deceived by the
+mismanagement of others. The printing firm of James Ballantyne and
+Company, in which he had remained a partner, became bankrupt in 1826.
+Had it not been for a high sense of honor, he would have withdrawn with
+the others of the firm; but the sense of his great debt pressed upon him
+so sorely that he agreed to pay all that he owed, at whatever cost to
+himself. For the remaining six years of his life he worked as hard as
+failing health would allow, and the strain of his labor told on him
+severely.
+
+At length he consented to a trip to southern Europe, but the change did
+not bring back his health. Not long after his return to Abbotsford, in
+1832, he called his son-in-law to his bedside early one morning, and
+speaking in calm tones, said: "Lockhart, I may have but a minute to
+speak to you. My dear, be a good man--be virtuous--be religious--be a
+good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie
+here." After a few words more he asked God's blessing on all in the
+household and then fell into a quiet sleep from which he did not awake
+on earth.
+
+Had Scott lived but a few years longer he would undoubtedly have paid
+off all his voluntarily assumed obligations. As it was, all his debts
+were liquidated in 1847 by the sale of copyrights.
+
+Many years have passed since the death of Sir Walter Scott, and to the
+young readers of to-day the time in which he lived may seem far away and
+indistinct. But every boy and girl can share with him the pleasure that
+he felt, all his life, in stories of battle on sea and land, in love
+tales of knights and ladies, in mysterious superstitions and in
+everything else that spurs one on at the liveliest speed through the
+pages of a book. These interests and delights of his boyhood he never
+outgrew. They kept him always young at heart and gave to his works a
+freshness and brightness that few writers have been able to retain
+throughout their lives.
+
+When he became _laird_ of Abbotsford, the same sunny nature and kindly
+feeling for others that had drawn about him many comrades in his
+schoolboy days, attracted to him crowds of visitors who, though they
+intruded on his time, were received with generous courtesy. His tall,
+strongly built figure was often the center of admiring groups of guests
+who explored with him the wonders and beauties of Abbotsford, listening
+meanwhile to his humorous stories. At such times, with his clear,
+wide-open blue eyes, and his pleasant smile lighting his somewhat heavy
+features, he would have been called a handsome man. Of all who came to
+the home at Abbotsford, none were more gladly received than the children
+of the tenants who lived in the little homes on the estate. Each year,
+on the last morning in December, it was customary for them to pay a
+visit of respect to the _laird_, and though they may not have known it,
+he found more pleasure in this simple ceremony than in all the others of
+the Christmas season.
+
+To these gentler qualities of his nature was joined not a little of the
+hardihood of the Scotch heroes whose lives he has celebrated. The same
+"high spirit with which, in younger days," he has written, "I used to
+enjoy a Tam-o'-Shanter ride through darkness, wind and rain, the boughs
+groaning and cracking over my head, the good horse free to the road and
+impatient for home, and feeling the weather as little as I did," was
+that which bore him bravely through misfortune and gave him the splendid
+courage with which in his last years he faced the ruin of his fortune.
+With an influence as strong and wholesome as that of his works as a
+writer, remains the example of his loyal, industrious life.
+
+
+
+
+THE TOURNAMENT
+
+_By_ SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+
+     NOTE.--Scott's _Ivanhoe_, from which this account of _The
+     Tournament_ is taken, belongs to the class of books known as
+     historical novels. Such a book does not necessarily have as the
+     center of its plot an historical incident, nor does it necessarily
+     have an historical character as hero or heroine; it does, however,
+     introduce historic scenes or historic people, or both. In
+     _Ivanhoe_, the events of which take place in England in the twelfth
+     century, during the reign of Richard I, both the king and his
+     brother John appear, though they are by no means the chief
+     characters. The great movements known as the Crusades, while they
+     are frequently mentioned and give a sort of an atmosphere to the
+     book, do not influence the plot directly.
+
+     _Ivanhoe_ does much more, however, than introduce us casually to
+     Richard and John; it gives us a striking picture of customs and
+     manners in the twelfth century. The story is not made to halt for
+     long descriptions, but the events themselves and their settings are
+     so brought before us that we have much clearer pictures of them
+     than hours of reading in histories and encyclopedias could give us.
+     This account of a tournament, for instance, while it lets us see
+     all the gorgeousness that was a part of such pageants, does not
+     fail to give us also the cruel, brutal side.
+
+The poor as well as the rich, the vulgar as well as the noble, in the
+event of a tournament, which was the grand spectacle of that age, felt
+as much interested as the half-starved citizen of Madrid, who has not a
+real left to buy provisions for his family, feels in the issue of a
+bull-fight. Neither duty nor infirmity could keep youth or age from such
+exhibitions. The passage of arms, as it was called, which was to take
+place at Ashby, in the county of Leicester, as champions of the first
+renown were to take the field in the presence of Prince John himself,
+who was expected to grace the lists, had attracted universal attention,
+and an immense confluence of persons of all ranks hastened upon the
+appointed morning to the place of combat.
+
+The scene was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood near Ashby,
+was an extensive meadow of the finest and most beautiful green turf,
+surrounded on one side by the forest, and fringed on the other by
+straggling oak trees, some of which had grown to an immense size. The
+ground, as if fashioned on purpose for the martial display which was
+intended, sloped gradually down on all sides to a level bottom, which
+was enclosed for the lists with strong palisades, forming a space of a
+quarter of a mile in length, and about half as broad. The form of the
+enclosure was an oblong square, save that the corners were considerably
+rounded off, in order to afford more convenience for the spectators. The
+openings for the entry of the combatants were at the northern and
+southern extremities of the lists, accessible by strong wooden gates,
+each wide enough to admit two horsemen riding abreast. At each of these
+portals were stationed two heralds, attended by six trumpets, as many
+pursuivants,[39-1] and a strong body of men-at-arms, for maintaining
+order, and ascertaining the quality of the knights who proposed to
+engage in this martial game.
+
+On a platform beyond the southern entrance, formed by a natural
+elevation of the ground, were pitched five magnificent pavilions,
+adorned with pennons of russet and black, the chosen colors of the five
+knights challengers. The cords of the tents were of the same color.
+Before each pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by whom it
+was occupied, and beside it stood his squire, quaintly disguised as a
+salvage[40-2] or silvan man, or in some other fantastic dress, according
+to the taste of his master and the character he was pleased to assume
+during the game. The central pavilion, as the place of honor, had been
+assigned to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of
+chivalry, no less than his connection with the knights who had
+undertaken this passage of arms, had occasioned him to be eagerly
+received into the company of challengers, and even adopted as their
+chief and leader, though he had so recently joined them. On one side of
+his tent were pitched those of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Richard
+(Philip) de Malvoisin, and on the other was the pavilion of Hugh de
+Grantmesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity, whose ancestor had been Lord
+High Steward of England in the time of the Conqueror and his son William
+Rufus. Ralph de Vipont, a knight of Saint John of Jerusalem, who had
+some ancient possessions at a place called Heather, near
+Ashby-de-la-Zouche, occupied the fifth pavilion.
+
+From the entrance into the lists a gently sloping passage, ten yards in
+breadth, led up to the platform on which the tents were pitched. It was
+strongly secured by a palisade on each side, as was the esplanade in
+front of the pavilions, and the whole was guarded by men-at-arms.
+
+The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar entrance of
+thirty feet in breadth, at the extremity of which was a large enclosed
+space for such knights as might be disposed to enter the lists with the
+challengers, behind which were placed tents containing refreshments of
+every kind for their accommodation, with armorers, farriers, and other
+attendants, in readiness to give their services wherever they might be
+necessary.
+
+[Illustration: THRONG GOING TO THE LISTS]
+
+The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by temporary galleries,
+spread with tapestries and carpets, and accommodated with cushions for
+the convenience of those ladies and nobles who were expected to attend
+the tournament. A narrow space between these galleries and the lists
+gave accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than
+the mere vulgar, and might be compared to the pit of a theatre. The
+promiscuous multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf
+prepared for the purpose, which, aided by the natural elevation of the
+ground, enabled them to overlook the galleries, and obtain a fair view
+into the lists. Besides the accommodation which these stations afforded,
+many hundred had perched themselves on the branches of the trees which
+surrounded the meadow; and even the steeple of a country church, at some
+distance, was crowded with spectators.
+
+It only remains to notice respecting the general arrangement, that one
+gallery in the very centre of the eastern side of the lists, and
+consequently exactly opposite to the spot where the shock of the combat
+was to take place, was raised higher than the others, more richly
+decorated, and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the royal
+arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen in rich liveries waited
+around this place of honor, which was designed for Prince John and his
+attendants. Opposite to this royal gallery was another, elevated to the
+same height, on the western side of the lists; and more gayly, if less
+sumptuously, decorated than that destined for the Prince himself. A
+train of pages and of young maidens, the most beautiful who could be
+selected, gayly dressed in fancy habits of green and pink, surrounded a
+throne decorated in the same colors; Among pennons and flags, bearing
+wounded hearts, burning hearts, bleeding hearts, bows and quivers, and
+all the commonplace emblems of the triumphs of Cupid, a blazoned
+inscription informed the spectators that this seat of honor was designed
+for _La Royne de la Beaute et des Amours_. But who was to represent the
+Queen of Beauty and of Love on the present occasion no one was prepared
+to guess.
+
+Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged forward to occupy
+their respective stations, and not without many quarrels concerning
+those which they were entitled to hold. Some of these were settled by
+the men-at-arms with brief ceremony; the shafts of their battle-axes and
+pummels of their swords being readily employed as arguments to convince
+the more refractory. Others, which involved the rival claims of more
+elevated persons, were determined by the heralds, or by the two marshals
+of the field, William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, who, armed at
+all points, rode up and down the lists to enforce and preserve good
+order among the spectators.
+
+Gradually the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in their
+robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles were contrasted with
+the gayer and more splendid habits of the ladies, who, in a greater
+proportion than even the men themselves, thronged to witness a sport
+which one would have thought too bloody and dangerous to afford their
+sex much pleasure. The lower and interior space was soon filled by
+substantial yeomen and burghers, and such of the lesser gentry as, from
+modesty, poverty, or dubious title, durst not assume any higher place.
+It was of course amongst these that the most frequent disputes for
+precedence occurred.
+
+Suddenly the attention of every one was called to the entrance of Prince
+John, who at that moment entered the lists, attended by a numerous and
+gay train, consisting partly of laymen, partly of church-men, as light
+in their dress, and as gay in their demeanor, as their companions. Among
+the latter was the Prior of Jorvaulx, in the most gallant trim which a
+dignitary of the church could venture to exhibit. Fur and gold were not
+spared in his garments; and the points of his boots turned up so very
+far as to be attached not to his knees merely, but to his very girdle,
+and effectually prevented him from putting his foot into the stirrup.
+This, however, was a slight inconvenience to the gallant Abbot, who,
+perhaps even rejoicing in the opportunity to display his accomplished
+horsemanship before so many spectators, especially of the fair sex,
+dispensed with the use of these supports to a timid rider. The rest of
+Prince John's retinue consisted of the favorite leaders of his mercenary
+troops, some marauding barons and profligate attendants upon the court,
+with several Knights Templars and Knights of Saint John.
+
+Attended by this gallant equipage, himself well mounted, and splendidly
+dressed in crimson and in gold, bearing upon his hand a falcon, and
+having his head covered by a rich fur bonnet, adorned with a circle of
+precious stones, from which his long curled hair escaped and overspread
+his shoulders, Prince John, upon a gray and high-mettled palfrey,
+caracoled within the lists at the head of his jovial party, laughing
+loud with his train, and eyeing with all the boldness of royal criticism
+the beauties who adorned the lofty galleries.
+
+In the midst of Prince John's cavalcade, he suddenly stopped, and,
+appealing to the Prior of Jorvaulx, declared the principal business of
+the day had been forgotten.
+
+"By my halidom," said he, "we have neglected, Sir Prior, to name the
+fair Sovereign of Love and of Beauty, by whose white hand the palm is to
+be distributed. For my part, I am liberal in my ideas, and I care not if
+I give my vote for the black-eyed Rebecca."
+
+"Holy Virgin," answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror, "a
+Jewess! We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not
+yet old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my patron saint that
+she is far inferior to the lovely Saxon, Rowena."
+
+From the tone in which this was spoken, John saw the necessity of
+acquiescence. "I did but jest," he said; "and you turn upon me like an
+adder! Name whom you will, in the fiend's name, and please yourselves."
+
+"Nay, nay," said De Bracy, "let the fair sovereign's throne remain
+unoccupied until the conqueror shall be named, and then let him choose
+the lady by whom it shall be filled. It will add another grace to his
+triumph, and teach fair ladies to prize the love of valiant knights, who
+can exalt them to such distinction."
+
+"If Brian de Bois-Guilbert gain the prize," said the Prior, "I will gage
+my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and Beauty."
+
+"Bois-Guilbert," answered De Bracy, "is a good lance; but there are
+others around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to encounter
+him."
+
+"Silence, sirs," said Waldemar, "and let the Prince assume his seat. The
+knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time advances, and
+highly fit it is that the sports should commence."
+
+Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse all the
+inconveniences of a favorite minister, who, in serving his sovereign,
+must always do so in his own way. The Prince acquiesced, however,
+although his disposition was precisely of that kind which is apt to be
+obstinate upon trifles, and, assuming his throne, and being surrounded
+by his followers, gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the
+tournament, which were briefly as follows:
+
+First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.
+
+Secondly, any knight proposing to combat might, if he pleased, select a
+special antagonist from among the challengers, by touching his shield.
+If he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made
+with what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with lances at
+whose extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no danger
+was encountered, save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if
+the shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the combat was
+understood to be at _outrance_,[46-3] that is, the knights were to fight
+with sharp weapons, as in actual battle.
+
+Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by each of
+them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the victor in the
+first day's tourney, who should receive as prize a war-horse of
+exquisite beauty and matchless strength; and in addition to this reward
+of valor, it was now declared, he should have the peculiar honor of
+naming the Queen of Love and Beauty, by whom the prize should be given
+on the ensuing day.
+
+Fourthly, it was announced that, on the second day, there should be a
+general tournament, in which all the knights present, who were desirous
+to win praise, might take part; and being divided into two bands, of
+equal numbers, might fight it out manfully until the signal was given by
+Prince John to cease the combat. The elected Queen of Love and Beauty
+was then to crown the knight, whom the Prince should adjudge to have
+borne himself best in this second day, with a coronet composed of thin
+gold plate, cut into the shape of a laurel crown. On this second day the
+knightly games ceased. But on that which was to follow, feats of
+archery, of bull-baiting, and other popular amusements were to be
+practiced, for the more immediate amusement of the populace. In this
+manner did Prince John endeavor to lay the foundation of a popularity
+which he was perpetually throwing down by some inconsiderate act of
+wanton aggression upon the feelings and prejudices of the people.
+
+The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries
+were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful in
+the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the
+various dresses of these dignified spectators rendered the view as gay
+as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the
+substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more
+plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant
+embroidery, relieving, and at the same time setting off, its splendor.
+
+The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of
+"Largesse,[48-4] largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and silver pieces
+were showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of
+chivalry to exhibit liberality toward those whom the age accounted at
+once the secretaries and historians of honor. The bounty of the
+spectators was acknowledged by the customary shouts of "Love of
+ladies--Death of champions--Honor to the generous--Glory to the brave!"
+To which the more humble spectators added their acclamations, and a
+numerous band of trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments.
+When these sounds had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay
+and glittering procession, and none remained within them save the
+marshals of the field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on horseback,
+motionless as statues, at the opposite ends of the lists. Meantime, the
+inclosed space at the northern extremity of the lists, large as it was,
+was now completely crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill
+against the challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented
+the appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening
+helmets and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many
+cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which,
+fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the
+restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.
+
+At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot,
+advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and
+the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my
+Saxon authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length
+their devices, their colors, and the embroidery of their horse
+trappings. It is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects.
+
+Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.
+Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins: the
+place that once knew them, knows them no more--nay, many a race since
+theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they
+occupied with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal lords.
+What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or the
+evanescent symbols of their martial rank?
+
+Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited their
+names and feats, the champions advanced through the lists, restraining
+their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the
+same time, they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and
+dexterity of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound
+of a wild barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of the
+challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was of Eastern
+origin, having been brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the
+cymbals and bells seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the
+knights as they advanced. With the eyes of an immense concourse of
+spectators fixed upon them, the five Knights advanced up the platform
+upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating
+themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance,
+the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself. The
+lower order of spectators in general--nay, many of the higher class, and
+it is even said several of the ladies--were rather disappointed at the
+champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort of persons
+who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest tragedies were
+then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion to the danger
+incurred by the champions engaged.
+
+Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated to
+the extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line;
+while the challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their
+horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the
+platform and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had
+touched their respective shields.
+
+At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against each
+other at full gallop; and such was the superior dexterity or good
+fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert,
+Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground. The antagonist of
+Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest
+or the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as to
+break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent--a circumstance
+which was accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually
+unhorsed, because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the
+former evinced awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and of
+the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained the honor of his party, and
+parted fairly with the Knight of Saint John, both splintering their
+lances without advantage on either side.
+
+The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the
+heralds and the clangor of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the
+victors and the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to their
+pavilions, and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could,
+withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their
+victors concerning the redemption of their arms and their horses, which,
+according to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth
+of their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted by
+the applauses of the spectators, among whom he retreated, to the
+aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' mortification.
+
+A second and a third party of knights took the field; and although they
+had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly
+remained with the challengers, not one of them whom lost his seat or
+swerved from his charge--misfortunes which befell one or two of their
+antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed
+to them seemed to be considerably damped by their continued success.
+Three knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the
+shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-Boeuf, contented themselves with
+touching those of the three other knights who had not altogether
+manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection did
+not alter the fortune of the field: the challengers were still
+successful. One of their antagonists was overthrown; and both the others
+failed in the _attaint_, that is, in striking the helmet and shield of
+their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct
+line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.
+
+After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did it
+appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the contest. The
+spectators murmured among themselves; for, among the challengers,
+Malvoisin and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular from their characters, and
+the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers and
+foreigners.
+
+But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly as
+Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the Norman
+challengers, a repeated triumph over the honor of England. His own
+education had taught him no skill in the games of chivalry, although,
+with the arms of his Saxon ancestors, he had manifested himself, on many
+occasions, a brave and determined soldier.
+
+He looked anxiously to Athelstane, who had learned the accomplishments
+of the age, as if desiring that he should make some personal effort to
+recover the victory which was passing into the hands of the Templar and
+his associates. But, though both stout of heart and strong of person,
+Athelstane had a disposition too inert and unambitious to make the
+exertions which Cedric seemed to expect from him.
+
+"The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in a marked tone;
+"are you not tempted to take the lance?"
+
+"I shall tilt to-morrow," answered Athelstane, "in the _melee_; it is
+not worth while for me to arm myself to-day."
+
+Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the Norman
+word _melee_ (to express the general conflict), and it evinced some
+indifference to the honor of the country; but it was spoken by
+Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect that he would not
+trust himself to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had no
+time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his word, observing, "It
+was better, though scarce easier, to be the best man among a hundred
+than the best man of two."
+
+Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but Cedric, who
+better understood the Jester's meaning, darted at him a severe and
+menacing look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and
+place prevented his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service,
+more sensible marks of his master's resentment.
+
+The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by the
+voices of the heralds exclaiming--"Love of ladies, splintering of
+lances! stand forth, gallant knights, fair eyes look upon your deeds!"
+
+The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild bursts
+expressive of triumph or defiance, while the clowns[53-5] grudged a
+holiday which seemed to pass away in inactivity; and old knights and
+nobles lamented in whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the
+triumphs of their younger days, but agreed that the land did not now
+supply dames of such transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts of
+former times. Prince John began to talk to his attendants about making
+ready the banquet, and the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights and
+foiled a third.
+
+At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded one of
+those long and high flourishes with which they had broken the silence of
+the lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note
+of defiance from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see the
+new champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were the
+barriers opened than he paced into the lists. As far as could be judged
+of a man sheathed in armor, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed
+the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made. His
+suit of armor was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the
+device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with
+the Spanish word _Desdichado_, signifying Disinherited. He was mounted
+on a gallant black horse, and as he passed through the lists he
+gracefully saluted the Prince and the ladies by lowering his lance. The
+dexterity with which he managed his steed, and something of youthful
+grace which he displayed in his manner, won him the favor of the
+multitude, which some of the lower classes observed by calling out,
+"Touch Ralph de Vipont's shield--touch the Hospitaller's shield; he has
+the least sure seat, he is your cheapest bargain."
+
+The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended the
+platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and, to
+the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central
+pavilion, struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. All stood astonished at his
+presumption, but none more than the redoubted Knight whom he had thus
+defied to mortal combat, and who, little expecting so rude a challenge,
+was standing carelessly at the door of the pavilion.
+
+"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "and have you
+heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?"
+
+"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited
+Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books
+of the tourney.
+
+"Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert, "and look your
+last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise."
+
+"Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight, "and to
+requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by
+my honor you will need both."
+
+Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward
+down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same
+manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern
+extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his
+antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause of
+the multitude.
+
+However incensed at his adversary for the precautions he recommended,
+Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice; for his honor was too
+nearly concerned to permit his neglecting any means which might insure
+victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed his horse for a
+proved and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He chose a new and
+tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have been strained in the
+previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly he laid aside his shield,
+which had received some little damage, and received another from his
+squires. His first had only borne the general device of his order,
+representing two knights riding upon one horse, an emblem expressive of
+the original humility and poverty of the Templars, qualities which they
+had since exchanged for the arrogance and wealth that finally occasioned
+their suppression. Bois-Guilbert's new shield bore a raven in full
+flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, _Gare le
+Corbeau_.[56-6]
+
+When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two
+extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the
+highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the encounter could
+terminate well for the Disinherited Knight; yet his courage and
+gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators.
+
+The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished
+from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the centre
+of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into
+shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both
+knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backward
+upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their steeds by
+use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on each other for an
+instant with eyes which seemed to flash fire through the bars of their
+visors, each made a demi-volte,[57-7] and, retiring to the extremity of
+the lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.
+
+A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs,
+and general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators
+in this encounter--the most equal, as well as the best performed, which
+had graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station
+than the clamor of applause was hushed into a silence so deep and so
+dead that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.
+
+A few minutes' pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their
+horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to
+the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung from
+their stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the same
+speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal
+fortune as before.
+
+In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his
+antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly that his spear
+went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On
+the other hand, that champion had, at the beginning of his career,
+directed the point of his lance toward Bois-Guilbert's shield, but,
+changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it to
+the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,
+rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on
+the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even at
+this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and had
+not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As
+it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a
+cloud of dust.
+
+To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed was to the
+Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at
+his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the
+spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror.
+The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his
+sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses between
+them, and reminded them that the laws of the tournament did not, on the
+present occasion, permit this species of encounter.
+
+"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful
+glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us."
+
+"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be
+mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am
+alike ready to encounter thee."
+
+More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals,
+crossing their lances between them, compelled them to separate. The
+Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert to
+his tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of
+despair.
+
+Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of
+wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced
+that he quaffed it, "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion
+of foreign tyrants." He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance
+to the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them that he
+should make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order
+in which they pleased to advance against him.
+
+[Illustration: DISINHERITED KNIGHT UNHORSES BRIAN]
+
+The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armor, was the first who
+took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull's head,[59-8]
+half defaced by the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and
+bearing the arrogant motto, _Cave, Adsum_.[59-9] Over this champion the
+Disinherited Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both
+knights broke their lances fairly, but Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a
+stirrup in the encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.
+
+In the stranger's third encounter, with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was
+equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque that
+the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only saved from falling by
+being unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his companions.
+
+In his fourth combat, with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight
+showed as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and
+dexterity. De Grantmesnil's horse, which was young and violent, reared
+and plunged in the course of the career so as to disturb the rider's
+aim, and the stranger, declining to take the advantage which this
+accident afforded him, raised his lance, and passing his antagonist
+without touching him, wheeled his horse and rode back again to his own
+end of the lists, offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a
+second encounter. This De Grantmesnil declined, avow himself vanquished
+as much by the courtesy as by the address of his opponent.
+
+Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being
+hurled to the ground with such force that the blood gushed from his nose
+and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists.
+
+The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
+Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honors to the Disinherited
+Knight.
+
+William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the marshals of the field,
+were the first to offer their congratulations to the victor, praying
+him, at the same time, to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least,
+that he would raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive the
+prize of the day's tourney from the hands of Prince John. The
+Disinherited Knight, with all knightly courtesy, declined their request,
+alleging, that he could not at this time suffer his face to be seen, for
+reasons which he had assigned to the heralds when he entered the lists.
+The marshals were perfectly satisfied by this reply; for amid the
+frequent and capricious vows by which knights were accustomed to bind
+themselves in the days of chivalry, there were none more common than
+those by which they engaged to remain incognito for a certain space, or
+until some particular adventure was achieved. The marshals, therefore,
+pressed no further into the mystery of the Disinherited Knight, but,
+announcing to Prince John the conqueror's desire to remain unknown, they
+requested permission to bring him before his Grace, in order that he
+might receive the reward of his valor.
+
+John's curiosity was excited by the mystery observed by the stranger;
+and, being already displeased with the issue of the tournament, in which
+the challengers whom he favored had been successively defeated by one
+knight, he answered haughtily to the marshals, "By the light of Our
+Lady's brow, this same knight hath been disinherited as well of his
+courtesy as of his lands, since he desires to appear before us without
+uncovering his face. Wot ye, my lords," he said, turning round to his
+train, "who this gallant can be that bears himself thus proudly?"
+
+"I cannot guess," answered De Bracy, "nor did I think there had been
+within the four seas that girth Britain a champion that could bear down
+these five knights in one day's jousting. By my faith, I shall never
+forget the force with which he shocked De Vipont. The poor
+Hospitaller[62-10] was hurled from his saddle like a stone from a
+sling."
+
+"Boast not of that," said a Knight of Saint John, who was present; "your
+Temple champion had no better luck. I saw your brave lance,
+Bois-Guilbert, roll thrice over, grasping his hands full of sand at
+every turn."
+
+De Bracy, being attached to the Templars, would have replied, but was
+prevented by Prince John. "Silence, sirs!" he said; "what unprofitable
+debate have we here?"
+
+"The victor," said De Wyvil, "still waits the pleasure of your
+Highness."
+
+"It is our pleasure," answered John, "that he do so wait until we learn
+whether there is not some one who can at least guess at his name and
+quality. Should he remain there till nightfall, he has had work enough
+to keep him warm."
+
+"Your Grace," said Waldemar Fitzurse, "will do less than due honor to
+the victor if you compel him to wait till we tell your Highness that
+which we cannot know; at least I can form no guess--unless he be one of
+the good lances who accompanied King Richard to Palestine, and who are
+now straggling homeward from the Holy Land."
+
+While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought forward the Disinherited
+Knight to the foot of a wooden flight of steps, which formed the ascent
+from the lists to Prince John's throne. With a short and embarrassed
+eulogy upon his valor, the Prince caused to be delivered to him the
+war-horse assigned as the prize.
+
+But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in reply to the compliment
+of the Prince, which he only acknowledged with a profound obeisance.
+
+The horse was led into the lists by two grooms richly dressed, the
+animal itself being fully accoutred with the richest war-furniture;
+which, however, scarcely added to the value of the noble creature in the
+eyes of those who were judges. Laying one hand upon the pommel of the
+saddle, the Disinherited Knight vaulted at once upon the back of the
+steed without making use of the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his
+lance, rode twice around the lists, exhibiting the points and paces of
+the horse with the skill of a perfect horseman.
+
+The appearance of vanity which might otherwise have been attributed to
+this display was removed by the propriety shown in exhibiting to the
+best advantage the princely reward with which he had been just honored,
+and the Knight was again greeted by the acclamation of all present.
+
+In the meanwhile, the bustling Prior of Jorvaulx had reminded Prince
+John, in a whisper, that the victor must now display his good judgment,
+instead of his valor, by selecting from among the beauties who graced
+the galleries a lady who should fill the throne of the Queen of Beauty
+and of Love, and deliver the prize of the tourney, upon the ensuing day.
+The Prince accordingly made a sign with his truncheon as the Knight
+passed him in his second career around the lists. The Knight turned
+toward the throne, and, sinking his lance until the point was within a
+foot of the ground, remained motionless, as if expecting John's
+commands; while all admired the sudden dexterity with which he instantly
+reduced his fiery steed from a state of violent emotion and high
+excitation to the stillness of an equestrian statue.
+
+"Sir Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since that is the only
+title by which we can address you, it is now your duty, as well as
+privilege, to name the fair lady who, as Queen of Honor and of Love, is
+to preside over next day's festival. If, as a stranger in our land, you
+should require the aid of other judgment to guide your own we can only
+say that Alicia, the daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar Fitzurse,
+has at our court been long held the first in beauty as in place.
+Nevertheless, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on whom you
+please this crown, by the delivery of which to the lady of your choice
+the election of to-morrow's Queen will be formal and complete. Raise
+your lance."
+
+The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its point a coronet of
+green satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold, the upper edge of
+which was relieved by arrow-points and hearts placed interchangeably,
+like the strawberry leaves and balls upon a ducal crown.
+
+In the broad hint which he dropped respecting the daughter of Waldemar
+Fitzurse, John had more than one motive, each the offspring of a mind
+which was a strange mixture of carelessness and presumption with low
+artifice and cunning. He was desirous of conciliating Alicia's father,
+Waldemar, of whom he stood in awe, and who had more than once shown
+himself dissatisfied during the course of the day's proceedings; he had
+also a wish to establish himself in the good graces of the lady. But
+besides all these reasons, he was desirous to raise up against the
+Disinherited Knight, toward whom he already entertained a strong
+dislike, a powerful enemy in the person of Waldemar Fitzurse, who was
+likely, he thought, highly to resent the injury done to his daughter in
+case, as was not unlikely, the victor should make another choice.
+
+And so indeed it proved. For the Disinherited Knight passed the gallery,
+close to that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the
+full pride of triumphant beauty, and pacing forward as slowly as he had
+hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his right
+of examining the numerous fair faces which adorned that splendid circle.
+
+It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beauties who
+underwent this examination, during the time it was proceeding. Some
+blushed; some assumed an air of pride and dignity; some looked straight
+forward, and essayed to seem utterly unconscious of what was going on;
+some drew back in alarm, which was perhaps affected; some endeavored to
+forbear smiling; and there were two or three who laughed outright. There
+were also some who dropped their veils over their charms; but as the
+Wardour Manuscript says these were fair ones of ten years' standing, it
+may be supposed that, having had their full share of such vanities, they
+were willing to withdraw their claim in order to give a fair chance to
+the rising beauties of the age.
+
+At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which the Lady
+Rowena was placed, and the expectation of the spectators was excited to
+the utmost.
+
+It must be owned that, if an interest displayed in his success could
+have bribed the Disinherited Knight, the part of the lists before which
+he paused had merited his predilection. Cedric the Saxon, overjoyed at
+the discomfiture of the Templar, and still more so at the miscarriage of
+his two malevolent neighbors, Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, had
+accompanied the victor in each course not with his eyes only, but with
+his whole heart and soul. The Lady Rowena had watched the progress of
+the day with equal attention, though without openly betraying the same
+intense interest. Even the unmoved Athelstane had shown symptoms of
+shaking off his apathy, when, calling for a huge goblet of muscadine, he
+quaffed it to the health of the Disinherited Knight.
+
+Whether from indecision or some other motive of hesitation, the champion
+of the day remained stationary for more than a minute, while the eyes of
+the silent audience were riveted upon his motions; and then, gradually
+and gracefully sinking the point of his lance, he deposited the coronet
+which it supported at the feet of the fair Rowena. The trumpets
+instantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the
+Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with suitable
+penalties those who should be disobedient to her authority. They then
+repeated their cry of "Largesse," to which Cedric, in the height of his
+joy, replied by an ample donative, and to which Athelstane, though less
+promptly, added one equally large.
+
+There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman descent, who were
+as much unused to see the preference given to a Saxon beauty as the
+Norman nobles were to sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which they
+themselves had introduced. But these sounds of disaffection were drowned
+by the popular shout of "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and
+lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!" To which many in the lower area
+added, "Long live the Saxon Princess! long live the race of the immortal
+Alfred!"
+
+However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince John and to those
+around him, he saw himself nevertheless obliged to confirm the
+nomination of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse, he left his
+throne, and mounting his jennet, accompanied by his train, he again
+entered the lists.
+
+Spurring his horse, as if to give vent to his vexation, he made the
+animal bound forward to the gallery where Rowena was seated, with the
+crown still at her feet.
+
+"Assume," he said, "fair lady, the mark of your sovereignty, to which
+none vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John of Anjou; and if it
+please you to-day, with your noble sire and friends, to grace our
+banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall learn to know the empress to
+whose service we devote to-morrow."
+
+Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his native Saxon.
+
+"The Lady Rowena," he said, "possesses not the language in which to
+reply to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in your festival. I also,
+and the noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, speak only the language and
+practice only the manners, of our fathers. We therefore decline with
+thanks your Highness's courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow,
+the Lady Rowena will take upon her the state to which she has been
+called by the free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the
+acclamations of the people."
+
+So saying, he lifted the coronet and placed it upon Rowena's head, in
+token of her acceptance of the temporary authority assigned to her.
+
+In various routes, according to the different quarters from which they
+came, and in groups of various numbers, the spectators were seen
+retiring over the plain. By far the most numerous part streamed toward
+the town of Ashby, where many of the distinguished persons were lodged
+in the castle, and where others found accommodation in the town itself.
+Among these were most of the knights who had already appeared in the
+tournament, or who proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who, as
+they rode slowly along, talking over the events of the day, were greeted
+with loud shouts by the populace. The same acclamations were bestowed
+upon Prince John, although he was indebted for them rather to the
+splendor of his appearance and train than to the popularity of his
+character.
+
+A more sincere and more general, as well as a better merited
+acclamation, attended the victor of the day, until, anxious to withdraw
+himself from popular notice, he accepted the accommodation of one of
+those pavilions pitched at the extremities of the lists, the use of
+which was courteously tendered him by the marshals of the field. On his
+retiring to his tent, many who had lingered in the lists, to look upon
+and form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed.
+
+The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded
+together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now
+exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating
+in all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other
+sounds were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the
+galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety
+for the night, and wrangled among themselves for half-used bottles of
+wine and relics of the refreshments which had been served round to the
+spectators.
+
+[Illustration: THE ARMOUR MAKERS]
+
+Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and
+these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of
+the armorers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order to
+repair or alter the suits of armor to be used again on the morrow.
+
+A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two hours to
+two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night.
+
+The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion than squires
+and pages in abundance tendered their services to disarm him, to bring
+fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath. Their zeal
+on this occasion was perhaps sharpened by curiosity, since every one
+desired to know who the knight was that had gained so many laurels, yet
+had refused, even at the command of Prince John, to lift his visor or to
+name his name. But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified.
+The Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his
+own squire, or rather yeoman--a clownish-looking man, who, wrapped in a
+cloak of dark-colored felt, and having his head and face half buried in
+a Norman bonnet made of black fur, seemed to affect the incognito as
+much as his master. All others being excluded from the tent, this
+attendant relieved his master from the more burdensome parts of his
+armor, and placed food and wine before him, which the exertions of the
+body rendered very acceptable.
+
+The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal ere his menial announced
+to him that five men, each leading a barbed steed,[70-11] desired to
+speak with him. The Disinherited Knight had exchanged his armor for the
+long robe usually worn by those of his condition, which, being furnished
+with a hood, concealed the features, when such was the pleasure of the
+wearer, almost as completely as the visor of the helmet itself; but the
+twilight, which was now fast darkening, would of itself have rendered a
+disguise unnecessary, unless to persons to whom the face of an
+individual chanced to be particularly well known.
+
+The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stepped boldly forth to the front of
+his tent, and found in attendance the squires of the challengers, whom
+he easily knew by their russet and black dresses, each of whom led his
+master's charger, loaded with the armor in which he had that day fought.
+
+"According to the laws of chivalry," said the foremost of these men, "I,
+Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the redoubted Knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert,
+make offer to you, styling yourself for the present the Disinherited
+Knight, of the horse and armor used by the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert
+in this day's passage of arms, leaving it with your nobleness to retain
+or to ransom the same, according to your pleasure; for such is the law
+of arms."
+
+The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, and then stood to
+await the decision of the Disinherited Knight.
+
+"To you four, sirs," replied the Knight, addressing those who had last
+spoken, "and to your honorable and valiant masters, I have one common
+reply. Commend me to the noble knights, your masters, and say, I should
+do ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which can never be used by
+braver cavaliers. I would I could here end my message to these gallant
+knights; but being, as I term myself, in truth and earnest, the
+Disinherited, I must be thus far bound to your masters, that they will,
+of their courtesy, be pleased to ransom their steeds and armor, since
+that which I wear I can hardly term mine own."
+
+"We stand commissioned, each of us," answered the squire of Reginald
+Front-de-Boeuf, "to offer a hundred zecchins[72-12] in ransom of
+these horses and suits of armor."
+
+"It is sufficient," said the Disinherited Knight. "Half the sum my
+present necessities compel me to accept; of the remaining half,
+distribute one moiety among yourselves, sir squires, and divide the
+other half between the heralds and the pursuivants, and minstrels, and
+attendants."
+
+The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences, expressed their deep
+sense of a courtesy and generosity not often practiced, at least upon a
+scale so extensive.
+
+The Disinherited Knight then addressed his discourse to Baldwin, the
+squire of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. "From your master," said he, "I will
+accept neither arms nor ransom. Say to him in my name, that our strife
+is not ended--no, not till we have fought as well with swords as with
+lances, as well on foot as on horseback. To this mortal quarrel he has
+himself defied me, and I shall not forget the challenge. Meantime, let
+him be assured that I hold him not as one of his companions, with whom I
+can with pleasure exchange courtesies; but rather as one with whom I
+stand upon terms of mortal defiance."
+
+"My master," answered Baldwin, "knows how to requite scorn with scorn,
+and blows with blows, as well as courtesy with courtesy. Since you
+disdain to accept from him any share of the ransom at which you have
+rated the arms of the other knights, I must leave his armor and his
+horse here, being well assured that he will never deign to mount the one
+nor wear the other."
+
+"You have spoken well, good squire," said the Disinherited Knight--"well
+and boldly, as it beseemeth him to speak who answers for an absent
+master. Leave not, however, the horse and armor here. Restore them to
+thy master; or, if he scorns to accept them, retain them, good friend,
+for thine own use. So far as they are mine, I bestow them upon you
+freely."
+
+Baldwin made a deep obeisance, and retired with his companions; and the
+Disinherited Knight entered the pavilion.
+
+Morning arose in unclouded splendor, and ere the sun was much above the
+horizon the idlest or the most eager of the spectators appeared on the
+common, moving to the lists as to a general centre, in order to secure a
+favorable situation for viewing the continuation of the expected games.
+
+The marshals and their attendants appeared next on the field, together
+with the heralds, for the purpose of receiving the names of the knights
+who intended to joust, with the side which each chose to espouse. This
+was a necessary precaution in order to secure equality between the two
+bodies who should be opposed to each other.
+
+According to due formality, the Disinherited Knight was to be considered
+as leader of the one body, while Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had been
+rated as having done second-best in the preceding day, was named first
+champion of the other band. Those who had concurred in the challenge
+adhered to his party, of course, excepting only Ralph de Vipont, whom
+his fall had rendered unfit so soon to put on his armor. There was no
+want of distinguished candidates to fill up the ranks on either side.
+
+In fact, although the general tournament, in which all knights fought at
+once, was more dangerous than single encounters, they were,
+nevertheless, more frequented and practiced by the chivalry of the age.
+Many knights, who had not sufficient confidence in their own skill to
+defy a single adversary of high reputation, were, nevertheless, desirous
+of displaying their valor in the general combat, where they might meet
+others with whom they were more upon an equality.
+
+On the present occasion, about fifty knights were inscribed as desirous
+of combating upon each side, when the marshals declared that no more
+could be admitted, to the disappointment of several who were too late in
+preferring their claim to be included.
+
+About the hour of ten o'clock the whole plain was crowded with horsemen,
+horsewomen, and foot-passengers, hastening to the tournament; and
+shortly after, a grand flourish of trumpets announced Prince John and
+his retinue, attended by many of those knights who meant to take share
+in the game, as well as others who had no such intention.
+
+About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon, with the Lady Rowena,
+unattended, however, by Athelstane. This Saxon lord had arrayed his tall
+and strong person in armor, in order to take his place among the
+combatants; and, considerably to the surprise of Cedric, had chosen to
+enlist himself on the part of the Knight Templar. The Saxon, indeed, had
+remonstrated strongly with his friend upon the injudicious choice he had
+made of his party; but he had only received that sort of answer usually
+given by those who are more obstinate in following their own course than
+strong in justifying it.
+
+His best, if not his only, reason for adhering to the party of Brian de
+Bois-Guilbert, Athelstane had the prudence to keep to himself. Though
+his apathy of disposition prevented his taking any means to recommend
+himself to the Lady Rowena, he was, nevertheless, by no means insensible
+to her charms, and considered his union with her as a matter already
+fixed beyond doubt by the assent of Cedric and her other friends. It
+had, therefore, been with smothered displeasure that the proud though
+indolent Lord of Coningsburgh beheld the victor of the preceding day
+select Rowena as the object of that honor which it became his privilege
+to confer. In order to punish him for a preference which seemed to
+interfere with his own suit, Athelstane, confident of his strength, and
+to whom his flatterers, at least, ascribed great skill in arms, had
+determined not only to deprive the Disinherited Knight of his powerful
+succor, but, if an opportunity should occur, to make him feel the weight
+of his battle-axe.
+
+De Bracy, and other knights attached to Prince John, in obedience to a
+hint from him, had joined the party of the challengers, John being
+desirous to secure, if possible, the victory to that side. On the other
+hand, many other knights, both English and Norman, natives and
+strangers, took part against the challengers, the more readily that the
+opposite band was to be led by so distinguished a champion as the
+Disinherited Knight had approved himself.
+
+As soon as Prince John observed that the destined Queen of the day
+arrived upon the field, assuming that air of courtesy which sat well
+upon him when he was pleased to exhibit it, he rode forward to meet her,
+doffed his bonnet, and, alighting from his horse, assisted the Lady
+Rowena from her saddle, while his followers uncovered at the same time,
+and one of the most distinguished dismounted to hold her palfrey.
+
+"It is thus," said Prince John, "that we set the dutiful example of
+loyalty to the Queen of Love and Beauty, and are ourselves her guide to
+the throne which she must this day occupy. Ladies," he said, "attend
+your Queen, as you wish in your turn to be distinguished by like
+honors."
+
+So saying, the Prince marshalled Rowena to the seat of honor opposite
+his own, while the fairest and most distinguished ladies present crowded
+after her to obtain places as near as possible to their temporary
+sovereign.
+
+No sooner was Rowena seated than a burst of music, half-drowned by the
+shouts of the multitude, greeted her new dignity. Meantime, the sun
+shone fierce and bright upon the polished arms of the knights of either
+side, who crowded the opposite extremities of the lists, and held eager
+conference together concerning the best mode of arranging their line of
+battle and supporting the conflict.
+
+The heralds then proclaimed silence until the laws of the tourney should
+be rehearsed. These were calculated in some degree to abate the dangers
+of the day--a precaution the more necessary as the conflict was to be
+maintained with sharp swords and pointed lances.
+
+The champions were therefore prohibited to thrust with the sword, and
+were confined to striking. A knight, it was announced, might use a mace
+or battle-axe at pleasure; but the dagger was a prohibited weapon. A
+knight unhorsed might renew the fight on foot with any other on the
+opposite side in the same predicament; but mounted horsemen were in that
+case forbidden to assail him. When any knight could force his antagonist
+to the extremity of the lists, so as to touch the palisade with his
+person or arms, such opponent was obliged to yield himself vanquished,
+and his armor and horse were placed at the disposal of the conqueror. A
+knight thus overcome was not permitted to take further share in the
+combat. If any combatant was struck down, and unable to recover his feet,
+his squire or page might enter the lists and drag his master out of the
+press; but in that case the knight was adjudged vanquished, and his arms
+and horse declared forfeited. The combat was to cease as soon as Prince
+John should throw down his leading staff, or truncheon--another
+precaution usually taken to prevent the unnecessary effusion of blood by
+the too long endurance of a sport so desperate. Any knight breaking the
+rules of the tournament, or otherwise transgressing the rules of
+honorable chivalry, was liable to be stripped of his arms, and, having
+his shield reversed, to be placed in that posture astride upon the bars
+of the palisade, and exposed to public derision, in punishment of his
+unknightly conduct. Having announced these precautions, the heralds
+concluded with an exhortation to each good knight to do his duty, and to
+merit favor from the Queen of Beauty and Love.
+
+This proclamation having been made, the heralds withdrew to their
+stations. The knights, entering at either end of the lists in long
+procession, arranged themselves in a double file, precisely opposite to
+each other, the leader of each party being in the center of the foremost
+rank, a post which he did not occupy until each had carefully arranged
+the ranks of his party, and stationed every one in his place.
+
+It was a goodly, and at the same time an anxious, sight to behold so
+many gallant champions, mounted bravely and armed richly, stand ready
+prepared for an encounter so formidable, seated on their war-saddles
+like so many pillars of iron, and awaiting the signal of encounter with
+the same ardor as their generous steeds, which, by neighing and pawing
+the ground, gave signal of their impatience.
+
+As yet the knights held their long lances upright, their bright points
+glancing to the sun, and the streamers with which they were decorated
+fluttering over the plumage of the helmets. Thus they remained while the
+marshals of the field surveyed their ranks with the utmost exactness,
+lest either party had more or fewer than the appointed number. The tale
+was found exactly complete. The marshals then withdrew from the lists,
+and William de Wyvil, with a voice of thunder, pronounced the signal
+words--"_Laissez aller!_"[78-13] The trumpets sounded as he spoke; the
+spears of the champions were at once lowered and placed in the rests;
+the spurs were dashed into the flanks of the horses; and the two
+foremost ranks of either party rushed upon each other in full gallop,
+and met in the middle of the lists with a shock the sound of which was
+heard at a mile's distance. The rear rank of each party advanced at a
+slower pace to sustain the defeated, and follow up the success of the
+victors, of their party.
+
+The consequences of the encounter were not instantly seen, for the dust
+raised by the trampling of so many steeds darkened the air, and it was a
+minute ere the anxious spectators could see the fate of the encounter.
+When the fight became visible, half the knights on each side were
+dismounted--some by the dexterity of their adversary's lance; some by
+the superior weight and strength of opponents, which had borne down both
+horse and man; some lay stretched on earth as if never more to rise;
+some had already gained their feet, and were closing hand to hand with
+those of their antagonists who were in the same predicament; and several
+on both sides, who had received wounds by which they were disabled, were
+stopping their blood by their scarfs, and endeavoring to extricate
+themselves from the tumult. The mounted knights, whose lances had been
+almost all broken by the fury of the encounter, were now closely engaged
+with their swords, shouting their war-cries, and exchanging buffets, as
+if honor and life depended on the issue of the combat.
+
+The tumult was presently increased by the advance of the second rank on
+either side, which, acting as a reserve, now rushed on to aid their
+companions. The followers of Brian de Bois-Guilbert shouted--"_Ha!
+Beau-seant! Beau-seant!_[79-14] For the Temple! For the Temple!" The
+opposite shouted in answer--"_Desdichado! Desdichado!_" which watchword
+they took from the motto upon their leaders' shield.
+
+The champions thus encountering each other with the utmost fury, and
+with alternate success, the tide of battle seemed to flow now toward the
+southern, now toward the northern, extremity of the lists, as the one or
+the other party prevailed. Meantime the clang of the blows and the
+shouts of the combatants mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets,
+and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless
+beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armor of the combatants was
+now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the
+sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted
+upon the breeze like snowflakes. All that was beautiful and graceful in
+the martial array had disappeared, and what was now visible was only
+calculated to awake terror or compassion.
+
+Yet such is the force of habit, that not only the vulgar spectators, who
+are naturally attracted by sights of horror, but even the ladies of
+distinction, who crowded the galleries, saw the conflict with a
+thrilling interest certainly, but without a wish to withdraw their eyes,
+from a sight so terrible. Here and there, indeed, a fair cheek might
+turn pale, or a faint scream might be heard, as a lover, a brother, or a
+husband was struck from his horse. But, in general, the ladies around
+encouraged the combatants, not only by clapping their hands and waving
+their veils and kerchiefs, but even by exclaiming, "Brave lance! Good
+sword!" when any successful thrust or blow took place under their
+observation.
+
+Such being the interest taken by the fair sex in this bloody game, that
+of men is the more easily understood. It showed itself in loud
+acclamations upon every change of fortune, while all eyes were so
+riveted on the lists that the spectators seemed as if they themselves
+had dealt and received the blows which were there so freely bestowed.
+And between every pause was heard the voice of the heralds, exclaiming,
+"Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! Fight on; death is
+better than defeat! Fight on, brave knights! for bright eyes behold your
+deeds!"
+
+Amid the varied fortunes of the combat, the eyes of all endeavored to
+discover the leaders of each band, who, mingling in the thick of the
+fight, encouraged their companions both by voice and example. Both
+displayed great feats of gallantry nor did either Bois-Guilbert or the
+Disinherited Knight find in the ranks opposed to them a champion who
+could be termed their unquestioned match. They repeatedly endeavored to
+single out each other, spurred by mutual animosity, and aware that the
+fall of either leader might be considered as decisive of victory. Such,
+however, was the crowd and confusion that, during the earlier part of
+the conflict, their efforts to meet were unavailing, and they were
+repeatedly separated by the eagerness of their followers, each of whom
+was anxious to win honor by measuring his strength against the leader of
+the opposite party.
+
+But when the field became thin by the numbers on either side who had
+yielded themselves vanquished, had been compelled to the extremity of
+the lists, or been otherwise rendered incapable of continuing the
+strife, the Templar and the Disinherited Knight at length encountered
+hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity, joined to rivalry
+of honor, could inspire. Such was the address of each in parrying and
+striking, that the spectators broke forth into a unanimous and
+involuntary shout, expressive of their delight and admiration.
+
+But at this moment the party of the Disinherited Knight had the worst;
+the gigantic arm of Front-de-Boeuf on the one flank, and the ponderous
+strength of Athelstane on the other, bearing down and dispersing those
+immediately opposed to them. Finding themselves freed from their
+immediate antagonists, it seems to have occurred to both these knights
+at the same instant that they would render the most decisive advantage
+to their party by aiding the Templar in his contest with his rival.
+Turning their horses, therefore, at the same moment, the Norman spurred
+against the Disinherited Knight on the one side and the Saxon on the
+other. It was utterly impossible that the object of this unequal and
+unexpected assault could have sustained it, had he not been warned by a
+general cry from the spectators, who could not but take interest in one
+exposed to such disadvantage.
+
+"Beware! beware! Sir Disinherited!" was shouted so universally that the
+knight became aware of his danger; and striking a full blow at the
+Templar, he reined back his steed in the same moment, so as to escape
+the charge of Athelstane and Front-de-Boeuf. These knights, therefore,
+their aim being thus eluded, rushed from opposite sides between the
+object of their attack and the Templar, almost running their horses
+against each other ere they could stop their career. Recovering their
+horses, however, and wheeling them round, the whole three pursued their
+united purpose of bearing to the earth the Disinherited Knight.
+
+Nothing could have saved him except the remarkable strength and activity
+of the noble horse which he had won on the preceding day.
+
+This stood him in the more stead, as the horse of Bois-Guilbert was
+wounded and those of Front-de-Boe and Athelstane were both tired
+with the weight of their gigantic masters, clad in complete armor, and
+with the preceding exertions of the day. The masterly horsemanship of
+the Disinherited Knight, and the activity of the noble animal which he
+mounted, enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's point his
+three antagonists, turning and wheeling with the agility of a hawk upon
+the wing, keeping his enemies as far separate as he could, and rushing
+now against the one, now against the other, dealing sweeping blows with
+his sword, without waiting to receive those which were aimed at him in
+return.
+
+But although the lists rang with the applauses of his dexterity, it was
+evident that he must at last be overpowered; and the nobles around
+Prince John implored him with one voice to throw down his warder, and to
+save so brave a knight from the disgrace of being overcome by odds.
+
+"Not I, by the light of Heaven!" answered Prince John: "this same
+springal,[83-15] who conceals his name and despises our proffered
+hospitality, hath already gained one prize, and may now afford to let
+others have their turn." As he spoke thus, an unexpected incident
+changed the fortune of the day.
+
+There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight a champion in black
+armor, mounted on a black horse, large of size, tall, and to all
+appearance powerful and strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted.
+This knight, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, had hitherto
+evinced very little interest in the event of the fight, beating off with
+seeming ease those combatants who attacked him, but neither pursuing his
+advantages nor himself assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto
+acted the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the tournament,
+a circumstance which procured him among the spectators the name of _Le
+Noir Faineant_, or the Black Sluggard.
+
+At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy, when he discovered
+the leader of his party so hard bested; for, setting spurs to his horse,
+which was quite fresh, he came to his assistance like a thunderbolt,
+exclaiming, in a voice like a trumpet-call, "_Desdichado_, to the
+rescue!" It was high time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was
+pressing upon the Templar, Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his
+uplifted sword; but ere the blow could descend, the Sable Knight dealt a
+stroke on his head, which, glancing from the polished helmet, lighted
+with violence scarcely abated on the chamfron[84-16] of the steed, and
+Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground, both horse and man equally
+stunned by the fury of the blow. _Le Noir Faineant_ then turned his
+horse upon Athelstane of Coningsburgh; and his own sword having been
+broken in his encounter with Front-de-Boeuf, he wrenched from the hand
+of the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and, like one
+familiar with the use of the weapon, bestowed him such a blow upon the
+crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved
+this double feat, for which he was the more highly applauded that it was
+totally unexpected from him, the knight seemed to resume the
+sluggishness of his character, returning calmly to the northern
+extremity of the lists, leaving his leader to cope as he best could with
+Brian de Bois-Guilbert. This was no longer matter of so much difficulty
+as formerly. The Templar's horse had bled much, and gave way under the
+shock of the Disinherited Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert
+rolled on the field, encumbered with the stirrup, from which he was
+unable to draw his foot. His antagonist sprung from horseback, waved his
+fatal sword over the head of his adversary, and commanded him to yield
+himself; when Prince John, more moved by the Templar's dangerous
+situation than he had been by that of his rival, saved him the
+mortification of confessing himself vanquished, by casting down his
+warder and putting an end to the conflict.
+
+[Illustration: PRINCE JOHN THROWS DOWN THE TRUNCHEON]
+
+It was, indeed, only the relics and embers of the fight which continued
+to burn; for of the few knights who still continued in the lists, the
+greater part had, by tacit consent, forborne the conflict for some time,
+leaving it to be determined by the strife of the leaders.
+
+The squires, who had found it a matter of danger and difficulty to
+attend their masters during the engagement, now thronged into the lists
+to pay their dutiful attendance to the wounded, who were removed with
+the utmost care and attention to the neighboring pavilions, or to the
+quarters prepared for them in the adjoining village.
+
+Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, one of the most
+gallantly contested tournaments of that age; for although only four
+knights, including one who was smothered by the heat of his armor, had
+died upon the field, yet upward of thirty were desperately wounded, four
+or five of whom never recovered. Several more were disabled for life;
+and those who escaped best carried the marks of the conflict to the
+grave with them. Hence it is always mentioned in the old records as the
+"gentle and joyous passage of arms of Ashby."
+
+It being now the duty of Prince John to name the knight who had done
+best, he determined that the honor of the day remained with the knight
+whom the popular voice had termed _Le Noir Faineant_. It was pointed out
+to the Prince, in impeachment of this decree, that the victory had been
+in fact won by the Disinherited Knight, who, in the course of the day,
+had overcome six champions with his own hand, and who had finally
+unhorsed and struck down the leader of the opposite party. But Prince
+John adhered to his own opinion, on the ground that the Disinherited
+Knight and his party had lost the day but for the powerful assistance of
+the Knight of the Black Armor, to whom, therefore, he persisted in
+awarding the prize.
+
+To the surprise of all present, however, the knight thus preferred was
+nowhere to be found. He had left the lists immediately when the conflict
+ceased, and had been observed by some spectators to move down one of the
+forest glades with the same slow pace and listless and indifferent
+manner which had procured him the epithet of the Black Sluggard.[87-17]
+After he had been summoned twice by sound of trumpet and proclamation of
+the heralds, it became necessary to name another to receive the honors
+which had been assigned to him. Prince John had now no further excuse
+for resisting the claim of the Disinherited Knight, whom, therefore, he
+named the champion of the day.
+
+Through a field slippery with blood and encumbered with broken armor and
+the bodies of slain and wounded horses, the marshals again conducted
+the victor to the foot of Prince John's throne.
+
+"Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since by that title only you
+will consent to be known to us, we a second time award to you the honors
+of this tournament, and announce to you your right to claim and receive
+from the hands of the Queen of Love and Beauty the chaplet of honor
+which your valor has justly deserved."
+
+The Knight bowed low and gracefully, but returned no answer.
+
+While the trumpets sounded, while the heralds strained their voices in
+proclaiming honor to the brave and glory to the victor, while ladies
+waved their silken kerchiefs and embroidered veils, and while all ranks
+joined in a clamorous shout of exultation, the marshals conducted the
+Disinherited Knight across the lists to the foot of that throne of honor
+which was occupied by the Lady Rowena.
+
+On the lower step of this throne the champion was made to kneel down.
+Indeed, his whole action since that the fight had ended seemed rather to
+have been upon the impulse of those around him than from his own free
+will; and it was observed that he tottered as they guided him the second
+time across the lists. Rowena, descending from her station with a
+graceful and dignified step, was about to place the chaplet which she
+held in her hand upon the helmet of the champion, when the marshals
+exclaimed with one voice, "It must not be thus; his head must be bare."
+The knight muttered faintly a few words, which were lost in the hollow
+of his helmet; but their purport seemed to be a desire that his casque
+might not be removed.
+
+[Illustration: ROWENA CROWNING DISINHERITED KNIGHT]
+
+Whether from love of form or from curiosity, the marshals paid no
+attention to his expressions of reluctance, but unhelmed him by cutting
+the laces of his casque, and undoing the fastening of his gorget. When
+the helmet was removed the well-formed yet sun-burned features of a
+young man of twenty-five were seen, amid a profusion of short fair
+hair. His countenance was as pale as death, and marked in one or two
+places with streaks of blood.
+
+Rowena had no sooner beheld him that she uttered a faint shriek; but at
+once summoning up the energy of her disposition, and compelling herself,
+as it were, to proceed, while her frame yet trembled with the violence
+of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the victor the
+splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day, and
+pronounced in a clear and distinct tone these words: "I bestow on thee
+this chaplet, Sir Knight, as the meed of valor assigned to this day's
+victor." Here she paused a moment, and then firmly added, "And upon brow
+more worthy could a wreath of chivalry never be placed!"
+
+The knight stooped his head and kissed the hand of the lovely Sovereign
+by whom his valor had been rewarded; and then, sinking yet further
+forward, lay prostrate at her feet.
+
+There was a general consternation. Cedric, who had been struck mute by
+the sudden appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward as if to
+separate him from Rowena. But this had been already accomplished by the
+marshals of the field, who, guessing the cause of Ivanhoe's swoon, had
+hastened to undo his armor, and found that the head of a lance had
+penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side.
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[39-1] A pursuivant was an attendant on a herald.
+
+[40-2] _Salvage_ is an old form of the word _savage_.
+
+[46-3] _Outrance_ is an old word meaning _the last extremity_.
+
+[48-4] A largesse is a gift or donation.
+
+[53-5] _Clowns_ here means _peasants_.
+
+[56-6] _Gare le Corbeau_ means _Beware of the raven_.
+
+[57-7] A demi-volte is a certain movement of a horse, by which he makes
+a half turn with the fore-feet off the ground.
+
+[59-8] _Front-de-Boeuf_ means bull's head.
+
+[59-9] _Cave, Adsum_ is a Latin expression meaning _Beware, I am here_.
+
+[62-10] _Hospitallers_ was another name for the Knights of Saint John.
+
+[70-11] _Barbed_, or _barded_, is a term used of a war-horse, and means
+_furnished with armor_.
+
+[72-12] A zecchin, or sequin, is worth about $2.25.
+
+[78-13] _Laissez aller_ means literally _Let go_.
+
+[79-14] _Beau-seant_ was the name given to the black and white banner of
+the Templars.
+
+[83-15] _Springal_ is an old word meaning _youth_ or _young man_.
+
+[84-16] The _chamfron_ is the defensive armor of the front part of the
+head of a war-horse.
+
+[87-17] The Black Sluggard was the king of England, Richard the
+Lion-Hearted, who had been absent from England on a Crusade and had come
+back without allowing his brother John to know of his return.
+
+
+
+
+THE RAINBOW
+
+_By_ THOMAS CAMPBELL
+
+
+    Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
+      When storms prepare to part,
+    I ask not proud Philosophy
+      To teach me what thou art.
+
+    Still seem, as to my childhoods' sight,
+      A midway station given,
+    For happy spirits to alight,
+      Betwixt the earth and heaven.
+
+    Can all that optics teach, unfold
+      Thy form to please me so,
+    As when I dreamt of gems and gold
+      Hid in thy radiant bow?[91-1]
+
+    When science from creation's face
+      Enchantment's veil withdraws,
+    What lovely visions yield their place
+      To cold material laws!
+
+    And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
+      But words of the Most High,
+    Have told why first thy robe of beams
+      Was woven in the sky.[91-2]
+
+    When o'er the green undeluged earth
+      Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
+    How came the world's gray fathers forth
+      To watch thy sacred sign!
+
+    And when its yellow lustre smiled
+      O'er mountains yet untrod,
+    Each mother held aloft her child
+      To bless the bow of God.
+
+    The earth to thee her incense yields,
+      The lark thy welcome sings,
+    When, glittering in the freshen'd fields,
+      The snowy mushroom springs.
+
+    How glorious is thy girdle, cast
+      O'er mountain, tower, and town,
+    Or mirror'd in the ocean vast
+      A thousand fathoms down!
+
+    As fresh in yon horizon dark,
+      As young thy beauties seem,
+    As when the eagle from the ark
+      First sported in thy beam.
+
+    For, faithful to its sacred page,
+      Heaven still rebuilds thy span;
+    Nor lets the type grow pale with age
+      That first spoke peace to man.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[91-1] There was an old, old belief that a pot of god was hidden at the
+end of the rainbow, and that whoever found his way to the spot might
+claim the gold. This superstition has existed in almost all lands, and
+references to it are constantly to be found in literature.
+
+[91-2] According to the account given in _Genesis IX_, God said to Noah
+after the flood:
+
+"And I will establish my covenant with you; neither shall all flesh be
+cut off any more by the waters of a flood; neither shall there any more
+be a flood to destroy the earth.
+
+"This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you, and
+every living creature that is with you for perpetual generations:
+
+"I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant
+between me and the earth.
+
+"And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that
+the bow shall be seen in the cloud:
+
+"And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you, and every
+living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a
+flood to destroy all flesh."
+
+
+
+
+THE LION AND THE MISSIONARY
+
+_By_ DAVID LIVINGSTONE
+
+
+     NOTE.--Few men have endured more hardships, dangers and excitement
+     that did David Livingstone, missionary and African traveler, from
+     whose writings this account of an adventure with a lion is taken.
+     He penetrated to parts of Africa where no white man had ever been
+     before, he suffered repeated attacks of African fever, he exposed
+     himself to constant danger from wild beasts and wilder men; and he
+     did none of this in his own interests. He was no merchant seeking
+     for gold and diamonds, he was no discoverer seeking for fame; his
+     only aim was to open up the continent of Africa so that
+     civilization and Christianity might enter.
+
+     In 1840 Livingstone was sent as medical missionary to South Africa.
+     Here he joined Robert Moffat, in Bechuanaland, where he worked for
+     nine years. Learning from the natives that there was a large lake
+     to the northward, he set out on his first exploring trip, and at
+     length discovered Lake Ngami. Later, he undertook other journeys of
+     exploration, on one of which he reached the Atlantic coast and then
+     returned, crossing the entire continent. His greatest achievement
+     was the exploration of the lake region of South Africa. So cut off
+     was he, in the African jungles, from all the outer world that no
+     communication was received from him for three years, and fears as
+     to his safety were relieved only when Stanley, sent out by the _New
+     York Herald_ to search for Livingstone, reported that he had seen
+     and assisted him.
+
+     In May, 1873, Livingstone died, at a village near Lake Bangweolo.
+     His body was taken to England and laid in Westminster Abbey, but
+     his heart was buried at the foot of the tree under whose branches
+     he died.
+
+Returning toward Kuruman, I selected the beautiful valley of Mabotsa
+(latitude 25 deg. 14' south, longitude 26 deg. 30') as the site of a missionary
+station, and thither I removed in 1843. Here an occurrence took place
+concerning which I have frequently been questioned in England, and
+which, but for the importunities of friends, I meant to have kept in
+store to tell my children when in my dotage. The Bakatla of the village
+Mabotsa were much troubled by lions, which leaped into the cattle pens
+by night and destroyed their cows. They even attacked the herds in open
+day. This was so unusual an occurrence that the people believed that
+they were bewitched,--"given," as they said, "into the power of the
+lions by a neighboring tribe." They went once to attack the animals,
+but, being rather a cowardly people compared to Bechuanas in general on
+such occasions, they returned without killing any.
+
+It is well known that if one of a troop of lions is killed, the others
+take the hint and leave that part of the country. So, the next time the
+herds were attacked, I went with the people, in order to encourage them
+to rid themselves of the annoyance by destroying one of the marauders.
+We found the lions on a small hill about a quarter of a mile in length,
+and covered with trees. A circle of men was formed round it, and they
+gradually closed up, ascending pretty near to each other. Being down
+below on the plain with a native schoolmaster, named Mebalwe, a most
+excellent man, I saw one of the lions sitting on a piece of rock within
+the now closed circle of men. Mebalwe fired at him before I could, and
+the ball struck the rock on which the animal was sitting. He bit at the
+spot struck, as a dog does at a stick or stone thrown at him; then
+leaping away, broke through the opening circle and escaped unhurt. The
+men were afraid to attack him, perhaps on account of their belief in
+witchcraft. When the circle was reformed, we saw two other lions in it;
+but we were afraid to fire lest we should strike the men, and they
+allowed the beasts to burst through also.
+
+If the Bakatla had acted according to the custom of the country, they
+would have speared the lions in their attempt to get out. Seeing we
+could not get them to kill one of the lions, we bent our footsteps
+toward the village; in going round the end of the hill, however, I saw
+one of the beasts sitting on a piece of rock as before, but this time he
+had a little bush in front. Being about thirty yards off, I took a good
+aim at his body through the bush, and fired both barrels into it. The
+men then called out, "He is shot, he is shot!" Others cried, "He has
+been shot by another man too; let us go to him!" I did not see any one
+else shoot at him, but I saw the lion's tail erected in anger behind the
+bush, and turning to the people, said, "Stop a little, till I load
+again." When in the act of ramming down the bullets, I heard a shout.
+Starting, and looking half round, I saw the lion just in the act of
+springing upon me.
+
+I was upon a little height; he caught my shoulder as he sprang, and we
+both came to the ground below together. Growling horribly close to my
+ear, he shook me as a terrier dog does a rat. The shock produced a
+stupor similar to that which seems to be felt by a mouse after the first
+shake of the cat. It caused a sort of dreaminess, in which there was no
+sense of pain nor feeling of terror, though I was quite conscious of all
+that was happening. It was like what patients partially under the
+influence of chloroform describe, who see all the operation, but feel
+not the knife. This singular condition was not the result of any mental
+process. The shake annihilated fear, and allowed no sense of horror in
+looking round at the beast. This peculiar state is probably produced in
+all animals killed by the carnivora; and if so, is a merciful provision
+by our benevolent Creator for lessening the pain of death. Turning round
+to relieve myself of the weight, as he had one paw on the back of my
+head, I saw his eyes directed to Mebalwe, who was trying to shoot him at
+a distance of ten or fifteen yards. His gun, a flint one, missed fire in
+both barrels; the lion immediately left me, and, attacking Mebalwe, bit
+his thigh. Another man, whose life I had saved before, after he had been
+tossed by a buffalo, attempted to spear the lion while he was biting
+Mebalwe. He left Mebalwe and caught this man by the shoulder, but at
+that moment the bullets he had received took effect, and he fell down
+dead. The whole was the work of a few moments, and must have been his
+paroxysms of dying rage. In order to take out the charm from him, the
+Bakatla on the following day made a huge bonfire over the carcass, which
+was declared to be that of the largest lion they had ever seen. Besides
+crunching the bone into splinters, he left eleven teeth wounds on the
+upper part of my arm.
+
+A wound from this animal's tooth resembles a gunshot wound; it is
+generally followed by a great deal of sloughing and discharge, and
+pains are felt in the part, periodically ever afterward. I had on a
+tartan jacket on the occasion, and I believe that it wiped off all the
+virus from the teeth that pierced the flesh, for my two companions in
+this affray have both suffered from the peculiar pains, while I have
+escaped with only the inconvenience of a false joint in my limb. The man
+whose shoulder was wounded, showed me his wound actually burst forth
+afresh on the same month of the following year. This curious point
+certainly deserves the attention of inquirers.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE MOSS ROSE
+
+TRANSLATED FROM KRUMMACHER
+
+
+    The angel of the flowers, one day,
+    Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay,--
+    That spirit to whose charge 'tis given
+    To bathe young buds in dews of heaven.
+    Awaking from his light repose,
+    The angel whispered to the rose:
+    "O fondest object of my care,
+    Still fairest found, where all are fair;
+    For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me
+    Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee."
+    "Then," said the rose, with deepened glow,
+    "On me another grace bestow."
+    The spirit paused, in silent thought,--
+    What grace was there that flower had not?
+    'Twas but a moment,--o'er the rose
+    A veil of moss the angel throws,
+    And, robed in nature's simplest weed,
+    Could there a flower that rose exceed?
+
+
+
+
+FOUR DUCKS ON A POND
+
+_By_ WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
+
+
+    Four ducks on a pond,
+    A grass bank beyond,
+    A blue sky of spring,
+    White clouds on the wing;
+    What a little thing
+    To remember for years,
+    To remember with tears.
+
+
+
+
+RAB AND HIS FRIENDS
+
+_By_ JOHN BROWN, M. D.
+
+
+Four and thirty years ago, Bob Ainslie and I were coming up Infirmary
+street from the high school, our heads together, and our arms
+intertwisted, as only lovers and boys know how or why.
+
+When we got to the top of the street, and turned north, we espied a
+crowd at the Tron-church. "A dog fight!" shouted Bob, and was off; and
+so was I, both of us all but praying that it might not be over before we
+got up! And is not this boy nature! and human nature too? and don't we
+all wish a house on fire not to be out before we see it? Dogs like
+fighting; old Isaac says they "delight" in it, and for the best of all
+reasons; and boys are not cruel because they like to see the fight. They
+see three of the great cardinal virtues of dog or man--courage,
+endurance, and skill--in intense action. This is very different from a
+love of making dogs fight, and enjoying, and aggravating, and making
+gain by their pluck. A boy--be he ever so fond himself of fighting, if
+he be a good boy, hates and despises all this, but he would have run off
+with Bob and me fast enough; it is a natural, and a not wicked, interest
+that all boys and men have in witnessing intense energy in action.
+
+Does any curious and finely-ignorant woman wish to know how Bob's eye at
+a glance announced a dog fight to his brain? He did not, he could not
+see the dogs fighting; it was a flash of an inference, a rapid
+induction. The crowd round a couple of dogs fighting, is a crowd
+masculine mainly, with an occasional active, compassionate woman,
+fluttering wildly round the outside, and using her tongue and her hands
+freely upon the men, as so many "brutes"; it is a crowd annular, compact
+and mobile; a crowd centripetal, having its eyes and its heads all bent
+downward and inward, to one common focus.
+
+Well, Bob and I are up, and find it is not over; a small thoroughbred,
+white bull-terrier, is busy throttling a large shepherd's dog,
+unaccustomed to war, but not to be trifled with. They are hard at it;
+the scientific little fellow doing his work in great style, his pastoral
+enemy fighting wildly, but with the sharpest of teeth and a great
+courage. Science and breeding, however, soon had their own; the Game
+Chicken, as the premature Bob called him, working his way up, took his
+final grip of poor Yarrow's throat--and he lay gasping and done for. His
+master, a brown, handsome, big young shepherd from Tweedsmuir, would
+have liked to have knocked down any man, would "drink up Esil, or eat a
+crocodile," for that part, if he had a chance; it was no use kicking the
+little dog; that would only make him hold the closer. Many were the
+means shouted out in mouthfuls, of the best possible ways of ending it.
+
+"Water!" but there was none near, and many cried for it who might have
+got it from the well at Blackfriars Wynd.
+
+"Bite the tail!" and a large, vague, benevolent, middle-aged man, more
+desirous than wise, with some struggle got the bushy end of Yarrow's
+tail into his ample mouth, and bit it with all his might. This was more
+than enough for the much-enduring, much-perspiring shepherd, who, with a
+gleam of joy over his broad visage, delivered a terrific facer upon our
+large, vague, benevolent, middle-aged friend--who went down like a shot.
+
+Still the Chicken holds; death not far off.
+
+"Snuff! a pinch of snuff!" observed a calm, highly-dressed young buck,
+with an eye-glass in his eye. "Snuff, indeed!" growled the angry crowd,
+affronted and glaring.
+
+"Snuff! a pinch of snuff!" again observes the buck, but with more
+urgency; whereupon were produced several open boxes, and from a mull
+which may have been at Culloden, he took a pinch, knelt down, and
+presented it to the nose of the Chicken. The laws of physiology and of
+snuff take their course; the Chicken sneezes, and Yarrow is free.
+
+The young pastoral giant stalks off with Yarrow in his arms--comforting
+him.
+
+But the bull-terrier's blood is up, and his soul unsatisfied; he grips
+the first dog he meets, and discovering she is not a dog, in Homeric
+phrase, he makes a brief sort of _amende_,[101-1] and is off. The boys,
+with Bob and me at their head, are after him; down Niddry street he
+goes, bent on mischief; up the Cowgate like an arrow--Bob and I, and our
+small men, panting behind.
+
+There, under the single arch of the South bridge is a huge mastiff,
+sauntering down the middle of the causeway, as if with his hands in his
+pockets; he is old, gray, brindled, as big as a little Highland bull,
+and has the Shakespearian dewlaps shaking as he goes.
+
+The Chicken makes straight at him, and fastens on his throat. To our
+astonishment, the great creature does nothing but stand still, holds
+himself up, and roar--yes, roar; a long, serious, remonstrative roar.
+How is this? Bob and I are up to them. _He is muzzled!_ The bailies had
+proclaimed a general muzzling, and his master, studying strength and
+economy mainly, had encompassed his huge jaws in a homemade apparatus,
+constructed out of the leather of some ancient breechin. His mouth was
+open as far as it could; his lips curled up in rage--a sort of terrible
+grin; his teeth gleaming, ready, from out of the darkness; the strap
+across his mouth tense as a bow string; his whole frame stiff with
+indignation and surprise; his roar asking us all round, "Did you ever
+see the like of this?"
+
+He looked a statue of anger and astonishment, done in Aberdeen granite.
+
+We soon had a crowd; the Chicken held on. "A knife!" cried Bob; and a
+cobbler gave him his knife; you know the kind of knife, worn away
+obliquely to a point, and always keen. I put its edge to the tense
+leather; it ran before it; and then!--one sudden jerk of that enormous
+head, a sort of dirty mist about his mouth, no noise, and the bright and
+fierce little fellow is dropped, limp, and dead. A solemn pause; this
+was more than any of us had bargained for. I turned the little fellow
+over, and saw he was quite dead; the mastiff had taken him by the small
+of the back, like a rat, and broken it.
+
+He looked down at his victim appeased, ashamed and amazed; snuffed him
+all over, stared at him, and taking a sudden thought, turned round and
+trotted off.
+
+Bob took the dead dog up, and said, "John, we'll bury him after tea."
+
+[Illustration: "RAB, YE THIEF!"]
+
+"Yes," said I, and was off after the mastiff. He made up the Cowgate at
+a rapid swing; he had forgotten some engagement. He turned up the
+Candlemaker Row, and stopped at the Harrow Inn.
+
+There was a carrier's cart ready to start, and a keen, thin, impatient,
+black-a-vised little man, his hand at his gray horse's head looking
+about angrily for something.
+
+"Rab, ye thief!" said he, aiming a kick at my great friend, who drew
+cringing up, and avoiding the heavy shoe with more agility than dignity,
+and watching his master's eye, slunk dismayed under the cart--his ears
+down, and as much as he had of tail down too.
+
+What a man this must be--thought I--to whom my tremendous hero turns
+tail! The carrier saw the muzzle hanging, cut and useless, from his
+neck, and I eagerly told him the story which Bob and I always thought,
+and still think, Homer, or King David, or Sir Walter, alone were worthy
+to rehearse. The severe little man was mitigated, and condescended to
+say, "Rab, ma man, puir Rabbie"--whereupon the stump of a tail rose up,
+the ears were cocked, the eyes filled, and were comforted; the two
+friends were reconciled. "Hupp!" and a stroke of the whip were given to
+Jess; and off went the three.
+
+Bob and I buried the Game Chicken that night (we had not much of a tea)
+in the back-green of his house in Melville street, No. 17, with
+considerable gravity and silence; and being at the time in the Iliad,
+and, like all boys, Trojans, we called him Hector of course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Six years have passed--a long time for a boy and a dog: Bob Ainslie is
+off to the wars; I am a medical student, and clerk at Minto House
+Hospital.
+
+Rab I saw almost every week, on the Wednesday; and we had much pleasant
+intimacy. I found the way to his heart by frequent scratching of his
+huge head, and an occasional bone. When I did not notice him he would
+plant himself straight before me, and stand wagging that bud of a tail,
+and looking up, with his head a little to the one side. His master I
+occasionally saw; he used to call me "Maister John," but was laconic as
+any Spartan.
+
+One fine October afternoon, I was leaving the hospital when I saw the
+large gate open, and in walked Rab with that great and easy saunter of
+his. He looked as if taking general possession of the place; like the
+Duke of Wellington entering a subdued city, satiated with victory and
+peace.
+
+After him came Jess, now white from age, with her cart; and in it a
+woman, carefully wrapped up--the carrier leading the horse anxiously,
+and looking back.
+
+When he saw me, James (for his name was James Noble) made a curt and
+grotesque "boo," and said, "Maister John, this is the mistress; she's
+got a trouble in her breest--some kind of an income we'er thinkin'."
+
+By this time I saw the woman's face; she was sitting on a sack filled
+with straw, her husband's plaid round her, and his big-coat, with its
+large white metal buttons, over her feet.
+
+I never saw a more unforgettable face--pale, serious, _lonely_,
+delicate, sweet, without being at all what we call fine. She looked
+sixty, and had on a mutch, white as snow, with its black ribbon; her
+silvery, smooth hair setting off her dark-gray eyes--eyes such as one
+sees only twice or thrice in a lifetime, full of suffering, full also of
+the overcoming of it; her eyebrows black and delicate, and her mouth
+firm, patient, and contented, which few mouths ever are.
+
+As I have said, I never saw a more beautiful countenance, or a more
+subdued or settled quiet. "Ailie," said James, "this is Maister John,
+the young doctor; Rab's freend, ye ken. We often speak aboot you,
+doctor."
+
+She smiled, and made a movement, but said nothing; and prepared to come
+down, putting her plaid aside and rising. Had Solomon, in all his glory,
+been handing down the Queen of Sheba, at his palace gate, he could not
+have done it more daintily, more tenderly, more like a gentleman, than
+did James, the Howgate carrier, when he lifted down Ailie, his wife.
+
+The contrast of his small, swarthy, weatherbeaten, keen, worldly face to
+hers--pale, subdued, and beautiful--was something wonderful. Rab looked
+on concerned and puzzled, but ready for anything that might turn
+up--were it to strangle the nurse, the porter, or even me. Ailie and he
+seemed great friends.
+
+"As I was sayin', she's got a kind o' trouble in her breest, doctor;
+wull ye tak' a look at it?" We walked into the consulting-room, all
+four; Rab grim and comic, willing to be happy and confidential if cause
+could be shown, willing also to be the reverse on the same terms. Ailie
+sat down, undid her open gown and her lawn handkerchief round her neck,
+and, without a word, showed me her right breast. I looked at and
+examined it carefully, she and James watching me, and Rab eying all
+three. What could I say? There it was that had once been so soft, so
+shapely, so white, so gracious and bountiful, so "full of all blessed
+conditions"--hard as a stone, a center of horrid pain, making that pale
+face, with its gray, lucid, reasonable eyes, and its sweet resolved
+mouth, express the full measure of suffering overcome. Why was that
+gentle, modest, sweet woman, clean and lovable, condemned by God to bear
+such a burden?
+
+I got her away to bed.
+
+"May Rab and me bide?" said James.
+
+"_You_ may; and Rab, if he will behave himself."
+
+"I'se warrant he's do that, doctor;" and in slunk the faithful beast.
+
+I wish you could have seen him. There are no such dogs now. He belonged
+to a lost tribe. As I have said, he was brindled, and gray like Rubislaw
+granite; his hair short, hard, and close, like a lion's; his body
+thickset, like a little bull--a sort of compressed Hercules of a dog. He
+must have been ninety pounds' weight, at the least; he had a large blunt
+head; his muzzle black as night, his mouth blacker than any night, a
+tooth or two--being all he had--gleaming out of his jaws of darkness.
+His head was scarred with the records of old wounds, a sort of series of
+fields of battle all over it; one eye out, one ear cropped as close as
+was Archbishop Leighton's father's; the remaining eye had the power of
+two; and above it, and in constant communication with it, was a tattered
+rag of an ear, which was forever unfurling itself, like an old flag; and
+then that bud of a tail, about one inch long, if it could in any sense
+be said to be long, being as broad as long--the mobility, the
+instantaneousness of that bud were very funny and surprising, and its
+expressive twinklings and winkings, the intercommunications between the
+eye, the ear, and it, were of the oddest and swiftest.
+
+Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size; and having fought his
+way all along the road to absolute supremacy, he was as mighty in his
+own line as Julius Caesar or the Duke of Wellington, and had the gravity
+of all great fighters.
+
+You must have often observed the likeness of certain men to certain
+animals, and of certain dogs to men. Now, I never looked at Rab without
+thinking of the great Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller. The same large,
+heavy, menacing, combative, sombre, honest countenance, the same deep
+inevitable eye, the same look--as of thunder asleep, but ready--neither
+a dog nor a man to be trifled with.
+
+Next day, my master, the surgeon, examined Ailie. There was no doubt it
+must kill her, and soon. It could be removed--it might never return--it
+would give her speedy relief--she should have it done.
+
+She curtsied, looked at James, and said, "When?"
+
+"To-morrow," said the kind surgeon--a man of few words.
+
+She and James and Rab and I retired. I noticed that he and she spoke a
+little, but seemed to anticipate everything in each other. The following
+day at noon, the students came in, hurrying up the great stair. At the
+first landing-place, on a small well-known blackboard, was a bit of
+paper fastened by wafers and many remains of old wafers beside it. On
+the paper were the words--"An operation to-day. J. B., _Clerk_."
+
+Up ran the youths, eager to secure good places; in they crowded, full of
+interest and talk.
+
+"What's the case? Which side is it?"
+
+Don't think them heartless; they are neither better nor worse than you
+or I; they get over their professional horrors, and into their proper
+work; and in them pity--as an _emotion_, ending in itself or at best in
+tears and a long-drawn breath, lessens, while pity as a _motive_ is
+quickened, and gains power and purpose. It is well for poor human
+nature that it is so.
+
+The operating theatre is crowded; much talk and fun, and all the
+cordiality and stir of youth. The surgeon with his staff of assistants
+is there. In comes Ailie; one look at her quiets and abates the eager
+students. The beautiful old woman is too much for them. They sit down,
+and are dumb, and gaze at her. These rough boys feel the power of her
+presence.
+
+She walks in quickly, but without haste; dressed in her mutch, her
+neckerchief, her white dimity short-gown, her black bombazine petticoat,
+showing her white worsted stockings and her carpet-shoes. Behind her was
+James with Rab. James sat down in the distance, and took that huge and
+noble head between his knees. Rab looked perplexed and dangerous;
+forever cocking his ear and dropping it as fast.
+
+Ailie stepped up on a seat, and laid herself on the table, as her friend
+the surgeon told her; arranged herself, gave a rapid look at James, shut
+her eyes, rested herself on me, and took my hand. The operation was at
+once begun; it was necessarily slow; and chloroform--one of God's best
+gifts to his suffering children--was then unknown. The surgeon did his
+work. Rab's soul was working within him; he saw that something strange
+was going on--blood flowing from his mistress, and she suffering; his
+ragged ear was up, and importunate; he growled and gave now and then a
+sharp impatient yelp; he would have liked to have done something to that
+man. But James had him firm, and gave him a _glower_[109-2] from time to
+time, and an intimation of a possible kick;--all the better for James,
+it kept his eye and his mind off Ailie.
+
+It is over; she is dressed, steps gently and decently down from the
+table, looks for James; then, turning to the surgeon and the students,
+she curtsies--and in a low, clear voice, begs their pardon if she has
+behaved ill. The students--all of us--wept like children; the surgeon
+happed her up carefully--and, resting on James and me, Ailie went to her
+room, Rab following. We put her to bed. James took off his heavy shoes,
+crammed with tackets, heel-capt and toe-capt, and put them carefully
+under the table, saying, "Maister John, I'm for nane o' yer strynge
+nurse bodies for Ailie. I'll be her nurse, and I'll gang about on my
+stockin' soles as canny as pussy."
+
+And so he did; handy and clever, and swift and tender as any woman, was
+that horny-handed, snell, peremptory little man. Everything she got he
+gave her; he seldom slept; and often I saw his small, shrewd eyes out of
+the darkness, fixed on her. As before, they spoke little.
+
+Rab behaved well, never moving, showing us how meek and gentle he could
+be, and occasionally, in his sleep, letting us know that he was
+demolishing some adversary. He took a walk with me every day, generally
+to the Candlemaker Row; but he was sombre and mild; declined doing
+battle, though some fit cases offered, and indeed submitted to sundry
+indignities; and was always very ready to turn and came faster back, and
+trotted up the stair with much lightness, and went straight to that
+door.
+
+Jess, the mare, had been sent, with her weather-worn cart, to Howgate,
+and had doubtless her own dim and placid meditations and confusions, on
+the absence of her master and Rab, and her unnatural freedom from the
+road and her cart.
+
+For some days Ailie did well. The wound healed "by the first intention;"
+for as James said, "Our Ailie's skin's ower clean to beil." The students
+came in quiet and anxious, and surrounded her bed. She said she liked to
+see their young, honest faces. The surgeon dressed her, and spoke to her
+in his own short, kind way, pitying her through his eyes, Rab and James
+outside the circle--Rab being now reconciled, and even cordial, and
+having made up his mind that as yet nobody required worrying, but as you
+may suppose _semper paratus_.[111-3]
+
+So far well; but four days after the operation my patient had a sudden
+and long shivering, a "groosin'," as she called it. I saw her soon
+after; her eyes were too bright, her cheek colored; she was restless,
+and ashamed of being so; the balance was lost; mischief had begun.
+
+On looking at the wound, a blush of red told the secret; her pulse was
+rapid, her breathing anxious and quick, she wasn't herself, as she said,
+and was vexed at her restlessness. We tried what we could, James did
+everything, was everywhere; never in the way, never out of it. Rab
+subsided under the table into a dark place, and was motionless, all but
+his eye, which followed every one. Ailie got worse; began to wander in
+her mind, gently; was more demonstrative in her ways to James, rapid in
+her questions, and sharp at times. He was vexed, and said, "She was
+never that way afore; no, never."
+
+For a time she knew her head was wrong, and was always asking our
+pardon--the dear, gentle old woman; then delirium set in strong, without
+pause. Her brain gave way, and then came that terrible spectacle,
+
+    "The intellectual power, through words and things,
+    Went sounding on its dim and perilous way;"
+
+she sang bits of old songs and psalms, stopping suddenly, mingling the
+Psalms of David, and the diviner words of his Son and Lord, with homely
+odds and ends and scraps of ballads.
+
+Nothing more touching, or in a sense more strangely beautiful, did I
+ever witness. Her tremulous, rapid, affectionate, eager, Scotch
+voice--the swift, aimless, bewildered mind, the baffled utterance, the
+bright and perilous eye; some wild words, some household cares,
+something for James, the names of the dead, Rab called rapidly and in a
+"fremyt"[112-4] voice, and he starting up, surprised, and slinking off
+as if he were to blame somehow, or had been dreaming he heard. Many
+eager questions and beseechings which James and I could make nothing of,
+and on which she seemed to set her all, and then sink back ununderstood.
+It was very sad, but better than many things that are not called sad.
+James hovered about, put out and miserable, but active and exact as
+ever; read to her, when there was a lull, short bits from the Psalms,
+prose and metre, chanting the latter in his own rude and serious way,
+showing great knowledge of the fit words, bearing up like a man, and
+doating over her as his "ain Ailie," "Ailie, ma woman!" "Ma ain bonnie
+wee dawtie!"
+
+The end was drawing on: the golden bowl was breaking; the silver cord
+was fast being loosed--that _animula blandula, vagula, hospes,
+comesque_[113-5] was about to flee. The body and the soul--companions
+for sixty years--were being sundered, and taking leave. She was walking,
+alone, through the valley of that shadow, into which one day we must all
+enter--and yet she was not alone, for we knew whose rod and staff were
+comforting her.
+
+One night she had fallen quiet, and as we hoped, asleep; her eyes were
+shut. We put down the gas and sat watching her. Suddenly she sat up in
+bed, and taking a bedgown which was lying on it rolled up, she held it
+eagerly to her breast--to the right side. We could see her eyes bright
+with surpassing tenderness and joy, bending over this bundle of clothes.
+She held it as a woman holds her sucking child; opening out her
+nightgown impatiently, and holding it close, and brooding over it, and
+murmuring foolish little words, as one whom his mother comforteth, and
+who sucks and is satisfied. It was pitiful and strange to see her
+wasting dying look, keen and yet vague--her immense love.
+
+"Preserve me!" groaned James, giving away. And then she rocked back and
+forward, as if to make it sleep, hushing it, and wasting on it her
+infinite fondness.
+
+"Wae's me, doctor; I declare she's thinkin' it's that bairn."
+
+"What bairn?"
+
+"The only bairn we ever had; our wee Mysie, and she's in the Kingdom,
+forty years and mair."
+
+It was plainly true: the pain in the breast telling its urgent story to
+a bewildered, ruined brain, was misread, and mistaken; it suggested to
+her the uneasiness of a breast full of milk, and then the child; and so
+again once more they were together, and she had her ain wee Mysie in her
+bosom.
+
+This was the close. She sank rapidly: the delirium left her; but, as she
+whispered, she was "clean silly"; it was the lightening before the final
+darkness. After having for some time lain still--her eyes shut, she
+said, "James!"
+
+He came close to her, and lifting up her calm, clear, beautiful eyes,
+she gave him a long look, turned to me kindly but shortly, looked for
+Rab but could not see him, then turned to her husband again, as if she
+would never leave off looking, shut her eyes and composed herself. She
+lay for some time breathing quick, and passed away so gently, that when
+we thought she was gone, James, in his old-fashioned way, held the
+mirror to her face. After a long pause, one small spot of dimness was
+breathed out; it vanished away, and never returned, leaving the blank
+clear darkness of the mirror without a stain. "What is your life? it is
+even a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth
+away."
+
+Rab all this time had been full awake and motionless; he came forward
+beside us; Ailie's hand, which James had held, was hanging down; it was
+soaked with his tears; Rab licked it all over carefully, looked at her,
+and returned to his place under the table.
+
+James and I sat, I don't know how long, but for some time--saying
+nothing: he started up, abruptly, and with some noise went to the table,
+and putting his right fore and middle fingers each into a shoe, pulled
+them out, and put them on, breaking one of the leather latchets, and
+muttering in anger, "I never did the like o' that afore."
+
+I believe he never did; nor after either. "Rab!" he said roughly, and
+pointing with his thumb to the bottom of the bed. Rab leaped up, and
+settled himself; his head and eye to the dead face. "Maister John, ye'll
+wait for me," said the carrier, and disappeared in the darkness,
+thundering downstairs in his heavy shoes. I ran to a front window: there
+he was, already round the house, and out at the gate fleeing like a
+shadow.
+
+I was afraid about him, and yet not afraid; so I sat down beside Rab,
+and being wearied, fell asleep. I awoke from a sudden noise outside. It
+was November, and there had been a heavy fall of snow. Rab was _in statu
+quo_;[115-6] he heard the noise too, and plainly knew it, but never
+moved. I looked out, and there, at the gate, in the dim morning--for the
+sun was not up--was Jess and the cart--a cloud of steam rising from the
+old mare. I did not see James; he was already at the door, and came up
+to the stairs, and met me. It was less than three hours since he left,
+and he must have posted out--who knows how--to Howgate, full nine miles
+off; yoked Jess, and driven her astonished into town. He had an armful
+of blankets, and was streaming with perspiration. He nodded to me,
+spread out on the floor two pairs of clean old blankets, having at their
+corners "A. G., 1794," in large letters in red worsted. These were the
+initials of Alison Graeme, and James may have looked in at her from
+without--himself unseen but not unthought of--when he was "wat, wat and
+weary," and after having walked many a mile over the hills, may have
+seen her sitting, while "a' the lave were sleepin';" and by the
+firelight working her name on the blankets, for her ain James' bed.
+
+He motioned Rab down, and taking his wife in his arms, laid her in the
+blankets, and happed her carefully and firmly up, leaving the face
+uncovered; and then lifting her, he nodded again sharply to me, and with
+a resolved but utterly miserable face, strode along the passage, and
+downstairs, followed by Rab. I followed with a light; but he didn't need
+it. I went out, holding stupidly the candle in my hand in the calm
+frosty air; we were soon at the gate. I could have helped him, but I saw
+he was not to be meddled with, and he was strong, and did not need it.
+He laid her down as tenderly, as safely, as he had lifted her out ten
+days before--as tenderly as when he had her first in his arms when she
+was only "A. G."--sorted her, leaving that beautiful sealed face open to
+the heavens; and then taking Jess by the head, he moved away. He did not
+notice me, neither did Rab, who presided behind the cart.
+
+I stood till they passed through the long shadow of the College, and
+turned up Nicholson Street. I heard the solitary cart sound through the
+streets, and die away and come again; and I returned, thinking of that
+company going up Libberton Brae, then along Roslin Muir, the morning
+light touching the Pentlands and making them on-looking ghosts; then
+down the hill through Auchindinny woods, past "haunted Woodhouselee";
+and as daybreak came sweeping up the bleak Lammermuirs, and fell on his
+own door, the company would stop, and James would take the key, and
+lift Ailie up again, laying her on her own bed, and, having put Jess up,
+would return with Rab and shut the door.
+
+[Illustration: JAMES BURIED HIS WIFE]
+
+James buried his wife, with his neighbors mourning, Rab inspecting the
+solemnity from a distance. It was snow, and that black ragged hole would
+look strange in the midst of the swelling spotless cushion of white.
+James looked after everything; then rather suddenly fell ill, and took
+to bed; was insensible when the doctor came, and soon died. A sort of
+low fever was prevailing in the village, and his want of sleep, his
+exhaustion, and his misery, made him apt to take it. The grave was not
+difficult to reopen. A fresh fall of snow had again made all things
+white and smooth; Rab once more looked on, and slunk home to the
+stable.
+
+And what of Rab? I asked for him next week of the new carrier who got
+the goodwill of James's business, and was now master of Jess and her
+cart.
+
+"How's Rab?"
+
+He put me off, and said rather rudely, "What's _your_ business wi' the
+dowg?"
+
+I was not to be so put off.
+
+"Where's Rab?"
+
+He, getting confused and red, and intermeddling with his hair, said,
+"'Deed sir, Rab's died."
+
+"Dead! what did he die of?"
+
+"Well, sir," said he, getting redder, "he didna exactly dee; he was
+killed. I had to brain him wi' a rack-pin; there was nae doing wi' him.
+He lay in the treviss wi' the mear, and wadna come oot. I tempit him wi'
+the kail and meat, but he wad tak naething, and keepit me frae feedin'
+the beast, and he was aye gur gurrin', and grup gruppin' me by the legs.
+I was laith to make awa wi' the old dowg, his like wasne atween this and
+Thornhill--but, 'deed, sir, I could do naething else."
+
+I believed him. Fit end for Rab, quick and complete. His teeth and his
+friends gone, why should he keep the peace and be civil?
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[101-1] _Amende_ means _apology_.
+
+[109-2] _Glower_, a Scotch word meaning a savage stare.
+
+[111-3] _Semper paratus_ means _always ready_.
+
+[112-4] _Fremyt_ means _trembling, querulous_.
+
+[113-5] _Animula blandula, vagula, hospes, comesque_, means _sweet
+fleeting life, companion and sojourner_.
+
+[115-6] _In statu quo_ means _in the same position_.
+
+
+
+
+ANNIE LAURIE
+
+
+     NOTE.--Concerning the history of this song it is stated on good
+     authority that there did really live, in the seventeenth century,
+     an Annie Laurie. She was a daughter of Sir Robert Laurie, first
+     baronet of the Maxwelton family, and was celebrated for her beauty.
+     We should be glad to hear that Annie Laurie married the Mr. Douglas
+     whose love for her inspired the writing of this poem, but records
+     show that she became the wife of another man.
+
+     Only the first two verses were composed by Douglas; the last was
+     added by an unknown author.
+
+    Maxwelton braes are bonnie
+    Where early fa's the dew,
+    And it's there that Annie Laurie
+    Gie'd me her promise true,--
+    Gie'd me her promise true,
+    Which ne'er forgot will be;
+    And for bonnie Annie Laurie
+    I'd lay me doune and dee.
+
+    Her brow is like the snaw drift;
+    Her throat is like the swan;
+    Her face it is the fairest
+    That e'er the sun shone on,--
+    That e'er the sun shone on;
+    And dark blue is her ee;
+    And for bonnie Annie Laurie
+    I'd lay me doune and dee.
+
+    Like dew on the gowan lying
+    Is the fa' o' her fairy feet;
+    And like winds in summer sighing,
+    Her voice is low and sweet,--
+    Her voice is low and sweet;
+    And she's a' the world to me;
+    And for bonnie Annie Laurie
+    I'd lay me doune and dee.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND LASSIE
+
+_By_ T. C. LATTO
+
+
+    O hark to the strain that sae[120-1] sweetly is ringin',
+      And echoing clearly o'er lake and o'er lea,[120-2]
+    Like some fairy bird in the wilderness singin';
+      It thrills to my heart, yet nae[120-3] minstrel I see.
+    Round yonder rock knittin', a dear child is sittin',
+      Sae toilin' her pitifu' pittance[120-4] is won,
+    Hersel' tho' we see nae,[120-5] 'tis mitherless[120-6] Jeanie--
+      The bonnie[120-7] blind lassie that sits i' the sun.
+
+    Five years syne come autumn[120-8] she cam'[120-9] wi' her mither,
+      A sodger's[120-10] puir[120-11] widow, sair[120-12] wasted an'
+          gane;[120-13]
+    As brown fell the leaves, sae wi' them did she wither,
+      And left the sweet child on the wide world her lane.[121-14]
+    She left Jeanie weepin', in His holy keepin'
+      Wha[121-15] shelters the lamb frae[121-16] the cauld[121-17] wintry
+          win';
+    We had little siller,[121-18] yet a' were good till her,
+      The bonnie blind lassie that sits i' the sun.
+
+    An' blythe now an' cheerfu', frae mornin' to e'enin
+      She sits thro' the simmer, an' gladdens ilk[121-19] ear,
+    Baith[121-20] auld and young daut[121-21] her, sae gentle and winnin';
+      To a' the folks round the wee lassie is dear.
+    Braw[121-22] leddies[121-23] caress her, wi' bounties would press her;
+      The modest bit[121-24] darlin' their notice would shun;
+    For though she has naething, proud-hearted this wee thing,
+      The bonnie blind lassie that sits i' the sun.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[120-1] _Sae_ is the Scotch word for _so_.
+
+[120-2] A lea is a grassy field or meadow.
+
+[120-3] _Nae_ means _no_.
+
+[120-4] _Pittance_ means _small earnings_.
+
+[120-5] _Nae_ is _not_.
+
+[120-6] _Mither_ is the Scotch form of _mother_.
+
+[120-7] _Bonnie_ means _pretty_.
+
+[120-8] _Since come autumn_; that is, it will be nine years next autumn.
+
+[120-9] _Cam'_ is a contraction of _came_.
+
+[120-10] _Sodger's_ is _soldier's_.
+
+[120-11] _Puir_ is the Scotch spelling of _poor_.
+
+[120-12] _Sair_ is _sore_, that is, _sadly_.
+
+[120-13] _Gane_ means _gone_.
+
+[121-14] _Her lane_ means _by herself_.
+
+[121-15] _Wha_ is Scotch for _who_.
+
+[121-16] _Frae_ means _from_.
+
+[121-17] _Cauld_ is the Scotch form of _cold_.
+
+[121-18] _Siller_ means _silver money_, or simply _money_.
+
+[121-19] _Ilk_ means _every_.
+
+[121-20] _Baith_ is Scotch for _both_.
+
+[121-21] _Daut_ means _pet_.
+
+[121-22] _Braw_ means _fine_, or _gay_.
+
+[121-23] _Leddies_ is the Scotch form of _ladies_.
+
+[121-24] _Bit_ means _little_.
+
+
+
+
+BOYHOOD
+
+_By_ WASHINGTON ALLSTON
+
+
+    Ah, then how sweetly closed those crowded days!
+    The minutes parting one by one like rays,
+      That fade upon a summer's eve.
+    But O, what charm or magic numbers
+    Can give me back the gentle slumbers
+      Those weary, happy days did leave?
+    When by my bed I saw my mother kneel,
+      And with her blessing took her nightly kiss;
+      Whatever Time destroys, he cannot this;--
+    E'en now that nameless kiss I feel.
+
+
+
+
+SWEET AND LOW
+
+
+     NOTE.--In Tennyson's long poem _The Princess_ is a little lullaby
+     so wonderfully sweet that all who have read it wish to read it
+     again. It is one that we all love, no matter whether we are little
+     children and hear it sung to us or are older children and look back
+     to the evenings when we listened to mother's loving voice as she
+     led us gently into the land of dreams while she watched patiently
+     for father's return.
+
+     Here are the stanzas which are usually known by the name _Sweet and
+     Low_:
+
+    Sweet and low, sweet and low,
+      Wind of the western sea,
+    Low, low, breathe and blow,
+      Wind of the western sea!
+    Over the rolling waters go,
+    Come from the dying moon, and blow,
+      Blow him again to me;
+    While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.
+
+    Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
+      Father will come to thee soon;
+    Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
+      Father will come to thee soon;
+    Father will come to his babe in the nest,
+    Silver sails all out of the west
+      Under the silver moon:
+    Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
+
+     It is interesting to try to determine just how a great poet makes
+     us feel so strongly the thing that he tells us. In this case
+     Tennyson thinks of a mother in England and a father who is
+     somewhere in the West, out on the broad Atlantic, but is coming
+     home to his little one. The mother dreams only of the home-coming
+     of her husband, and she wishes the baby to learn to love its father
+     as much as she does, so as she sings the little one to sleep, she
+     pours out her love for both in beautiful melody.
+
+     To express this mother-love and anxious care the poet has chosen
+     simple words that have rich, musical sounds, that can be spoken
+     easily and smoothly and that linger on the tongue. He speaks of the
+     sea, the gentle wind, the rolling waters, the dying moon and the
+     silver sails, all of which call up ideas that rest us and make us
+     happy, and then with rare skill he arranges the words so that when
+     we read the lines we can feel the gentle rocking movement that
+     lulls the little one, the pretty one into its gentle slumbers.
+
+
+
+
+CHILDHOOD[124-1]
+
+_By_ DONALD G. MITCHELL
+
+
+Isabel and I--she is my cousin, and is seven years old, and I am
+ten--are sitting together on the bank of a stream, under an oak tree
+that leans half way over to the water. I am much stronger than she, and
+taller by a head. I hold in my hands a little alder rod, with which I am
+fishing for the roach and minnows, that play in the pool below us.
+
+She is watching the cork tossing on the water, or playing with the
+captured fish that lie upon the bank. She has auburn ringlets that fall
+down upon her shoulders; and her straw hat lies back upon them, held
+only by the strip of ribbon, that passes under her chin. But the sun
+does not shine upon her head; for the oak tree above us is full of
+leaves; and only here and there, a dimple of the sunlight plays upon the
+pool, where I am fishing.
+
+Her eye is hazel, and bright; and now and then she turns it on me with a
+look of girlish curiosity, as I lift up my rod--and again in playful
+menace, as she grasps in her little fingers one of the dead fish, and
+threatens to throw it back upon the stream. Her little feet hang over
+the edge of the bank; and from time to time, she reaches down to dip her
+toe in the water; and laughs a girlish laugh of defiance, as I scold
+her for frightening away the fishes.
+
+"Bella," I say, "what if you should tumble in the river?"
+
+"But I won't."
+
+"Yes, but if you should?"
+
+[Illustration: SHE REACHES DOWN TO DIP HER TOE]
+
+"Why then you would pull me out."
+
+"But if I wouldn't pull you out?"
+
+"But I know you would; wouldn't you, Paul?"
+
+"What makes you think so, Bella?"
+
+"Because you love Bella."
+
+"How do you know I love Bella?"
+
+"Because once you told me so; and because you pick flowers for me that I
+cannot reach; and because you let me take your rod, when you have a fish
+upon it."
+
+"But that's no reason, Bella."
+
+"Then what is, Paul?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, Bella."
+
+A little fish has been nibbling for a long time at the bait; the cork
+has been bobbing up and down--and now he is fairly hooked, and pulls
+away toward the bank, and you cannot see the cork.
+
+"Here, Bella, quick!"--and she springs eagerly to clasp her little hands
+around the rod. But the fish has dragged it away on the other side of
+me; and as she reaches farther, and farther, she slips, cries--"Oh,
+Paul!" and falls into the water.
+
+The stream, they told us when we came, was over a man's head--it is
+surely over little Isabel's. I fling down the rod, and thrusting one
+hand into the roots that support the overhanging bank, I grasp at her
+hat, as she comes up; but the ribbons give way, and I see the terribly
+earnest look upon her face as she goes down again. Oh, my
+mother--thought I--if you were only here!
+
+But she rises again; this time, I thrust my hand into her dress, and
+struggling hard, keep her at the top, until I can place my foot down
+upon a projecting root; and so bracing myself, I drag her to the bank,
+and having climbed up, take hold of her belt firmly with both hands, and
+drag her out; and poor Isabel, choked, chilled, and wet, is lying upon
+the grass.
+
+I commence crying aloud. The workmen in the fields hear me, and come
+down. One takes Isabel in his arms, and I follow on foot to our uncle's
+home upon the hill.
+
+--"Oh, my dear children!" says my mother; and she takes Isabel in her
+arms; and presently with dry clothes, and blazing wood-fire, little
+Bella smiles again. I am at my mother's knee.
+
+"I told you so, Paul," says Isabel--"aunty, doesn't Paul love me?"
+
+"I hope so, Bella," said my mother.
+
+"I know so," said I; and kissed her cheek.
+
+And how did I know it? The boy does not ask; the man does. Oh, the
+freshness, the honesty, the vigor of a boy's heart! how the memory of it
+refreshes like the first gush of spring, or the break of an April
+shower!
+
+But boyhood has its PRIDE, as well as its LOVES.
+
+My uncle is a tall, hard-faced man; I fear him when he calls
+me--"child;" I love him when he calls me--"Paul." He is almost always
+busy with his books; and when I steal into the library door, as I
+sometimes do, with a string of fish, or a heaping basket of nuts to show
+to him--he looks for a moment curiously at them, sometimes takes them in
+his fingers--gives them back to me, and turns over the leaves of his
+book. You are afraid to ask him if you have not worked bravely; yet you
+want to do so.
+
+You sidle out softly, and go to your mother; she scarce looks at your
+little stores; but she draws you to her with her arm, and prints a kiss
+upon your forehead. Now your tongue is unloosed; that kiss and that
+action have done it; you will tell what capital luck you have had; and
+you hold up your tempting trophies; "are they not great, mother?" But
+she is looking in your face, and not at your prize.
+
+"Take them, mother," and you lay the basket upon her lap.
+
+"Thank you, Paul, I do not wish them: but you must give some to Bella."
+
+And away you go to find laughing, playful, cousin Isabel. And we sit
+down together on the grass, and I pour out my stores between us. "You
+shall take, Bella, what you wish in your apron, and then when study
+hours are over, we will have such a time down by the big rock in the
+meadow!"
+
+"But I do not know if papa will let me," says Isabel.
+
+"Bella," I say, "do you love your papa?"
+
+"Yes," says Bella, "why not?"
+
+"Because he is so cold; he does not kiss you, Bella, so often as my
+mother does; and besides, when he forbids your going away, he does not
+say, as mother does--my little girl will be tired, she had better not
+go--but he says only--Isabel must not go. I wonder what makes him talk
+so?"
+
+"Why Paul, he is a man, and doesn't--at any rate, I love him, Paul.
+Besides, my mother is sick, you know."
+
+"But Isabel, my mother will be your mother, too. Come, Bella, we will go
+ask her if we may go."
+
+And there I am, the happiest of boys, pleading with the kindest of
+mothers. And the young heart leans into that mother's heart--none of the
+void now that will overtake it in the years that are to come. It is
+joyous, full, and running over!
+
+"You may go," she says, "if your uncle is willing."
+
+"But mamma, I am afraid to ask him; I do not believe he loves me."
+
+"Don't say so, Paul," and she draws you to her side; as if she would
+supply by her own love the lacking love of a universe.
+
+"Go, with your cousin Isabel, and ask him kindly; and if he says
+no--make no reply."
+
+And with courage, we go hand in hand, and steal in at the library door.
+There he sits--I seem to see him now--in the old wainscoted room,
+covered over with books and pictures; and he wears his heavy-rimmed
+spectacles, and is poring over some big volume, full of hard words, that
+are not in any spelling-book.
+
+We step up softly; and Isabel lays her little hand upon his arm; and he
+turns, and says--"Well, my little daughter?"
+
+I ask if we may go down to the big rock in the meadow?
+
+He looks at Isabel, and says he is afraid--"we cannot go."
+
+"But why, uncle? It is only a little way, and we will be very careful."
+
+"I am afraid, my children; do not say any more: you can have the pony,
+and Tray, and play at home."
+
+"But, uncle----"
+
+"You need say no more, my child."
+
+I pinch the hand of little Isabel, and look in her eye--my own half
+filling with tears. I feel that my forehead is flushed, and I hide it
+behind Bella's tresses--whispering to her at the same time--"Let us go."
+
+"What, sir," says my uncle, mistaking my meaning--"do you persuade her
+to disobey?"
+
+Now I am angry, and say blindly--"No, sir, I didn't!" And then my rising
+pride will not let me say, that I wished only Isabel should go out with
+me.
+
+Bella cries; and I shrink out; and am not easy until I have run to bury
+my head in my mother's bosom. Alas! pride cannot always find such
+covert! There will be times when it will harass you strangely; when it
+will peril friendships--will sever old, standing intimacy; and then--no
+resource but to feed on its own bitterness. Hateful pride!--to be
+conquered, as a man would conquer an enemy, or it will make whirlpools
+in the current of your affections--nay, turn the whole tide of the heart
+into rough and unaccustomed channels.
+
+But boyhood has its GRIEF too, apart from PRIDE.
+
+You love the old dog, Tray; and Bella loves him as well as you. He is a
+noble old fellow, with shaggy hair, and long ears, and big paws, that he
+will put up into your hands, if you ask him. And he never gets angry
+when you play with him, and tumble him over in the long grass, and pull
+his silken ears. Sometimes, to be sure, he will open his mouth, as if he
+would bite, but when he gets your hand fairly in his jaws, he will
+scarce leave the print of his teeth upon it. He will swim, too, bravely,
+and bring ashore all the sticks you throw upon the water; and when you
+fling a stone to tease him, he swims round and round, and whines, and
+looks sorry, that he cannot find it.
+
+He will carry a heaping basket full of nuts, too, in his mouth, and
+never spill one of them; and when you come out to your uncle's home in
+the spring, after staying a whole winter in the town, he knows you--old
+Tray does! And he leaps upon you, and lays his paws on your shoulder,
+and licks your face; and is almost as glad to see you, as cousin Bella
+herself. And when you put Bella on his back for a ride, he only
+pretends to bite her little feet--but he wouldn't do it for the world.
+Ay, Tray is a noble old dog!
+
+But one summer, the farmers say that some of their sheep are killed, and
+that the dogs have worried them; and one of them comes to talk with my
+uncle about it.
+
+But Tray never worried sheep; you know he never did; and so does nurse;
+and so does Bella; for in the spring, she had a pet lamb, and Tray never
+worried little Fidele.
+
+And one or two of the dogs that belong to the neighbors are shot; though
+nobody knows who shot them; and you have great fears about poor Tray;
+and try to keep him at home, and fondle him more than ever. But Tray
+will sometimes wander off; till finally, one afternoon, he comes back
+whining piteously, and with his shoulder all bloody.
+
+Little Bella cries loud; and you almost cry, as nurse dresses the wound;
+and poor old Tray whines very sadly. You pat his head, and Bella pats
+him; and you sit down together by him on the floor of the porch, and
+bring a rug for him to lie upon; and try and tempt him with a little
+milk, and Bella brings a piece of cake for him--but he will eat nothing.
+You sit up till very late, long after Bella has gone to bed, patting his
+head, and wishing you could do something for poor Tray; but he only
+licks your hand, and whines more piteously than ever.
+
+In the morning, you dress early, and hurry downstairs; but Tray is not
+lying on the rug; and you run through the house to find him, and
+whistle, and call--Tray--Tray! At length you see him lying in his old
+place, out by the cherry tree, and you run to him; but he does not
+start; and you lean down to pat him--but he is cold, and the dew is wet
+upon him--poor Tray is dead!
+
+[Illustration: POOR TRAY IS DEAD]
+
+You take his head upon your knees, and pat again those glossy ears, and
+cry; but you cannot bring him to life. And Bella comes, and cries with
+you. You can hardly bear to have him put in the ground; but uncle says
+he must be buried. So one of the workmen digs a grave under the cherry
+tree, where he died--a deep grave, and they round it over with earth,
+and smooth the sods upon it--even now I can trace Tray's grave.
+
+You and Bella together put up a little slab for a tombstone; and she
+hangs flowers upon it, and ties them there with a bit of ribbon. You
+can scarce play all that day; and afterward, many weeks later, when you
+are rambling over the fields, or lingering by the brook, throwing off
+sticks into the eddies, you think of old Tray's shaggy coat, and of his
+big paw, and of his honest eye; and the memory of your boyish grief
+comes upon you; and you say with tears, "Poor Tray!" And Bella too, in
+her sad sweet tones, says--"Poor old Tray--he is dead!"
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[124-1] From _Reveries of a Bachelor_, by Donald G. Mitchell (Ik
+Marvel).
+
+
+
+
+THE BUGLE SONG
+
+_By_ ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+
+      The splendor falls on castle walls
+        And snowy summits old in story:
+      The long light shakes across the lakes,
+        And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
+        And thinner, clearer, farther going!
+      O sweet and far from cliff and scar
+        The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
+    Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+      O love, they die in yon rich sky,
+        They faint on hill or field or river:
+      Or echoes roll from soul to soul,
+        And grow for ever and for ever.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE IMITATION OF CHRIST
+
+_By_ THOMAS a KEMPIS
+
+OF FOLLOWING CHRIST AND DESPISING ALL WORLDLY VANITIES
+
+
+Our Lord saith: he that followeth me walketh not in darkness.
+
+These are the words of Christ in the which we are admonished to follow
+his life and his manners if we would be truly enlightened and be
+delivered from all manner of blindness of heart.
+
+Wherefore let our chief study be upon the life of Jesus Christ.
+
+Sublime words make not a man holy and righteous, but it is a virtuous
+life that maketh him dear to God.
+
+I desire rather to know compunction than its definition. If thou knewest
+all the sayings of all the philosophers, what should that avail thee
+without charity and grace?
+
+All other things in the world, save only to love God and serve him, are
+vanity of vanities and all vanity.
+
+And it is vanity also to desire honour and for a man to lift himself on
+high.
+
+And it is vanity to follow the desires of the flesh and to desire the
+thing for which man must afterward grievously be punished.
+
+And it is vanity to desire a long life and to take no care to live a
+good life.
+
+And it is vanity for a man to take heed only to this present life and
+not to see before those things that are to come.
+
+Study therefore to withdraw thy heart from love of things visible and
+turn thee to things invisible.
+
+For they that follow their senses stain their consciences and lose the
+grace of God.
+
+
+OF A HUMBLE OPINION OF OURSELVES
+
+Every man naturally desireth knowledge; but knowledge without love and
+fear of God, what availeth it?
+
+Certainly the meek plow-man that serveth God is much better than the
+proud philosopher that, taking no heed of his own living, studies the
+course of the stars.
+
+He that knoweth himself well is lowly in his own sight and hath no
+delight in man's praises.
+
+If I knew all things that are in the world and had not charity, what
+should that help me before God who shall judge me according to my deeds?
+
+Unwise is he that more attendeth to other things than to the health of
+his soul.
+
+Many words fill not the soul; but a good life refresheth the mind and a
+pure conscience giveth a great confidence in God.
+
+The more thou canst do and the better that thou canst do, the more
+grievously thou shalt be judged unless thou live holily.
+
+Think not highly of thyself but rather acknowledge thine ignorance.
+
+If thou wilt learn and know anything profitably, love to be unknown and
+to be accounted as of little worth.
+
+
+OF THE TEACHING OF TRUTH
+
+Blissful is he whom truth itself teacheth, not by figures or voices, but
+as it is.
+
+What availeth great searching of dark and hidden things for the which we
+shall not be blamed in the judgment though we know them not?
+
+He to whom the Word Everlasting speaketh is delivered from a multitude
+of opinions. Of one Word came all things, and all things speak one word;
+that is the Beginning that speaketh to us. No man without the Word
+understandeth or judgeth righteously.
+
+He to whom all things are one and who draweth all things to one and
+seeth all things in one may be quiet in heart and peaceably abide in
+God.
+
+O God of truth, make me one with thee in everlasting love!
+
+Ofttimes it wearieth me to hear and read many things; in thee Lord is
+all that I wish and can desire.
+
+Let all teachers hold their peace and all manner of creatures keep their
+silence in thy sight: Speak thou alone to me!
+
+Who hath a stronger battle than he that useth force to overcome himself?
+This should be our occupation, to overcome ourselves and every day to be
+stronger and somewhat holier.
+
+Meek knowing of thyself is more acceptable to God than deep inquiry
+after knowledge.
+
+Knowledge or bare and simple knowing of things is not to be blamed, the
+which, in itself considered, is good and ordained of God: but a good
+conscience and a virtuous life is ever to be preferred.
+
+And forasmuch as many people study more to have knowledge than to live
+well, therefore ofttimes they err and bring forth little fruit or none.
+
+Certainly at the day of doom it shall not be asked of us what we have
+read but what we have done; nor what good we have spoken but how
+religiously we have lived.
+
+Verily he is great that in himself is little and meek and setteth at
+naught all height of honour. Verily he is great that hath great love.
+Verily he is prudent that deemeth all earthly things foul so that he may
+win Christ. And he is verily well learned that doth the will of God and
+forsaketh his own will.
+
+
+OF WISDOM IN MAN'S ACTIONS
+
+It is not fit to give credence to every word nor to every suggestion,
+but every thing is to be weighed according to God, warily and in
+leisure.
+
+Alas, rather is evil believed of another man than good; we are so weak.
+
+But the perfect believe not easily all things that men tell, for they
+know man's infirmity, ready to speak evil and careless enough in words.
+
+Hereto it belongeth also not to believe every man's words, nor to tell
+other men what we hear or carelessly believe.
+
+Have thy counsel with a wise man and a man of conscience and seek rather
+to be taught by thy betters than to follow thine own inventions.
+
+Good life maketh a man wise in God's sight and expert in many things.
+
+The more meek that a man is and the more subject to God the more wise
+shall he be in all things--and the more patient.
+
+
+OF READING THE SCRIPTURES
+
+Truth is to be sought in holy writings, not in eloquence. Every holy
+writing ought to be read with the same spirit wherewith it was made.
+
+We ought in Scriptures rather to seek profitableness than subtle
+language.
+
+We ought as gladly to read simple and devout books as high and profound
+ones.
+
+Let not the authority of him that writeth, whether he be of great name
+or little, change thy thought, but let the love of pure truth draw thee
+to read.
+
+Ask not who said this, but take heed what is said. Man passeth, but the
+truth of the Lord abideth everlastingly.
+
+God speaketh to us in diverse ways without respect to persons.
+
+If thou wilt draw profit in reading, read meekly, simply and truly, not
+desiring to have a reputation for knowledge.
+
+
+OF INORDINATE AFFECTIONS
+
+Whenever a man coveteth anything inordinately, anon is he disquieted in
+himself.
+
+The proud man and covetous hath never rest: the poor and the meek in
+spirit dwell in peace.
+
+The man that is not perfectly dead to himself is soon tempted and soon
+overcome by small things and things of little price.
+
+In withstanding passions and not in serving them, standeth peace of
+heart.
+
+There is no peace in the heart of the carnal man nor in him that is all
+given to outward things; but in the fervent, spiritual man is peace.
+
+
+OF SHUNNING TOO GREAT FAMILIARITY
+
+Show not thy heart to every man but bring thy cause to him that is wise
+and feareth God.
+
+Converse rarely with young people and strangers.
+
+Flatter not rich men and seek not great men; but keep company thyself
+with meek and simple men and talk of such things as will edify.
+
+Be not familiar to any woman; but generally commend all good women to
+God.
+
+Desire to be familiar with God and with his angels and avoid knowledge
+of men. Love is to be given to all men, but familiarity is not
+expedient.
+
+It happeneth some times that a person unknown shineth by his bright
+fame, whose presence offendeth and maketh dark the eyes of the
+beholders. We often hope to please others by our being and living with
+them, but often we displease them through the bad manners they find in
+us.
+
+
+OF SHUNNING MANY WORDS
+
+Avoid noise and the press of men as much as thou mayest: for talking of
+worldly deeds, though they be brought forth with true and simple
+intention, hindereth much: for we be soon defiled and led into vanity.
+
+I have wished myself ofttimes to have held my peace and not to have been
+among men. Why speak we and talk we together so gladly, since seldom we
+come home without hurting of conscience?
+
+We talk so oft together because by such speaking we seek comfort each
+from the other and to relieve the heart that is made weary with many
+thoughts; and we speak much of such things as we love or desire or such
+things as we dislike. But, alas, it is ofttimes vainly and fruitlessly,
+for such outward comfort is a great hindering to inward and heavenly
+consolation. Therefore we ought to watch and pray that our time pass not
+idly by.
+
+
+OF FLEEING FROM VAIN HOPE AND ELATION
+
+He is vain that putteth his hope in men or in other created things.
+
+Be not ashamed to serve other men for the love of Jesus Christ and to be
+considered poor in this world. Stand not upon thyself but set thy trust
+in God. Do what in thee is and God shall be nigh to thy good will.
+
+Trust not in thine own knowledge nor in the skill of any man living; but
+rather in the grace of God that helpeth meek folk and maketh low them
+that are proud.
+
+Rejoice thee not in riches if thou have any, nor in friends if they be
+mighty; but in God that giveth all things and above all things desireth
+to give Himself.
+
+Rejoice not for thy greatness nor for the beauty of that body which is
+corrupted and disfigured with a little sickness.
+
+Please not thyself for thy ability or for thy wit lest thou displease
+God of whom cometh all the good that thou hast naturally.
+
+Account not thyself better than others, lest peradventure thou be held
+worse in the sight of God that knoweth what is in man.
+
+Be not proud of good works; for God's judgments are otherwise than
+thine. Ofttimes what pleaseth man displeaseth God.
+
+If thou hast any good things in thee believe better things of others
+that thou mayest keep thy humility.
+
+It hurteth thee not to be set under all men: it might hinder thee if
+thou settest thyself afore others.
+
+Continual peace is with the meek man, but in the heart of the proud man
+are often envy and indignation.
+
+     Thomas a Kempis was born in the latter part of the fourteenth
+     century and lived to a good old age. His name in full was Thomas
+     Haemercken, but as he was born in the town of Kempen he has been
+     generally known by the title above given. The _Imitation_ was
+     written slowly, a little at a time, and as the result of reading,
+     reflection and prayer.
+
+     The very brief selections given above are condensed from the first
+     ten chapters of the first book. While in the main following the
+     best translation of the original, the language has been simplified
+     in a few places.
+
+
+
+
+THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB
+
+_By_ LORD BYRON
+
+
+     NOTE.--Byron takes for granted his readers' knowledge of the events
+     with which this poem deals; that is, he does not tell the whole
+     story. Indeed, he gives us very few facts. Is there, for instance,
+     in the poem any hint as to who Sennacherib was, or as to who the
+     enemy was that the Assyrians came against? But if we turn to the
+     eighteenth and nineteenth chapters of _Second Kings_, we shall find
+     the whole account of Sennacherib, king of Assyria, and his
+     expedition against the Hebrew people. The climax of the story, with
+     which this poem deals, is to be found in _Second Kings_, xix, 35.
+
+    The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
+    And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold,
+    And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
+    When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
+
+    Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
+    That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
+    Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
+    That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.
+
+    For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
+    And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
+    And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
+    And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still.
+
+    And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
+    But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride:
+    And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
+    And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
+
+    And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
+    With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
+    And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
+    The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
+
+    And the widows of Ashur[142-1] are loud in their wail,
+    And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal,[142-2]
+    And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
+    Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[142-1] _Ashur_ is the Assyrian form of our word _Assyria_.
+
+[142-2] Baal was the chief god of the Assyrians.
+
+
+
+
+RUTH
+
+
+     NOTE.--This charming story may be found complete in the book of
+     _Ruth_ in the Old Testament by those who wish the literal Bible
+     narrative as it is there given.
+
+     Little is known as to the date of the writing of the book of
+     _Ruth_. Some authorities believe that it was written earlier than
+     500 B.C., while others contend that it was not written until much
+     later. As to the purpose, also, there are differences of opinion;
+     is the book merely a religious romance, told to point a moral, or
+     is it an historical narrative meant to give information as to the
+     ancestry of David? Whichever is true, the story is a delightful
+     one, and we enjoy reading it just as we do any other story, apart
+     from its Biblical interest.
+
+I
+
+Now it came to pass in the days when the judges ruled in Judah that
+there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem-Judah
+went to sojourn in the country of Moab, he, and his wife and his two
+sons. Together they came into the land and continued there; but the man
+died, and the wife was left, and her two sons.
+
+And they took them wives of the women of Moab; the name of the one was
+Orpah, and the name of the other was Ruth; and they dwelled there about
+ten years. Then the two sons died also both of them; and the woman,
+Naomi, their mother, alone was left of the family that came into Moab.
+
+Then she arose with her daughters-in-law, that she might return from the
+country of Moab; for she had heard in the country of Moab how that the
+Lord had visited his people in giving them bread.
+
+Wherefore she went forth out of the place where she was, and her two
+daughters-in-law with her; and they went on the way to return unto the
+land of Judah.
+
+But Naomi said unto her two daughters-in-law, "Go, return each to her
+mother's house. The Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with the
+dead, and with me. The Lord grant you that ye may find rest again, each
+in the house of her husband."
+
+Then she kissed them; and they lifted up their voices and wept, and said
+unto her, "Surely we will return with thee unto thy people."
+
+Naomi said, "Turn again, my daughters, why will you go with me? Have I
+yet any more sons that may be your husbands? Nay, it grieveth me much
+for your sakes that the hand of the Lord is gone out against me. Turn
+again my daughters; go your way."
+
+Again they lifted up their voice and wept, and Orpah kissed her
+mother-in-law, but Ruth clave unto her.
+
+Naomi said, "Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone back unto her people, and
+unto her gods; return thou after thy sister-in-law."
+
+And Ruth said, "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from
+following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou
+lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my
+God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord
+do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me."
+
+When Naomi saw that Ruth was steadfastly minded to go with her, then she
+left speaking unto her. So they two went until they came to Bethlehem.
+
+[Illustration: "WHITHER THOU GOEST, I WILL GO"]
+
+There it came to pass that all the city was moved about them, and the
+people said, "Is this Naomi?"
+
+"Call me not Naomi," she said unto them. "Call me Mara: for the Almighty
+hath dealt very bitterly with me.[146-1] I went out full and the Lord
+hath brought me home again empty: why then call me Naomi, seeing the
+Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me?"
+
+So Naomi returned, and Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter-in-law, with
+her, which returned out of the country of Moab: and they came to
+Bethlehem in the beginning of barley harvest.
+
+
+II
+
+Naomi had a kinsman of her husband's, a mighty man of wealth; and his
+name was Boaz.
+
+And Ruth said unto Naomi, "Let me now go to the field, and glean ears of
+corn after him in whose sight I shall find grace." And Naomi answered,
+"Go, my daughter."
+
+And she went, and came, and gleaned in the field after the reapers: and
+her hap was to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz.
+
+And, behold, Boaz came from Bethlehem and said unto the reapers, "The
+Lord be with you."
+
+And the reapers answered him, "The Lord bless thee." Then said Boaz unto
+his servant that was set over the reapers, "Whose damsel is this?"
+
+And the servant answered and said, "It is the Moabitish damsel that came
+back with Naomi out of the country of Moab. And she said, 'I pray you,
+let me glean and gather after the reapers among the sheaves': so she
+came, and hath continued even from the morning until now, that she
+tarried a little in the house."
+
+Boaz said unto Ruth, "Hearest thou not, my daughter? Go not to glean in
+another field, neither go from hence, but abide here fast by my maidens.
+Let thine eyes be on the field that they do reap, and go thou after
+them: have I not charged the young men that they shall not touch thee?
+and when thou art athirst, go unto the vessels, and drink of that which
+the young men have drawn."
+
+[Illustration: RUTH GLEANING]
+
+Then she fell on her face and bowed herself to the ground, and said unto
+him, "Why have I found grace in thine eyes, that thou shouldest take
+knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger?"
+
+And Boaz answered and said unto her, "It hath fully been shewed me, all
+that thou hast done unto thy mother-in-law since the death of thine
+husband: and how thou hast left thy father and thy mother, and the land
+of thy nativity, and art come unto a people which thou knewest not
+heretofore. The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given
+thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to
+trust."
+
+Then she said, "Let me find favour in thy sight, my lord; for that thou
+hast comforted me, and for that thou hast spoken friendly unto thine
+handmaid, though I be not like unto one of thine handmaidens."
+
+And Boaz said unto her, "At mealtime come thou hither, and eat of the
+bread and dip thy morsel in the vinegar."
+
+And she sat beside the reapers; and he reached her parched corn, and she
+did eat, and was sufficed and left.
+
+And when she was risen up to glean again, Boaz commanded his young men,
+saying, "Let her glean even among the sheaves and reproach her not; and
+let fall also some handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she
+may glean them, and rebuke her not."
+
+So she gleaned in the field until even, and beat out that she had
+gleaned: and it was about an ephah[148-2] of barley. And she took it up,
+and went into the city: and her mother-in-law saw what she had gleaned.
+
+And her mother-in-law said unto her, "Where hast thou gleaned to-day?
+and where wroughtest thou? blessed be he that did take knowledge of
+thee."
+
+And she showed her mother-in-law with whom she had wrought, and said,
+"The man's name with whom I wrought to-day is Boaz."
+
+And Naomi said unto her daughter-in-law, "Blessed be he of the Lord, who
+hath not left off his kindness to the living and to the dead." And Naomi
+said unto her, "The man is near of kin unto us, one of our next
+kinsmen."
+
+And Ruth the Moabitess said, "He said unto me also, 'Thou shalt keep
+fast by my young men, until they have ended all my harvest.'"
+
+And Naomi said unto Ruth, her daughter-in-law, "It is good, my daughter,
+that thou go out with his maidens, that they meet thee not in any other
+field."
+
+So she kept fast by the maidens of Boaz to glean unto the end of barley
+harvest and of wheat harvest; and dwelt with her mother-in-law.
+
+
+III
+
+Then Naomi, her mother-in-law, said unto Ruth, "My daughter, shall I not
+seek rest for thee, that it may be well with thee? And now is not Boaz
+of our kindred, with whose maidens thou wast? Behold he winnoweth barley
+to-night in the threshing floor. Wash thyself, therefore, and anoint
+thee, and put thy raiment upon thee and get thee down to the floor, and
+he will tell thee what to do."
+
+And Ruth said, "All that thou sayest unto me, that will I do."
+
+Therefore went she down unto the threshing floor and did according to
+all that her mother-in-law bade her. And Boaz saw her and loved her and
+asked her, "Who art thou?"
+
+She answered, "I am Ruth, thy handmaid."
+
+And Boaz said, "Blessed be thou of the Lord, my daughter, and fear not,
+for all the city of my people doth know thou art a virtuous woman. And
+now it is true that I am thy near kinsman: howbeit, there is a kinsman
+nearer than I. Tarry this night, and it shall be in the morning that if
+he will perform unto thee the part of a kinsman, well; let him do the
+kinsman's part. But if he will not do the part of a kinsman to thee,
+then will I do the part of the kinsman to thee, as the Lord liveth.
+Bring now the vail that thou hast upon thee and hold it."
+
+And when she held it, he measured six measures of barley, and laid it on
+her, and she returned into the city.
+
+When now she came to her mother, Naomi asked, "Who art thou?" And Ruth
+told her all that the man had said and done, and said, "These six
+measures of barley gave he me, for he said to me, 'Go not empty unto thy
+mother-in-law.'"
+
+Then said Naomi, "Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter
+will fall; for the man will not be in rest until he have finished the
+thing this day."
+
+
+IV
+
+Then went Boaz up to the gate and sat him down there; and, behold, the
+kinsman of whom Boaz spoke, came by; unto whom Boaz said, "Ho, such a
+one! turn aside, sit down here." And he turned aside and sat down.
+
+And Boaz took also ten men of the elders of the city and said, "Sit ye
+down here." And they sat down.
+
+Then said Boaz unto the kinsman, "Naomi, that is come again out of the
+land of Moab, selleth a parcel of land, which was our brother's. And I
+thought to ask thee to buy it before the inhabitants and before the
+elders of my people. If thou wilt redeem it, redeem it; but if thou wilt
+not redeem it, then tell me, that I may know: for there is none to
+redeem it beside thee, and I am after thee. And what day thou buyest it
+of the hand of Naomi, thou must buy it also of Ruth the Moabitess, the
+wife of the dead."
+
+And the kinsman said, "I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I mar mine
+own inheritance; redeem thou my right to thyself: for I cannot redeem
+it."
+
+Now this was the manner in former time in Israel, concerning redeeming
+and concerning changing, for to confirm all things: a man plucked off
+his shoe and gave it to his neighbor; and this was a testimony in
+Israel. Therefore the kinsman said unto Boaz, "Buy it for thee." So he
+drew off his shoe.
+
+And Boaz said unto the elders and all the people, "Ye are witnesses this
+day that I have bought all that was Naomi's husband's and all that was
+her son's of the hand of Naomi. Moreover, Ruth the Moabitess, the wife
+of my kinsman that is dead, have I purchased to be my wife, that the
+name of the dead be not cut off from among his brethren, and from the
+gate of his place: ye are witnesses this day."
+
+And all the people that were there in the gate, and the elders, said,
+"We are witnesses. The Lord make the woman that is come into thine house
+like Rachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel: and
+do thou worthily and be famous in Bethlehem."
+
+So Boaz took Ruth, and she was his wife, and she bare him a son. And the
+women said unto Naomi, "Blessed be the Lord that hath not left thee this
+day without a kinsman, that his name may be famous in Israel. And he
+shall be unto thee a restorer of thy life, and a nourisher of thine old
+age; for thy daughter-in-law which loveth thee, which is better to thee
+than seven sons, hath borne him."
+
+And Naomi took the child and laid it in her bosom, and became nurse unto
+it. And the women, her neighbors, gave it a name, saying, "There is a
+son born to Naomi, and his name is Obed."
+
+This same Obed is the father of Jesse, who is the father of David.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[146-1] _Naomi_ means _pleasant_, while _Mara_ means _bitter_.
+
+[148-2] The _ephah_ was equal to about two pecks and five quarts.
+
+
+
+
+THE VISION OF BELSHAZZAR
+
+_By_ LORD BYRON
+
+
+     NOTE.--According to the account given in the fifth chapter of
+     _Daniel_, Belshazzar was the last king of Babylon, and the son of
+     the great king Nebuchadnezzar, who had destroyed Jerusalem and
+     taken the Jewish people captive to Babylon. The dramatic incident
+     with which the second stanza of Byron's poem deals is thus
+     described:
+
+     "In the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote
+     over against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the
+     king's palace; and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote."
+
+     After all the Babylonian wise men had tried in vain to read the
+     writing, the "captive in the land," Daniel, was sent for, and he
+     interpreted the mystery.
+
+     "And this is the writing that was written, MENE, MENE, TEKEL,
+     UPHARSIN.
+
+     "This is the interpretation of the thing: MENE; God hath numbered
+     thy kingdom, and finished it.
+
+     "TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.
+
+     "PERES; Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and
+     Persians."
+
+     The fulfillment of the prophecy thus declared by Daniel is
+     described thus briefly: "In that night was Belshazzar the king of
+     the Chaldeans slain. And Darius the Median took the kingdom."
+
+    The King was on his throne,
+      The Satraps[153-1] throng'd the hall;
+    A thousand bright lamps shone
+      O'er that high festival.
+    A thousand cups of gold,
+      In Judah deem'd divine--
+    Jehovah's vessels hold[154-2]
+      The godless Heathen's wine.
+
+    In that same hour and hall
+      The fingers of a Hand
+    Came forth against the wall,
+      And wrote as if on sand:
+    The fingers of a man;--
+      A solitary hand
+    Along the letters ran,
+      And traced them like a wand.
+
+    The monarch saw, and shook,
+      And bade no more rejoice;
+    All bloodless wax'd his look,
+      And tremulous his voice:--
+    "Let the men of lore appear,
+      The wisest of the earth,
+    And expound the words of fear,
+      Which mar our royal mirth."
+
+    Chaldea's[154-3] seers are good,
+      But here they have no skill;
+    And the unknown letters stood
+      Untold and awful still.
+    And Babel's[154-4] men of age
+      Are wise and deep in lore;
+    But now they were not sage,
+      They saw--but knew no more.
+
+[Illustration: THE WRITING ON THE WALL]
+
+    A Captive in the land,
+      A stranger and a youth,
+    He heard the king's command,
+      He saw that writing's truth;
+    The lamps around were bright,
+      The prophecy in view;
+    He read it on that night,--
+      The morrow proved it true!
+
+    "Belshazzar's grave is made,
+      His kingdom pass'd away,
+    He, in the balance weigh'd,
+      Is light and worthless clay;
+    The shroud, his robe of state;
+      His canopy, the stone:
+    The Mede is at his gate!
+      The Persian on his throne!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[153-1] The satraps were the governors of the provinces, who ruled under
+the king and were accountable to him.
+
+[154-2] These were the sacred "vessels that were taken out of the temple
+of the house of God which was at Jerusalem."
+
+[154-3] The terms _Chaldea_ and _Babylonia_ were used practically
+synonymously.
+
+[154-4] _Babel_ is a shortened form of _Babylon_.
+
+
+
+
+SOHRAB AND RUSTEM
+
+RUSTEM
+
+
+The Persians have a great epic which is to them about what the _Iliad_
+and the _Odyssey_ were to the Greeks and the _AEneid_ was to the Romans.
+In character, however, the Persian epic is more like the English
+narrative _Morte d' Arthur_, from which readings will be found elsewhere
+in these volumes. This wonderful poem, the _Shah Nameh_, relates
+exploits of the Shahs of Persia for a period that is supposed to extend
+over more than three thousand years. It was written by Firdusi, a famous
+Persian poet, toward the close of the tenth century, and is filled with
+tales of the marvelous adventures and stirring achievements of national
+heroes. Fierce monsters like those that appear in the legendary tales of
+all nations stalk through its pages, and magicians, good and bad, work
+their enchantments for and against the devoted Persians. The imagination
+of Eastern writers is more vivid than that of the Europeans, and for
+that reason the stories are more full of thrilling episodes and
+supernatural occurrences.
+
+Chief among the heroes is Rustem, who seems to have lived through many
+centuries, and to have been the one great defender of the Persian
+throne. From the cradle he was marked for renown, for he was larger,
+stronger and healthier than any other babe that was ever born. His
+mother alone could not feed him, and ten nurses were required to
+satisfy the infant's hunger. His father, Zal, the white-haired, looked
+with pride upon his growing son, who as soon as he was weaned fell upon
+bread and meat as his only diet and required as much of them as would
+feed five ordinary men. Such a child ought to make a wonderful man, and
+this one fulfilled the highest hopes of his parents, for he became
+taller in stature, broader in shoulders, deeper in the chest and
+stronger in all his muscles than any other man the Persian race had ever
+known.
+
+His childish exploits were quite as wonderful as those of his later
+years. One night he was awakened from his slumbers by hearing the
+servants say that the great white elephant on which his father rode on
+state occasions had broken loose and was running about the royal
+gardens, mad with rage, pulling up the trees, tearing down buildings and
+killing every one that came in his way. Not a man dared stand against
+the fierce beast, and though the archers had tried again and again their
+weapons had no effect upon him.
+
+Rustem rose from his couch, put on his clothes, caught from the wall the
+huge club his grandfather had owned, and made for the door of his
+chamber.
+
+"Where are you going? What will you do?" cried the frightened servants.
+
+"Open the door. I must stop that elephant before he does greater
+damage," answered the boy.
+
+One of his serving men, braver than the rest, opposed the boy. "I dare
+not obey you," said the man; "your father would never forgive me if I
+let you go forth to be slain by that ferocious beast whose broken chains
+clank about his legs and whose huge trunk brings destruction to
+everything it strikes. You will be knocked down and trampled to death.
+This is pure folly!"
+
+"Out of my way," cried the enraged Rustem. "You rush upon your own
+doom."
+
+Almost blind with anger, the furious youth swung his club about him and
+struck the faithful servant so fearful a blow that his head was knocked
+from his body and rolled along the floor like a huge ball. The other
+servants fled to the corners of the room and gave Rustem a clear path.
+One blow from his great club broke the iron balls from the door and sent
+it flying from its hinges. Shouldering his club Rustem hurried into the
+garden, where he soon found the maddened elephant in the midst of the
+ruin he was making. When the unwieldy animal saw the boy approaching it
+rushed at him with savage bellowings, swinging its long, powerful trunk
+from side to side in great circles. The terrible spectacle frightened
+Rustem not in the least, and the dauntless youth rushed forward and
+struck the elephant a single blow full in its forehead. The great legs
+trembled and bent, the huge body tottered and fell, making a mountain of
+quivering flesh. Rustem calmly shouldered his club, returned to his
+chamber, and finished his sleep.
+
+As Rustem grew to manhood he became the owner of a great horse little
+less wonderful than his master. Raksh, for that was the animal's name,
+not only carried Rustem in war and in the chase, but he fought for his
+master in every conflict, watched over him in his sleep, and defended
+him with human intelligence. On one of his expeditions Rustem lay down
+to sleep near the den of a lion, that as he came forth to hunt at night
+saw the horse and rider asleep before him. The lion, knowing that if he
+could kill the horse the man would not get away, made ready to spring
+upon Raksh, but that wary animal was sleeping with one eye open and met
+the leaping lion more than half way with two great hoofs planted
+squarely in his face. Before the astonished animal could recover his
+senses Raksh seized him by the back and beat his life out upon the
+ground.
+
+Of Rustem's countless struggles with dragons, witches, genii and other
+strange beings, and of the wonderful battles by which he defended the
+throne of Persia, we cannot stop to read. They were all very similar in
+one respect at least, for always he escaped from deadly peril by his own
+wisdom and strength, aided often, as we have said, by Raksh. But there
+is one part of his life, one series of more than human adventures that
+we ought to know.
+
+One day Rustem was hunting over a plain on the borders of Tartary when
+he discovered a large herd of wild asses. No animal could outstrip
+Raksh, and so his master was soon among the herd, killing the animals to
+right and left. Some he slew with the arrows of his strong bow, others
+he lassoed and killed with his trusty club. When his love for hunting
+was satisfied he built a fire, roasted one of the asses and prepared for
+a great feast. In time even his sharp appetite was quenched, and lying
+down upon his blanket he was soon buried in a sound slumber.
+
+As he slept Raksh wandered about the plains quietly feeding. Without
+noticing it he strayed far away from his master, and in fact quite out
+of sight.
+
+Then it happened that seven Tartars who had been following Raksh made a
+dash at him and tried to capture him with their lassoes. The noble horse
+fought them manfully, killing two of them with the blows of his forefeet
+and biting the head from the shoulders of another. But the ropes from
+the lassoes became tangled with his legs, and even the marvelous Raksh
+was at last thrown, overpowered and led struggling away.
+
+When Rustem awoke his first thought was for his horse, but though he
+looked everywhere the faithful animal was not in sight. Such a thing had
+never happened before, and Rustem grew pale with sorrow and dread.
+
+"What can I do without my noble charger?" he said. "How can I carry my
+arrows, club and other weapons? How can I defend myself? Moreover, I
+shall be the laughingstock of friends and enemies alike, for all will
+say that in my carelessness I slept and allowed my horse to be stolen."
+
+At last he discovered the tracks of Raksh in the dust of the plain, and
+following them with difficulty he found himself at the town of Samengan.
+The king and nobles of the town knew Rustem, but seemed surprised to see
+him come walking. The wanderer explained what had happened, and the wily
+monarch answered, "Have no fear, noble Rustem. Every one knows your
+wonderful horse Raksh, and soon some one will come and bring him to you.
+I will even send many men to search for him. In the meantime, rest with
+us and be happy. We will entertain you with the best, and in pleasure
+you will forget your loss till Raksh is returned to you."
+
+This plan pleased Rustem, and the king kept his word in royal
+entertainments in which he served his guest with grave humility.
+Moreover, the princess Tehmina likewise served Rustem with becoming
+grace and dignity. No maiden was ever more beautiful. She was tall as
+the cypress and as graceful as a gazelle. Her neck and shoulders were
+like ivory; her hair, black and shiny as a raven's wings, hung in two
+long braids down her back, as the Persian horseman loops his lasso to
+his saddle bow; her lips were like twin rubies, and her black brilliant
+eyes glanced from highly-arched eye-brows.
+
+Rustem fell deeply in love with the fair maiden as soon as he saw her,
+and at the first opportunity told her of his affection. Tehmina then
+confessed that she had long loved Rustem from the reports she had heard
+of his noble character and deeds of great prowess. The capture of Raksh
+was a part of her plan for meeting the owner, for she felt sure he would
+follow the animal's track to her father's capital. All this served to
+make more strong the love of Rustem, who immediately demanded of the
+king his daughter's hand in marriage. The king, glad enough to have so
+powerful a man for his son, consented willingly to the match, and after
+they were married amid great rejoicings, Rustem settled down at the
+court in quiet enjoyment of his new-found home.
+
+A powerful man like Rustem cannot always remain in idleness, however,
+and when news came to him that the Persian king was in need of his
+greatest warrior, Rustem took his lasso, his bow and arrows and his
+club, mounted Raksh and rode away. Before going, however, he took from
+his arm an onyx bracelet that had been his father's, and calling
+Tehmina to him handed it to her, saying:
+
+"Take this bracelet, my dear one, and keep it. If we have a child and it
+be a girl, weave the bracelet in her hair and she will grow tall,
+beautiful and good; if our child be a boy, fasten the bracelet on his
+arm, and he will become strong and courageous, a mighty warrior and a
+wise counsellor."
+
+
+SOHRAB
+
+When Rustem had gone Tehmina wept bitterly, but consoled herself with
+the thought that her husband would soon return. After her child was
+born, she devoted herself to the wonderful boy and waited patiently for
+the father that never returned. She remembered the parting words of
+Rustem, and fastened upon the arm of her infant son the magic bracelet
+of his race.
+
+He was a marvelous boy, this son of Rustem and Tehmina. Beautiful in
+face as the moon when it rides the heavens in its fullness, he was
+large, well-formed, with limbs as straight as the arrows of his father.
+He grew at an astonishing rate. When he was but a month old he was as
+tall as any year-old baby; at three years of age he could use the bow,
+the lasso and the club with the skill of a man; at five he was as brave
+as a lion, and at ten not a man in the kingdom was his match in strength
+and agility.
+
+Tehmina, rejoicing in the intelligent, shining face of her boy, had
+named him Sohrab, but as she feared that Rustem might send for his son
+if he knew that he had so promising a one, she sent word to her husband
+that her child was a girl. Disappointed in this, Rustem paid no
+attention to his offspring, who grew up unknown to his parent, and
+himself ignorant of the name of his father.
+
+When Sohrab was about ten years old he began to notice that, unlike the
+other young men, he seemed to have no father. Accordingly he went to his
+mother and questioned her.
+
+"What shall I say," he inquired, "when the young men ask me who is my
+father? Must I always tell them that I do not know? Whose son am I?"
+
+"My son, you ask and you have a right to know. You need feel no shame
+because of your father. He is the mighty Rustem, the greatest of Persian
+warriors, the noblest man that ever lived. But I beg you to tell no one
+lest word should come to Rustem, for I know he would take you from me
+and I should never see you again."
+
+Sohrab was overjoyed to hear of his noble parentage and felt his heart
+swell with pride, for he had heard all his life of the heroic deeds of
+his father.
+
+"Such a thing as this cannot be kept secret," he cried. "Sooner or later
+every one in the world will know that I am Rustem's son. But not now
+will we tell the tale. I will gather a great army of Tartars and make
+war upon Kaoos, the Persian king. When I have defeated him I will set my
+father Rustem upon the throne, and then I will overthrow Afrasiab, King
+of the Turanians, and take his throne myself. There is room in the world
+for but two kings, my father Rustem and myself."
+
+The youthful warrior began his preparations immediately. First he sought
+far and wide for a horse worthy to carry him, and at last succeeded in
+finding a noble animal of the same breed as the famous Raksh. Mounted on
+this splendid steed he rode about and rapidly collected an army of
+devoted followers.
+
+The noise of these preparations spread abroad and soon came to the ears
+of Afrasiab, who saw in this war an opportunity for profit to himself
+and humiliation for Kaoos. Accordingly, he sent offers of assistance to
+Sohrab, who accepted them willingly and received among his followers the
+hosts of the Turanian king.
+
+But Afrasiab was a wily monarch, and sent to Sohrab two astute
+counsellors, Haman and Barman with instructions to watch the young
+leader carefully and to keep from him all knowledge of his father.
+
+"If possible," said the treacherous monarch, "bring the two together and
+let them fight, neither knowing who the other is. Then may Sohrab slay
+his mighty father and we be left to rule the youthful and inexperienced
+son by our superior cunning and wisdom. If on the other hand Rustem
+shall slay his son, his heart will fail him, and he will die in
+despair."
+
+When the army was fully in readiness Sohrab set forth against Persia. In
+his way lay the great White Fort whose chief defender was the mighty
+Hujir. The Persians felt only contempt for the boyish leader and had no
+fear of his great army. As they approached, Hujir rode forth to meet
+them and called aloud in derision.
+
+"Let the mighty Sohrab come forth to meet me alone. I will slay him with
+ease and give his body to the vultures for food."
+
+Undismayed by these threats Sohrab met the doughty Persian and unhorsed
+him in the first encounter. Springing from his horse Sohrab raised his
+sword to strike, but the Persian begged so lustily for quarter that he
+was granted his life, though sent a prisoner to the king.
+
+Among those who watched the defeat of Hujir was Gurdafrid, the daughter
+of the old governor of the White Fort. She was stronger than any warrior
+in the land and fully accustomed to the use of arms. When she became
+aware that Hujir was indeed vanquished she hastily clothed herself in
+full armor, thrust her long hair under her helmet and rode gallantly out
+to meet Sohrab. The girl shot a perfect shower of arrows at Sohrab, but
+all glanced harmlessly from his armor. Seeing that she could not find a
+weak spot in his mail she put her shield in rest and charged valiantly
+at her foe. However, she was no match for her antagonist and was borne
+from her saddle by the fierce lance of her enemy. As she fell, however,
+she drew her sword and severed the spear of Sohrab. Before he could
+change weapons she had mounted her horse and was galloping wildly toward
+the fort with her late antagonist in full pursuit. Long ere the castle
+walls were reached Sohrab overtook her and seized her by the helmet,
+when its fastenings gave way and her long hair fell about her shoulders,
+disclosing the fact that he had been fighting with a woman.
+
+Struck by the beauty of the girl and ashamed that he had been fighting
+with her, Sohrab released her after she had promised that she would make
+no further resistance and that the castle would surrender at his
+approach. The fierce Gurdafrid, however, had no idea of giving up the
+fort, but as soon as she was within, the gates were closed, and she,
+mounting upon the walls, jeered at the waiting Sohrab.
+
+"It is now too late to fight, but when morning comes I will level your
+fort to the earth and leave not one stone upon the other." With these
+words the incensed warrior galloped back to his camp. When in the
+morning he marched his army against the fort he found that his prey had
+escaped, for during the night Gurdafrid had led the whole garrison out
+through a secret passage and had gone to warn King Kaoos of the approach
+of the mighty Sohrab and his powerful army. The allied Tartars and
+Turanians followed as rapidly as they might, but it was some time before
+they could come anywhere near the Persian capital.
+
+What was happening in Persia has been very well told by Alfred J. Church
+in his story of Sohrab and Rustem:
+
+"When King Kaoos heard that there had appeared among the Tartars a
+mighty champion, against whom, such was the strength of his arms, no one
+could stand; how he had overthrown and taken their champion and now
+threatened to overrun and conquer the whole land of Persia, he was
+greatly troubled, and calling a scribe, said to him, 'Sit down and write
+a letter to Rustem.'
+
+"So the scribe sat down and wrote. The letter was this: 'There has
+appeared among the Tartars a great champion, strong as an elephant and
+as fierce as a lion. No one can stand against him. We look to you for
+help. It is of your doing that our warriors hold their heads so high.
+Come, then, with all the speed that you can use, so soon as you shall
+have read this letter. Be it night or day, come at once; do not open
+your mouth to speak; if you have a bunch of roses in your hand do not
+stop to smell it, but come; for the warrior of whom I write is such that
+you only can meet him.'
+
+"King Kaoos sealed the letter and gave it to a warrior named Giv. At the
+same time he said, 'Haste to Rustem. Tarry not on the way; and when you
+are come, do not rest there for an hour. If you arrive in the night,
+depart again the next morning.'
+
+"So Giv departed, and traveled with all his speed, allowing himself
+neither sleep nor food. When he approached Zabulistan, the watchman
+said, 'A warrior comes from Persia riding like the wind.' So Rustem,
+with his chiefs, went out to meet him. When they had greeted each other,
+they returned together to Rustem's palace.
+
+"Giv delivered his message, and handed the king's letter, telling
+himself much more that he had heard about the strength and courage of
+this Tartar warrior. Rustem heard him with astonishment, and said, 'This
+champion is like, you say, to the great San, my grandfather. That such a
+man should come from the free Persians is possible; but that he should
+be among those slaves the Tartars, is past belief. I have myself a
+child, whom the daughter of a Tartar king bore to me; but the child is a
+girl. This, then, that you tell me is passing strange; but for the
+present let us make merry.'
+
+"So they made merry with the chiefs that were assembled in Rustem's
+palace. But after a while Giv said again: 'King Kaoos commanded me,
+saying, "You must not sleep in Zabulistan; if you arrive in the night,
+set out again the next morning. It will go ill with us if we have to
+fight before Rustem comes." It is necessary, then, great hero, that we
+set out in all haste for Persia.'
+
+"Rustem said, 'Do not trouble yourself about this matter. We must all
+die some day. Let us, therefore, enjoy the present. Our lips are dry,
+let us wet them with wine. As to this Tartar, fortune will not always be
+with him. When he sees my standard, his heart will fail him.'
+
+"So they sat, drinking the red wine and singing merry songs, instead of
+thinking of the king and his commands. The next day Rustem passed in the
+same fashion, and the third also. But on the fourth Giv made
+preparations to depart, saying to Rustem, 'If we do not make haste to
+set out, the king will be wroth, and his anger is terrible.'
+
+"Rustem said, 'Do not trouble yourself; no man dares to be wroth with
+me.' Nevertheless, he bade them saddle Raksh and set out with his
+companions.
+
+"When they came near the king's palace, a great company of nobles rode
+out to meet them, and conducted them to the king, and they paid their
+homage to him. But the king turned away from them in a rage. 'Who is
+Rustem,' he cried, 'that he forgets his duty to me, and disobeys my
+commands? If I had a sword in my hand this moment, I would cut off his
+head, as a man cuts an orange in half. Take him, hang him up alive on
+gallows, and never mention his name again in my presence.'
+
+"Giv answered, 'Sir, will you lay hands upon Rustem?' The king burst out
+again in rage against Giv and Rustem, crying to one of his nobles, 'Take
+these two villains and hang them alive on gallows.' And he rose up from
+his throne in fury.
+
+"The noble to whom he had spoken laid his hand upon Rustem, wishing to
+lead him out of the king's presence, lest Kaoos in his rage should do
+him an injury. But Rustem cried out, 'What a king are you! Hang this
+Tartar, if you can, on your gallows. Keep such things for your enemies.
+All the world has bowed itself before me and Raksh, my horse. And
+you--you are king by my grace.'
+
+"Thus speaking, he struck away the hand that the noble had laid upon him
+so fiercely that the man fell headlong to the ground, and he passed over
+his body to go from the presence of the king. And as he mounted on
+Raksh, he cried: 'What is Kaoos that he should deal with me in this
+fashion? It is God who has given me strength and victory, and not he or
+his army. The nobles would have given me the throne of Persia long
+since, but I would not receive it; I kept the right before my eyes.
+Verily, had I not done so, you, Kaoos, would not be sitting upon the
+throne.' Then he turned to the Persians that stood by, and said, 'This
+brave Tartar will come. Look out for yourselves how you may save your
+lives. Me you shall see no more in the land of Persia.'
+
+"The Persians were greatly troubled to hear such words; for they were
+sheep, and Rustem was their shepherd. So the nobles assembled, and said
+to each other: 'The king has forgotten all gratitude and decency. Does
+he not remember that he owes to Rustem his throne--nay, his very life?
+If the gallows be Rustem's reward, what shall become of us?'
+
+"So the oldest among them came and stood before the king, and said: 'O
+king, have you forgotten what Rustem has done for you and this land--how
+he conquered Mazanieran and its king and the White Genius; how he gave
+you back the sight of your eyes? And now you have commanded that he
+shall be hanged alive upon a gallows. Are these fitting words for a
+king?'
+
+"The king listened to the old man, and said: 'You speak well. The words
+of a king should be words of wisdom. Go now to Rustem, and speak good
+words to him, and make him forget my anger.'
+
+"So the old man rode after Rustem, and many of the nobles went with him.
+When they had overtaken him, the old man said, 'You know that the king
+is a wrathful man, and that in his rage he speaks hard words. But you
+know also that he soon repents. But now he is ashamed of what he said.
+And if he has offended, yet the Persians have done no wrong that you
+should thus desert them.'
+
+"Rustem answered, 'Who is the king that I should care for him? My saddle
+is my throne and my helmet is my crown, my corselet is my robe of state.
+What is the king to me but a grain of dust? Why should I fear his anger?
+I delivered him from prison; I gave him back his crown. And now my
+patience is at an end.'
+
+"The old man said, 'This is well. But the king and his nobles will
+think, "Rustem fears this Tartar," and they will say, "If Rustem is
+afraid, what can we do but leave our country?" I pray you therefore not
+to turn your back upon the king, when things are in such a plight. Is it
+well that the Persians should become the slaves of the infidel Tartars?'
+
+"Rustem stood confounded to hear such words. 'If there were fear in my
+heart, then I would tear my soul from my body. But you know that it is
+not; only the king has treated me with scorn.'
+
+"But he perceived that he must yield to the old man's advice. So he went
+back with the nobles.
+
+"As soon as the king saw him, he leaped upon his feet, and said, 'I am
+hard of soul, but a man must grow as God has made him. My heart was
+troubled by the fear of this new enemy. I looked to you for safety, and
+you delayed your coming. Then I spoke in my wrath; but I have repented,
+and my mouth is full of dust.'
+
+"Rustem said, 'It is yours to command, O king, and ours to obey. You are
+the master, and we are the slaves. I am but as one of those who open the
+door for you, if indeed I am worthy to be reckoned among them. And now I
+come to execute your commands.'
+
+"Kaoos said, 'It is well. Now let us feast. To-morrow we will prepare
+for war.'
+
+"So Kaoos, and Rustem, and the nobles feasted till the night had passed
+and the morning came. The next day King Kaoos and Rustem, with a great
+army, began their march."
+
+Matthew Arnold, the great English critic, scholar and poet, has used the
+incidents that follow as the subject of one of his most interesting
+poems. To that poem we will look for a continuation of the story. Arnold
+alters the story at times to suit the needs of his poem, and he often
+employs a slightly different spelling of proper names from that used in
+the above account.
+
+
+
+
+SOHRAB AND RUSTUM
+
+AN EPISODE
+
+_By_ MATTHEW ARNOLD
+
+
+    And the first gray of morning fill'd the east,
+    And the fog rose out of the Oxus[173-1] stream.
+    But all the Tartar camp along the stream
+    Was hush'd, and still the men were plunged in sleep;
+    Sohrab alone, he slept not; all night long
+    He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed;
+    But when the gray dawn stole into his tent,
+    He rose, and clad himself, and girt his sword,
+    And took his horseman's cloak, and left his tent,
+    And went abroad into the cold wet fog,
+    Through the dim camp to Peran-Wisa's[173-2] tent.
+      Through the black Tartar tents he pass'd, which stood
+    Clustering like beehives on the low flat strand
+    Of Oxus, where the summer floods o'erflow
+    When the sun melts the snow in high Pamere;[173-3]
+    Through the black tents he pass'd, o'er that low strand,
+    And to a hillock came, a little back
+    From the stream's brink--the spot where first a boat,
+    Crossing the stream in summer, scrapes the land.
+    The men of former times had crown'd the top
+    With a clay fort; but that was fall'n, and now
+    The Tartars built there Peran-Wisa's tent,
+    A dome of laths, and over it felts were spread.
+    And Sohrab came there, and went in, and stood
+    Upon the thick piled carpets in the tent,
+    And found the old man sleeping on his bed
+    Of rugs and felts, and near him lay his arms.
+    And Peran-Wisa heard him, though the step
+    Was dull'd; for he slept light, an old man's sleep;
+    And he rose quickly on one arm, and said:--
+      "Who art thou? for it is not yet clear dawn.
+    Speak! is there news, or any night alarm?"
+      But Sohrab came to the bedside, and said:--
+    "Thou know'st me, Peran-Wisa! it is I.
+    The sun is not yet risen, and the foe
+    Sleep; but I sleep not; all night long I lie
+    Tossing and wakeful, and I come to thee.
+    For so did King Afrasiab bid me seek
+    Thy counsel and to heed thee as thy son,
+    In Samarcand,[174-4] before the army march'd;
+    And I will tell thee what my heart desires.
+    Thou know'st if, since from Ader-baijan first
+    I came among the Tartars and bore arms,
+    I have still served Afrasiab well, and shown,
+    At my boy's years, the courage of a man.
+
+[Illustration: SOHRAB AND PERAN-WISA]
+
+    This too thou know'st, that while I still bear on
+    The conquering Tartar ensigns through the world,
+    And beat the Persians back on every field,
+    I seek one man, one man, and one alone--
+    Rustum, my father; who I hoped should greet,
+    Should one day greet, upon some well-fought field,
+    His not unworthy, not inglorious son.
+    So I long hoped, but him I never find.
+    Come then, hear now, and grant me what I ask.
+    Let the two armies rest to-day; but I
+    Will challenge forth the bravest Persian lords
+    To meet me man to man; if I prevail,
+    Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall--
+    Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin.
+    Dim is the rumor of a common[175-5] fight,
+    Where host meets host, and many names are sunk;
+    But of a single combat fame speaks clear."
+      He spoke; and Peran-Wisa took the hand
+    Of the young man in his, and sigh'd, and said:--
+      "O Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine!
+    Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs,
+    And share the battle's common chance with us
+    Who love thee, but must press forever first,
+    In single fight incurring single risk,
+    To find a father thou hast never seen?
+    That were far best, my son, to stay with us
+    Unmurmuring; in our tents, while it is war,
+    And when 'tis truce, then in Afrasiab's towns.
+    But, if this one desire indeed rules all,
+    To seek out Rustum--seek him not through fight!
+    Seek him in peace and carry to his arms,
+    O Sohrab, carry an unwounded son!
+    But far hence seek him, for he is not here.
+    For now it is not as when I was young,
+    When Rustum was in front of every fray;
+    But now he keeps apart, and sits at home,
+    In Seistan,[176-6] with Zal, his father old.
+    Whether that[176-7] his own mighty strength at last
+    Feels the abhorr'd approaches of old age,
+    Or in some quarrel with the Persian King.
+    There go!--Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forbodes
+    Danger or death awaits thee on this field.
+    Fain would I know thee safe and well, though lost
+    To us; fain therefore send thee hence, in peace
+    To seek thy father, not seek single fights
+    In vain;--but who can keep the lion's cub
+    From ravening, and who govern Rustum's son?
+    Go, I will grant thee what thy heart desires."
+      So said he, and dropped Sohrab's hand and left
+    His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay;
+    And o'er his chilly limbs his woolen coat
+    He passed, and tied his sandals on his feet,
+    And threw a white cloak round him, and he took
+    In his right hand a ruler's staff, no sword;
+    And on his head he set his sheepskin cap,
+    Black, glossy, curl'd, the fleece of Kara-Kul;
+    And raised the curtain of his tent, and call'd
+    His herald to his side and went abroad.
+      The sun by this had risen, and cleared the fog
+    From the broad Oxus and the glittering sands.
+    And from their tents the Tartar horsemen filed
+    Into the open plain; so Haman bade--
+    Haman, who next to Peran-Wisa ruled
+    The host, and still was in his lusty prime.
+    From their black tents, long files of horse, they stream'd;
+    As when some gray November morn the files,
+    In marching order spread, of long-neck'd cranes
+    Stream over Casbin and the southern slopes
+    Of Elburz, from the Aralian estuaries,
+    Or some frore[177-8] Caspian reed bed, southward bound
+    For the warm Persian seaboard--so they streamed.
+    The Tartars of the Oxus, the King's guard,
+    First, with black sheepskin caps and with long spears;
+    Large men, large steeds; who from Bokhara come
+    And Khiva, and ferment the milk of mares.[177-9]
+    Next, the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south,
+    The Tukas, and the lances of Salore,
+    And those from Attruck and the Caspian sands;
+    Light men and on light steeds, who only drink
+    The acrid milk of camels, and their wells.
+    And then a swarm of wandering horse, who came
+    From far, and a more doubtful service own'd;
+    The Tartars of Ferghana, from the banks
+    Of the Jaxartes, men with scanty beards
+    And close-set skullcaps; and those wilder hordes
+    Who roam o'er Kipchak and the northern waste,
+    Kalmucks and unkempt Kuzzacks, tribes who stray
+    Nearest the Pole, and wandering Kirghizzes,
+    Who come on shaggy ponies from Pamere;
+    These all filed out from camp into the plain.
+    And on the other side the Persians form'd;--
+    First a light cloud of horse, Tartars they seem'd,
+    The Ilyats of Khorassan; and behind,
+    The royal troops of Persia, horse and foot,
+    Marshal'd battalions bright in burnish'd steel.
+    But Peran-Wisa with his herald came,
+    Threading the Tartar squadrons to the front,
+    And with his staff kept back the foremost ranks.
+    And when Ferood, who led the Persians, saw
+    That Peran-Wisa kept the Tartars back,
+    He took his spear, and to the front he came,
+    And check'd his ranks, and fix'd[178-10] them where they stood.
+    And the old Tartar came upon the sand
+    Betwixt the silent hosts, and spake, and said:--
+      "Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!
+    Let there be truce between the hosts to-day,
+    But choose a champion from the Persian lords
+    To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man."
+      As, in the country, on a morn in June,
+    When the dew glistens on the pearled ears,
+    A shiver runs through the deep corn[178-11] for joy--
+    So, when they heard what Peran-Wisa said,
+    A thrill through all the Tartar squadrons ran
+    Of pride and hope for Sohrab, whom they loved.
+      But as a troop of peddlers, from Cabool,
+    Cross underneath the Indian Caucasus,
+    That vast sky-neighboring mountain of milk snow;
+    Crossing so high, that, as they mount, they pass
+    Long flocks of traveling birds dead on the snow,
+    Choked by the air, and scarce can they themselves
+    Slake their parch'd throats with sugar'd mulberries--
+    In single file they move, and stop their breath,
+    For fear they should dislodge the o'erhanging snows--
+
+[Illustration: PERAN-WISA GIVES SOHRAB'S CHALLENGE]
+
+    So the pale Persians held their breath with fear.
+      And to Ferood his brother chiefs came up
+    To counsel; Gudurz and Zoarrah came,
+    And Feraburz, who ruled the Persian host
+    Second, and was the uncle of the King;
+    These came and counsel'd, and then Gudurz said:--
+      "Ferood, shame bids us take their challenge up,
+    Yet champion have we none to match this youth.
+    He has the wild stag's foot, the lion's heart.
+    But Rustum came last night; aloof he sits
+    And sullen, and has pitch'd his tents apart.
+    Him will I seek, and carry to his ear
+    The Tartar challenge, and this young man's name.
+    Haply he will forget his wrath, and fight.
+    Stand forth the while, and take their challenge up."
+    So spake he; and Ferood stood forth and cried:--
+      "Old man, be it agreed as thou hast said!
+    Let Sohrab arm, and we will find a man."
+      He spake: and Peran-Wisa turn'd, and strode
+    Back through the opening squadrons to his tent.
+    But through the anxious Persians Gudurz ran,
+    And cross'd the camp which lay behind, and reach'd
+    Out on the sand beyond it, Rustum's tents.
+    Of scarlet cloth they were, and glittering gay,
+    Just pitch'd; the high pavilion in the midst
+    Was Rustum's and his men lay camp'd around.
+    And Gudurz enter'd Rustum's tent, and found
+    Rustum; his morning meal was done, but still
+    The table stood before him, charged with food--
+    A side of roasted sheep, and cakes of bread,
+    And dark-green melons, and there Rustum sate
+    Listless, and held a falcon on his wrist,
+    And play'd with it; but Gudurz came and stood
+    Before him; and he look'd, and saw him stand,
+    And with a cry sprang up and dropped the bird,
+    And greeted Gudurz with both hands, and said:--
+      "Welcome! these eyes could see no better sight.
+    What news? but sit down first, and eat and drink."
+      But Gudurz stood in the tent door, and said:--
+    "Not now! a time will come to eat and drink,
+    But not to-day; to-day has other needs.
+    The armies are drawn out, and stand at gaze;
+    For from the Tartars is a challenge brought
+    To pick a champion from the Persian lords
+    To fight their champion and thou know'st his name--
+    Sohrab men call him, but his birth is hid.
+    O Rustum, like thy might is this young man's!
+    He has the wild stag's foot, the lion's heart;
+    And he is young, and Iran's chiefs are old,
+    Or else too weak; and all eyes turn to thee.
+    Come down and help us, Rustum, or we lose!"
+      He spoke; but Rustum answer'd with a smile:--
+    "Go to! if Iran's chiefs are old, then I
+    Am older; if the young are weak, the King
+    Errs strangely; for the King, for Kai Khosroo,[181-12]
+    Himself is young, and honors younger men,
+    And lets the aged molder to their graves.
+    Rustum he loves no more, but loves the young--
+    The young may rise at Sohrab's vaunts, not I.
+    For what care I, though all speak Sohrab's fame?
+    For would that I myself had such a son,
+    And not that one slight helpless girl I have--
+    A son so famed, so brave, to send to war,
+    And I to tarry with the snow-hair'd Zal,[181-13]
+    My father, whom the robber Afghans vex,
+    And clip his borders short, and drive his herds,
+    And he has none to guard his weak old age.
+    There would I go, and hang my armor up,
+    And with my great name fence that weak old man,
+    And spend the goodly treasures I have got,
+    And rest my age, and hear of Sohrab's fame,
+    And leave to death the hosts of thankless kings,
+    And with these slaughterous hands draw sword no more."
+      He spoke, and smiled; and Gudurz made reply:--
+    "What then, O Rustum, will men say to this,
+    When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks
+    Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks,
+    Hidest thy face? Take heed lest men should say:
+    'Like some old miser, Rustum hoards his fame,
+    And shuns to peril it with younger men,'"
+      And, greatly moved, then Rustum made reply:--
+    "Oh, Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such words?
+    Thou knowest better words than this to say.
+    What is one more, one less, obscure or famed,
+    Valiant or craven, young or old, to me?
+    Are not they mortal, am not I myself?
+    But who for men of naught would do great deeds?
+    Come, thou shalt see how Rustum hoards his fame!
+    But I will fight unknown, and in plain arms;
+    Let not men say of Rustum, he was match'd
+    In single fight with any mortal man."
+      He spoke, and frown'd; and Gudurz turn'd and ran
+    Back quickly through the camp in fear and joy--
+    Fear at his wrath, but joy that Rustum came.
+    But Rustum strode to his tent door, and call'd
+    His followers in, and bade them bring his arms,
+    And clad himself in steel; the arms he chose
+    Were plain, and on his shield was no device,
+    Only his helm was rich, inlaid with gold,
+    And, from the fluted spine atop, a plume
+    Of horsehair waved, a scarlet horsehair plume.
+    So arm'd, he issued forth; and Ruksh,[183-14] his horse,
+    Follow'd him like a faithful hound at heel--
+    Ruksh, whose renown was noised through all the earth,
+    The horse, whom Rustum on a foray once
+    Did in Bokhara by the river find
+    A colt beneath its dam, and drove him home,
+    And rear'd him; a bright bay, with lofty crest,
+    Dight with a saddlecloth of broider'd green
+    Crusted with gold, and on the ground were work'd
+    All beasts of chase, all beasts which hunters know.
+    So follow'd, Rustum left his tents, and cross'd
+    The camp, and to the Persian host appear'd.
+    And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts
+    Hail'd; but the Tartars knew not who he was.
+    And dear as the wet diver to the eyes
+    Of his pale wife who waits and weeps on shore,
+    By sandy Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf,
+    Plunging all day in the blue waves, at night,
+    Having made up his tale[183-15] of precious pearls,
+    Rejoins her in their hut upon the sands--
+    So dear to the pale Persians Rustum came.
+      And Rustum to the Persian front advanced,
+    And Sohrab arm'd in Haman's tent, and came.
+    And as afield the reapers cut a swath
+    Down through the middle of a rich man's corn,
+    And on each side are squares of standing corn,
+    And in the midst a stubble, short and bare--
+    So on each side were squares of men, with spears
+    Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand.
+    And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast
+    His eyes toward the Tartar tents, and saw
+    Sohrab come forth, and eyed him as he came.
+      As some rich woman, on a winter's morn,
+    Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge
+    Who with numb blacken'd fingers makes her fire--
+    At cock-crow, on a starlit winter's morn,
+    When the frost flowers the whiten'd window-panes--
+    And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts
+    Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum eyed
+    The unknown adventurous youth, who from afar
+    Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth
+    All the most valiant chiefs; long he perused
+    His spirited air, and wonder'd who he was.
+    For very young he seem'd, tenderly rear'd;
+    Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight,
+    Which in a queen's secluded garden throws
+    Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf,
+    By midnight, to a bubbling fountain's sound--
+    So slender Sohrab seem'd, so softly rear'd.[184-16]
+    And a deep pity enter'd Rustum's soul
+    As he beheld him coming; and he stood,
+    And beckon'd to him with his hand, and said:--
+      "O thou young man, the air of heaven is soft,
+    And warm, and pleasant; but the grave is cold!
+    Heaven's air is better than the cold dead grave.
+    Behold me! I am vast, and clad in iron,
+    And tried; and I have stood on many a field
+    Of blood, and I have fought with many a foe--
+    Never was that field lost, or that foe saved.
+    O Sohrab, wherefore wilt thou rush on death?
+    Be govern'd![185-17] quit the Tartar host, and come
+    To Iran, and be as my son to me,
+    And fight beneath my banner till I die!
+    There are no youths in Iran brave as thou."
+      So he spake, mildly; Sohrab heard his voice,
+    The mighty voice of Rustum, and he saw
+    His giant figure planted on the sand,
+    Sole, like some single tower, which a chief
+    Hath builded on the waste in former years
+    Against the robbers; and he saw that head,
+    Streak'd with its first gray hairs;--hope fill'd his soul,
+    And he ran forward and embraced his knees,
+    And clasp'd his hand within his own, and said:--
+      "Oh, by thy father's head! by thine own soul!
+    Art thou not Rustum? speak! art thou not he?"
+      But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth,
+    And turn'd away, and spake to his own soul:--
+      "Ah me, I muse what this young fox may mean!
+    False, wily, boastful, are these Tartar boys.
+    For if I now confess this thing he asks,
+    And hide it not, but say: 'Rustum is here!'
+    He will not yield indeed, nor quit our foes,
+    But he will find some pretext not to fight,
+    And praise my fame, and proffer courteous gifts,
+    A belt or sword perhaps, and go his way.
+    And on a feast tide, in Afrasiab's hall,
+    In Samarcand, he will arise and cry:
+    'I challenged once, when the two armies camp'd
+    Beside the Oxus, all the Persian lords
+    To cope with me in single fight; but they
+    Shrank, only Rustum dared; then he and I
+    Changed gifts, and went on equal terms away.
+    So will he speak, perhaps, while men applaud;
+    Then were the chiefs of Iran shamed through me."
+      And then he turn'd, and sternly spake aloud:--
+    "Rise! wherefore dost thou vainly question thus
+    Of Rustum? I am here, whom thou hast call'd
+    By challenge forth; make good thy vaunt, or yield!
+    Is it with Rustum only thou wouldst fight?
+    Rash boy, men look on Rustum's face and flee!
+    For well I know, that did great Rustum stand
+    Before thy face this day, and were reveal'd,
+    There would be then no talk of fighting more.
+    But being what I am, I tell thee this--
+    Do thou record it in thine inmost soul:
+    Either thou shalt renounce thy vaunt and yield,
+    Or else thy bones shall strew this sand, till winds
+    Bleach them, or Oxus with his summer floods,
+    Oxus in summer wash them all away."
+      He spoke; and Sohrab answer'd, on his feet:--
+    "Art thou so fierce? Thou wilt not fright me so!
+    I am no girl, to be made pale by words.
+    Yet this thou hast said well, did Rustum stand
+    Here on this field, there were no fighting then.
+    But Rustum is far hence, and we stand here.
+    Begin! thou art more vast, more dread than I,
+    And thou art proved, I know, and I am young--
+    But yet success sways with the breath of heaven.
+    And though thou thinkest that thou knowest sure
+    Thy victory, yet thou canst not surely know.
+    For we are all, like swimmers in the sea,
+    Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate,
+    Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall.
+    And whether it will heave us up to land,
+    Or whether it will roll us out to sea,
+    Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death,
+    We know not, and no search will make us know;
+    Only the event will teach us in its hour."
+      He spoke, and Rustum answer'd not, but hurl'd
+    His spear; down from the shoulder, down it came,
+    As on some partridge in the corn a hawk,
+    That long has tower'd in the airy clouds,
+    Drops like a plummet; Sohrab saw it come,
+    And sprang aside, quick as a flash; the spear
+    Hiss'd and went quivering down into the sand,
+    Which it sent flying wide;--then Sohrab threw
+    In turn, and full struck Rustum's shield; sharp rang,
+    The iron plates rang sharp, but turn'd the spear.
+    And Rustum seized his club, which none but he
+    Could wield; an unlopp'd trunk it was, and huge,
+    Still rough--like those which men in treeless plains
+    To build them boats fish from the flooded rivers,
+    Hyphasis or Hydaspes, when, high up
+    By their dark spring, the wind in winter time
+    Hath made in Himalayan forests wrack,
+    And strewn the channels with torn boughs--so huge
+    The club which Rustum lifted now, and struck
+    One stroke; but again Sohrab sprang aside,
+    Lithe as the glancing snake, and the club came
+    Thundering to earth, and leapt from Rustum's hand.
+    And Rustum follow'd his own blow, and fell
+    To his knees, and with his fingers clutch'd the sand;
+    And now might Sohrab have unsheathed his sword,
+    And pierced the mighty Rustum while he lay
+    Dizzy, and on his knees, and choked with sand;
+    But he look'd on, and smiled, nor bared his sword,
+    But courteously drew back, and spoke, and said:--
+      "Thou strik'st too hard! that club of thine will float
+    Upon the summer floods, and not my bones.
+    But rise, and be not wroth! not wroth am I;
+    No, when I see thee, wrath forsakes my soul.
+    Thou say'st, thou art not Rustum; be it so!
+    Who art thou then, that canst so touch my soul?
+    Boy as I am, I have seen battles too--
+    Have waded foremost in their bloody waves,
+    And heard their hollow roar of dying men;
+    But never was my heart thus touch'd before.
+    Are they from Heaven, these softenings of the heart?
+    O thou old warrior, let us yield to Heaven!
+    Come, plant we here in earth our angry spears,
+    And make a truce, and sit upon this sand,
+    And pledge each other in red wine, like friends,
+    And thou shalt talk to me of Rustum's deeds.
+    There are enough foes in the Persian host,
+    Whom I may meet, and strike, and feel no pang;
+    Champions enough Afrasiab has, whom thou
+    Mayst fight; fight _them_, when they confront thy spear!
+    But oh, let there be peace 'twixt thee and me!"
+      He ceased, but while he spake, Rustum had risen,
+    And stood erect, trembling with rage; his club
+    He left to lie, but had regained his spear,
+    Whose fiery point now in his mail'd right hand
+    Blazed bright and baleful, like that autumn star,
+    The baleful sign of fevers; dust had soil'd
+    His stately crest, and dimm'd his glittering arms.
+    His breast heaved, his lips foam'd, and twice his voice
+    Was choked with rage; at last these words broke way:--
+      "Girl! nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands!
+    Curl'd minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words!
+    Fight, let me hear thy hateful voice no more!
+    Thou are not in Afrasiab's gardens now
+    With Tartar girls, with whom thou art wont to dance;
+    But on the Oxus sands, and in the dance
+    Of battle, and with me, who make no play
+    Of war; I fight it out, and hand to hand.
+    Speak not to me of truce, and pledge, and wine!
+    Remember all thy valor; try thy feints
+    And cunning! all the pity I had is gone;
+    Because thou hast shamed me before both the hosts
+    With thy light skipping tricks, and thy girl's wiles."
+
+      He spoke, and Sohrab kindled at his taunts,
+    And he too drew his sword; at once they rush'd
+    Together, as two eagles on one prey
+    Come rushing down together from the clouds,
+    One from the east, one from the west; their shields
+    Dash'd with a clang together, and a din
+    Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters
+    Make often in the forest's heart at morn,
+    Of hewing axes, crashing trees--such blows
+    Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail'd.
+    And you would say that sun and stars took part
+    In that unnatural[189-18] conflict; for a cloud
+    Grew suddenly in heaven, and dark'd the sun
+    Over the fighters' heads; and a wind rose
+    Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain,
+    And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp'd the pair.
+    In gloom they twain were wrapp'd, and they alone;
+    For both the onlooking hosts on either hand
+    Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure,
+    And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream.
+    But in the gloom they fought, with bloodshot eyes
+    And laboring breath; first Rustum struck the shield
+    Which Sohrab held stiff out; the steel-spiked spear
+    Rent the tough plates, but fail'd to reach the skin,
+    And Rustum pluck'd it back with angry groan.
+    Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum's helm,
+    Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest
+    He shore away, and that proud horsehair plume,
+    Never till now defiled, sank to the dust;
+    And Rustum bow'd his head; and then the gloom
+    Grew blacker, thunder rumbled in the air,
+    And lightnings rent the cloud; and Ruksh, the horse,
+    Who stood at hand, utter'd a dreadful cry;--
+    No horse's cry was that, most like the roar
+    Of some pain'd desert lion, who all day
+    Hath trail'd the hunter's javelin in his side,
+    And comes at night to die upon the sand.
+    The two hosts heard that cry, and quaked for fear,
+    And Oxus curdled as it cross'd his stream.
+    But Sohrab heard, and quail'd not, but rush'd on,
+    And struck again; and again Rustum bow'd
+    His head; but this time all the blade, like glass,
+    Sprang in a thousand shivers on the helm,
+    And in the hand the hilt remain'd alone.
+    Then Rustum raised his head; his dreadful eyes
+    Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear,
+    And shouted: "Rustum!"--Sohrab heard that shout,
+    And shrank amazed: back he recoil'd one step,
+    And scann'd with blinking eyes the advancing form;
+    And then he stood bewilder'd, and he dropp'd
+    His covering shield, and the spear pierced his side.[191-19]
+    He reel'd, and, staggering back, sank to the ground;
+    And then the gloom dispersed, and the wind fell,
+
+[Illustration: THE SPEAR RENT THE TOUGH PLATES]
+
+    And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all
+    The cloud; and the two armies saw the pair--
+    Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet,
+    And Sohrab, wounded, on the bloody sand.
+      Then, with a bitter smile, Rustum began:--
+    "Sohrab, thou thoughtest in thy mind to kill
+    A Persian lord this day, and strip his corpse,
+    And bear thy trophies to Afrasiab's tent;
+    Or else that the great Rustum would come down
+    Himself to fight, and that thy wiles would move
+    His heart to take a gift, and let thee go;
+    And then that all the Tartar host would praise
+    Thy courage or thy craft, and spread thy fame,
+    To glad thy father in his weak old age.
+    Fool, thou art slain, and by an unknown man!
+    Dearer to the red jackals shalt thou be
+    Than to thy friends, and to thy father old."
+      And, with a fearless mien, Sohrab replied:--
+    "Unknown thou art; yet thy fierce vaunt is vain.
+    Thou dost not slay me, proud and boastful man!
+    No! Rustum slays me, and this filial heart.
+    For were I match'd with ten such men as thee,
+    And I were that which till to-day I was,
+    They should be lying here, I standing there.
+    But that beloved name unnerved my arm--
+    That name, and something, I confess, in thee,
+    Which troubles all my heart, and made my shield
+    Fall; and thy spear transfix'd an unarm'd foe.
+    And now thou boastest, and insult'st my fate.
+    But hear thou this, fierce man, tremble to hear:
+    The mighty Rustum shall avenge my death!
+    My father, whom I seek through all the world,
+    He shall avenge my death, and punish thee!"
+      As when some hunter in the spring hath found
+    A breeding eagle sitting on her nest,
+    Upon the craggy isle of a hill lake,
+    And pierced her with an arrow as she rose,
+    And follow'd her to find her where she fell
+    Far off;--anon her mate comes winging back
+    From hunting, and a great way off descries
+    His huddling young left sole;[193-20] at that, he checks
+    His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps
+    Circles above his eyry, with loud screams
+    Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she
+    Lies dying, with the arrow in her side,
+    In some far stony gorge out of his ken,
+    A heap of fluttering feathers--never more
+    Shall the lake glass[193-21] her, flying over it;
+    Never the black and dripping precipices
+    Echo her stormy scream as she sails by--
+    As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his loss,
+    So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood
+    Over his dying son, and knew him not.
+      But, with a cold incredulous voice, he said:--
+    "What prate is this of fathers and revenge?
+    The mighty Rustum never had a son."
+      And, with a failing voice, Sohrab replied:--
+    "Ah yes, he had! and that lost son am I.
+    Surely the news will one day reach his ear,
+    Reach Rustum, where he sits, and tarries long,
+    Somewhere, I know not where, but far from here;
+    And pierce him like a stab, and make him leap
+    To arms, and cry for vengeance upon thee.
+    Fierce man, bethink thee, for an only son!
+    What will that grief, what will that vengeance be?
+    Oh, could I live till I that grief had seen!
+    Yet him I pity not so much, but her,
+    My mother, who in Ader-baijan dwells
+    With that old king, her father, who grows gray
+    With age, and rules over the valiant Koords.
+    Her most I pity, who no more will see
+    Sohrab returning from the Tartar camp,
+    With spoils and honor, when the war is done.
+    But a dark rumor will be bruited up,
+    From tribe to tribe, until it reach her ear;
+    And then will that defenseless woman learn
+    That Sohrab will rejoice her sight no more,
+    But that in battle with a nameless foe,
+    By the far-distant Oxus, he is slain."
+    He spoke; and as he ceased, he wept aloud,
+    Thinking of her he left, and his own death.
+      He spoke; but Rustum listen'd, plunged in thought.
+    Nor did he yet believe it was his son
+    Who spoke, although he call'd back names he knew;
+    For he had had sure tidings that the babe,
+    Which was in Ader-baijan born to him,
+    Had been a puny girl, no boy at all--
+    So that sad mother sent him word, for fear
+    Rustum should seek the boy, to train in arms.
+    And so he deem'd that either Sohrab took,
+    By a false boast, the style of Rustum's son;
+    Or that men gave it him, to swell his fame.
+    So deem'd he: yet he listen'd, plunged in thought;
+    And his soul set to grief, as the vast tide
+    Of the bright rocking Ocean sets to shore
+    At the full moon; tears gather'd in his eyes;
+    For he remember'd his own early youth,
+    And all its bounding rapture; as, at dawn,
+    The shepherd from his mountain lodge descries
+    A far, bright city, smitten by the sun,
+    Through many rolling clouds--so Rustum saw
+    His youth; saw Sohrab's mother, in her bloom;
+    And that old king, her father, who loved well
+    His wandering guest, and gave him his fair child
+    With joy; and all the pleasant life they led,
+    They three, in that long-distant summer time--
+    The castle, and the dewy woods, and hunt
+    And hound, and morn on those delightful hills
+    In Ader-baijan. And he saw that youth,
+    Of age and looks to be his own dear son,[195-22]
+    Piteous and lovely, lying on the sand,
+    Like some rich hyacinth which by the scythe
+    Of an unskillful gardener has been cut,
+    Mowing the garden grassplots near its bed,
+    And lies, a fragrant tower of purple bloom,
+    On the mown, dying grass--so Sohrab lay,
+    Lovely in death, upon the common sand.
+    And Rustum gazed on him with grief, and said:--
+      "O Sohrab, thou indeed art such a son
+    Whom Rustum, wert thou his, might well have loved!
+    Yet here thou errest, Sohrab, or else men
+    Have told thee false--thou art not Rustum's son.
+    For Rustum had no son; one child he had--
+    But one--a girl; who with her mother now
+    Plies some light female task, nor dreams of us--
+    Of us she dreams not, nor of wounds, nor war."
+      But Sohrab answer'd him in wrath; for now
+    The anguish of the deep-fix'd spear grew fierce,
+    And he desired to draw forth the steel,
+    And let the blood flow free, and so to die--
+    But first he would convince his stubborn foe;
+    And, rising sternly on one arm, he said:--
+      "Man, who art thou who dost deny my words?
+    Truth sits upon the lips of dying men,
+    And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.
+    I tell thee, prick'd upon this arm I bear
+    That seal which Rustum to my mother gave,
+    That she might prick it on the babe she bore."[196-23]
+      He spoke: and all the blood left Rustum's cheeks,
+    And his knees totter'd, and he smote his hand
+    Against his breast, his heavy mailed hand,
+    That the hard iron corselet clank'd aloud;
+    And to his heart he press'd the other hand,
+    And in a hollow voice he spake, and said:--
+      "Sohrab, that were a proof which could not lie!
+    If thou show this, then art thou Rustum's son."
+      Then, with weak hasty fingers, Sohrab loosed
+    His belt, and near the shoulder bared his arm,
+    And show'd a sign in faint vermilion points
+    Prick'd; as a cunning workman, in Pekin,
+    Pricks with vermilion some clear porcelain vase,
+    An emperor's gift--at early morn he paints,
+    And all day long, and, when night comes, the lamp
+    Lights up his studious forehead and thin hands--
+    So delicately prick'd the sign appear'd
+    On Sohrab's arm, the sign of Rustum's seal.
+    It was that griffin,[196-24] which of old rear'd Zal,
+    Rustum's great father, whom they left to die,
+    A helpless babe, among the mountain rocks;
+    Him that kind creature found, and rear'd and loved--
+    Then Rustum took it for his glorious sign.
+    And Sohrab bared that image on his arm,
+    And himself scann'd it long with mournful eyes,
+    And then he touch'd it with his hand, and said:--
+      "How say'st thou? Is that sign the proper sign
+    Of Rustum's son, or of some other man's?"
+      He spoke; but Rustum gazed, and gazed, and stood
+    Speechless; and then he utter'd one sharp cry:
+    "O boy--thy father!" and his voice choked there.
+    And then a dark cloud pass'd before his eyes,
+    And his head swam, and he sank down to earth.
+    But Sohrab crawl'd to where he lay, and cast
+    His arms about his neck, and kiss'd his lips,
+    And with fond faltering fingers stroked his cheeks,
+    Trying to call him back to life; and life
+    Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes,
+    And they stood wide with horror; and he seized
+    In both his hands the dust which lay around,
+    And threw it on his head, and smirch'd his hair,--
+    His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms;
+    And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast,
+    And his sobs choked him; and he clutch'd his sword,
+    To draw it, and forever let life out.
+    But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands,
+    And with a soothing voice he spake, and said:--
+      "Father, forbear! for I but meet to-day
+    The doom which at my birth was written down
+    In heaven, and thou art heaven's unconscious hand.
+    Surely my heart cried out that it was thou,
+    When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too,
+    I know it! but fate trod those promptings down
+    Under its iron heel; fate, fate engaged
+    The strife, and hurl'd me on my father's spear.
+    But let us speak no more of this! I find
+    My father; let me feel that I have found!
+    Come, sit beside me on the sand, and take
+    My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my cheeks,
+    And wash them with thy tears, and say: 'My son!'
+    Quick! quick! for number'd are my sands of life,
+    And swift; for like the lightning to this field
+    I came, and like the wind I go away--
+    Sudden, and swift, and like a passing wind
+    But it was writ in heaven that this should be."
+      So said he, and his voice released the heart
+    Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast
+    His arms round his son's neck, and wept aloud,
+    And kiss'd him. And awe fell on both the hosts,
+    When they saw Rustum's grief; and Ruksh, the horse,
+    With his head bowing to the ground and mane
+    Sweeping the dust, came near, and in mute woe
+    First to the one then to the other moved
+    His head, as if inquiring what their grief
+    Might mean; and from his dark, compassionate eyes,
+    The big warm tears roll'd down, and caked the sand,
+    But Rustum chid him with stern voice, and said:--
+      "Ruksh, now thou grievest; but, O Ruksh, thy feet
+    Should first have rotted on their nimble joints,
+    Or ere they brought thy master to this field!"
+      But Sohrab look'd upon the horse, and said:--
+    "Is this, then, Ruksh? How often, in past days,
+    My mother told me of thee, thou brave steed,
+    My terrible father's terrible horse! and said,
+    That I should one day find thy lord and thee.
+    Come, let me lay my hand upon thy mane!
+    O Ruksh, thou art more fortunate than I;
+    For thou hast gone where I shall never go,
+    And snuff'd the breezes of my father's home.
+    And thou hast trod the sands of Seistan.
+    And seen the River of Helmund, and the Lake
+    Of Zirrah; and the aged Zal himself
+    Has often stroked thy neck, and given thee food,
+    Corn in a golden platter soak'd with wine,
+    And said: 'O Ruksh! bear Rustum well,'--but I
+    Have never known my grandsire's furrow'd face,
+    Nor seen his lofty house in Seistan,
+    Nor slaked my thirst at the clear Helmund stream;
+    But lodged among my father's foes, and seen
+    Afrasiab's cities only, Samarcand,
+    Bokhara, and lone Khiva in the waste,
+    And the black Toorkmun tents; and only drunk
+    The desert rivers, Moorghab and Tejend,
+    Kohik, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep,
+    The northern Sir; and this great Oxus stream,
+    The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die."
+      Then, with a heavy groan, Rustum bewail'd:--
+    "Oh, that its waves were flowing over me!
+    Oh, that I saw its grains of yellow silt
+    Roll tumbling in the current o'er my head!"
+      But, with a grave mild voice, Sohrab replied:--
+    "Desire not that, my father! thou must live.
+    For some are born to do great deeds, and live,
+    As some are born to be obscured, and die.
+    Do thou the deeds I die too young to do,
+    And reap a second glory in thine age;
+    Thou art my father, and thy gain is mine.
+    But come! thou seest this great host of men
+    Which follow me; I pray thee, slay not these!
+    Let me entreat for them; what have they done?
+    They follow'd me, my hope, my fame, my star.
+    Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace.
+    But me thou must bear hence, not send with them,
+    But carry me with thee to Seistan,
+    And place me on a bed, and mourn for me,
+    Thou, and the snow-hair'd Zal, and all thy friends.
+    And thou must lay me in that lovely earth,
+    And heap a stately mound above my bones,[200-25]
+    And plant a far-seen pillar over all.
+    That so the passing horseman on the waste
+    May see my tomb a great way off, and cry:
+    'Sohrab, the mighty Rustum's son, lies there,
+    Whom his great father did in ignorance kill!'
+    And I be not forgotten in my grave."
+      And, with a mournful voice, Rustum replied:--
+    "Fear not! as thou hast said, Sohrab, my son,
+    So shall it be; for I will burn my tents,
+    And quit the host, and bear thee hence with me,
+    And carry thee away to Seistan,
+    And place thee on a bed, and mourn for thee,
+    With the snow-headed Zal, and all my friends.
+    And I will lay thee in that lovely earth,
+    And heap a stately mound above thy bones,
+    And plant a far-seen pillar over all,
+    And men shall not forget thee in thy grave.
+    And I will spare thy host; yea, let them go!
+    Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace!
+    What should I do with slaying any more?
+    For would that all that I have ever slain
+    Might be once more alive; my bitterest foes,
+    And they who were call'd champions in their time,
+    And through whose death I won that fame I have--
+    And I were nothing but a common man,
+    A poor, mean soldier, and without renown,
+    So thou mightest live too, my son, my son!
+    Or rather would that I, even I myself,
+    Might now be lying on this bloody sand,
+    Near death, and by an ignorant stroke of thine,
+    Not thou of mine! and I might die, not thou;
+    And I, not thou, be borne to Seistan;
+    And Zal might weep above my grave, not thine;
+    And say: 'O son, I weep thee not too sore,
+    For willingly, I know, thou met'st thine end!'
+    But now in blood and battles was my youth,
+    And full of blood and battles is my age,
+    And I shall never end this life of blood."
+      Then, at the point of death, Sohrab replied:--
+    "A life of blood indeed, though dreadful man!
+    But thou shalt yet have peace; only not now,
+    Not yet! but thou shalt have it on that day[201-26]
+    When thou shalt sail in a high-masted ship,
+    Thou and the other peers of a Kai Khosroo,
+    Returning home over the salt blue sea,
+    From laying thy dear master in his grave."
+      And Rustum gazed in Sohrab's face, and said:--
+    "Soon be that day, my son, and deep that sea!
+    Till then, if fate so wills, let me endure."
+      He spoke; and Sohrab smiled on him, and took
+    The spear, and drew it from his side, and eased
+    His wound's imperious anguish; but the blood
+    Came welling from the open gash, and life
+    Flow'd with the stream;--all down his cold white side
+    The crimson torrent ran, dim now and soil'd,
+    Like the soil'd tissue of white violets
+    Left, freshly gather'd, on their native bank,
+    By children whom their nurses call with haste
+    Indoors from the sun's eye; his head droop'd low,
+    His limbs grew slack; motionless, white, he lay--
+    White, with eyes closed; only when heavy gasps,
+    Deep heavy gasps quivering through all his frame,
+    Convulsed him back to life, he open'd them,
+    And fix'd them feebly on his father's face;
+    Till now all strength was ebb'd, and from his limbs
+    Unwillingly the spirit fled away,
+    Regretting the warm mansion which it left,
+    And youth, and bloom, and this delightful world.
+      So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab lay dead;
+    And the great Rustum drew his horseman's cloak
+    Down o'er his face, and sate by his dead son.
+    As those black granite pillars, once high-rear'd
+    By Jemshid in Persepolis, to bear
+    His house, now 'mid their broken flights of steps
+    Lie prone, enormous, down the mountain side--
+    So in the sand lay Rustum by his son.
+      And night came down over the solemn waste,
+    And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair,
+    And darken'd all; and a cold fog, with night,
+    Crept from the Oxus. Soon a hum arose,
+    As of a great assembly loosed, and fires
+    Began to twinkle through the fog; for now
+    Both armies moved to camp, and took their meal;
+    The Persians took it on the open sands
+    Southward, the Tartars by the river marge;
+    And Rustum and his son were left alone.
+
+      But the majestic river floated on,
+    Out of the mist and hum of that low land,
+    Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,
+    Rejoicing, through the hush'd Chorasmian waste,
+    Under the solitary moon;--he flow'd
+    Right for the polar star, past Orgunje,
+    Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begin
+
+[Illustration: RUSTUM SORROWS OVER SOHRAB]
+
+    To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,
+    And split his currents; that for many a league
+    The shorn and parcel'd Oxus strains along
+    Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles--
+    Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had
+    In his high mountain cradle in Pamere,
+    A foil'd circuitous wanderer--till at last
+    The long'd-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
+    His luminous home of waters opens, bright
+    And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars
+    Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.[204-27]
+
+     Matthew Arnold was one of England's purest and greatest men. As
+     scholar, teacher, poet and critic he labored zealously for the
+     betterment of his race and sought to bring them back to a clearer,
+     lovelier spiritual life and to win them from the base and sordid
+     schemes that make only for material success.
+
+     He was born in 1822 and was the son of Doctor Thomas Arnold, the
+     great teacher who was so long headmaster of the famous Rugby
+     school, and whose scholarly and Christian influence is so
+     faithfully brought out in Hughes's ever popular story _Tom Brown's
+     School Days_.
+
+     Matthew Arnold received his preparatory education in his father's
+     school at Rugby, and his college training at Oxford. He was always
+     a student and always active in educational work, as an inspector of
+     schools, and for ten years as professor of poetry at Oxford. He
+     twice visited the United States and both times lectured here. His
+     criticisms of America and Americans were severe, for he saw
+     predominant the spirit of money-getting, the thirst for material
+     prosperity and the absence of spiritual interests. In 1888, while
+     at the house of a friend in Liverpool, he died suddenly and
+     peacefully from an attack of heart disease.
+
+     Arnold was one of the most exacting and critical of English
+     writers, a man who applied to his own works the same severe
+     standards that he set up for others. As a result his writings have
+     become one of the standards of purity and taste in style.
+
+[Illustration: MATTHEW ARNOLD
+
+1822-1888]
+
+     The story of _Sohrab and Rustum_ pleased him, and he enjoyed
+     writing the poem, as may be seen from a letter to his mother,
+     written in 1853. He says:
+
+     "All my spare time has been spent on a poem which I have just
+     finished, and which I think by far the best thing I have yet done,
+     and I think it will be generally liked; though one can never be
+     sure of this. I have had the greatest pleasure in composing it, a
+     rare thing with me, and, as I think, a good test of the pleasure
+     what you write is likely to afford to others. But the story is a
+     very noble and excellent one."
+
+     Two men, both competent to judge, have given at length their
+     opinion of Matthew Arnold's character. So admirable a man deserves
+     to be known by the young, although most of his writings will be
+     understood and appreciated only by persons of some maturity in
+     years. Mr. John Morley says:
+
+     "He was incapable of sacrificing the smallest interest of anybody
+     to his own; he had not a spark of envy or jealousy; he stood well
+     aloof from all the hustlings and jostlings by which selfish men
+     push on; he bore life's disappointments--and he was disappointed in
+     some reasonable hopes--with good nature and fortitude; he cast no
+     burden upon others, and never shrank from bearing his own share of
+     the daily load to the last ounce of it; he took the deepest,
+     sincerest, and most active interest in the well-being of his
+     country and his countrymen."
+
+     Mr. George E. Woodbury in an essay on Arnold remarks concerning the
+     man as shown in his private letters:
+
+     "A nature warm to its own, kindly to all, cheerful, fond of sport
+     and fun, and always fed from pure fountains, and with it a
+     character so founded upon the rock, so humbly serviceable, so
+     continuing in power and grace, must wake in all the responses of
+     happy appreciation and leave the charm of memory."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[173-1] The Oxus, 1300 miles long, is the chief river of Central Asia,
+and one of the boundaries of Persia.
+
+[173-2] Peran-Wisa was the commander of King Afrasiab's troops, a
+Turanian chief who ruled over the many wild Tartar tribes whose men
+composed his army.
+
+[173-3] Pamir or Pamere is a high tableland called by the natives "the
+roof of the world." In it lies the source of the Oxus. Arnold has named
+many places for the purpose of giving an air of reality to the poem. It
+is not necessary to locate them accurately in order to understand the
+poem, and so the notes will refer to them only as the story is made
+clearer by the explanation.
+
+[174-4] Samarcand is a city of Turkistan, now a center of learning and
+of commerce.
+
+[175-5] _Common_ here means _general_. The idea is that little fame
+comes to him who fights in a general combat in which numbers take part.
+What is the real reason for Sohrab's desire to fight in single combat?
+Arnold gives a different reason from that in the _Shah Nameh_. In the
+latter case it is that by defeating their champion Sohrab may frighten
+the Persians into submission.
+
+[176-6] Seistan was the province in which Rustum and his father Zal had
+ruled for many years, subjects of the King of Persia.
+
+[176-7] _Whether that_ and _Or in_ beginning the second line below may
+be understood to read _Either because_ and _Or because of_.
+
+[177-8] _Frore_ means _frozen_.
+
+[177-9] From mares' milk is made koumiss, a favorite fermented drink of
+Tartar tribes.
+
+[178-10] _Fix'd_ means _halted_. He caused his army to remain stationary
+while he rode forward.
+
+[178-11] The _corn_ is grain of some kind, not our maize or Indian corn.
+
+[181-12] Kai Khosroo was one of the Persian kings who lived in the sixth
+century B. C., and is now understood to be Cyrus. He was the grandson of
+Kai Kaoos, in whose reign the _Shah Nameh_ places the episode of Sohrab
+and Rustum. Here as elsewhere Arnold alters the legend to suit his
+convenience and to make the poem more effective. For instance, he
+compresses the combat into a single day, while in the Persian epic, the
+battle lasts three days. This change gives greater vitality and more
+rapid action to the poem.
+
+[181-13] Zal was born with snowy hair, a most unusual thing among the
+black-haired Persians. His father was so angered by the appearance of
+his son that he abandoned the innocent babe in the Elburz mountains,
+where, however, a great bird or griffin miraculously preserved the
+infant and in time returned it to its father, who had repented of his
+hasty action.
+
+[183-14] _Ruksh_, also spelled _Raksh_.
+
+[183-15] _Tale_ means _count_ or _reckoning_. The diver had gathered all
+the pearls required from him for the day.
+
+[184-16] This description by Arnold scarcely tallies with the idea we
+have obtained of the powerful Sohrab from reading the accounts taken
+from the _Shah Nameh_. Arnold's is the more poetic idea, and increases
+the reader's sympathy for Sohrab.
+
+[185-17] _Be governed_, that is, _take my advice_.
+
+[189-18] It is not natural for father and son to fight thus.
+
+[191-19] In the _Shah Nameh_ Rustum overpowers Sohrab and slays him by
+his superior power and skill. Arnold takes the more poetic view that
+Sohrab's arm is powerless when he hears his father's name.
+
+[193-20] _Sole_ means _solitary, alone_.
+
+[193-21] _Glass her_ means _reflect her_ as in a mirror.
+
+[195-22] He sees that this young men, as far as age and appearance are
+concerned, might be a son of his.
+
+[196-23] Again Arnold departs from the Persian tale, in which Sohrab
+wears a bracelet or amulet on his arm. Arnold's work gives a more
+certain identification.
+
+[196-24] The griffin spoken of in note 13.
+
+[200-25] The Persian tradition is that over the spot where Sohrab was
+buried a huge mound, shaped like the hoof of a horse, was erected.
+
+[201-26] It is said that shortly after the death of Sohrab the king
+himself died while on a visit to a famous spring far in the north, and
+as the nobles were returning with his corpse all were lost in a great
+tempest. Unfortunately for Sohrab's prophecy, Persian traditions do not
+include Rustum among the lost.
+
+[204-27] This beautiful stanza makes a peculiarly artistic termination
+to the poem. After the storm and stress of the combat and the
+heart-breaking pathos of Sohrab's death, the reader willingly rests his
+thought on the majestic Oxus that still flows on, unchangeable, but ever
+changing. The suggestion is that after all nature is triumphant, that
+our pains and losses, our most grievous disappointments and greatest
+griefs are but incidents in the great drama of life, and that, though
+like the river Oxus, we for a time become "foiled, circuitous
+wanderers," we at last see before us the luminous home, bright and
+tranquil under the shining stars.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET AND THE PEASANT
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+
+A young man was walking through a forest, and in spite of the approach
+of night, in spite of the mist that grew denser every moment, he was
+walking slowly, paying no heed either to the weather or to the hour.
+
+His dress of green cloth, his buckskin gaiters, and the gun slung across
+his shoulder might have caused him to be taken for a sportsman, had not
+the book that half protruded from his game-bag betrayed the dreamer, and
+proved that Arnold de Munster was less occupied with observing the track
+of wild game than in communing with himself.
+
+For some moments his mind had been filled with thoughts of his family
+and of the friends he had left in Paris. He remembered the studio that
+he had adorned with fantastic engravings, strange paintings, curious
+statuettes; the German songs that his sister had sung, the melancholy
+verses that he had repeated in the subdued light of the evening lamps,
+and the long talks in which every one confessed his inmost feelings, in
+which all the mysteries of thought were discussed and translated into
+impassioned or graceful words! Why had he abandoned these choice
+pleasures to bury himself in the country?
+
+He was aroused at last from his meditations by the consciousness that
+the mist had changed into rain and was beginning to penetrate his
+shooting-coat. He was about to quicken his steps, but in looking around
+him he saw that he had lost his way, and he tried vainly to determine
+the direction he must take. A first attempt only succeeded in
+bewildering him still more. The daylight faded, the rain fell more
+heavily, and he continued to plunge at random into unknown paths.
+
+He had begun to be discouraged, when the sound of bells reached him
+through the leafless trees. A cart driven by a big man in a blouse had
+appeared at an intersecting road and was coming toward the one that
+Arnold had just reached.
+
+Arnold stopped to wait for the man and asked him if he were far from
+Sersberg.
+
+"Sersberg!" repeated the carter; "you don't expect to sleep there
+to-night?"
+
+"Pardon me, but I do," answered the young man.
+
+"At Sersberg?" went on his interlocutor; "you'll have to go by train,
+then! It is six good leagues from here to the gate; and considering the
+weather and the roads, they are equal to twelve."
+
+The young man uttered an exclamation. He had left the chateau that
+morning and did not think that he had wandered so far; but he had been
+on the wrong path for hours, and in thinking to take the road to
+Sersberg he had continued to turn his back upon it. It was too late to
+make good such an error; so he was forced to accept the shelter offered
+by his new companion, whose farm was fortunately within gunshot.
+
+He accordingly regulated his pace to the carter's and attempted to enter
+into conversation with him; but Moser was not a talkative man and was
+apparently a complete stranger to the young man's usual sensations.
+When, on issuing from the forest, Arnold pointed to the magnificent
+horizon purpled by the last rays of the setting sun, the farmer
+contented himself with a grimace.
+
+"Bad weather for to-morrow," he muttered, drawing his cloak about his
+shoulders.
+
+"One ought to be able to see the entire valley from here," went on
+Arnold, striving to pierce the gloom that already clothed the foot of
+the mountain.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Moser, shaking his head; "the ridge is high enough for
+that. There's an invention for you that isn't good for much."
+
+"What invention?"
+
+"The mountains."
+
+"You would rather have everything level?"
+
+"What a question!" cried the farmer, laughing. "You might as well ask me
+if I would not rather ruin my horses."
+
+"True," said Arnold in a tone of somewhat contemptuous irony. "I had
+forgotten the horses! It is clear that God should have thought
+principally of them when he created the world."
+
+"I don't know as to God," answered Moser quietly, "but the engineers
+certainly made a mistake in forgetting them when they made the roads.
+The horse is the laborer's best friend, monsieur--without disrespect to
+the oxen, which have their value too."
+
+Arnold looked at the peasant. "So you see in your surroundings only the
+advantages you can derive from them?" he asked gravely. "The forest, the
+mountains, the clouds, all say nothing to you? You have never paused
+before the setting sun or at the sight of the woods lighted by the
+stars?"
+
+"I?" cried the farmer. "Do you take me for a maker of almanacs? What
+should I get out of your starlight and the setting sun? The main thing
+is to earn enough for three meals a day and to keep one's stomach warm.
+Would monsieur like a drink of cognac? It comes from the other side of
+the Rhine."
+
+He held out a little wicker-covered bottle to Arnold, who refused by a
+gesture. The positive coarseness of the peasant had rekindled his regret
+and his contempt. Were they really men such as he was, these
+unfortunates, doomed to unceasing labor, who lived in the bosom of
+nature without heeding it and whose souls never rose above the most
+material sensations? Was there one point of resemblance which could
+attest their original brotherhood to such as he? Arnold doubted this
+more and more each moment.
+
+These thoughts had the effect of communicating to his manner a sort of
+contemptuous indifference toward his conductor, to whom he ceased to
+talk. Moser showed neither surprise nor pain and set to whistling an
+air, interrupted from time to time by some brief word of encouragement
+to his horses.
+
+Thus they arrived at the farm, where the noise of the bells announced
+their coming. A young boy and a woman of middle age appeared on the
+threshold.
+
+"Ah, it is the father!" cried the woman, looking back into the house,
+where could be heard the voices of several children, who came running to
+the door with shouts of joy and pressed around the peasant.
+
+"Wait a moment, youngsters," interrupted the father in his big voice as
+he rummaged in the cart and brought forth a covered basket. "Let Fritz
+unharness."
+
+But the children continued to besiege the farmer, all talking at once.
+He bent to kiss them, one after another; then rising suddenly:
+
+"Where is Jean?" he asked with a quickness that had something of
+uneasiness in it.
+
+"Here, father, here," answered a shrill little voice from the farm-house
+door; "mother doesn't want me to go out in the rain."
+
+"Stay where you are," said Moser, throwing the traces on the backs of
+the horses; "I will go to you, little son. Go in, the rest of you, so as
+not to tempt him to come out."
+
+The three children went back to the doorway, where little Jean was
+standing beside his mother, who was protecting him from the weather.
+
+He was a poor little creature, so cruelly deformed that at the first
+glance one could not have told his age or the nature of his infirmity.
+His whole body, distorted by sickness, formed a curved, not to say a
+broken line. His disproportionately large head was sunken between two
+unequally rounded shoulders, while his body was sustained by two little
+crutches; these took the place of the shrunken legs, which could not
+support him.
+
+At the farmer's approach he held out his thin arms with an expression of
+love that made Moser's furrowed face brighten. The father lifted him in
+his strong arms with an exclamation of tender delight.
+
+"Come!" he cried, "hug your father--with both arms--hard! How has he
+been since yesterday?"
+
+The mother shook her head.
+
+"Always the cough," she answered in a low tone.
+
+"It's nothing, father," the child answered in his shrill voice. "Louis
+had drawn me too fast in my wheeled chair; but I am well, very well; I
+feel as strong as a man."
+
+The peasant placed him carefully on the ground, set him upon his little
+crutches, which had fallen, and looked at him with an air of
+satisfaction.
+
+"Don't you think he's growing, wife?" he asked in the tone of a man who
+wishes to be encouraged. "Walk a bit, Jean; walk, boy! He walks more
+quickly and more strongly. It'll all come right, wife; we must only be
+patient."
+
+The farmer's wife made no reply, but her eyes turned toward the feeble
+child with a look of despair so deep that Arnold trembled; fortunately
+Moser paid no heed.
+
+"Come, the whole brood of you," he went on, opening the basket he had
+taken from the cart; "here is something for every one! In line and hold
+out your hands."
+
+The peasant had displayed three small white rolls glazed in the baking;
+three cries of joy burst forth simultaneously and six hands advanced to
+seize the rolls, but they all paused at the word of command.
+
+"And Jean?" asked the childish voices.
+
+"To the devil with Jean," answered Moser gayly; "there is nothing for
+him to-night. Jean shall have his share another time."
+
+But the child smiled and tried to get up to look into the basket. The
+farmer stepped back a pace, took off the cover carefully, and lifting
+his arm with an air of solemnity, displayed before the eyes of all a
+cake of gingerbread garnished with almonds and pink and white
+sugar-plums.
+
+There was a general shout of admiration. Jean himself could not restrain
+a cry of delight; a slight flush rose to his pale face and he held out
+his hands with an air of joyful expectancy.
+
+"Ah, you like it, little mole!" cried the peasant, whose face was
+radiant at the sight of the child's pleasure; "take it, old man, take
+it; it is nothing but sugar and honey."
+
+He placed the gingerbread in the hands of the little hunchback, who
+trembled with happiness, watched him hobble off, and turning to Arnold
+when the sound of the crutches was lost in the house, said with a slight
+break in his voice:
+
+"He is my eldest. Sickness has deformed him a little, but he's a shrewd
+fellow and it only depends upon us to make a gentleman of him."
+
+While speaking he had crossed the first room on the ground-floor and led
+his guest into a species of dining-room, the whitewashed walls of which
+were decorated only with a few rudely colored prints. As he entered,
+Arnold saw Jean seated on the floor and surrounded by his brothers,
+among whom he was dividing the cake given him by his father. But each
+one objected to the size of his portion and wished to lessen it; it
+required all the little hunchback's eloquence to make them accept what
+he had given them. For some time the young sportsman watched this
+dispute with singular interest, and when the children had gone out again
+he expressed his admiration to the farmer's wife.
+
+"It is quite true," she said with a smile and a sigh, "that there are
+times when it seems as though it were a good thing for them to see
+Jean's infirmity. It is hard for them to give up to each other, but not
+one of them can refuse Jean anything; it is a constant exercise in
+kindness and devotion."
+
+"Great virtue, that!" interrupted Moser. "Who could refuse anything to
+such a poor, afflicted little innocent? It's a silly thing for a man to
+say; but, look you, monsieur, that child there always makes me want to
+cry. Often when I am at work in the fields, I begin all at once to think
+about him. I say to myself Jean is ill! or Jean is dead! and then I have
+to find some excuse for coming home to see how it is. Then he is so weak
+and so ailing! If we did not love him more than the others, he would be
+too unhappy."
+
+"Yes," said the mother gently, "the poor child is our cross and our joy
+at the same time. I love all my children, monsieur, but whenever I hear
+the sound of Jean's crutches on the floor, I always feel a rush of
+happiness. It is a sign that the good God has not yet taken our darling
+away from us. It seems to me as though Jean brought happiness to the
+house just like swallows' nests fastened to the windows. If I hadn't him
+to take care of, I should think there was nothing for me to do."
+
+Arnold listened to these naive expressions of tenderness with an
+interest that was mingled with astonishment. The farmer's wife called a
+servant to help set the table; and at Moser's invitation, the young man
+approached the brushwood fire which had been rekindled.
+
+As he was leaning against the smoky mantelpiece, his eye fell upon a
+small black frame that inclosed a withered leaf. Moser noticed it.
+
+"Ah! you are looking at my relic. It's a leaf of the weeping-willow that
+grows down there on the tomb of Napoleon! I got it from a Strasbourg
+merchant who had served in the Old Guard. I wouldn't part with it for a
+hundred crowns."
+
+"Then there is some particular sentiment attached to it?"
+
+"Sentiment, no," answered the peasant; "but I too was discharged from
+the Fourth Regiment of Hussars, a brave regiment, monsieur. There were
+only eight men left of our squadron, so when the Little Corporal passed
+in front of the line he saluted us--yes, monsieur, raised his hat to us!
+That was something to make us ready to die to the last man, look you.
+Ah! he was the father of the soldier!"
+
+Here the peasant began to fill his pipe, looking the while at the black
+frame and the withered leaf. In this reminder of a marvelous destiny
+there was evidently for him a whole romance of youth, emotion, and
+regret. He recalled the last struggles of the Empire, in which he had
+taken part, the reviews held by the emperor, when his mere presence
+aroused confidence in victory; the passing successes of France's famous
+campaign, so soon expiated by the disaster at Waterloo; the departure of
+the vanquished general and his long agony on the rock of Saint Helena.
+
+Arnold respected the old soldier's silent preoccupation and waited until
+he should resume the conversation.
+
+The arrival of supper roused him from his reverie; he drew up a chair
+for his guest and took his place at the opposite side of the table.
+
+"Come! fall to on the soup," he cried brusquely. "I have had nothing
+since morning but two swallows of cognac. I should eat an ox whole
+to-night."
+
+To prove his words, he began to empty the huge porringer of soup before
+him.
+
+For several moments nothing was heard but the clatter of spoons followed
+by that of the knives cutting up the side of bacon served by the
+farmer's wife. His walk and the fresh air had given Arnold himself an
+appetite that made him forget his Parisian daintiness. The supper grew
+gayer and gayer, when all at once the peasant raised his head.
+
+"And Farraut?" he asked. "I have not seen him since my return."
+
+His wife and the children looked at each other without answering.
+
+"Well, what is it?" went on Moser, who saw their embarrassment. "Where
+is the dog? What has happened to him? Why don't you answer, Dorothee?"
+
+"Don't be angry, father," interrupted Jean; "we didn't dare tell you,
+but Farraut went away and has not come back."
+
+"A thousand devils! You should have told me!" cried the peasant,
+striking the table with his fist. "What road did he take?"
+
+"The road to Garennes."
+
+"When was it?"
+
+"After dinner: we saw him go up the little path."
+
+"Something must have happened to him," said Moser, getting up. "The poor
+animal is almost blind and there are sand pits all along the road! Go
+fetch my sheepskin and the lantern, wife. I must find Farraut, dead or
+alive."
+
+Dorothee went out without making any remark either about the hour or the
+weather, and soon reappeared with what her husband had asked for.
+
+"You must think a great deal of this dog," said Arnold, surprised at
+such zeal.
+
+"It is not I," answered Moser, lighting his pipe; "but he did good
+service to Dorothee's father. One day when the old man was on his way
+home from market with the price of his oxen in his pocket, four men
+tried to murder him for his money, and they would have done it if it had
+not been for Farraut; so when the good man died two years ago, he called
+me to his bedside and asked me to care for the dog as for one of his
+children--those were his words. I promised, and it would be a crime not
+to keep one's promise to the dead. Fritz, give me my iron-shod stick. I
+wouldn't have anything happen to Farraut for a pint of my blood. The
+animal has been in the family for twenty years--he knows us all by our
+voices--and he recalls the grandfather. I shall see you again, monsieur,
+and good-night until to-morrow."
+
+Moser wrapped himself in his sheepskin and went out. They could hear the
+sound of his iron-shod stick die away in the soughing of the wind and
+the falling of the rain.
+
+After awhile the farmer's wife offered to conduct Arnold to his quarters
+for the night, but Arnold asked permission to await the return of the
+master of the house, if his return were not delayed too long. His
+interest in the man who had at first seemed to him so vulgar, and in the
+humble family whose existence he had thought to be so valueless,
+continued to increase.
+
+The vigil was prolonged, however, and Moser did not return. The children
+had fallen asleep one after another, and even Jean, who had held out the
+longest, had to seek his bed at last. Dorothee, uneasy, went
+incessantly from the fireside to the door and from the door to the
+fireside. Arnold strove to reassure her, but her mind was excited by
+suspense. She accused Moser of never thinking of his health or of his
+safety; of always being ready to sacrifice himself for others; of being
+unable to see a human being or an animal suffer without risking all to
+relieve it. As she went on with her complaint, which sounded strangely
+like a glorification, her fears grew more vivid; she had a thousand
+gloomy forebodings. The dog had howled all through the previous night;
+an owl had perched upon the roof of the house; it was a Wednesday,
+always an unfortunate day in the family. Her fears reached such a pitch
+at last that the young man volunteered to go in search of her husband,
+and she was about to awaken Fritz to accompany him, when the sound of
+footsteps was heard outside.
+
+"It is Moser!" said the woman, stopping short.
+
+"Oho, there, open quickly, wife," cried the farmer from without.
+
+She ran to draw the bolt, and Moser appeared, carrying in his arms the
+old blind dog.
+
+"Here he is," he said gayly. "God help me! I thought I should never find
+him: the poor brute had rolled to the bottom of the big stone quarry."
+
+"And you went there to get him?" asked Dorothee, horror-stricken.
+
+"Should I have left him at the bottom to find him drowned to-morrow?"
+asked the old soldier. "I slid down the length of the big mountain and I
+carried him up in my arms like a child: the lantern was left behind,
+though."
+
+"But you risked your life, you foolhardy man!" cried Dorothee, who was
+shuddering at her husband's explanation.
+
+The latter shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Ah, bah!" he said with careless gayety; "who risks nothing has nothing;
+I have found Farraut--that's the principal thing. If the grandfather
+sees us from up there, he ought to be satisfied."
+
+This reflection, made in an almost indifferent tone, touched Arnold, who
+held out his hand impetuously to the peasant.
+
+"What you have done was prompted by a good heart," he said with feeling.
+
+"What? Because I have kept a dog from drowning?" answered Moser. "Dogs
+and men--thank God I have helped more than one out of a hole since I was
+born; but I have sometimes had better weather than to-night to do it in.
+Say, wife, there must be a glass of cognac left; bring the bottle here;
+there is nothing that dries you better when you're wet."
+
+Dorothee brought the bottle to the farmer, who drank to his guest's
+health, and then each sought his bed.
+
+The next morning the weather was fine again; the sky was clear, and the
+birds, shaking their feathers, sang on the still dripping trees.
+
+When he descended from the garret, where a bed had been prepared for
+him, Arnold found near the door Farraut, who was warming himself in the
+sun, while little Jean, seated on his crutches, was making him a collar
+of eglantine berries. A little further on, in the first room, the farmer
+was clinking glasses with a beggar who had come to collect his weekly
+tithe; Dorothee was holding his wallet, which she was filling.
+
+"Come, old Henri, one more draught," said the peasant, refilling the
+beggar's glass; "if you mean to finish your round you must take
+courage."
+
+"That one always finds here," said the beggar with a smile; "there are
+not many houses in the parish where they give more, but there is not one
+where they give with such good will."
+
+"Be quiet, will you, Pere Henri?" interrupted Moser; "do people talk of
+such things? Drink and let the good God judge each man's actions. You,
+too, have served; we are old comrades."
+
+The old man contented himself with a shake of the head and touched his
+glass to the farmer's; but one could see that he was more moved by the
+heartiness that accompanied the alms than the alms itself.
+
+When he had taken up his wallet again and bade them good-by, Moser
+watched him go until he had disappeared around a bend in the road. Then
+drawing a breath, he said, turning to his guest:
+
+"One more poor old man without a home. You may believe me or not,
+monsieur, but when I see men with shaking heads going about like that,
+begging their bread from door to door, it turns my blood. I should like
+to set the table for them all and touch glasses with them all as I did
+just now with Pere Henri. To keep your heart from breaking at such a
+sight, you must believe that there is a world up there where those who
+have not been summoned to the ordinary here will receive double rations
+and double pay."
+
+"You must hold to that belief," said Arnold; "it will support and
+console you. It will be long before I shall forget the hours I have
+passed in your house, and I trust they will not be the last."
+
+"Whenever you choose," said the old soldier; "if you don't find the bed
+up there too hard and if you can digest our bacon, come at your
+pleasure, and we shall always be under obligations to you."
+
+He shook the hand that the young man had extended, pointed out the way
+that he must take, and did not leave the threshold until he had seen his
+guest disappear in the turn of the road.
+
+For some time Arnold walked with lowered head, but upon reaching the
+summit of the hill he turned to take a last backward look, and seeing
+the farm-house chimney, above which curled a light wreath of smoke, he
+felt a tear of tenderness rise to his eye.
+
+"May God always protect those who live under that roof!" he murmured;
+"for where pride made me see creatures incapable of understanding the
+finer qualities of the soul, I have found models for myself. I judged
+the depths by the surface and thought poetry absent because, instead of
+showing itself without, it hid itself in the heart of the things
+themselves; ignorant observer that I was, I pushed aside with my foot
+what I thought were pebbles, not guessing that in these rude stones were
+hidden diamonds."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN HOWARD PAYNE AND "HOME, SWEET HOME"
+
+
+About a hundred years ago, a young man, little more than a boy, was
+drawing large audiences to the theaters of our eastern cities. New York
+received him with enthusiasm, cultured Boston was charmed by his person
+and his graceful bearing, while warm-hearted Baltimore fairly outdid
+herself in hospitality. Until this time five hundred dollars was a large
+sum for a theater to yield in a single night in Baltimore, but people
+paid high premiums to hear the boy actor, and a one-evening audience
+brought in more than a thousand dollars.
+
+About the same time in England another boy actor, Master Betty, was
+creating great excitement, and him they called the Young Roscius, a name
+that was quickly caught up by the admirers of the Yankee youth, who then
+became known as the Young American Roscius.
+
+He was a wonderful boy in every way, was John Howard Payne. One of a
+large family of children, several of whom were remarkably bright, he had
+from his parents the most careful training, though they were not able
+always to give him the advantages they wished. John was born in New York
+City, but early moved with his parents to East Hampton, the most eastern
+town on the jutting southern point of Long Island. Here in the charming
+little village he passed his childhood, a leader among his playmates,
+and a favorite among his elders. His slight form, rounded face,
+beautiful features and graceful bearing combined to attract also the
+marked attention of every stranger who met him.
+
+At thirteen years of age he was at work in New York, and soon was
+discovered to be the editor in secret of a paper called _The Thespian
+Mirror_. The merit of this juvenile sheet attracted the attention of
+many people, and among them of Mr. Seaman, a wealthy New Yorker who
+offered the talented boy an opportunity to go to college free of
+expense. Young Payne gladly accepted the invitation, and proceeded to
+Union College, where he soon became one of the most popular boys in the
+school. His handsome face, graceful manners and elegant delivery were
+met with applause whenever he spoke in public, and a natural taste led
+him to seek every chance for declamation and acting. Even as a child he
+had showed his dramatic ability, and more than once he was urged to go
+upon the stage. But his father refused all offers and kept the boy
+steadily at his work.
+
+When he was seventeen, however, two events occurred which changed all
+his plans. First his mother died, and then his father failed in
+business, and the young man saw that he must himself take up the burdens
+of the family. Accordingly he left college before graduation and began
+his career as an actor.
+
+[Illustration: JOHN HOWARD PAYNE
+
+1791-1852]
+
+His success was immediate and unusual, if we may judge from the words of
+contemporary critics. His first appearance in Boston was on February
+24, 1809, as Douglas in _Young Norval_. In this play occurs the
+speech that countless American boys have declaimed, "On the Grampian
+Hills my father feeds his flocks." Of Payne's rendition a critic says,
+"He had all the skill of a finished artist combined with the freshness
+and simplicity of youth. Great praise, but there are few actors who can
+claim any competition with him." Six weeks later he was playing Hamlet
+there, and his elocution is spoken of as remarkable for its purity, his
+action as suited to the passion he represented, and his performance as
+an exquisite one that delighted his brilliant audience.
+
+    "Upon the stage, a glowing boy appeared
+    Whom heavenly smiles and grateful thunders cheered;
+    Then through the throng delighted murmurs ran.
+    The boy enacts more wonders than a man."
+
+Another, writing about this time, says, "Young Payne was a perfect Cupid
+in his beauty, and his sweet voice, self-possessed yet modest manners,
+wit, vivacity and premature wisdom, made him a most engaging prodigy."
+
+And again, "A more engaging youth could not be imagined; he won all
+hearts by the beauty of his person and his captivating address, the
+premature richness of his mind and his chaste and flowing utterance."
+
+His great successes here led him to go to England, where his popularity
+was not nearly so great, and where the critics pounced upon him
+unmercifully, hurting his feelings beyond repair. Still he succeeded
+moderately both in England and on the Continent, until he turned his
+attention to writing rather than to acting. _Brutus_, a tragedy, is the
+only one of the sixty works which he wrote, translated or adapted, that
+ever is played nowadays. In _Clari, the Maid of Milan_, one of his
+operas, however, appeared a little song that has made the name of John
+Howard Payne eternally famous throughout the world.
+
+_Home, Sweet Home_ had originally four stanzas, but by common consent
+the third and fourth have been dropped because of their inferiority. The
+two remaining ones are sung everywhere with heartfelt appreciation, and
+the air, whatever its origin, has now association only with the words of
+the old home song. Miss Ellen Tree, who sang it in the opera, charmed
+her audience instantly, and in the end won her husband through its
+melody.
+
+In 1823, 100,000 copies were sold, and the publishers made 2,000 guineas
+from it in two years. In fact, it enriched everybody who had anything to
+do with it, except Payne, who sold it originally for L30.
+
+Perhaps the most noteworthy incident connected with the public rendition
+of _Home, Sweet Home_ occurred in Washington at one of the theaters
+where Jenny Lind was singing before an audience composed of the first
+people of our land. In one of the boxes sat the author, then on a visit
+to this country, and a favorite everywhere. The prima donna sang her
+greatest classical music and moved her audience to the wildest applause.
+Then in response to the renewed calls she stepped to the front of the
+stage, turned her face to the box where the poet sat, and in a voice of
+marvelous pathos and power sang:
+
+    "Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
+    Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!
+    A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
+    Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
+        Home, Home! Sweet, sweet Home!
+        There's no place like Home!
+        There's no place like Home!
+
+[Illustration: THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME]
+
+    "An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain!
+    O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
+    The birds singing gaily that came at my call;--
+    Give me them! and the peace of mind dearer than all!
+          Home, Home! Sweet, sweet Home!
+          There's no place like Home!
+          There's no place like Home!"[226-1]
+
+The audience were moved to tears. Even Daniel Webster, stern man of law,
+lost control of himself and wept like a child.
+
+Payne's later life was not altogether a happy one, and he felt some
+resentment against the world, although it may not have been justified.
+He was unmarried, but was no more homeless than most bachelors. He
+exiled himself voluntarily from his own country, and so lost much of the
+delightful result of his own early popularity. He may have been reduced
+to privation and suffering, but it was not for long at a time. Some
+writers have sought to heighten effect by making the author of the
+greatest song of home a homeless wanderer. The truth is that Payne's
+unhappiness was largely the result of his own peculiarities. He was
+given to poetic exaggeration, for there is now known to be little stern
+fact in the following oft-quoted writing of himself:
+
+"How often have I been in the heart of Paris, Berlin, London or some
+other city, and have heard persons singing or hand organs playing _Sweet
+Home_ without having a shilling to buy myself the next meal or a place
+to lay my head! The world has literally sung my song until every heart
+is familiar with its melody, yet I have been a wanderer from my
+boyhood. My country has turned me ruthlessly from office and in my old
+age I have to submit to humiliation for my bread."
+
+Upon his own request he was appointed United States consul at Tunis, and
+after being removed from that office continued to reside there until his
+death. He was buried in Saint George's Cemetery in Tunis, and there his
+body rested for more than thirty years, until W. W. Corcoran, a wealthy
+resident of Washington, had it disinterred, brought to this country and
+buried in the beautiful Oak Hill Cemetery near Washington. There a white
+marble shaft surmounted by a bust of the poet marks his last home. On
+one side of the shaft is the inscription:
+
+          John Howard Payne,
+      Author of "Home, Sweet Home."
+  Born June 9, 1792. Died April 9, 1852.
+
+On the other side is chiseled this stanza:
+
+    "Sure when thy gentle spirit fled
+    To realms above the azure dome,
+    With outstretched arms God's angels said
+    Welcome to Heaven's Home, Sweet Home."
+
+Much sentiment has been wasted over Payne, who was really not a great
+poet and whose lack of stamina prevented him from grasping the power
+already in his hand. We should remember, too, that the astonishing
+popularity of _Home, Sweet Home_ is doubtless due more to the glorious
+melody of the air, probably composed by some unknown Sicilian, than to
+the wording of the two stanzas.
+
+When we study the verses themselves we see that the first three lines
+are rather fine, but the fourth line is clumsy and matter-of-fact
+compared with the others. In the second stanza "lowly thatched cottage"
+may be a poetic description, but the home longing is not confined to
+people who have lived in thatched cottages. Tame singing birds are
+interesting, but home stands for higher and holier things. All he asks
+for are a thatched cottage, singing birds and peace of mind: a curious
+group of things. The fourth line of that stanza is unmusical and
+inharmonious.
+
+These facts make us see that what really has made the song so dear to us
+is its sweet music and the powerful emotion that seizes us all when we
+think of the home of our childhood.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[226-1] Capitals and punctuation as written by Payne.
+
+
+
+
+AULD LANG SYNE[228-1]
+
+_By_ ROBERT BURNS
+
+
+     NOTE.--The song as we know it is not the first song to bear that
+     title, nor is it entirely original with Robert Burns. It is said
+     that the second and third stanzas were written by him, but that the
+     others were merely revised. In a letter to a friend, written in
+     1793, Burns says, "The air (of _Auld Lang Syne_) is but mediocre;
+     but the following song, the old song of the olden time, which has
+     never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down
+     from an old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air." This
+     refers to the song as we know it, but the friend, a Mr. Thompson,
+     set the words to an old Lowland air which is the one every one now
+     uses.
+
+     At an earlier date Burns wrote to another friend: "Is not the
+     Scottish phrase, _auld lang syne_, exceedingly expressive? There is
+     an old song and tune that has often thrilled through my soul.
+     Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who
+     composed this glorious fragment."
+
+     We cannot be certain that this refers to the exact wording he
+     subsequently set down, for there were at least three versions known
+     at that time.
+
+    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
+      And never brought to min'?
+    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
+      And days o' lang syne?
+
+        _For auld lang syne, my dear,
+          For auld lang syne,
+        We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,[229-2]
+          For auld lang syne._
+
+    We twa[229-3] hae[229-4] run about the braes,[229-5]
+      And pou'd[229-6] the gowans[229-7] fine;
+    But we've wandered mony[229-8] a weary foot
+      Sin'[229-9] auld lang syne.
+            _For auld_, etc.
+
+    We twa hae paidl't[229-10] i' the burn,[229-11]
+      Frae[229-12] mornin' sun till dine;[229-13]
+    But seas between us braid[229-14] hae roared
+      Sin' auld lang syne.
+            _For auld_, etc.
+
+    And here's a hand, my trusty frere,[230-15]
+      And gie's[230-16] a hand o' thine;
+    And we'll tak a right guid[230-17] willie-waught[230-18]
+      For auld lang syne.
+           _For auld_, etc.
+
+[Illustration: FOR AULD LANG SYNE]
+
+    And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,[230-19]
+      And surely I'll be mine;
+    And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
+      For auld lang syne.
+           _For auld_, etc.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[228-1] Literally, _Auld Lang Syne_ means _Old Long-Since_. It is
+difficult to bring out the meaning of the Scotch phrase by a single
+English word. Perhaps _The Good Old Times_ comes as near to it as
+anything. The song gives so much meaning to the Scotch phrase that now
+every man and woman knows what _Auld Lang Syne_ really stands for.
+
+[229-2] That is, _we will drink for the sake of old times_.
+
+[229-3] _Twa_ means _two_.
+
+[229-4] _Hae_ is the Scotch for _have_.
+
+[229-5] A brae is a sloping hillside.
+
+[229-6] _Pou'd_ is a contracted form of _pulled_.
+
+[229-7] Dandelions, daisies and other yellow flowers are called _gowans_
+by the Scotch.
+
+[229-8] _Mony_ is _many_.
+
+[229-9] _Sin'_ is a contraction of _since_.
+
+[229-10] _Paidl't_ means _paddled_.
+
+[229-11] A burn is a brook.
+
+[229-12] _Frae_ is the Scotch word for _from_.
+
+[229-13] _Dine_ means _dinner-time_, _midday_.
+
+[229-14] _Braid_ is the Scotch form of _broad_.
+
+[230-15] _Frere_ means _friend_.
+
+[230-16] _Gie's_ is a contracted form of _give us_.
+
+[230-17] _Guid_ is the Scottish spelling of _good_.
+
+[230-18] A willie-waught is a hearty draught.
+
+[230-19] A pint-stoup is a pint-cup or flagon.
+
+
+
+
+HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD
+
+_By_ ALFRED TENNYSON
+
+
+    Home they brought her warrior dead:
+      She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry:
+    All her maidens, watching, said,
+      "She must weep or she will die."
+
+    Then they praised him, soft and low,
+      Call'd him worthy to be loved,
+    Truest friend and noblest foe;
+      Yet she never spoke nor moved.
+
+    Stole a maiden from her place,
+      Lightly to the warrior stept,
+    Took a face-cloth from the face;
+      Yet she neither moved nor wept.
+
+    Rose a nurse of ninety years,
+      Set his child upon her knee--
+    Like summer tempest came her tears--
+      "Sweet my child, I live for thee."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHARLES DICKENS
+
+
+"To begin my life with the beginning of my life," Dickens makes one of
+his heroes say, "I record that I was born (as I have been informed and
+believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night." Dickens was born on a
+Friday, the date the 7th of February, 1812, the place Landport in
+Portsea, England. The house was a comfortable one, and during Charles's
+early childhood his surroundings were prosperous; for his father, John
+Dickens, a clerk in the navy pay-office, was temporarily in easy
+circumstances. When Charles was but two, the family moved to London,
+taking lodgings for a time in Norfolk Street, Bloomsbury, and finally
+settling in Chatham. Here they lived in comfort, and here Charles gained
+more than the rudiments of an education, his earliest teacher being his
+mother, who instructed him not only in English, but in Latin also. Later
+he became the pupil of Mr. Giles, who seems to have taken in him an
+extraordinary interest.
+
+[Illustration: CHARLES DICKENS
+
+1812-1870]
+
+Indeed, he was a child in whom it was difficult not to take an
+extraordinary interest. Small for his years, and attacked occasionally
+by a sort of spasm which was exceedingly painful, he was not fitted for
+much active exercise; but the _aliveness_ which was apparent in him all
+his life distinguished him now. He was very fond of reading, and in
+_David Copperfield_ he put into the mouth of his hero a description
+of his own delight in certain books. "My father had left a small
+collection of books in a little room upstairs, to which I had access
+(for it adjoined my own), and which nobody else in our house ever
+troubled. From that blessed little room, _Roderick Random_, _Peregrine
+Pickle_, _Humphrey Clinker_, _Tom Jones_, _The Vicar of Wakefield_, _Don
+Quixote_, _Gil Blas_ and _Robinson Crusoe_ came out, a glorious host, to
+keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, ... they, and the _Arabian
+Nights_ and the _Tales of the Genii_--and did me no harm; for whatever
+harm was in some of them was not there for me; I knew nothing of it....
+I have been Tom Jones (a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature) for a
+week together. I have sustained my own idea of Roderick Random for a
+month at a stretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish for a few
+volumes of Voyages and Travels--I forget what, now--that were on those
+shelves; and for days and days I can remember to have gone about my
+region of our house, armed with the center piece out of an old set of
+boot-trees--the perfect realization of Captain Somebody, of the Royal
+British Navy, in danger of being beset by savages, and resolved to sell
+his life at a great price."
+
+Not only did the little Charles read all he could lay hands upon; he
+made up stories, too, which he told to his small playmates, winning
+thereby their wondering admiration. Some of these tales he wrote down,
+and thus he became an author in a small way while he was yet a very
+small boy. His making believe to be the characters out of books shows
+another trait which clung to him all his life--his fondness for
+"play-acting." It was, in fact, often said of the mature Dickens that
+he would have made as good an actor as he was a novelist, and Dickens's
+father seems to have recognized in his little son decided traces of
+ability; for often, when there was company at the house, little Charles,
+with his face flushed and his eyes shining, would be placed on a table
+to sing a comic song, amid the applause of all present.
+
+His early days were thus very happy; but when he was about eleven years
+old, money difficulties beset the family, and they were obliged to move
+to a poor part of London. Mrs. Dickens made persistent efforts to open a
+school for young ladies, but no one ever showed the slightest intention
+of coming. Matters went from bad to worse, and finally Mr. Dickens was
+arrested for debt and taken to the Marshalsea prison. The time that
+followed was a most painful one to the sensitive boy--far more painful,
+it would seem, than to the "Prodigal Father," as Dickens later called
+him. This father, whom Dickens long afterward described, in _David
+Copperfield_, as Mr. Micawber, was, as his son was always most willing
+to testify, a kind, generous man; but he was improvident to the last
+degree; and when in difficulties which would have made melancholy any
+other man, he was able, by the mere force of his rhetoric, to lift
+himself above circumstances or to make himself happy in them.
+
+At length all the family except the oldest sister, who was at school,
+and Charles, went to live in the prison; and Charles was given work in a
+blacking-warehouse of which a relative of his mother's was manager. The
+sufferings which the boy endured at this time were intense. It was not
+only that the work was sordid, monotonous, uncongenial; it was not only
+that his pride was outraged; what hurt him most of all was that he
+should have been "so easily cast away at such an age," and that "no one
+made any sign." He had always yearned for an education; he had always
+felt that he must grow up to be worth something. And to see himself
+condemned, as he felt with the hopelessness of childhood, for life, to
+the society of such boys as he found in the blacking-warehouse, was
+almost more than he could endure. During his later life, prosperous and
+happy, he could scarcely bear to speak, even to his dearest friends, of
+this period of his life.
+
+Though this period of his life seemed to him long, it was not really so,
+for he was not yet thirteen when he was taken from the warehouse and
+sent to school. Once given a chance, he learned rapidly and easily,
+although in all probability the schools to which he went were not of the
+best. After a year or two at school he again began work, but this time
+under more hopeful circumstances. He was, to be sure, but an
+under-clerk--little more than an office-boy in a solicitor's office; but
+at least the surroundings were less sordid and the companions more
+congenial. However, he had no intention of remaining an under-clerk, and
+he set to work to make himself a reporter.
+
+Of his difficulties in mastering shorthand he has written feelingly in
+that novel which contains so much autobiographical material--_David
+Copperfield_. "I bought an approved scheme of the noble art and mystery
+of stenography ... and plunged into a sea of perplexity that brought me,
+in a few weeks, to the confines of distraction. The changes that were
+rung upon dots, which in such a position meant such a thing, and in such
+another position something else, entirely different; the wonderful
+vagaries that were played by circles; the unaccountable consequences
+that resulted from marks like flies' legs, the tremendous effect of a
+curve in the wrong place; not only troubled my waking hours, but
+reappeared before me in my sleep."
+
+When Dickens once made up his mind to do a thing, however, he always
+went through with it, and before so very long he had perfected himself
+in his "art and mystery," and was one of the most rapid and accurate
+reporters in London.
+
+At nineteen he became a reporter of the speeches in Parliament. Before
+taking up his newspaper work, he made an attempt to go upon the stage;
+but it was not long before he found his true vocation, and abandoned all
+thought of the stage as a means of livelihood. In 1833 he published a
+sketch in the _Old Monthly Magazine_, and this was the first of those
+_Sketches by Boz_ which were published at intervals for the next two
+years.
+
+The year 1836 was a noteworthy one for Dickens, for in that year he
+married Catherine Hogarth, the daughter of an associate on the
+_Chronicle_; and in that year began the publication of _The Posthumous
+Papers of the Pickwick Club_. The publication of the first few numbers
+wakened no great enthusiasm, but with the appearance of the fifth
+number, in which Sam Weller is introduced, began that popularity which
+did not decline until Dickens's death. In fact, as one writer has said,
+"In dealing with Dickens, we are dealing with a man whose public success
+was a marvel and almost a monstrosity." Every one, old and young,
+serious and flippant, talked of _Pickwick_, and it was actually
+reported, by no less an authority than Thomas Carlyle, that a solemn
+clergyman, being told that he had not long to live, exclaimed, "Well,
+thank God, _Pickwick_ will be out in ten days anyway!"
+
+_Oliver Twist_ followed, and then _Nicholas Nickleby_; and by this time
+Dickens began to get, what he did not receive from his first work,
+something like his fair share of the enormous profits, so that his
+growing family lived in comfort, if not in luxury. When the _Old
+Curiosity Shop_, and, later, _Barnaby Rudge_, appeared, the number of
+purchasers of the serials rose as high as seventy thousand.
+
+Early in 1842 Dickens and his wife made a journey to America, leaving
+their children in the care of a friend. Shortly after arriving in the
+United States he wrote to a friend, "I can give you no conception of my
+welcome here. There was never a king or emperor upon the earth so
+cheered and followed by crowds, and entertained in public at splendid
+balls and dinners, and waited on by public bodies and deputations of all
+kinds;" and again, "In every town where we stay, though it be only for a
+day, we hold a regular levee or drawing-room, where I shake hands on an
+average with five or six hundred people."
+
+Dickens had come prepared to like America and Americans--and in many
+ways he did like them. But in other ways he was disappointed. He
+ventured to object, in various speeches, to the pirating, in America, of
+English literature, and fierce were the denunciations which this course
+drew upon him. Having fancied that in the republic of America he might
+have at least free speech on a matter which so closely concerned him,
+Dickens resented this treatment, and the Americans resented his
+resentment. However, it was with the kindliest feelings toward the many
+friends he had made in the United States, and with the most out-spoken
+admiration for many American institutions that he left for England. The
+publication of his _American Notes_ and of _Martin Chuzzlewit_ did not
+tend to reconcile Americans to Dickens; but there seems to have been no
+falling off in the sale of his books in this country.
+
+Dickens's life, like the lives of most literary men, was not
+particularly eventful. It was, however, a constantly busy life. Book
+followed book in rapid succession, and still their popularity grew.
+Sometimes in London, sometimes in Italy or Rome or Switzerland, he
+created those wonderful characters of his which will live as long as the
+English language. The first of the Christmas books, _A Christmas Carol_,
+appeared in 1843, and henceforward one of the things to which people
+looked forward at Yuletide was the publication of a new Dickens
+Christmas story.
+
+One diversion--if diversion it can be called--Dickens allowed himself
+not infrequently, and enjoyed most thoroughly. This was the production,
+sometimes before a selected audience, sometimes in public, of plays, in
+which Dickens himself usually took the chief part. Often these plays
+were given not only in London, but in various parts of the country, as
+benefits for poor authors or actors, or for the widows and families of
+such; and always they were astonishingly successful. It is reported that
+an old stage prompter or property man said one time to Dickens "Lor,
+Mr. Dickens! If it hadn't been for them books, what an actor you would
+have made."
+
+Naturally, a man of Dickens's eminence had as his friends and
+acquaintances many of the foremost men of his time, and a most
+affectionate and delightful friend he was. His letters fall no whit
+below the best of his writing in his novels in their power of
+observation, their brightness, their humorous manner of expression.
+
+In 1849 was begun the publication of _David Copperfield_, Dickens's own
+favorite among his novels. It contains, as has already been said, much
+that is autobiographical, and one of the most interesting facts in
+connection with this phase of it is that there really was, in Dickens's
+young days, a "Dora" whom he worshiped. Years later he met her again,
+and what his feelings on that occasion must have been may be imagined
+when we know that this Dora-grown-older was the original of "Flora" in
+_Little Dorrit_.
+
+The things that Dickens, writing constantly and copiously, found time to
+do are wonderful. One of the matters in which he took great interest and
+an active part was the children's theatricals. These were held each year
+during the Christmas holiday season at Dickens's home, and while his
+children and their friends were the principal actors, Dickens
+superintended the whole, introduced three-quarters of the fun, and
+played grown-up parts, adopting as his stage title the "Modern Garrick."
+
+Though the story of these crowded years is quickly told, the years were
+far from being uneventful in their passing. Occasional sojourns, either
+with his family or with friends, in France and in Italy always made
+Dickens but the more glad to be in his beloved London, where he seemed
+most in his element and where his genius had freest play. This does not
+mean that he did not enjoy France and Italy, or appreciate their
+beauties, but simply that he was always an Englishman--a city
+Englishman. His observations, however, on what he saw in traveling were
+always most acute and entertaining.
+
+His account of his well-nigh unsuccessful attempt to find the house of
+Mr. Lowther, English charge d'affaires at Naples, with whom he had been
+invited to dine, may be quoted here to show his power of humorous
+description:
+
+"We had an exceedingly pleasant dinner of eight, preparatory to which I
+was near having the ridiculous adventure of not being able to find the
+house and coming back dinnerless. I went in an open carriage from the
+hotel in all state, and the coachman, to my surprise, pulled up at the
+end of the Chiaja.
+
+"'Behold the house' says he, 'of Signor Larthoor!'--at the same time
+pointing with his whip into the seventh heaven, where the early stars
+were shining.
+
+"'But the Signor Larthoor,' returns the Inimitable darling, 'lives at
+Pausilippo.'
+
+"'It is true,' says the coachman (still pointing to the evening star),
+'but he lives high up the Salita Sant' Antonio, where no carriage ever
+yet ascended, and that is the house' (evening star as aforesaid), 'and
+one must go on foot. Behold the Salita Sant' Antonio!'
+
+"I went up it, a mile and a half I should think. I got into the
+strangest places, among the wildest Neapolitans--kitchens,
+washing-places, archways, stables, vineyards--was baited by dogs,
+answered in profoundly unintelligible Neapolitan, from behind lonely
+locked doors, in cracked female voices, quaking with fear; could hear of
+no such Englishman or any Englishman. By-and-by I came upon a
+Polenta-shop in the clouds, where an old Frenchman, with an umbrella
+like a faded tropical leaf (it had not rained for six weeks) was staring
+at nothing at all, with a snuff-box in his hand. To him I appealed
+concerning the Signor Larthoor.
+
+"'Sir,' said he, with the sweetest politeness, 'can you speak French?'
+
+"'Sir,' said I, 'a little.'
+
+"'Sir,' said he, 'I presume the Signor Lootheere'--you will observe that
+he changed the name according to the custom of his country--'is an
+Englishman.'
+
+"I admitted that he was the victim of circumstances and had that
+misfortune.
+
+"'Sir,' said he, 'one word more. _Has_ he a servant with a wooden leg?'
+
+"'Great Heaven, sir,' said I, 'how do I know? I should think not, but it
+is possible.'
+
+"'It is always,' said the Frenchman, 'possible. Almost all the things of
+the world are always possible.'
+
+"'Sir,' said I--you may imagine my condition and dismal sense of my own
+absurdity by this time--'that is true.'
+
+"He then took an immense pinch of snuff, wiped the dust off his
+umbrella, led me to an arch commanding a wonderful view of the Bay of
+Naples, and pointed deep into the earth from which I had mounted.
+
+"'Below there, near the lamp, one finds an Englishman, with a servant
+with a wooden leg. It is always possible that he is the Signor
+Lootheere.'
+
+"I had been asked at six, and it was now getting on for seven. I went
+down again in a state of perspiration and misery not to be described,
+and without the faintest hope of finding the place. But as I was going
+down to the lamp, I saw the strangest staircase up a dark corner, with a
+man in a white waistcoat (evidently hired) standing on the top of it
+fuming. I dashed in at a venture, found it was the place, made the most
+of the whole story, and was indescribably popular."
+
+"Indescribably popular" Dickens was almost every place he went. And in
+1858 there came to him increased popularity by reason of a new venture.
+In this year he began his public readings from his own works, which
+brought him in immense sums of money. Through England, Scotland, Ireland
+and the United States he journeyed, reading, as only he could read,
+scenes humorous and pathetic from his great novels, and everywhere the
+effect was the same.
+
+Descriptive of an evening at Edinburgh, he wrote: "Such a pouring of
+hundreds into a place already full to the throat, such indescribable
+confusion, such a rending and tearing of dresses, and yet such a scene
+of good humor on the whole!... I read with the platform crammed with
+people. I got them to lie down upon it, and it was like some impossible
+tableau or gigantic picnic; one pretty girl in full dress hang on her
+side all night, holding on to one of the legs of my table. And yet from
+the moment I began to the moment of my leaving off, they never missed a
+point, and they ended with a burst of cheers."
+
+Meanwhile Dickens's domestic life had not been happy. He and his wife
+were not entirely congenial in temper, and the incompatibility increased
+with the years, until in 1858 they agreed to live apart. Most of the
+children remained with their father, although they were given perfect
+freedom to visit their mother.
+
+Among Dickens's later novels are the _Tale of Two Cities_, _Great
+Expectations_, which is one of his very best books, and _Our Mutual
+Friend_, which, while as a story it has many faults, yet abounds with
+the humor and fancy which are characteristic of Dickens. In October,
+1869, was begun _Edwin Drood_, which was published like most of its
+predecessors, as a serial. Six numbers appeared, and there the story
+closed; for on June 9, 1870, Charles Dickens died, after an illness of
+but one day, during all of which he was unconscious.
+
+His family desired to have him buried near his home, the Gad's Hill
+which he had admired from his childhood and had purchased in his
+manhood; but the general wish was that he should be laid in Westminster
+Abbey, and to this wish his family felt that it would be wrong to
+object. For days there were crowds of mourners about the grave, shedding
+tears, scattering flowers, testifying to the depth of affection they had
+felt for the man who had given them so many happy hours.
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS CAROL
+
+_By_ CHARLES DICKENS
+
+
+STAVE ONE
+
+_Marley's Ghost_
+
+Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.
+The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the
+undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name
+was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old
+Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
+
+Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there
+is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined,
+myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in
+the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my
+unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You
+will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as
+dead as a door-nail.
+
+Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise?
+Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge
+was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole
+residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge
+was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an
+excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized
+it with an undoubted bargain.
+
+The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started
+from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly
+understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to
+relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died
+before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his
+taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts,
+than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning
+out after dark in a breezy spot--say Saint Paul's Churchyard for
+instance--literally to astonish his son's weak mind.
+
+Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years
+afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was
+known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called
+Scrooge Scrooge and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it
+was all the same to him.
+
+Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a
+squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old
+sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had even struck out
+generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
+The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose,
+shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin
+lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime
+was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his
+own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the
+dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
+
+External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could
+warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than
+he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain
+less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The
+heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the
+advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down"
+handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
+
+Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My
+dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" No beggars
+implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was
+o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to
+such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to
+know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into
+doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they
+said, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"
+
+But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his
+way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep
+its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge.
+
+Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christmas
+Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak,
+biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court
+outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts,
+and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The City
+clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already: it had
+not been light all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the
+neighboring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The
+fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense
+without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses
+opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down,
+obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by,
+and was brewing on a large scale.[247-1]
+
+The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye
+upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was
+copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was
+so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't
+replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so
+surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that
+it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his
+white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which
+effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he failed.
+
+"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. It was
+the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this
+was the first intimation he had of his approach.
+
+"Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!"
+
+He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this
+nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and
+handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.
+
+"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean
+that, I am sure."
+
+"I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry?
+What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."
+
+"Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be
+dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."
+
+Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said,
+"Bah!" again; and followed it up with "Humbug."
+
+"Don't be cross, uncle," said the nephew.
+
+"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I live in such a world
+of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What's
+Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time
+for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for
+balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen
+months presented dead against you? If I could work my will," said
+Scrooge, indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas'
+on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a
+stake of holly through his heart. He should!"
+
+"Uncle!" pleaded the nephew.
+
+"Nephew!" returned the uncle, sternly, "keep Christmas in your own way,
+and let me keep it in mine."
+
+"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep it."
+
+"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much good may it do you!
+Much good it has ever done you!"
+
+"There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I
+have not profited, I dare say," returned the nephew: "Christmas among
+the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it
+has come round--apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and
+origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that--as a good
+time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know
+of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one
+consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people
+below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and
+not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore,
+uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I
+believe that it _has_ done me good, and _will_ do me good; and I say,
+God bless it!"
+
+The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded: becoming immediately
+sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the
+last frail spark for ever.
+
+"Let me hear another sound from _you_," said Scrooge, "and you'll keep
+your Christmas by losing your situation. You're quite a powerful
+speaker, Sir," he added, turning to his nephew. "I wonder you don't go
+into Parliament."
+
+"Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us to-morrow."
+
+Scrooge said that he would see him--yes, indeed he did. He went the
+whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that
+extremity first.
+
+"But why?" cried Scrooge's nephew. "Why?"
+
+"Why did you get married?" said Scrooge.
+
+"Because I fell in love."
+
+"Because you fell in love!" growled Scrooge, as if that were the only
+one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. "Good
+afternoon!"
+
+"Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give
+it as a reason for not coming now?"
+
+"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.
+
+"I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be
+friends?"
+
+"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.
+
+"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never
+had any quarrel to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial
+in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humour to the last.
+So A Merry Christmas, uncle!"
+
+"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
+
+"And A Happy New Year!"
+
+"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
+
+His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He
+stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on the
+clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for he returned
+them cordially.
+
+"There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge; who overheard him: "my
+clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking
+about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam."[251-2]
+
+This lunatic, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, had let two other people
+in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with
+their hats off, in Scrooge's office. They had books and papers in their
+hands, and bowed to him.
+
+"Scrooge and Marley's, I believe," said one of the gentlemen, referring
+to his list. "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr.
+Marley?"
+
+"Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years," Scrooge replied. "He died
+seven years ago, this very night."
+
+"We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving
+partner," said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.
+
+It certainly was; for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous
+word "liberality," Scrooge frowned, and shook his head, and handed the
+credentials back.
+
+"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman,
+taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirable that we should make
+some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at
+the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries;
+hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, Sir."
+
+"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.
+
+"And the Union workhouses?"[252-3] demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in
+operation?"
+
+"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could say they were
+not."
+
+"The Treadmill[252-4] and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?" said
+Scrooge.
+
+"Both very busy, Sir."
+
+"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had
+occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooge. "I'm very
+glad to hear it."
+
+"Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind
+or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman, "a few of us are
+endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and
+means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all
+others, when want is keenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What shall I
+put you down for?"
+
+"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
+
+"You wish to be anonymous?"
+
+"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "Since you ask me what I wish,
+gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas,
+and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the
+establishments I have mentioned: they cost enough: and those who are
+badly off must go there."
+
+"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."
+
+"If they would rather die," said Scrooge, "they had better do it, and
+decrease the surplus population. Besides--excuse me--I don't know that."
+
+"But you might know it," observed the gentleman.
+
+"It's not my business," Scrooge returned. "It's enough for a man to
+understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's.
+Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!"
+
+Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the
+gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion
+of himself, and in more facetious temper than was usual with him.
+
+Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that the people ran about
+with flaring links,[253-5] proffering their services to go before horses
+in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a
+church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at Scrooge
+out of a gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the
+hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards
+as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold
+became intense. In the main street at the corner of the court, some
+labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in
+a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered:
+warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture.
+The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly
+congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shop
+where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows,
+made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades
+became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to
+impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had
+anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion
+House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a
+Lord Mayor's household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had
+fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and
+bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up to-morrow's pudding in his
+garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.
+
+Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. If the good
+Saint Dunstan[254-6] had but nipped the Evil Spirit's nose with a touch
+of such weather as that, instead of using his familiar weapons, then
+indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. The owner of one scant
+young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by
+dogs, stooped down at Scrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas
+carol: but at the first sound of
+
+    "God bless you, merry gentlemen!
+    May nothing you dismay!"[254-7]
+
+Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer
+fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial
+frost.
+
+At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With an
+ill-will Scrooge dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the
+fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his
+candle out, and put on his hat.
+
+[Illustration: THE CLERK SMILED FAINTLY]
+
+"You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge.
+
+"If quite convenient, Sir."
+
+"It's not convenient," said Scrooge, "and it's not fair. If I was to
+stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?"
+
+The clerk smiled faintly.
+
+"And yet," said Scrooge, "you don't think _me_ ill-used, when I pay a
+day's wages for no work."
+
+The clerk observed that it was only once a year.
+
+"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of
+December!" said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. "But I
+suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next
+morning!"
+
+The clerk promised that he would; and Scrooge walked out with a growl.
+The office was closed in a twinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends
+of his white comforter dangling below his waist (for he boasted no
+great-coat), went down a slide on Cornhill, at the end of a lane of
+boys, twenty times, in honour of its being Christmas Eve, and then ran
+home to Camden Town as hard as he could pelt, to play at
+blindman's-buff.
+
+Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and
+having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the rest of the evening
+with his banker's-book, went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had
+once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of
+rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little
+business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run
+there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other
+houses, and have forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, and
+dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Scrooge, the other rooms
+being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrooge,
+who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and
+frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house, that it seemed
+as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the
+threshold. Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular
+about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also
+a fact, that Scrooge had seen it, night and morning, during his whole
+residence in that place; also that Scrooge had as little of what is
+called fancy about him as any man in the City of London, even
+including--which is a bold word--the corporation, aldermen, and livery.
+Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought
+on Marley, since his last mention of his seven-years' dead partner that
+afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it
+happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in
+the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change,
+not a knocker, but Marley's face.
+
+Marley's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in
+the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a
+dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as
+Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly
+forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air;
+and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless.
+That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to
+be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part of
+its own expression.
+
+As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.
+
+To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of
+a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from infancy, would
+be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned
+it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle.
+
+He _did_ pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the door;
+and he _did_ look cautiously behind it first, as if he half expected to
+be terrified with the sight of Marley's pigtail sticking out into the
+hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws
+and nuts that held the knocker on; so he said "Pooh, pooh!" and closed
+it with a bang.
+
+The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above,
+and every cask in the wine-merchant's cellars below, appeared to have a
+separate peal of echoes of its own. Scrooge was not a man to be
+frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall,
+and up the stairs, slowly too, trimming his candle as he went.
+
+You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and-six up a good old flight
+of stairs, or through a bad young Act of Parliament; but I mean to say
+you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise,
+with the splinter-bar[258-8] towards the wall, and the door towards the
+balustrades: and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that, and
+room to spare; which is perhaps the reason why Scrooge thought he saw a
+locomotive hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half-a-dozen
+gas-lamps out of the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well, so
+you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip.
+
+Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that: darkness is cheap, and
+Scrooge liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through
+his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of
+the face to desire to do that.
+
+Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody under
+the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and
+basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel (Scrooge had a cold in his
+head) upon the hob. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody
+in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude
+against the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire-guard, old shoes, two
+fish-baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.
+
+Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in;
+double-locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against
+surprise, he took off his cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers,
+and his nightcap; and sat down before the fire to take his gruel.
+
+It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such a bitter night. He was
+obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could extract
+the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. The fireplace
+was an old one, built by some Dutch merchant long ago, and paved all
+round with quaint Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures.
+There were Cains and Abels, Pharaoh's daughters, Queens of Sheba,
+angelic messengers descending through the air on clouds like
+feather-beds, Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting off to sea in
+butter-boats, hundreds of figures, to attract his thoughts; and yet that
+face of Marley, seven years dead, came like the ancient Prophet's rod,
+and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at
+first, with power to shape some picture on its surface, from the
+disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy of
+old Marley's head on every one.
+
+"Humbug!" said Scrooge; and walked across the room.
+
+After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head back in the
+chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that
+hung in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a
+chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great
+astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked,
+he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that
+it scarcely made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every
+bell in the house. This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute,
+but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together.
+They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some
+person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant's
+cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted
+houses were described as dragging chains.
+
+The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the
+noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then
+coming straight towards his door.
+
+"It's humbug still!" said Scrooge. "I won't believe it."
+
+His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the
+heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming
+in, the flame leaped up, as though it cried "I know him! Marley's
+Ghost!" and fell again.
+
+The same face: the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat,
+tights and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail,
+and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was
+clasped about his middle. It was long, and wound about him like a tail;
+and it was made (for Scrooge observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys,
+padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body
+was transparent; so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his
+waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.
+
+Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no bowels[261-9], but he
+had never believed it until now.
+
+No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom through
+and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling
+influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the
+folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not
+observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his
+senses.
+
+"How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. "What do you want
+with me?"
+
+"Much!"--Marley's voice, no doubt about it.
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"Ask me who I _was_."
+
+"Who _were_ you then?" said Scrooge, raising his voice. "You're
+particular--for a shade." He was going to say "_to_ a shade," but
+substituted this, as more appropriate.
+
+"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley."
+
+"Can you--can you sit down?" asked Scrooge, looking doubtfully at him.
+
+"I can."
+
+"Do it then."
+
+Scrooge asked the question, because he didn't know whether a ghost so
+transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair; and felt
+that in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the
+necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the Ghost sat down on the
+opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used to it.
+
+"You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost.
+
+"I don't," said Scrooge.
+
+"What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?"
+
+"I don't know," said Scrooge.
+
+"Why do you doubt your senses?"
+
+"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder
+of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef,
+a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.
+There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"
+
+Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in
+his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be
+smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his
+terror; for the spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.
+
+[Illustration: "IN LIFE I WAS YOUR PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY"]
+
+To sit staring at those fixed, glazed eyes in silence for a moment,
+would play, Scrooge felt, the very deuce with him. There was something
+very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernal
+atmosphere of its own. Scrooge could not feel it himself, but this was
+clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, its
+hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapour
+from an oven.
+
+"You see this toothpick?" said Scrooge, returning quickly to the charge,
+for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a
+second, to divert the vision's stony gaze from himself.
+
+"I do," replied the Ghost.
+
+"You are not looking at it," said Scrooge.
+
+"But I see it," said the Ghost, "notwithstanding."
+
+"Well!" returned Scrooge. "I have but to swallow this, and be for the
+rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own
+creation. Humbug, I tell you--humbug!"
+
+At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such
+a dismal and appalling noise, that Scrooge held on tight to his chair,
+to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his
+horror, when, the phantom taking off the bandage round its head, as if
+it were too warm to wear indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its
+breast!
+
+Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.
+
+"Mercy!" he said. "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"
+
+"Man of the worldly mind!" replied the Ghost, "do you believe in me or
+not?"
+
+"I do," said Scrooge. "I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and
+why do they come to me?"
+
+"It is required of every man," the Ghost returned, "that the spirit
+within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and
+wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do
+so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world--oh, woe is
+me!--and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth,
+and turned to happiness!"
+
+Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain, and wrung its
+shadowy hands.
+
+"You are fettered," said Scrooge, trembling. "Tell me why?"
+
+"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link
+by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my
+own free will I bore it. Is its pattern strange to _you_?"
+
+Scrooge trembled more and more.
+
+"Or would you know," pursued the Ghost, "the weight and length of the
+strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this,
+seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a
+ponderous chain!"
+
+Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding
+himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he
+could see nothing.
+
+"Jacob," he said, imploringly. "Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak
+comfort to me, Jacob."
+
+"I have none to give," the Ghost replied. "It comes from other regions,
+Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of
+men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more, is all
+permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere.
+My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house--mark me!--in life my
+spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole
+and weary journeys lie before me!"
+
+It was a habit with Scrooge, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his
+hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he
+did so now, but without lifting his eyes, or getting off his knees. "You
+must have been very slow about it, Jacob," Scrooge observed, in a
+business-like manner, though with humility and deference.
+
+"Slow!" the Ghost repeated.
+
+"Seven years dead," mused Scrooge. "And travelling all the time!"
+
+"The whole time," said the Ghost. "No rest, no peace. Incessant torture
+of remorse."
+
+"You travel fast?" said Scrooge.
+
+"On the wings of the wind," replied the Ghost.
+
+"You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,"
+said Scrooge.
+
+The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so
+hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have
+been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.
+
+"Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed," cried the phantom, "not to
+know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this
+earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible
+is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly
+in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too
+short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of
+regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was
+I! Oh! such was I!"
+
+"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," faltered Scrooge,
+who now began to apply this to himself.
+
+"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. "Mankind was my
+business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy,
+forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my
+trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my
+business!"
+
+It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all
+its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.
+
+"At this time of the rolling year," the spectre said, "I suffer most.
+Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down,
+and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a
+poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have
+conducted _me_?"
+
+Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this
+rate, and began to quake exceedingly.
+
+"Hear me!" cried the Ghost. "My time is nearly gone."
+
+"I will," said Scrooge. "But don't be hard upon me! Don't be flowery,
+Jacob! Pray!"
+
+"How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may
+not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day."
+
+It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered, and wiped the
+perspiration from his brow.
+
+"That is no light part of my penance," pursued the Ghost. "I am here
+to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my
+fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer."
+
+"You were always a good friend to me," said Scrooge. "Thank'ee!"
+
+"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by Three Spirits."
+
+Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had done.
+
+"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob," he demanded, in a
+faltering voice.
+
+"It is."
+
+"I--I think I'd rather not," said Scrooge.
+
+"Without their visits," said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to shun the
+path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow, when the bell tolls one."
+
+"Couldn't I take 'em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?" hinted
+Scrooge.
+
+"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon
+the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate.
+Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember
+what has passed between us!"
+
+When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the
+table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrooge knew this, by the
+smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the
+bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural
+visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over
+and about its arm.
+
+The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took, the
+window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it
+was wide open. It beckoned Scrooge to approach, which he did. When they
+were within two paces of each other, Marley's Ghost held up its hand,
+warning him to come no nearer. Scrooge stopped.
+
+Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear: for on the raising of
+the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent
+sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and
+self-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in
+the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.
+
+Scrooge followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked
+out.
+
+The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in
+restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains
+like Marley's Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments) were
+linked together; none were free. Many had been personally known to
+Scrooge in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost,
+in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to his ankle,
+who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an
+infant, whom it saw below upon a door-step. The misery with them all
+was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters,
+and had lost the power for ever.
+
+Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he
+could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the
+night became as it had been when he walked home.
+
+Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had
+entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands,
+and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say "Humbug!" but stopped at
+the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the
+fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull
+conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of
+repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon
+the instant.
+
+
+STAVE TWO
+
+_The First of the Three Spirits_
+
+When Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could
+scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his
+chamber. He was endeavoring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes,
+when the chimes of a neighboring church struck the four quarters. So he
+listened for the hour.
+
+To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and
+from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve!
+It was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must
+have got into the works. Twelve!
+
+He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this most preposterous
+clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve; and stopped.
+
+"Why, it isn't possible," said Scrooge, "that I can have slept through a
+whole day and far into another night. It isn't possible that anything
+has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at noon!"
+
+The big idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped
+his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the
+sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see
+very little then. All he could make out was, that it was still very
+foggy and extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running
+to and fro, and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have
+been if night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the
+world. This was a great relief, because "three days after sight of this
+First of Exchange pay to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge or his order," and so
+forth, would have become a mere United States' security if there were no
+days to count by.
+
+Scrooge went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought it over
+and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought,
+the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavoured not to think, the
+more he thought. Marley's Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he
+resolved within himself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream,
+his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first
+position, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, "Was
+it a dream or not?"
+
+Scrooge lay in this state until the chimes had gone three quarters more,
+when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warned him of a
+visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the
+hour was passed; and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than
+go to Heaven, this was perhaps the wisest resolution in his power.
+
+The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must
+have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it
+broke upon his listening ear.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"A quarter past," said Scrooge, counting.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"Half-past!" said Scrooge.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"A quarter to it," said Scrooge.
+
+"Ding, dong!"
+
+"The hour itself," said Scrooge, triumphantly, "and nothing else!"
+
+He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a deep,
+dull, hollow, melancholy One. Light flashed up in the room upon the
+instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.
+
+The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the
+curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which
+his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and
+Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face
+to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am
+now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.
+
+It was a strange figure--like a child: yet not so like a child as like
+an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the
+appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a
+child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its
+back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in
+it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and
+muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength.
+Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper
+members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white; and round its waist
+was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a
+branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction
+of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But
+the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there
+sprang a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and
+which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a
+great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.
+
+Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasing steadiness,
+was _not_ its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and glittered
+now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, at
+another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated in its
+distinctness: being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with
+twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a
+body: of which dissolving parts, no outline would be visible in the
+dense gloom wherein they melted away. And in the very wonder of this, it
+would be itself again; distinct and clear as ever.
+
+"Are you the Spirit, Sir, whose coming was foretold to me?" asked
+Scrooge.
+
+"I am!"
+
+The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so
+close beside him, it were at a distance.
+
+"Who, and what are you?" Scrooge demanded.
+
+"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
+
+"Long past?" inquired Scrooge, observant of its dwarfish stature.
+
+"No. Your past."
+
+Perhaps, Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have
+asked him; but he had a special desire to see the Spirit in his cap;
+and begged him to be covered.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the Ghost, "would you so soon put out, with worldly
+hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those
+whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole trains of years
+to wear it low upon my brow!"
+
+Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend, and then made
+bold to inquire what business brought him there.
+
+"Your welfare!" said the Ghost.
+
+Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that
+a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The
+spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately: "Your
+reclamation, then. Take heed!"
+
+It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the
+arm.
+
+"Rise! and walk with me!"
+
+It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the
+hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the
+thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in
+his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon
+him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to
+be resisted. He rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the
+window, clasped its robe in supplication.
+
+"I am a mortal," Scrooge remonstrated, "and liable to fall."
+
+"Bear but a touch of my hand _there_," said the Spirit, laying it upon
+his heart, "and you shall be upheld in more than this!"
+
+As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon
+an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely
+vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist
+had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow
+upon the ground.
+
+"Good Heaven!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked
+about him. "I was bred in this place. I was a boy here!"
+
+The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been
+light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old man's sense
+of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odors floating in the air,
+each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and
+cares long, long forgotten!
+
+"Your lip is trembling," said the Ghost. "And what is that upon your
+cheek?"
+
+Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a
+pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would.
+
+"You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit.
+
+"Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervor--"I could walk it blindfold."
+
+"Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!" observed the Ghost.
+"Let us go on."
+
+They walked along the road; Scrooge recognizing every gate, and post,
+and tree; until a little market-town appeared in the distance, with its
+bridge, its church, and winding river. Some shaggy ponies now were seen
+trotting towards them with boys upon their backs, who called to other
+boys in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All these boys were
+in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad fields were
+so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.
+
+"These are but shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost.
+"They have no consciousness of us."
+
+The jocund travellers came on; and as they came, Scrooge knew and named
+them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them! Why
+did his cold eye glisten, and his heart leap up as they went past! Why
+was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry
+Christmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several
+homes! What was merry Christmas to Scrooge? Out upon merry Christmas!
+What good had it ever done to him?
+
+"The school is not quite deserted," said the Ghost. "A solitary child,
+neglected by his friends, is left there still."
+
+Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed.
+
+They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached
+a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock-surmounted
+cupola, on the roof, and a bell hanging in it. It was a large house, but
+one of broken fortunes; for the spacious offices were little used, their
+walls were damp and mossy, their windows broken, and their gates
+decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables; and the coach-houses
+and sheds were overrun with grass. Nor was it more retentive of its
+ancient state, within; for entering the dreary hall, and glancing
+through the open doors of many rooms, they found them poorly furnished,
+cold, and vast. There was an earthy savour in the air, a chilly bareness
+in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up
+by candle-light, and not too much to eat.
+
+They went, the Ghost and Scrooge, across the hall, to a door at the back
+of the house. It opened before them, and disclosed a long, bare,
+melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and
+desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire; and
+Scrooge sat down upon a form, and wept to see his poor forgotten self as
+he had used to be.
+
+Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice
+behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the
+dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent
+poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a
+clicking in the fire, but fell upon the heart of Scrooge with softening
+influence, and gave a freer passage to his tears.
+
+The spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to his younger self,
+intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man in foreign garments: wonderfully
+real and distinct to look at: stood outside the window, with an axe
+stuck in his belt, and leading an ass laden with wood by the bridle.
+
+"Why, it's Ali Baba!"[277-10] Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy. "It's dear
+old honest Ali Baba! Yes, yes, I know! One Christmas time, when yonder
+solitary child was left here all alone, he _did_ come, for the first
+time, just like that. Poor boy! And Valentine," said Scrooge, "and his
+wild brother, Orson; there they go! And what's his name, who was put
+down in his drawers, asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don't you see him!
+And the Sultan's Groom turned upside down by the Genii; there he is upon
+his head! Serve him right. I'm glad of it. What business had _he_ to be
+married to the Princess!"
+
+To hear Scrooge expending all the earnestness of his nature on such
+subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between laughing and crying; and
+to see his heightened and excited face; would have been a surprise to
+his business friends in the City, indeed.
+
+"There's the Parrot!" cried Scrooge. "Green body and yellow tail, with a
+thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of his head; there he is!
+Poor Robin Crusoe, he called him, when he came home again after sailing
+round the island. 'Poor Robin Crusoe, where have you been, Robin
+Crusoe?' The man thought he was dreaming, but he wasn't. It was the
+Parrot, you know. There goes Friday, running for his life to the little
+creek! Halloa! Hoop! Halloo!"
+
+Then, with a rapidity of transition very foreign to his usual character,
+he said, in pity for his former self, "Poor boy!" and cried again.
+
+"I wish," Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking
+about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: "but it's too late now."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the Spirit.
+
+"Nothing," said Scrooge. "Nothing. There was a boy singing a Christmas
+Carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something:
+that's all."
+
+The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved its hand: saying as it did so,
+"Let us see another Christmas!"
+
+Scrooge's former self grew larger at the words, and the room became a
+little darker and more dirty. The panels shrank, the windows cracked;
+fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling, and the naked laths were
+shown instead; but how all this was brought about, Scrooge knew no more
+than you do. He only knew that it was quite correct; that everything had
+happened so; that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had
+gone home for the jolly holidays.
+
+He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly. Scrooge
+looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of his head, glanced
+anxiously towards the door.
+
+It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came darting
+in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing him,
+addressed him as her "Dear, dear brother."
+
+"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the child, clapping
+her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home,
+home!"
+
+"Home, little Fan?" returned the boy.
+
+"Yes!" said the child, brimful of glee. "Home, for good and all. Home,
+for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that
+home's like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was
+going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might
+come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring
+you. And you're to be a man!" said the child, opening her eyes, "and are
+never to come back here; but first, we're to be together all the
+Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world."
+
+"You are quite a woman, little Fan!" exclaimed the boy.
+
+She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his head; but
+being too little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him.
+Then she began to drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door;
+and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.
+
+A terrible voice in the hall cried, "Bring down Master Scrooge's box,
+there!" and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself, who glared on
+Master Scrooge with a ferocious condescension, and threw him into a
+dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him
+and his sister into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlor that
+ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial and
+terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced
+a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake,
+and administered instalments of those dainties to the young people: at
+the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of
+"something" to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman,
+but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he had rather not.
+Master Scrooge's trunk being by this time tied on to the top of the
+chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster good-bye right willingly; and
+getting into it, drove gaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels
+dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the
+evergreens like spray.
+
+"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered," said
+the Ghost. "But she had a large heart!"
+
+"So she had," cried Scrooge. "You're right. I'll not gainsay it, Spirit.
+God forbid!"
+
+"She died a woman," said the Ghost, "and had, as I think, children."
+
+[Illustration: IN THE BEST PARLOR]
+
+"One child," Scrooge returned.
+
+"True," said the Ghost. "Your nephew!"
+
+Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, "Yes."
+
+Although they had but that moment left the school behind them, they were
+now in the busy thoroughfares of a city, where shadowy passengers
+passed and repassed; where shadowy carts and coaches battled for the
+way, and all the strife and tumult of a real city were. It was made
+plain enough, by the dressing of the shops, that here, too, it was
+Christmas time again; but it was evening, and the streets were lighted
+up.
+
+The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked Scrooge if he
+knew it.
+
+"Know it!" said Scrooge. "Was I apprenticed here?"
+
+They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh wig, sitting
+behind such a high desk, that if he had been two inches taller he must
+have knocked his head against the ceiling, Scrooge cried in great
+excitement:
+
+"Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it's Fezziwig alive again!"
+
+Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which
+pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his
+capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his
+organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat,
+jovial voice:
+
+"Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"
+
+Scrooge's former self, now grown a young man, came briskly in,
+accompanied by his fellow-'prentice.
+
+"Dick Wilkins, to be sure!" said Scrooge to the Ghost. "Bless me, yes.
+There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear,
+dear!"
+
+"You ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night. Christmas Eve,
+Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up," cried old
+Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack
+Robinson!"
+
+You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged into
+the street with the shutters--one, two, three--had 'em up in their
+places--four, five, six--barred 'em and pinned 'em--seven, eight,
+nine--and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like
+race horses.
+
+"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk, with
+wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room
+here! Hilli-ho, Dick; Chirrup, Ebenezer!"
+
+Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or
+couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in
+a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from
+public life for ever more; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps
+were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire, and the warehouse was as
+snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to
+see upon a winter's night.
+
+In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and
+made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came
+Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Miss
+Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose
+hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the
+business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the
+cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy
+from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his
+master; trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one,
+who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all
+came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some
+awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and
+everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once, hands half round
+and back again the other way; down the middle and up again, round and
+round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always
+turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again as soon
+as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help
+them. When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his
+hands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" and the fiddler plunged
+his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose.
+But scorning rest upon his reappearance, he instantly began again,
+though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been
+carried home, exhausted, on a shutter; and he were a bran-new man
+resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish.
+
+There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and
+there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold
+Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were
+mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came
+after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler (an artful, dog, mind! The
+sort of man who knew his business better than you or I could have told
+it him!) struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley."[284-11] Then old Fezziwig
+stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too; with a good
+stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of
+partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who _would_
+dance, and had no notion of walking.
+
+[Illustration: THE FIDDLER STRUCK UP "SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY"]
+
+But if they had been twice as many: ah, four times: old Fezziwig would
+have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to _her_, she
+was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not
+high praise, tell me higher, and I'll use it. A positive light appeared
+to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance
+like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would
+become of 'em next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all
+through the dance; advance and retire, hold hands with your partner; bow
+and curtsey; corkscrew; thread-the-needle, and back again to your place;
+Fezziwig "cut"--cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs,
+and came upon his feet again without a stagger.
+
+When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs.
+Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side the door, and shaking
+hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him
+or her a Merry Christmas.
+
+When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they did the same to
+them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to
+their beds; which were under a counter in the back-shop.
+
+During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like a man out of his
+wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He
+corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and
+underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright
+faces of his former self and Dick were turned from them, that he
+remembered the Ghost, and became conscious that it was looking full upon
+him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.
+
+"A small matter," said the Ghost, "to make these silly folks so full of
+gratitude."
+
+"Small!" echoed Scrooge.
+
+The spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were
+pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when he had done so,
+said,
+
+"Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money:
+three or four, perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?"
+
+"It isn't that," said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking
+unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. "It isn't that,
+Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our
+service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power
+lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it
+is impossible to add and count 'em up: what then? The happiness he
+gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune."
+
+He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the Ghost.
+
+"Nothing particular," said Scrooge.
+
+"Something, I think?" the Ghost insisted.
+
+"No," said Scrooge. "No. I should like to be able to say a word or two
+to my clerk just now! That's all."
+
+His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish;
+and Scrooge and the Ghost again stood side by side in the open air.
+
+"My time grows short," observed the Spirit. "Quick!"
+
+This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he could see, but
+it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw himself. He was
+older now; a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and
+rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care
+and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye,
+which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of
+the growing tree would fall. He was not alone, but sat by the side of a
+fair young girl in a mourning dress; in whose eyes there were tears,
+which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas
+Past.
+
+"It matters little," she said, softly. "To you, very little. Another
+idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to
+come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve."
+
+"What idol has displaced you?" he rejoined.
+
+"A golden one."
+
+"This is the even-handed dealing of the world!" he said. "There is
+nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it
+professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!"
+
+"You fear the world too much," she answered, gently. "All your other
+hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid
+reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until
+the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?"
+
+"What then?" he retorted. "Even if I have grown so much wiser, what
+then? I am not changed towards you."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Am I?"
+
+"Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and
+content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly
+fortune by our patient industry. You _are_ changed. When it was made,
+you were another man."
+
+"I was a boy," he said impatiently.
+
+"Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are," she
+returned. "I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in
+heart, is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how
+keenly I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I
+_have_ thought of it, and can release you."
+
+"Have I ever sought release?"
+
+"In words, no. Never."
+
+"In what, then?"
+
+"In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of
+life; another Hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of
+any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us,"
+said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; "tell me,
+would you seek me out and try to win me now? Ah, no!"
+
+He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of
+himself. But he said with a struggle, "You think not."
+
+"I would gladly think otherwise if I could," she answered, "Heaven
+knows! When _I_ have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and
+irresistible it must be.
+
+"But if you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe
+that you would choose a dowerless girl--you who, in your very confidence
+with her, weigh everything by Gain: or, choosing her, if for a moment
+you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not
+know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I
+release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you once were."
+
+He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she resumed.
+
+"You may--the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will--have
+pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the
+recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it
+happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have
+chosen!"
+
+She left him, and they parted.
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge, "show me no more! Conduct me home. Why do you
+delight to torture me?"
+
+"One shadow more!" exclaimed the Ghost.
+
+"No more!" cried Scrooge. "No more. I don't wish to see it. Show me no
+more!"
+
+But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and forced him
+to observe what happened next.
+
+They were in another scene and place; a room, not very large or
+handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a beautiful
+young girl, so like the last that Scrooge believed it was the same,
+until he saw _her_, now a comely matron, sitting opposite her daughter.
+The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous, for there were more
+children there than Scrooge in his agitated state of mind could count;
+and, unlike the celebrated herd in the poem, they were not forty
+children conducting themselves like one, but every child was conducting
+itself like forty. The consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but
+no one seemed to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed
+heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to
+mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most
+ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them! Though I
+never could have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn't for the wealth of all
+the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the
+precious little shoe, I wouldn't have plucked it off, God bless my soul!
+to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold
+young brood; I couldn't have done it; I should have expected my arm to
+have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And
+yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to have
+questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the
+lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose
+waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in
+short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest
+license of a child, and yet been man enough to know its value.
+
+But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush immediately
+ensued that she with laughing face and plundered dress was borne towards
+it the centre of a flushed and boisterous group, just in time to greet
+the father, who came home attended by a man laden with Christmas toys
+and presents. Then the shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught
+that was made on the defenceless porter! The scaling him with chairs for
+ladders to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels,
+hold on tight by his cravat, hug him around the neck, pommel his back,
+and kick his legs in irrepressible affection! The shouts of wonder and
+delight with which the development of every package was received! The
+terrible announcement that the baby had been taken in the act of putting
+a doll's frying-pan into his mouth, and was more than suspected of
+having swallowed a fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter! The
+immense relief of finding this a false alarm! The joy, and gratitude,
+and ecstasy! They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by
+degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlour, and by
+one stair at a time, up to the top of the house; where they went to bed,
+and so subsided.
+
+And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of
+the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down, with her
+and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such
+another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have
+called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his
+life, his sight grew very dim indeed.
+
+"Belle," said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, "I saw an
+old friend of yours this afternoon."
+
+"Who was it?"
+
+"Guess!"
+
+"How can I? Tut, don't I know?" she added in the same breath, laughing
+as he laughed. "Mr. Scrooge."
+
+"Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window; and as it was not shut
+up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His
+partner lies upon the point of death, I hear; and there he sat alone.
+Quite alone in the world, I do believe."
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge in a broken voice, "remove me from this place."
+
+"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the
+Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me!"
+
+"Remove me!" Scrooge exclaimed, "I cannot bear it!"
+
+He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him with a face
+in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it
+had shown him, wrestled with it.
+
+"Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!"
+
+In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the Ghost
+with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort
+of its adversary, Scrooge observed that its light was burning high and
+bright; and dimly connecting that with its influence over him, he seized
+the extinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its
+head.
+
+The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered its
+whole form; but though Scrooge pressed it down with all his force, he
+could not hide the light, which streamed from under it, in an unbroken
+flood upon the ground.
+
+He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible
+drowsiness; and further, of being in his own bedroom. He gave the cap a
+parting squeeze, in which his hand relaxed; and had barely time to reel
+to bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep.
+
+
+STAVE THREE
+
+_The Second of the Three Spirits_
+
+Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in
+bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasion to be told
+that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. He felt that he was
+restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial
+purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to
+him through Jacob Marley's intervention. But, finding that he turned
+uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this
+new spectre would draw back, he put them every one aside with his own
+hands, and lying down again, established a sharp lookout all round the
+bed. For he wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its
+appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise and made nervous.
+
+Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being
+acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to the
+time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by
+observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to
+manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a
+tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing
+for Scrooge quite as hardily as this, I don't mind calling on you to
+believe that he was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances,
+and that nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have astonished him
+very much.
+
+Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means
+prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the bell struck One, and
+no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five
+minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came.
+All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and centre of a blaze
+of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the
+hour; and which, being only light, was more alarming than a dozen
+ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at;
+and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an
+interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the
+consolation of knowing it. At last, however, he began to think--as you
+or I would have thought at first; for it is always the person not in the
+predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would
+unquestionably have done it too--at last, I say, he began to think that
+the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining
+room, from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea
+taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his
+slippers to the door.
+
+The moment Scrooge's hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by
+his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.
+
+It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone
+a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with
+living green, that it looked a perfect grove, from every part of which,
+bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe,
+and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had been
+scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as
+that dull petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Scrooge's time, or
+Marley's, or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the
+floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
+brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages,
+mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red hot chestnuts,
+cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense
+twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim
+with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch there sat a
+jolly Giant, glorious to see; who bore a glowing torch, in shape not
+unlike Plenty's horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light on
+Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door.
+
+"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! and know me better, man!"
+
+Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before this Spirit. He was
+not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though the Spirit's eyes were
+clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.
+
+"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. "Look upon me!"
+
+Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple deep green robe,
+or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the
+figure, that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be
+warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet, observable beneath the
+ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no
+other covering than a holly wreath set here and there with shining
+icicles. Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as its genial
+face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its
+unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was
+an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was
+eaten up with rust.
+
+[Illustration: UPON THIS COUCH THERE SAT A JOLLY GIANT]
+
+"You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimed the Spirit.
+
+"Never," Scrooge made answer to it.
+
+"Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family; meaning
+(for I am very young) my elder brothers born in these later years?"
+pursued the Phantom.
+
+"I don't think I have," said Scrooge. "I am afraid I have not. Have you
+had many brothers, Spirit?"
+
+"More than eighteen hundred," said the Ghost.
+
+"A tremendous family to provide for!" muttered Scrooge.
+
+The Ghost of Christmas Present rose.
+
+"Spirit," said Scrooge submissively, "conduct me where you will. I went
+forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working
+now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it."
+
+"Touch my robe!"
+
+Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.
+
+Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
+brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch,
+all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, the
+hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning,
+where (for the weather was severe) the people made a rough, but brisk
+and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement
+in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses: whence
+it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the
+road below, and splitting into artificial little snowstorms.
+
+The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker,
+contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with
+the dirtier snow upon the ground; which last deposit had been ploughed
+up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and waggons; furrows
+that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds of times where the great
+streets branched off, and made intricate channels, hard to trace, in the
+thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest
+streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen,
+whose heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty atoms, as if all
+the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, caught fire, and were
+blazing away to their dear hearts' content. There was nothing very
+cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet there was an air of
+cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer
+sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain.
+
+For, the people who were shovelling away on the housetops were jovial
+and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now
+and then exchanging a facetious snowball--better-natured missile far
+than many a wordy jest--laughing heartily if it went right and not less
+heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers' shops were still half open,
+and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round
+pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly
+old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in
+their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced broad-girthed
+Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish
+Friars; and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as
+they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were
+pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were
+bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle
+from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they
+passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in
+their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings
+ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins,[300-12]
+squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons,
+and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently
+entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten
+after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these
+choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded
+race, appeared to know that there was something going on; and, to a
+fish, went gasping round and round their little world in slow and
+passionless excitement.
+
+The Grocers'! oh the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters
+down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone
+that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that
+the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters
+were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended
+scents of tea, and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the
+raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the
+sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious,
+the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the
+coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that
+the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in
+modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything
+was good to eat and in its Christmas dress: but the customers were all
+so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they
+tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets
+wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back
+to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes in the best
+humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh
+that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind
+might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for
+Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.
+
+But soon the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, and
+away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and
+with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores
+of by-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people carrying
+their dinner to the bakers' shops. The sight of these poor revellers
+appeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge
+beside him in a baker's[301-13] doorway, and taking off the covers as
+their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch.
+And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there
+were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled with each
+other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good
+humour was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel
+upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was!
+
+In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and yet there was
+a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their
+cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker's oven; where the
+pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.
+
+"Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?"
+asked Scrooge.
+
+"There is. My own."
+
+"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"To any kindly given. To a poor one most."
+
+"Why to a poor one most?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"Because it needs it most."
+
+"Spirit," said Scrooge, after a moment's thought, "I wonder you, of all
+the beings in the many worlds about us, should desire to cramp these
+people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment."
+
+"I!" cried the Spirit.
+
+"You would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day,
+often the only day on which they can be said to dine at all," said
+Scrooge. "Wouldn't you?"
+
+"I!" cried the Spirit.
+
+"You seek to close these places on the seventh day?" said Scrooge. "And
+it comes to the same thing."
+
+"I seek!" exclaimed the Spirit.
+
+"Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at least in
+that of your family," said Scrooge.
+
+"There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit, "who lay
+claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will,
+hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange
+to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember
+that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us."
+
+Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible, as they had
+been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable quality
+of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at the baker's), that
+notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to any
+place with ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as
+gracefully and like a supernatural creature, as it was possible he could
+have done in any lofty hall.
+
+And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing off this
+power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and
+his sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge's
+clerk's; for there he went, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his
+robe; and on the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to
+bless Bob Cratchit's dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think
+of that! Bob had but fifteen "bob"[303-14] a week himself; he pocketed
+on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian name; and yet the Ghost
+of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house!
+
+Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a
+twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a
+goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda
+Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master
+Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and
+getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob's private
+property, conferred upon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his
+mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to
+show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits,
+boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they
+had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in
+luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onion, these young Cratchits danced about
+the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not
+proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the
+slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let
+out and peeled.
+
+"What has ever got your precious father then?" said Mrs. Cratchit. "And
+your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day by
+half-an-hour!"
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing as she spoke.
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
+_such_ a goose, Martha!"
+
+"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.
+
+"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl, "and
+had to clear away this morning, mother!"
+
+[Illustration: BOB AND TINY TIM]
+
+"Well! Never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
+
+"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
+
+So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least
+three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before
+him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look
+seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a
+little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!
+
+"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
+
+"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
+
+Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the
+copper.
+
+"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart's content.
+
+"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him,
+because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember
+upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see."
+
+Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
+
+His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool before the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs--as
+if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby--compounded
+some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and
+round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.
+
+Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing
+hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss
+Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob
+took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young
+Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and
+mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest
+they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At
+last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a
+breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the
+carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did,
+and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of
+delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the
+two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and
+feebly cried "Hurrah!"
+
+[Illustration: THERE NEVER WAS SUCH A GOOSE]
+
+There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was
+such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness,
+were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by the apple-sauce and
+mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family;
+indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small
+atom of a bone upon the dish) they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet
+everyone had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were
+steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now, the plates being
+changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous
+to bear witnesses--to take the pudding up and bring it in.
+
+Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard,
+and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at
+which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.
+
+Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell
+like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and
+a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to
+that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon-ball so hard and firm blazing in half of half-a-quartern of
+ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.
+
+Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind,
+she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat
+heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.
+
+At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass. Two
+tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.
+
+These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed:
+
+"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!" Which all the
+family re-echoed.
+
+"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
+
+He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before, "tell
+me if Tiny Tim will live."
+
+"I see a vacant seat," replied the Ghost, "in the poor chimney-corner,
+and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows
+remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die."
+
+"No, no," said Scrooge. "Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared."
+
+"If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my
+race," returned the Ghost, "will find him here. What then? If he be
+like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."
+
+Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and
+was overcome with penitence and grief.
+
+"Man," said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear
+that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and
+Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It
+may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit
+to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! to hear the
+insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry
+brothers in the dust!"
+
+Scrooge bent before the Ghost's rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon
+the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.
+
+"Mr. Scrooge!" said Bob; "I'll give you Mr. Scrooge, the Founder of the
+Feast!"
+
+"The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. "I
+wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and
+I hope he'd have a good appetite for it."
+
+"My dear," said Bob, "the children! Christmas Day."
+
+"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure," said she, "on which one drinks
+the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr.
+Scrooge. You know he is, Robert! Nobody knows it better than you do,
+poor fellow!"
+
+"My dear," was Bob's mild answer, "Christmas Day."
+
+"I'll drink his health for your sake and the day's," said Mrs. Cratchit,
+"not for his. Long life to him! A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
+He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!"
+
+The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their
+proceedings which had no heartiness in it. Tiny Tim drank it last of
+all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the
+family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which
+was not dispelled for full five minutes.
+
+After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from
+the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchit
+told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which
+would bring in, if obtained, full five-and-six-pence[311-15] weekly. The
+two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter's being a
+man of business; and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from
+between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular
+investments he should favour when he came into the receipt of that
+bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's,
+then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she
+worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for
+a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also how
+she had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and how the lord
+"was much about as tall as Peter;" at which Peter pulled up his collars
+so high that you couldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All
+this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and
+bye-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow,
+from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well
+indeed.
+
+There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsome family;
+they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being waterproof;
+their clothes were scanty; and Peter might have known, and very likely
+did, the inside of a pawnbroker's. But, they were happy, grateful,
+pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they
+faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit's
+torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny
+Tim, until the last.
+
+By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and as
+Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the
+roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, and all sorts of rooms, was
+wonderful. Here, the flickering of the blaze showed preparations for a
+cozy dinner, with hot plates baking through and through before the fire,
+and deep red curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness.
+There, all the children of the house were running out into the snow to
+meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the
+first to greet them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of
+guests assembling; and there a group of handsome girls, all hooded and
+fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some near
+neighbor's house; where, woe upon the single man who saw them
+enter--artful witches; well they knew it--in a glow!
+
+But if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way to
+friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was at home to
+give them welcome when they got there, instead of every house expecting
+company, and piling up its fires half-chimney high. Blessings on it, how
+the Ghost exulted! How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its
+capacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, its
+bright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach! The very
+lamp-lighter, who ran on before dotting the dusky street with specks of
+light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed out
+loudly as the Spirit passed: though little kenned the lamp-lighter that
+he had any company but Christmas!
+
+And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they stood upon a
+bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of rude stone were cast
+about, as though it were the burial-place of giants; and water spread
+itself wheresoever it listed, or would have done so, but for the frost
+that held it prisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse,
+rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery
+red, which glared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye,
+and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of
+darkest night.
+
+"What place is this?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"A place where miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,"
+returned the Spirit. "But they know me. See!"
+
+A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advanced
+towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a
+cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and
+woman, with their children and their children's children, and another
+generation beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire.
+The old man, in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind
+upon the barren waste, was singing them a Christmas song; it had been a
+very old song when he was a boy; and from time to time they all joined
+in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got
+quite blithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigour sank
+again.
+
+The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, and
+passing on above the moor, sped whither? Not to sea? To sea. To
+Scrooge's horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightful
+range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the
+thundering of water, as it rolled, and roared, and raged among the
+dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.
+
+Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some leagues or so from shore,
+on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, there
+stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of seaweed clung to its base,
+and storm-birds--born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of the
+water--rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed.
+
+But even here, two men who watched the light had made a fire, that
+through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of
+brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands over the rough
+table at which they sat, they wished each other Merry Christmas in their
+can of grog; and one of them, the elder, too, with his face all damaged
+and scarred with hard weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might
+be, struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale in itself.
+
+Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heavy sea--on, on--until,
+being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a
+ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the lookout in the
+bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their
+several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or
+had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of
+some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And
+every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder
+word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared
+to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for
+at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.
+
+It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of
+the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the
+lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose depths were secrets as
+profound as Death: it was a great surprise to Scrooge, while thus
+engaged to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to
+Scrooge to recognize it as his own nephew's, and to find himself in a
+bright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his
+side, and looking at that same nephew with approving affability.
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed Scrooge's nephew. "Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blest
+in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew, all I can say is, I should like to
+know him too. Introduce him to me, and I'll cultivate his acquaintance.
+
+It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there
+is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so
+irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Scrooge's
+nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and
+twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge's
+niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled
+friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out, lustily.
+
+"Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!" cried Scrooge's
+nephew. "He believed it too!"
+
+"More shame for him, Fred!" said Scrooge's niece, indignantly. Bless
+those women; they never do anything by halves. They are always in
+earnest.
+
+She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled,
+surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made
+to be kissed--and no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about
+her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the
+sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature's head.
+Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but
+satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory!
+
+"He's a comical old fellow," said Scrooge's nephew, "that's the truth;
+and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their
+own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him."
+
+"I'm sure he is very rich, Fred," hinted Scrooge's niece. "At least you
+always tell _me_ so."
+
+"What of that, my dear!" said Scrooge's nephew. "His wealth is of no use
+to him. He don't do any good with it. He don't make himself comfortable
+with it. He hasn't the satisfaction of thinking--ha, ha, ha!--that he is
+ever going to benefit Us with it."
+
+"I have no patience with him," observed Scrooge's niece.
+
+Scrooge's niece's sister, and all the other ladies, expressed the same
+opinion.
+
+"Oh, I have!" said Scrooge's nephew. "I am sorry for him; I couldn't be
+angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself,
+always. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come
+and dine with us. What's the consequence! He don't lose much of a
+dinner----"
+
+"Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner," interrupted Scrooge's
+niece. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have
+been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the
+dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight.
+
+"Well! I'm very glad to hear it," said Scrooge's nephew, "because I
+haven't any great faith in these young housekeepers. What do _you_ say,
+Topper?"
+
+Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge's niece's sisters,
+for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right
+to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge's niece's
+sister--the plump one with the lace tucker: not the one with the
+roses--blushed.
+
+"Do go on, Fred," said Scrooge's niece, clapping her hands. "He never
+finishes what he begins to say! He is such a ridiculous fellow!"
+
+Scrooge's nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to
+keep the infection off, though the plump sister tried hard to do it with
+aromatic vinegar, his example was unanimously followed.
+
+"I was only going to say," said Scrooge's nephew, "that the consequence
+of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I
+think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm.
+I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own
+thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean
+to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for
+I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can't help
+thinking better of it--I defy him--if he finds me going there, in good
+temper, year after year, and saying, 'Uncle Scrooge, how are you?' If it
+only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds, _that's_
+something; and I think I shook him yesterday."
+
+It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking Scrooge. But
+being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at,
+so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment,
+and passed the bottle joyously.
+
+After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew
+what they were about, when they sang a Glee or Catch, I can assure you;
+especially Topper, who could growl away in the bass like a good one, and
+never swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over
+it. Scrooge's niece played well upon the harp; and played among other
+tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing: you might learn to whistle it
+in two minutes), which had been familiar to the child who fetched
+Scrooge from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost
+of Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the things
+that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; he softened more and more;
+and thought that if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he
+might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with
+his own hands, without resorting to the sexton's spade that buried Jacob
+Marley.[319-16]
+
+But they didn't devote the whole evening to music. After a while they
+played at forfeits; for it is good to be children sometimes, and never
+better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.
+Stop! There was first a game at blind-man's buff. Of course there was.
+And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes
+in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between him and
+Scrooge's nephew: and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The
+way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker, was an outrage
+on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling
+over the chairs, bumping up against the piano, smothering himself among
+the curtains, wherever she went, there went he. He always knew where the
+plump sister was. He wouldn't catch anybody else. If you had fallen up
+against him, as some of them did, and stood there; he would have made a
+feint of endeavoring to seize you, which would have been an affront to
+your understanding; and would instantly have sidled off in the direction
+of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn't fair; and it
+really was not. But when at last he caught her; when, in spite of all
+her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her
+into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was most
+execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his pretending that it
+was necessary to touch her head-dress, and further to assure himself of
+her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain
+chain about her neck; was vile, monstrous! No doubt she told him her
+opinion of it, when, another blind man being in office, they were so
+very confidential together, behind the curtains.
+
+Scrooge's niece was not one of the blind-man's buff party, but was made
+comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where
+the Ghost and Scrooge were close behind her. But she joined in the
+forfeits, and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the
+alphabet.[320-17] Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was
+very great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge's nephew, beat her sisters
+hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as Topper could have told you.
+There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all
+played, and so did Scrooge, for, wholly forgetting in the interest he
+had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he
+sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed
+quite right, too; for the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted
+not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge: blunt as he took it
+in his head to be.
+
+The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon
+him with such favor, that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay
+until the guests departed. But this the Spirit said could not be done.
+
+"Here is a new game," said Scrooge. "One half-hour, Spirit, only one!"
+
+It is a game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's nephew had to think of
+something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their
+questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to
+which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an
+animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an
+animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and
+lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show
+of, and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a menagerie, and was
+never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a
+bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every
+fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar
+of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to
+get up off the sofa and stamp.
+
+At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:
+
+"I have found it out. I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!"
+
+"What is it?" cried Fred.
+
+"It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"
+
+Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though
+some objected that the reply to "Is it a bear?" ought to have been
+"Yes;" inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have
+diverted their thoughts from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had
+any tendency that way.
+
+"He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure," said Fred, "and it
+would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled
+wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I say, 'Uncle Scrooge!'"
+
+"Well! Uncle Scrooge!" they cried.
+
+"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is!"
+said Scrooge's nephew. "He wouldn't take it from me, but may he have it,
+nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!"
+
+Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that
+he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked
+them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time. But the
+whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his
+nephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.
+
+Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they visited, but
+always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside sick-beds, and they
+were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by
+struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty,
+and it was rich. In almshouse, hospital, and jail, in misery's every
+refuge, where vain man in his little brief authority had not made fast
+the door, and barred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught
+Scrooge his precepts.
+
+It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts
+of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into
+the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while
+Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older,
+clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it,
+until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the
+Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that his hair
+was gray.
+
+"Are spirits' lives so short?" asked Scrooge.
+
+"My life upon this globe is very brief," replied the Ghost. "It ends
+to-night."
+
+"To-night!" cried Scrooge.
+
+"To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near."
+
+The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.
+
+"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Scrooge, looking
+intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not
+belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts! Is it a foot or a
+claw!"
+
+"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the Spirit's
+sorrowful reply. "Look here."
+
+From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched,
+abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and
+clung upon the outside of its garment.
+
+"Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!" exclaimed the Ghost.
+
+They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but
+prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have
+filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a
+stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted
+them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat
+enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no
+degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the
+mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and
+dread.
+
+Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he
+tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves,
+rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.
+
+"Spirit! are they yours?" Scrooge could say no more.
+
+"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they
+cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This
+girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all
+beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom,
+unless the writing be erased. Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching out
+its hand towards the city. "Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for
+your factious purposes, and make it worse! And bide the end!"
+
+"Have they no refuge or resource?" cried Scrooge.
+
+"Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on him for the last
+time with his own words. "Are there no workhouses?"
+
+The bell struck twelve.
+
+Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last
+stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old Jacob
+Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and
+hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.
+
+
+STAVE FOUR
+
+_The Last of the Spirits_
+
+The Phantom slowly, gravely approached. When it came near him, Scrooge
+bent down upon his knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit
+moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.
+
+It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its
+face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched
+hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure
+from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was
+surrounded.
+
+He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him, and that
+its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more,
+for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.
+
+"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" said
+Scrooge.
+
+The Spirit answered not, but pointed downward with its hand.
+
+"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened,
+but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge pursued. "Is that so,
+Spirit?"
+
+The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its
+folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer
+he received.
+
+Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge feared the
+silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found
+that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit
+paused a moment, as observing his condition, and giving him time to
+recover.
+
+But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague
+uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were
+ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his
+own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great
+heap of black.
+
+"Ghost of the Future!" he exclaimed, "I fear you more than any Spectre I
+have seen. But, as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope
+to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you
+company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?"
+
+It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.
+
+"Lead on!" said Scrooge. "Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is
+precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!"
+
+The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in
+the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him
+along.
+
+They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather seemed to
+spring up about them, and encompass them of its own act. But there they
+were, in the heart of it; on 'Change, amongst the merchants; who hurried
+up and down, and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed in
+groups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with
+their great gold seals; and so forth, as Scrooge had seen them often.
+
+The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men. Observing
+that the hand was pointed to them, Scrooge advanced to listen to their
+talk.
+
+"No," said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, "I don't know much
+about it, either way. I only know he's dead."
+
+"When did he die?" inquired another.
+
+"Last night, I believe."
+
+"Why, what was the matter with him?" asked a third, taking a vast
+quantity of snuff out of a very large snuffbox. "I thought he'd never
+die."
+
+"God knows," said the first, with a yawn.
+
+"What has he done with his money?" asked a red-faced gentleman with a
+pendulous excrescence on the end of his nose, that shook like the gills
+of a turkey-cock.
+
+"I haven't heard," said the man with the large chin, yawning again.
+"Left it to his Company, perhaps. He hasn't left it to _me_. That's all
+I know."
+
+This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.
+
+"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral," said the same speaker; "for
+upon my life I don't know of anybody to go to it. Suppose we make up a
+party and volunteer?"
+
+"I don't mind going if a lunch is provided," observed the gentleman with
+the excrescence on his nose. "But I must be fed, if I make one."
+
+Another laugh.
+
+"Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all," said the first
+speaker, "for I never wear black gloves, and I never eat lunch. But I'll
+offer to go, if anybody else will. When I come to think of it, I'm not
+at all sure that I wasn't his most particular friend; for we used to
+stop and speak whenever we met. Bye, bye!"
+
+Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed with other groups.
+Scrooge knew the men, and looked towards the Spirit for an explanation.
+
+The Phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two persons
+meeting. Scrooge listened again, thinking that the explanation might lie
+here.
+
+He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of business: very
+wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a point always of standing
+well in their esteem--in a business point of view, that is; strictly in
+a business point of view.
+
+"How are you?" said one.
+
+"How are you?" returned the other.
+
+"Well!" said the first. "Old Scratch has got his own at last, hey?"
+
+"So I am told," returned the second. "Cold, isn't it?"
+
+"Seasonable for Christmas time. You're not a skater, I suppose?"
+
+"No. No. Something else to think of. Good morning!" Not another word.
+That was their meeting, their conversation, and their parting.
+
+Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the Spirit should
+attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial; but feeling
+assured that they must have some hidden purpose, he set himself to
+consider what it was likely to be. They could scarcely be supposed to
+have any bearing on the death of Jacob, his old partner, for that was
+Past, and this Ghost's province was the Future. Nor could he think of
+any one immediately connected with himself, to whom he could apply them.
+But nothing doubting that to whomsoever they applied they had some
+latent moral for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure up every
+word he heard, and everything he saw; and especially to observe the
+shadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectation that the
+conduct of his future self would give him the clue he missed, and would
+render the solution of these riddles easy.
+
+[Illustration: "SO I AM TOLD," RETURNED THE SECOND]
+
+He looked about in that very place for his own image; but another man
+stood in his accustomed corner, and though the clock pointed to his
+usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness of himself among
+the multitudes that poured in through the Porch. It gave him little
+surprise, however; for he had been revolving in his mind a change of
+life, and thought and hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carried out
+in this.
+
+Quiet and dark, beside him stood the Phantom, with its outstretched
+hand. When he roused himself from his thoughtful quest, he fancied from
+the turn of the hand, and its situation in reference to himself, that
+the Unseen Eyes were looking at him keenly. It made him shudder and feel
+very cold.
+
+They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the town,
+where Scrooge had never penetrated before, although he recognized its
+situation, and its bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow; the shops
+and houses wretched; the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly.
+Alleys and archways, like so many cesspools, disgorged their offences of
+smell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling streets; and the whole
+quarter reeked with crime, with filth, and misery.
+
+Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed, beetling
+shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and
+greasy offal, were bought. Upon the floor within, were piled up heaps of
+rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse
+iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinise were bred
+and hidden in mountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and
+sepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the wares he dealt in, by a
+charcoal-stove, made of old bricks, was a grey-haired rascal, nearly
+seventy years of age; who had screened himself from the cold air
+without, by a frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters, hung upon a
+line; and smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement.
+
+Scrooge and the Phantom came into the presence of this man, just as a
+woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But she had scarcely
+entered, when another woman, similarly laden, came in too; and she was
+closely followed by a man in faded black, who was no less startled by
+the sight of them, than they had been upon the recognition of each
+other. After a short period of blank astonishment, in which the old man
+with the pipe had joined them, they all three burst into a laugh.
+
+"Let the charwoman alone to be the first!" cried she who had entered
+first. "Let the laundress alone to be the second; and let the
+undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look here, old Joe, here's a
+chance! If we haven't all three met here without meaning it!"
+
+"You couldn't have met in a better place," said old Joe, removing his
+pipe from his mouth. "Come into the parlour. You were made free of it
+long ago, you know; and the other two ain't strangers. Stop till I shut
+the door of the shop. Ah! How it skreeks! There an't such a rusty bit of
+metal in the place as its own hinges, I believe; and I'm sure there's no
+such old bones here, as mine. Ha, ha! We're all suitable to our calling,
+we're well matched. Come into the parlour. Come into the parlour."
+
+The parlour was the space behind the screen of rags. The old man raked
+the fire together with an old stair-rod, and having trimmed his smoky
+lamp (for it was night), with the stem of his pipe, put it in his mouth
+again.
+
+While he did this, the woman who had already spoken, threw her bundle on
+the floor, and sat down in a flaunting manner on a stool; crossing her
+elbows on her knees, and looking with a bold defiance at the other two.
+
+"What odds then! What odds, Mrs. Dilber?" said the woman. "Every person
+has a right to take care of themselves. _He_ always did!"
+
+"That's true, indeed!" said the laundress. "No man more so."
+
+"Why, then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; who's the
+wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's coats, I suppose?"
+
+"No, indeed!" said Mrs. Dilber and the man together. "We should hope
+not."
+
+"Very well, then!" cried the woman. "That's enough. Who's the worse for
+the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose."
+
+"No, indeed," said Mrs. Dilber, laughing.
+
+"If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, a wicked old screw,"
+pursued the woman, "why wasn't he natural in his lifetime? If he had
+been, he'd have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with
+Death, instead of lying gasping out his last there, alone by himself."
+
+"It's the truest word that ever was spoke," said Mrs. Dilber. "It's a
+judgment on him."
+
+"I wish it was a little heavier one," replied the woman; "and it should
+have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have laid my hands on
+anything else. Open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of
+it. Speak out plain. I'm not afraid to be the first, nor afraid for
+them to see it. We knew pretty well that we were helping ourselves,
+before we met here, I believe. It's no sin. Open the bundle, Joe."
+
+But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this; and the man in
+faded black, mounting the breach first, produced _his_ plunder. It was
+not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil-case, a pair of sleeve-buttons,
+and a brooch of no great value, were all. They were severally examined
+and appraised by old Joe, who chalked the sums he was disposed to give
+for each, upon the wall, and added them up into a total when he found
+there was nothing more to come.
+
+"That's your account," said Joe, "and I wouldn't give another sixpence,
+if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who's next?"
+
+Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing apparel, two
+old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots.
+Her account was stated on the wall in the same manner.
+
+"I always give too much to ladies. It's a weakness of mine, and that's
+the way I ruin myself," said old Joe. "That's your account. If you asked
+me for another penny, and made it an open question, I'd repent of being
+so liberal and knock off half-a-crown."
+
+"And now undo _my_ bundle, Joe," said the first woman.
+
+Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening it,
+and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged out a large and heavy
+roll of some dark stuff.
+
+"What do you call this?" said Joe. "Bed-curtains!"
+
+"Ah!" returned the woman, laughing and leaning forward on her crossed
+arms. "Bed-curtains!"
+
+"You don't mean to say you took 'em down, rings and all, with him lying
+there?" said Joe.
+
+"Yes I do," replied the woman. "Why not?"
+
+"You were born to make your fortune," said Joe, "and you'll certainly do
+it."
+
+"I certainly shan't hold my hand, when I can get anything in it by
+reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as He was, I promise you,
+Joe," returned the woman coolly. "Don't drop that oil upon the blankets,
+now."
+
+"His blankets?" asked Joe.
+
+"Whose else's do you think?" replied the woman. "He isn't likely to take
+cold without 'em, I dare say."
+
+"I hope he didn't die of anything catching? Eh?" said old Joe, stopping
+in his work, and looking up.
+
+"Don't you be afraid of that," returned the woman. "I an't so fond of
+his company that I'd loiter about him for such things, if he did. Ah!
+you may look through that shirt till your eyes ache; but you won't find
+a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a fine
+one too. They'd have wasted it, if it hadn't been for me."
+
+"What do you call wasting of it?" asked old Joe.
+
+"Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure," replied the woman with
+a laugh. "Somebody was fool enough to do it, but I took it off again. If
+calico an't good enough for such a purpose, it isn't good enough for
+anything. He can't look uglier than he did in that one."
+
+Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat grouped about
+their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by the old man's lamp, he
+viewed them with a detestation and disgust, which could hardly have
+been greater, though they had been obscene demons, marketing the corpse
+itself.
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed the same woman, when old Joe, producing a flannel bag
+with money in it, told out their several gains upon the ground. "This is
+the end of it, you see! He frightened every one away from him when he
+was alive, to profit us when he was dead! Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"Spirit!" said Scrooge, shuddering from head to foot. "I see, I see. The
+case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now.
+Merciful Heaven, what is this!"
+
+He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now he almost
+touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed: on which, beneath a ragged
+sheet, there lay a something covered up, which, though it was dumb,
+announced itself in awful language.
+
+The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with any accuracy,
+though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse,
+anxious to know what kind of room it was.
+
+A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and
+on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the
+body of this man.
+
+Scrooge glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady hand was pointed to the
+head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of
+it, the motion of a finger upon Scrooge's part, would have disclosed the
+face. He thought of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to
+do it; but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the
+spectre at his side.
+
+Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress
+it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy
+dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not
+turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is
+not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not
+that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open,
+generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a
+man's. Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the
+wound, to sow the world with life immortal!
+
+No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge's ears, and yet he heard them
+when he looked upon the bed. He thought, if this man could be raised up
+now, what would be his foremost thoughts? Avarice, hard dealing, griping
+cares? They have brought him to a rich end, truly!
+
+He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a woman, or a child, to
+say that he was kind to me in this or that, and for the memory of one
+kind word I will be kind to him. A cat was tearing at the door, and
+there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What _they_
+wanted in the room of death, and why they were so restless and
+disturbed, Scrooge did not dare to think.
+
+"Spirit!" he said, "this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I shall not
+leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!"
+
+Still the Ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the head.
+
+"I understand you," Scrooge returned, "and I would do it, if I could.
+But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the power."
+
+Again it seemed to look upon him.
+
+"If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this
+man's death," said Scrooge, quite agonized, "show that person to me,
+Spirit, I beseech you!"
+
+The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for a moment, like a wing;
+and withdrawing it, revealed a room by daylight, where a mother and her
+children were.
+
+She was expecting some one, and with anxious eagerness; for she walked
+up and down the room; started at every sound; looked out from the
+window; glanced at the clock; tried, but in vain, to work with her
+needle; and could hardly bear the voices of the children in their play.
+
+At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried to the door,
+and met her husband; a man whose face was careworn and depressed, though
+he was young. There was a remarkable expression in it now; a kind of
+serious delight of which he felt ashamed, and which he struggled to
+repress.
+
+He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for him by the fire;
+and when she asked him faintly what news (which was not until after a
+long silence) he appeared embarrassed how to answer.
+
+"Is it good," she said, "or bad?"--to help him.
+
+"Bad," he answered.
+
+"We are quite ruined?"
+
+"No. There is hope yet, Caroline."
+
+"If _he_ relents," she said, amazed, "there is! Nothing is past hope, if
+such a miracle has happened."
+
+"He is past relenting," said her husband. "He is dead."
+
+She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke truth; but she was
+thankful in her soul to hear it, and she said so, with clasped hands.
+She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and was sorry; but the first was
+the emotion of her heart.
+
+"What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of last night, said to me,
+when I tried to see him and obtain a week's delay; and what I thought
+was a mere excuse to avoid me; turns out to have been quite true. He was
+not only very ill, but dying, then."
+
+"To whom will our debt be transferred?"
+
+"I don't know. But before that time we shall be ready with the money;
+and even though we were not, it would be bad fortune indeed to find so
+merciless a creditor in his successor. We may sleep to-night with light
+hearts, Caroline!"
+
+Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children's
+faces, hushed, and clustered round to hear what they so little
+understood, were brighter; and it was a happier house for this man's
+death; The only emotion that the Ghost could show him, caused by the
+event, was one of pleasure.
+
+"Let me see some tenderness connected with a death," said Scrooge; "or
+that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever
+present to me."
+
+The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet;
+and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself,
+but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor Bob Cratchit's house;
+the dwelling he had visited before; and found the mother and the
+children seated round the fire.
+
+Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as statues
+in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a book before him.
+The mother and her daughter were engaged in sewing. But surely they were
+very quiet!
+
+"'And He took a child, and set him in the midst of them.'"
+
+Where had Scrooge heard those words? He had not, dreamed them. The boy
+must have read them out, as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why
+did he not go on?
+
+The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up to her
+face.
+
+"The colour hurts my eyes," she said.
+
+The colour? Ah, poor Tiny Tim!
+
+"They're better now again," said Cratchit's wife. "It makes them weak by
+candlelight; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes
+home, for the world. It must be near his time."
+
+"Past it rather," Peter answered, shutting up his book. "But I think
+he's walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings,
+mother."
+
+They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady cheerful
+voice, that only faltered once:
+
+"I have known him walk with--I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon
+his shoulder, very fast indeed."
+
+"And so have I," cried Peter. "Often."
+
+"And so have I," exclaimed another. So had all.
+
+"But he was very light to carry," she resumed, intent upon her work,
+"and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble--no trouble. And
+there is your father at the door!"
+
+She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforter--he had
+need of it, poor fellow--came in. His tea was ready for him on the hob,
+and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then the two young
+Cratchits got upon his knees and laid, each child, a little cheek
+against his face, as if they said, "Don't mind it, father. Don't be
+grieved!"
+
+Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family.
+He looked at the work upon the table, and praised the industry and speed
+of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long before Sunday he
+said.
+
+"Sunday! You went to-day then, Robert?" said his wife.
+
+"Yes, my dear," returned Bob. "I wish you could have gone. It would have
+done you good to see how green a place it is. But you'll see it often. I
+promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little, little
+child!" cried Bob. "My little child!"
+
+He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could have helped
+it, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they
+were.
+
+He left the room, and went upstairs into the room above, which was
+lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close
+beside the child, and there were signs of some one having been there,
+lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and
+composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what
+had happened, and went down again quite happy.
+
+They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother working
+still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of Mr. Scrooge's
+nephew, whom he had scarcely seen but once, and who, meeting him in the
+street that day, and seeing that he looked a little--"just a little down
+you know," said Bob, inquired what had happened to distress him. "On
+which," said Bob, "for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever
+heard, I told him. 'I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit,' he said,
+'and heartily sorry for your good wife.' By the bye, how he ever knew
+_that_, I don't know."
+
+"Knew what, my dear?"
+
+"Why, that you were a good wife," replied Bob.
+
+"Everybody knows that!" said Peter.
+
+"Very well observed, my boy!" cried Bob. "I hope they do. 'Heartily
+sorry,' he said, 'for your good wife. If I can be of service to you in
+any way,' he said, giving me his card, 'that's where I live. Pray come
+to me.' Now, it wasn't," cried Bob, "for the sake of anything he might
+be able to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that this was quite
+delightful. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt
+with us."
+
+"I'm sure he's a good soul!" said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"You would be surer of it, my dear," returned Bob, "if you saw and spoke
+to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised, mark what I say, if he got
+Peter a better situation."
+
+"Only hear that, Peter," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"And then," cried one of the girls, "Peter will be keeping company with
+some one, and setting up for himself."
+
+"Get along with you!" retorted Peter, grinning.
+
+"It's just as likely as not," said Bob, "one of these days; though
+there's plenty of time for that, my dear. But however and whenever we
+part from one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny
+Tim--shall we--or this first parting that there was among us?"
+
+"Never, father!" cried they all.
+
+"And I know," said Bob, "I know, my dears, that when we recollect how
+patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we
+shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in
+doing it."
+
+"No, never, father!" they all cried again.
+
+"I am very happy," said little Bob, "I am very happy!"
+
+Mrs. Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two young
+Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shook hands. Spirit of Tiny
+Tim, thy childish essence was from God!
+
+"Spectre," said Scrooge, "something informs me that our parting moment
+is at hand. I know it, but I know not how. Tell me what man that was
+whom we saw lying dead?"
+
+The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him, as before--though at a
+different time, he thought: indeed, there seemed no order in these
+latter visions, save that they were in the Future--into the resorts of
+business men, but showed him not himself. Indeed, the Spirit did not
+pause, but went straight on, as to the end just now desired, until
+besought by Scrooge to tarry for a moment.
+
+"This court," said Scrooge, "through which we hurry now, is where my
+place of occupation is, and has been for a length of time. I see the
+house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days to come!"
+
+The Spirit stopped; the hand was pointed elsewhere.
+
+"The house is yonder," Scrooge exclaimed, "Why do you point away?"
+
+The inexorable finger underwent no change.
+
+Scrooge hastened to the window of his office, and looked in. It was an
+office still, but not his. The furniture was not the same, and the
+figure in the chair was not himself. The Phantom pointed as before. He
+joined it once again, and wondering why and whither he had gone,
+accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round
+before entering.
+
+A churchyard. Here, then, the wretched man whose name he had now to
+learn, lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy place. Walled in by
+houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation's death,
+not life; choked up with too much burying; fat with repleted appetite. A
+worthy place!
+
+The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One. He advanced
+towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he
+dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.
+
+"Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point," said Scrooge,
+"answer me one question. Are these shadows of the things that Will be,
+or are they shadows of things that May be, only?"
+
+Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.
+
+"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in,
+they must lead," said Scrooge. "But if the courses be departed from, the
+ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!"
+
+The Spirit was immovable as ever.
+
+Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the
+finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name,
+EBENEZER SCROOGE.
+
+[Illustration: HE READ HIS OWN NAME]
+
+"Am _I_ that man who lay upon the bed?" he cried, upon his knees.
+
+The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.
+
+"No, Spirit! Oh no, no!"
+
+The finger still was there.
+
+"Spirit!" he cried, tight clutching at its robe, "hear me! I am not the
+man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this
+intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope!"
+
+For the first time the hand appeared to shake.
+
+"Good Spirit," he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it:
+"Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may
+change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!"
+
+The kind hand trembled.
+
+"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I
+will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all
+Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they
+teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"
+
+In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but
+he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger
+yet, repulsed him.
+
+Holding up his hands in one last prayer to have his fate reversed, he
+saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrank, collapsed,
+and dwindled down into a bedpost.
+
+
+STAVE FIVE
+
+_The End of It_
+
+Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his
+own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make
+amends in!
+
+"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Scrooge
+repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of all Three shall
+strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley! Heaven and the Christmas Time be
+praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob, on my knees!"
+
+He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his
+broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing
+violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with
+tears.
+
+"They are not torn down," cried Scrooge, folding one of his bed-curtains
+in his arms, "they are not torn down, rings and all. They are here: I am
+here: the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled.
+They will be. I know they will!"
+
+His hands were busy with his garments all this time: turning them inside
+out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making
+them parties to every kind of extravagance.
+
+"I don't know what to do!" cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the
+same breath; and making a perfect Laocooen[346-18] of himself with his
+stockings. "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am
+as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry
+Christmas to everybody! A Happy New Year to all the world. Hallo here!
+Whoop! Hallo!"
+
+He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing there:
+perfectly winded.
+
+"There's the saucepan that the gruel was in!" cried Scrooge, starting
+off again, and frisking round the fireplace. "There's the door, by which
+the Ghost of Jacob Marley entered! There's the corner where the Ghost of
+Christmas Present sat! There's the window where I saw the wandering
+Spirits! It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was
+a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long
+line of brilliant laughs!
+
+"I don't know what day of the month it is!" said Scrooge. "I don't know
+how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a
+baby. Never mind. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop!
+Hallo here!"
+
+He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the
+lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer, ding, dong,
+bell. Bell, dong, ding, hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!
+
+Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no
+mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood
+to dance to; golden sunlight; heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry
+bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!
+
+"What's to-day?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday
+clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.
+
+"EH?" returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.
+
+[Illustration: HE STOOD BY THE WINDOW--GLORIOUS!]
+
+"What's to-day, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge.
+
+"To-day!" replied the boy. "Why, CHRISTMAS DAY."
+
+"It's Christmas Day!" said Scrooge to himself. "I haven't missed it. The
+Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like.
+Of course they can. Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!"
+"Hallo!" returned the boy.
+
+"Do you know the poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the
+corner?" Scrooge inquired.
+
+"I should hope I did," replied the lad.
+
+"An intelligent boy!" said Scrooge. "A remarkable boy! Do you know
+whether they've sold the prize turkey that was hanging up there? Not the
+little prize turkey: the big one?"
+
+"What, the one as big as me?" returned the boy.
+
+"What a delightful boy!" said Scrooge. "It's a pleasure to talk to him.
+Yes, my buck!"
+
+"It's hanging there now," replied the boy.
+
+"Is it?" said Scrooge. "Go and buy it."
+
+"Walk-ER!"[349-19] exclaimed the boy.
+
+"No, no," said Scrooge, "I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell 'em to
+bring it here, that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come
+back with the man, and I'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in
+less than five minutes, and I'll give you half-a-crown!"
+
+The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand at a trigger
+who could have got a shot off half so fast.
+
+"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's!" whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands,
+and splitting with a laugh. "He shan't know who sends it. It's twice the
+size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller[349-20] never made such a joke as sending
+it to Bob's will be!"
+
+The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write
+it he did, somehow, and went downstairs to open the street door, ready
+for the coming of the poulterer's man. As he stood there, waiting his
+arrival, the knocker caught his eye.
+
+"I shall love it, as long as I live!" cried Scrooge, patting it with his
+hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it
+has in its face! It's a wonderful knocker!--Here's the turkey. Hallo!
+Whoop! How are you! Merry Christmas!"
+
+It _was_ a turkey! He could never have stood upon his legs, that bird.
+He would have snapped 'em short off in a minute, like sticks of
+sealing-wax.
+
+"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town," said Scrooge. "You
+must have a cab."
+
+The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid
+for the turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the
+chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by
+the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and
+chuckled till he cried.
+
+Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake very much;
+and shaving requires attention, even when you don't dance while you are
+at it. But if he had cut the end of his nose off, he would have put a
+piece of sticking-plaster over it, and been quite satisfied.
+
+He dressed himself "all in his best," and at last got out into the
+streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them
+with the Ghost of Christmas Present; and walking with his hands behind
+him, Scrooge regarded every one with a delighted smile. He looked so
+irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured
+fellows said, "Good morning, Sir! A Merry Christmas to you!" And Scrooge
+said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard,
+those were the blithest in his ears.
+
+He had not gone far, when coming on towards him he beheld the portly
+gentleman, who had walked into his counting-house the day before and
+said, "Scrooge and Marley's, I believe?" It sent a pang across his heart
+to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but
+he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it.
+
+"My dear Sir," said Scrooge, quickening his pace, and taking the old
+gentleman by both his hands. "How do you do? I hope you succeeded
+yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry Christmas to you, Sir!"
+
+"Mr. Scrooge?"
+
+"Yes," said Scrooge. "That is my name, and I fear it may not be pleasant
+to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the
+goodness"--here Scrooge whispered in his ear.
+
+"Lord bless me," cried the gentleman, as if his breath were gone. "My
+dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?"
+
+"If you please," said Scrooge. "Not a farthing less. A great many
+back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that
+favour?"
+
+"My dear Sir," said the other, shaking hands with him. "I don't know
+what to say to such munifi----"
+
+"Don't say anything, please," retorted Scrooge. "Come and see me. Will
+you come and see me?"
+
+"I will!" cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant to do it.
+
+"Thank'ee," said Scrooge. "I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty
+times. Bless you!"
+
+He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people
+hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned
+beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the
+windows; and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had
+never dreamed that any walk--that anything--could give him so much
+happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his steps towards his nephew's
+house. He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the courage to go
+up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it.
+
+"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Scrooge to the girl. Nice girl!
+Very.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Where is he, my love?" said Scrooge.
+
+"He's in the dining-room, Sir, along with mistress. I'll show you
+upstairs, if you please."
+
+"Thank'ee. He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand already on the
+dining-room lock. "I'll go in here, my dear."
+
+He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were
+looking at the table (which was spread out in great array); for these
+young housekeepers are always nervous on such points, and like to see
+that everything is right.
+
+"Fred!" said Scrooge.
+
+Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started! Scrooge had
+forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with the
+footstool, or he wouldn't have done it, on any account.
+
+"Why bless my soul!" cried Fred, "who's that?"
+
+"It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in,
+Fred?"
+
+Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off. He was at home in
+five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same.
+So did Topper when _he_ came. So did the plump sister, when _she_ came.
+So did every one when _they_ came. Wonderful party, wonderful games,
+wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!
+
+But he was early at the office next morning. Oh he was early there. If
+he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! That
+was the thing he had set his heart upon.
+
+And he did it; yes he did! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter
+past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time.
+Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the
+Tank. His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comforter too. He
+was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his pen, as if he were
+trying to overtake nine o'clock.
+
+"Hallo!" growled Scrooge in his accustomed voice as near as he could
+feign it. "What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"
+
+"I am very sorry, Sir," said Bob. "I _am_ behind my time."
+
+"You are?" repeated Scrooge. "Yes. I think you are. Step this way, Sir,
+if you please."
+
+"It's only once a year, Sir," pleaded Bob, appearing from the Tank. "It
+shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, Sir."
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Scrooge. "I am not going to
+stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore," he continued,
+leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that
+he staggered back into the Tank again: "and therefore I am about to
+raise your salary!"
+
+Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary
+idea of knocking Scrooge down with it; holding him; and calling to the
+people in the court for help and a strait-waist-coat.
+
+"A Merry Christmas, Bob!" said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could
+not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. "A merrier Christmas,
+Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year! I'll raise
+your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will
+discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of
+smoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle
+before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more;
+and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second father. He became as
+good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city
+knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old
+world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them
+laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that
+nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did
+not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as
+these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they
+should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less
+attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for
+him.
+
+[Illustration: "A MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOB!"]
+
+He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total
+Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him,
+that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the
+knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny
+Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[247-1] The fogs of London are famous. A genuine London fog seems not
+like the heavy gray mist which we know as a fog, but, as Dickens says,
+like "palpable brown air." So dense is this brown air at times that all
+traffic is obliged to cease, for not even those best acquainted with the
+geography of the city can find their way about.
+
+[251-2] _Bedlam_ is the name of a famous asylum for lunatics, in London.
+In former times the treatment of the inmates was far from humane, but at
+the present time the management is excellent, and a large proportion of
+the inmates are cured.
+
+[252-3] Workhouses are establishments where paupers are cared for, a
+certain amount of labor being expected from those who are able.
+
+[252-4] In England formerly there existed a device for the punishment of
+prisoners which was known as the _treadmill_. A huge wheel, usually in
+the form of a long hollow cylinder, was provided with steps about its
+circumference, and made to revolve by the weight of the prisoner as he
+moved from step to step.
+
+[253-5] Links are torches made of tow and pitch. In the days before the
+invention of street lights, they were in common use in England, and they
+are still seen during the dense London fogs.
+
+[254-6] Saint Dunstan was an English archbishop and statesman who lived
+in the tenth century.
+
+[254-7] This is one of the best-known and oftenest-sung of Christmas
+carols. In many parts of England, parties of men and boys go about for
+several nights before Christmas singing carols before people's houses.
+These troops of singers are known as "waits."
+
+[258-8] The splinter-bar is the cross-bar of a vehicle, to which the
+traces of the horses are fastened.
+
+[261-9] There is a play on the word _bowels_ here. What Scrooge had
+heard said of Marley was that he had no bowels of compassion--that is,
+no pity.
+
+[277-10] Scrooge sees and recognizes the heroes of the books which had
+been almost his only comforters in his neglected childhood.
+
+[284-11] "Sir Roger de Coverley" is the English name for the
+old-fashioned country-dance which is called in the United States the
+"Virginia Reel."
+
+[300-12] Biffins are an excellent variety of apples raised in England.
+
+[301-13] _Baker's_ here does not mean exactly what it means with us. In
+England the poorer people often take their dinners to a baker's to be
+cooked.
+
+[303-14] A _bob_, in English slang, is a shilling.
+
+[311-15] _Five-and-sixpence_ means five shillings and sixpence, or about
+$1.32.
+
+[319-16] In what sense has Scrooge "resorted to the sexton's spade that
+buried Jacob Marley" to cultivate the kindnesses of life?
+
+[320-17] "I love my love" is an old game of which there are several
+slightly different forms. The player says "I love my love with an _A_
+because he's--," giving some adjective beginning with _A_; "I hate him
+with an _A_ because he's--; I took him to--and fed him on--," all the
+blanks being filled with words beginning with _A_. This is carried out
+through the whole alphabet.
+
+[346-18] The Laocooen is a famous ancient statue of a Trojan priest,
+Laocooen, and his two sons, struggling in the grip of two monstrous
+serpents. You have doubtless seen pictures of the group. Dickens's
+figure gives us a humorously exaggerated picture of Scrooge and his
+stockings.
+
+[349-19] This is a slang expression, used to express incredulity. It has
+somewhat the same meaning as the slang phrase heard in the United
+States--"Over the left."
+
+[349-20] Joe Miller was an English comedian who lived from 1684 to 1738.
+The year after his death there appeared a little book called _Joe
+Miller's Jests_. These stories and jokes, however, were not written by
+Miller.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS IN OLD TIME
+
+_By_ Sir Walter Scott
+
+
+    Heap on more wood![356-1]--the wind is chill;
+    But let it whistle as it will,
+    We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
+    Each age has deem'd the new-born year
+    The fittest time for festal cheer:[356-2]
+    And well our Christian sires of old
+    Loved when the year its course had roll'd,
+    And brought blithe Christmas back again,
+    With all his hospitable train.[356-3]
+    Domestic and religious rite[356-4]
+    Gave honor to the holy night;
+    On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;[356-5]
+    On Christmas Eve the mass[356-6] was sung:
+    That only night in all the year,
+    Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.[356-7]
+    The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen;[356-8]
+
+    The hall was dress'd with holly green;
+    Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
+    To gather in the mistletoe.[357-9]
+    Then open'd wide the baron's hall
+    To vassal,[357-10] tenant,[357-11] serf,[357-12] and all;
+    Power laid his rod of rule aside,[357-13]
+    And ceremony doff'd his pride.[357-14]
+    The heir, with roses in his shoes,[357-15]
+    That night might village partner choose;[357-16]
+    The lord, underogating,[357-17] share
+    The vulgar game of "post and pair."[357-18]
+    All hail'd, with uncontroll'd delight
+    And general voice, the happy night,
+    That to the cottage, as the crown,
+    Brought tidings of Salvation down.[357-19]
+
+    The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
+    Went roaring up the chimney wide;
+    The huge hall-table's oaken face,
+    Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace,
+    Bore then upon its massive board
+    No mark to part the squire and lord.[358-20]
+    Then was brought in the lusty brawn,[358-21]
+    By old blue-coated serving-man;
+    Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high,
+    Crested with bays and rosemary.[358-22]
+    Well can the green-garb'd ranger[358-23] tell,
+    How, when, and where, the monster fell;
+    What dogs before his death he tore,
+    And all the baiting of the boar.[358-24]
+    The wassail[358-25] round, in good brown bowls,
+    Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls.[358-26]
+
+    There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by
+    Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;[358-27]
+    Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce,
+    At such high tide, her savory goose.
+    Then came the merry maskers in,
+    And carols roar'd with blithesome din:
+    If unmelodious was the song,
+    It was a hearty note, and strong.
+    Who lists may in their mumming see
+    Traces of ancient mystery;[359-28]
+    White shirts supplied the masquerade,
+    And smutted cheeks the visors made;--[359-29]
+    But, O! what maskers, richly dight,
+    Can boast of bosoms, half so light![359-30]
+    England was merry England, when
+    Old Christmas brought his sports again.
+    'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale;
+    'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
+    A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
+    The poor man's heart through half the year.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[356-1] Is there a stove or a fireplace in the room where the poet sees
+Christmas kept?
+
+[356-2] What is cheer? What is festal cheer?
+
+[356-3] What is a "train"? How could it be called a hospitable train?
+Whose train was it?
+
+[356-4] What is a rite?
+
+[356-5] What bells were rung?
+
+[356-6] What is a mass?
+
+[356-7] What is a _stoled_ priest? What is a chalice? What did the
+priest do when he reared the chalice?
+
+[356-8] The kirtle was a dress-skirt or outer petticoat. _Sheen_ means
+_gay_ or _bright_.
+
+[357-9] What is mistletoe? Is there anything peculiar in its habits of
+growth? What did they want of it? What custom is still said to follow
+the use of mistletoe at Christmastime?
+
+[357-10] A vassal was one of the followers of the baron and paid for
+protection or for lands he held by fighting in the baron's troops or
+rendering some other service.
+
+[357-11] A tenant held lands or houses, for which he paid some form of
+rent.
+
+[357-12] A serf was a slave.
+
+[357-13] At Christmastime even the powerful were willing to cease from
+ruling and join with the common people.
+
+[357-14] Instead of grand ceremonies, everybody joined in simple
+amusements, without pride or prejudice.
+
+[357-15] Who was the heir? What was he heir to? Why did he have roses in
+his shoes?
+
+[357-16] Was he permitted to dance with village maidens at any other
+time?
+
+[357-17] Without losing any of his dignity.
+
+[357-18] An old-fashioned game of cards.
+
+[357-19] Who brought the tidings of Salvation? To whom was it brought?
+Who was "the crown"?
+
+[358-20] A lord was one who had power and authority, while a squire was
+merely an attendant upon a lord.
+
+[358-21] Brawn, in England, is a preparation of meat, generally sheep's
+head, pig's head, hock of beef, or boar's meat, boiled and seasoned, and
+run into jelly moulds.
+
+[358-22] What are bays? What is rosemary? Why should the boar's head be
+called _crested_? Where was it? Why was it there? Why does the poet say
+it _frowned_ on high?
+
+[358-23] Who was a ranger? What did he do? Do you see any reason for his
+being green-garbed?
+
+[358-24] What is meant by _baiting_? Who tore the dogs? Why did he tear
+them? What made the monster fall?
+
+[358-25] Wassail (_wossil_): the liquor in which they drank their
+toasts, and which signified the good cheer of Christmastime.
+
+[358-26] Moves about; that is, the liquor in good brown bowls was
+merrily passed along the table from hand to hand.
+
+[358-27] What was near the sirloin? How many kinds of meat were there on
+the table? Is anything mentioned besides meat? Do you suppose they had
+other things to eat? Did they have bread and vegetables?
+
+[359-28] In the _mumming_ or acting of these maskers could be seen
+traces of the ancient mystic plays in which religious lessons were given
+in plays that were acted with the approval of the church.
+
+[359-29] Did the maskers have rich costumes? What did they wear over
+their faces? How did they conceal their clothing?
+
+[359-30] Does the poet think that rich maskers would enjoy their
+pleasure as much as the old-fashioned Christmas merrymakers?
+
+
+
+
+ELEGY
+
+WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
+
+_By_ THOMAS GRAY
+
+
+     NOTE.--A mournful song written to express grief at the loss of some
+     friend or relative, and at the same time to praise the dead person,
+     is known as an elegy. Sometimes the word has a wider meaning, and
+     includes a poem which expresses the same ideas but applies them to
+     a class of people rather than to an individual. Such a poem is not
+     so personal, and for that very reason it will be appreciated by a
+     larger number of readers. Gray's _Elegy_ is of the latter class--is
+     perhaps the one great poem of that class; for in all probability
+     more people have loved it and found in its gentle sadness, its
+     exquisite phraseology and its musical lines more genuine charm than
+     in any similar poem in the language.
+
+     To one who already loves it, any comments on the poem may at first
+     thought seem like desecration, but, on the other hand, there is so
+     much more in the _Elegy_ than appears at first glance that it is
+     worth while to read it in the light of another's eyes. Not a few
+     persons find some enjoyment in reading, but fall far short of the
+     highest pleasure because of their failure really to comprehend the
+     meaning of certain words and forms of expression. For that reason,
+     notes are appended where they may be needed. A good reader is never
+     troubled by notes at the bottom of the page. If they are of no
+     interest or benefit to him, he knows it with a glance and passes on
+     with his reading. If the note is helpful, he gathers the
+     information and returns to his reading, beginning not at the word
+     from which the reference was made, but at the beginning of the
+     sentence or stanza; then he loses nothing by going to the footnote.
+
+    The curfew[361-1] tolls the knell[361-2] of parting day,
+      The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
+    The plowman homeward plods his weary way
+      And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
+
+[Illustration: HOMEWARD PLODS HIS WEARY WAY]
+
+    Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
+      And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
+    Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
+      And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;[361-3]
+
+    Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower[362-4]
+      The moping owl does to the moon complain
+    Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
+      Molest her ancient solitary reign.[362-5]
+
+    Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
+      Where heaves the turf in many a mold'ring heap,
+    Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+      The rude[362-6] forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+    The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
+      The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
+    The cock's shrill clarion,[362-7] or the echoing horn,
+      No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.[362-8]
+
+    For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
+      Or busy housewife ply her evening care;[362-9]
+    No children run to lisp their sire's return,[363-10]
+      Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
+
+    Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
+      Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe[363-11] has broke;
+    How jocund[363-12] did they drive their team a-field!
+      How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
+
+    Let not Ambition[363-13] mock their useful toil,
+      Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
+    Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
+      The short and simple annals of the poor.
+
+    The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+      And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+    Await[363-14] alike th' inevitable hour:
+      The paths of glory lead but to the grave.[363-15]
+
+    Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
+      If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
+    Where, through the long-drawn aisle[364-16] and fretted vault,
+      The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
+
+    Can storied urn or animated bust[364-17]
+      Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
+    Can Honour's voice provoke[364-18] the silent dust,
+      Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
+
+    Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
+      Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;[364-19]
+    Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
+      Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.[364-20]
+
+    But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
+      Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;[364-21]
+    Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
+      And froze the genial current of the soul.
+
+    Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+      The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
+    Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+      And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+    Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
+      The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
+    Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest--
+      Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.[365-22]
+
+    Th' applause[365-23] of listening senates to command
+      The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
+    To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
+      And read their history in a nation's eyes,
+
+    Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone
+      Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
+    Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,[365-24]
+      And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;
+
+    The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide
+      To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
+    Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
+      With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.[366-25]
+
+    Far from the madding[366-26] crowd's ignoble strife,
+      Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
+    Along the cool, sequestered vale of life
+      They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
+
+    Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect
+      Some frail memorial[366-27] still erected nigh,
+    With uncouth[366-28] rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
+      Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
+
+    Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,
+      The place of fame and elegy supply;
+    And many a holy text around she strews,
+      That teach the rustic moralist to die.[366-29]
+
+    For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
+      This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
+    Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
+      Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind?[367-30]
+
+    On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
+      Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
+    E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
+      E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
+
+    For thee,[367-31] who, mindful of th' unhonored dead,
+      Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
+    If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
+      Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
+
+    Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
+      "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn,
+    Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
+      To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
+
+    "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
+      That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
+    His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
+      And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
+
+    "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
+      Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;
+    Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
+      Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
+
+    "One morn I missed him from the customed hill,
+      Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree.
+    Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
+      Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
+
+    "The next, with dirges due,[368-32] in sad array,
+      Slow through the church way path we saw him borne.--
+    Approach and read, for thou canst read, the lay
+      Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."[368-33]
+
+
+THE EPITAPH
+
+    Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,
+      A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown:
+    Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
+      And Melancholy marked him for her own.
+
+    Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
+      Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
+    He gave to Misery, all he had, a tear,
+      He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
+
+    No farther seek his merits to disclose,
+      Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
+    (There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
+      The bosom of his Father and his God.
+
+[Illustration: THE COUNTRY CHURCHYARD]
+
+     Thomas Gray was born in London on the twenty-sixth of December,
+     1716, and received his education at Cambridge, where he lived most
+     of his quiet life and where he died in 1771. He was a small and
+     graceful man with handsome features and rather an effeminate
+     appearance, always dressed with extreme care. The greater part of
+     his life was spent in neatly furnished rooms among his books, for
+     he was a hard student, and became noted as one of the first
+     scholars of his time. Among his friends he was witty and
+     entertaining, but among strangers, quiet and reserved, almost
+     timid. He loved his mother devotedly, and after her death he kept
+     her dress neatly folded in his trunk, always by him. Innocent,
+     well-meaning, gentle and retiring, he drew many warm friends to
+     him, though his great learning and his fondness for giving
+     information made many people think him something of a prig.
+
+     It might be considered a weakness in the _Elegy_ that it drifts
+     into an elegy on the writer, who becomes lost in the pathos of his
+     own sad end. Yet, knowing the man as we do, we can understand his
+     motives and forgive the seeming selfishness. He is not the only
+     poet whose own sorrows, real or imaginary, were his greatest
+     inspiration.
+
+     The metre of the _Elegy_ had been used, before Gray's time, by Sir
+     John Davies for his _Immortality of the Soul_, Sir William Davenant
+     in his _Gondibert_, and Dryden in his _Annus Mirabilis_, and
+     others; but in no instance so happily as here by Gray. In the
+     _Elegy_ the quatrain has not the somewhat disjunctive and isolating
+     effect that it has in some other works where there is continuous
+     argument or narrative that should run on with as few metrical
+     hindrances as possible. It is well adapted to convey a series of
+     solemn reflections, and that is its work in the _Elegy_.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[361-1] In some of our American towns and cities a curfew bell is rung
+as a signal that the children must leave the streets and go to their
+homes. Many years ago it was the custom in English villages to ring a
+bell at nightfall as a signal for people to cover their fires with ashes
+to preserve till morning, and as a signal for bed. The word _curfew_, in
+fact, is from the French, and means _cover fire_.
+
+[361-2] The word _knell_ suggests death, and gives the first mournful
+note to the poem.
+
+[361-3] The sheep are shut up for the night in the _folds_ or pens. What
+are the _tinklings_? Why should they be called _drowsy_?
+
+[362-4] The poem is supposed to have been written in the yard of
+Stoke-Pogis church, a little building with a square tower, the whole
+covered with a riotous growth of ivy vines. The church is in the
+country, not many miles from Windsor Castle; and even to this day the
+beautiful landscape preserves the rural charms it had in Gray's time. We
+must not suppose that Gray actually sat in the churchyard and wrote his
+lines. As a matter of fact, he was a very careful and painstaking
+writer, and for eight years was at work on this poem, selecting each
+word so that it should express just the shade of meaning he wanted and
+give the perfect melody he sought. However, he did begin the poem at
+Stoke in October or November of 1742 and continued it there in November,
+1749; but it was finished in Cambridge in June, 1750.
+
+[362-5] _Reign_ here means _dominion_ or _possessions_. Why is the bird
+called a _moping_ owl? Why is her reign _solitary_? What word is
+understood after _such_ in the third line of this stanza?
+
+[362-6] _Rude_ means _uneducated_, _uncultured_, not _ill-mannered_.
+
+[362-7] A clarion is a loud, clear-sounding trumpet.
+
+[362-8] In the church are the tombs of the wealthy and titled of the
+neighborhood, and in the building and on the walls are monuments that
+tell the virtues of the lordly dead. It is outside, however, under the
+sod, in their narrow cells, that the virtuous poor, the real subjects of
+the poet's thoughts, lie in quiet slumbers.
+
+[362-9] What evening cares has the busy housewife? Was she making the
+clothes of her children, knitting, mending, darning, after the supper
+dishes were put away?
+
+[363-10] Where were the children? Were they waiting for their father's
+return? To whom would they run to tell of his coming?
+
+[363-11] The _glebe_ is the turf. Why should it be called _stubborn_?
+
+[363-12] _Jocund_ means _joyful_.
+
+[363-13] The word _Ambition_ begins with a capital letter because Gray
+speaks of ambition as though it were a person. The line means, "Let not
+ambitious persons speak lightly of the work the rude forefathers did."
+
+[363-14] The inevitable hour (death) alike awaits the boast of heraldry,
+the pomp of power, and all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave.
+
+[363-15] This is perhaps the most famous stanza in the poem. The
+following story is told of General Wolfe as he was leading his troops to
+the daring assault on Quebec in 1759: "At past midnight, when the
+heavens were hung black with clouds, and the boats were floating
+silently back with the tide to the intended landing-place at the chosen
+ascent to the Plains of Abraham, he repeated in low tones to the
+officers around him this touching stanza of Gray's _Elegy_. 'Now,
+gentlemen,' said Wolfe, 'I would rather be the author of that poem than
+the possessor of the glory of beating the French to-morrow!' He fell the
+next day, and expired just as the shouts of the victory of the English
+fell upon his almost unconscious ears."
+
+[364-16] Now, an aisle is the passageway between the pews or the seats
+in a church or other public hall: in the poem it means the passageways
+running to the sides of the main body of the church.
+
+[364-17] A storied urn is an urn-shaped monument on which are inscribed
+the virtues of the dead. Why should a _bust_ be called _animated_? What
+is the _mansion_ of _the fleeting breath_?
+
+[364-18] In this instance _provoke_ means what it originally meant in
+the Latin language; namely, _call forth_.
+
+[364-19] The line means, "Some heart once filled with the heavenly
+inspiration."
+
+[364-20] A poet or musician is said to sing, and the lyre is the
+instrument with which the ancients accompanied their songs. _To wake to
+ecstasy the living lyre_ is to write the noblest poetry, to sing the
+most inspired songs.
+
+[364-21] The books of the ancients were rolls of manuscripts. Did any of
+those persons resting in this neglected spot ever write great poetry,
+rule empires or sing inspiring songs? If not, what prevented them from
+doing such things if they had the ability?
+
+[365-22] At first this stanza was written thus:
+
+    "Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast
+    The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
+    Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest;
+    Some Caesar guiltless of his country's blood."
+
+It is interesting to notice that at his first writing Gray selected
+three of the famous men of antiquity, but in his revision he substituted
+the names of three of his own countrymen. Who were Hampden, Milton and
+Cromwell?
+
+[365-23] The three stanzas beginning at this point make but one
+sentence. Turned into prose the sentence would read: "Their lot forbade
+them to command the applause of listening senates, to despise the
+threats of pain and ruin, to scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, and
+read their history in a nation's eyes: their lot not only circumscribed
+their growing virtues but confined their crimes as well; it forbade them
+to wade through slaughter to a throne and shut the gates of mercy on
+mankind, to hide the struggling pangs of conscious truth, to quench the
+blushes of ingenuous shame, and to heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
+with incense kindled at the Muse's flame."
+
+[365-24] This line means that they could not become rulers by fighting
+and killing their fellowmen as Napoleon did not long afterward.
+
+[366-25] Many of the English poets wrote in praise of the wealthy and
+titled in order to be paid or favored by the men they flattered. Gray
+thinks that such conduct is disgraceful, and rejoices that the rude
+forefathers of the hamlet were prevented from writing poetry for such an
+end. The Greeks thought poetry was inspired by one of the Muses, and
+genius is often spoken as a flame.
+
+[366-26] _Madding_ means _excited_ or _raging_.
+
+[366-27] The _frail memorials_ were simple headstones, similar to those
+one may see in any country graveyard in America. On such headstones may
+often be seen _shapeless sculpture_ that would almost provoke a smile,
+were it not for its pathetic meaning. A picture of Stoke-Pogis
+churchyard shows many stories of the ordinary type.
+
+[366-28] The rhymes were _uncouth_ in the sense that they were unlearned
+and unpolished.
+
+[366-29] What facts were inscribed on the headstones? _Elegy_ here means
+_praise_. Where were the texts strewn? Why were the texts called _holy?_
+What was the nature of the texts? Can you think of one that might have
+been used?
+
+[367-30] This is one of the difficult stanzas, and there is some dispute
+as to its exact meaning, owing to the phrase, _to dumb forgetfulness a
+prey_. Perhaps the correct meaning is shown in the following prose
+version: "For who has ever died (resigned this pleasing, anxious being,
+left the warm precincts of this cheerful day), a prey to dumb
+forgetfulness, and cast not one longing, lingering look behind?"
+
+[367-31] _Thee_ refers to the poet, Gray himself. The remainder of the
+poem is personal. Summed up briefly it means that perhaps a sympathetic
+soul may some day come to inquire as to the poet's fate, and will be
+told by some hoary-headed swain a few of the poet's habits, and then
+will have pointed out to him the poet's own grave, on which may be read
+his epitaph.
+
+[368-32] _Due_ means _appropriate_ or _proper_.
+
+[368-33] As first written, the poem contained the following stanza,
+placed before the epitaph; but in the final revision Gray rejected it as
+unworthy. It seems a very critical taste that would reject such lines as
+these:
+
+    "There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year,
+      By hands unseen are show'rs of violets found:
+    The redbreast loves to build and warble there,
+      And little footsteps lightly print the ground."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SHIPWRECK[371-1]
+
+_By_ ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+
+I went down, and drank my fill; and then came up, and got a blink at the
+moon; and then down again. They say a man sinks the third time for good.
+I cannot be made like other folk, then, for I would not like to write
+how often I went down or how often I came up again. All the while, I was
+being hurled along, and beaten upon and choked, and then swallowed
+whole; and the thing was so distracting to my wits, that I was neither
+sorry nor afraid.
+
+Presently, I found I was holding to a spar, which helped me somewhat.
+And then all of a sudden I was in quiet water, and began to come to
+myself.
+
+It was the spare yard I had got hold of, and I was amazed to see how far
+I had traveled from the brig. I hailed her, indeed; but it was plain she
+was already out of cry. She was still holding together; but whether or
+not they had yet launched the boat, I was too far off and too low down
+to see.
+
+[Illustration: I FOUND I WAS HOLDING TO A SPAR]
+
+While I was hailing the brig, I spied a tract of water lying between us,
+where no great waves came, but which yet boiled white all over and
+bristled in the moon with rings and bubbles. Sometimes the whole tract
+swung to one side, like the tail of a live serpent; sometimes, for a
+glimpse, it would all disappear and then boil up again. What it was I
+had no guess, which for the time increased my fear of it; but I now know
+it must have been the roost or tide-race, which had carried me away so
+fast and tumbled me about so cruelly, and at last, as if tired of that
+play, had flung out me and the spare yard upon its landward margin.
+
+I now lay quite becalmed, and began to feel that a man can die of cold
+as well as of drowning. The shores of Earraid were close in; I could see
+in the moonlight the dots of heather and the sparkling of the mica in
+the rocks.
+
+"Well," thought I to myself, "if I cannot get as far as that, it's
+strange."
+
+I had no skill of swimming; but when I laid hold upon the yard with both
+arms, and kicked out with both feet, I soon began to find that I was
+moving. Hard work it was, and mortally slow; but in about an hour of
+kicking and splashing, I had got well in between the points of a sandy
+bay surrounded by low hills.
+
+The sea was here quite quiet; there was no sound of any surf; the moon
+shone clear, and I thought in my heart I had never seen a place so
+desert and desolate. But it was dry land; and when at last it grew so
+shallow that I could leave the yard and wade ashore upon my feet, I
+cannot tell if I was more tired or more grateful. Both at least, I was;
+tired as I never was before that night; and grateful to God, as I trust
+I have been often, though never with more cause.
+
+With my stepping ashore, I began the most unhappy part of my adventures.
+It was half-past twelve in the morning, and though the wind was broken
+by the land, it was a cold night. I dared not sit down (for I thought I
+should have frozen), but took off my shoes and walked to and fro upon
+the sand, barefoot and beating my breast with infinite weariness. There
+was no sound of man or cattle; not a cock crew, though it was about the
+hour of their first waking; only the surf broke outside in the distance,
+which put me in mind of my perils. To walk by the sea at that hour of
+the morning, and in a place so desert-like and lonesome, struck me with
+a kind of fear.
+
+As soon as the day began to break, I put on my shoes and climbed a
+hill--the ruggedest scramble I ever undertook--falling, the whole way
+between big blocks of granite or leaping from one to another. When I got
+to the top the dawn was come. There was no sign of the brig, which must
+have been lifted from the reef and sunk. The boat, too, was nowhere to
+be seen. There was never a sail upon the ocean; and in what I could see
+of the land, was neither house nor man.
+
+I was afraid to think what had befallen my ship-mates, and afraid to
+look longer at so empty a scene. What with my wet clothes and weariness,
+and my belly that now began to ache with hunger, I had enough to trouble
+me without that. So I set off eastward along the south coast, hoping to
+find a house where I might warm myself, and perhaps get news of those I
+had lost. And at the worst, I considered the sun would soon rise and dry
+my clothes.
+
+After a little, my way was stopped by a creek or inlet of the sea, which
+seemed to run pretty deep into the land; and as I had no means to get
+across, I must needs change my direction to go about the end of it. It
+was still the roughest kind of walking; indeed the whole, not only of
+Earraid, but of the neighboring part of Mull (which they call the Ross)
+is nothing but a jumble of granite rocks with heather in among. At first
+the creek kept narrowing as I had looked to see; but presently to my
+surprise it began to widen out again. At this I scratched my head, but
+had still no notion of the truth; until at last I came to a rising
+ground, and it burst upon me all in a moment that I was cast upon a
+little, barren isle, and cut off on every side by the salt seas.
+
+Instead of the sun rising to dry me, it came on to rain, with a thick
+mist; so that my case was lamentable.
+
+I stood in the rain, and shivered, and wondered what to do, till it
+occurred to me that perhaps the creek was fordable. Back I went to the
+narrowest point, and waded in. But not three yards from shore, I plunged
+in head over ears; and if ever I was heard of more it was rather by
+God's grace than my own prudence. I was no wetter (for that could hardly
+be), but I was all the colder for this mishap; and having lost another
+hope, was the more unhappy.
+
+And now, all at once, the yard came in my head. What had carried me
+through the roost, would surely serve to cross this little quiet creek
+in safety. With that I set off, undaunted, across the top of the isle,
+to fetch and carry it back. It was a weary tramp in all ways, and if
+hope had not buoyed me up, I must have cast myself down and given up.
+Whether with the sea salt, or because I was growing fevered, I was
+distressed with thirst, and had to stop, as I went, and drink the peaty
+water out of the hags.
+
+I came to the bay at last, more dead than alive; and at the first
+glance, I thought the yard was something further out than when I left
+it. In I went, for the third time, into the sea. The sand was smooth and
+firm and shelved gradually down; so that I could wade out till the water
+was almost to my neck and the little waves splashed into my face. But at
+that depth my feet began to leave me and I durst venture no farther. As
+for the yard, I saw it bobbing very quietly some twenty feet in front of
+me.
+
+I had borne up well until this last disappointment; but at that I came
+ashore, and flung myself down upon the sands and wept.
+
+The time I spent upon the island is still so horrible a thought to me,
+that I must pass it lightly over. In all the books I have read of people
+cast away, they had either their pockets full of tools, or a chest of
+things would be thrown upon the beach along with them, as if on purpose.
+My case was very different. I had nothing in my pockets but money; and
+being inland bred, I was as much short of knowledge as of means.
+
+I knew indeed that shell-fish were counted good to eat; and among the
+rocks of the isle I found a great plenty of limpets, which at first I
+could scarcely strike from their places, not knowing quickness to be
+needful. There were, besides, some of the little shells that we call
+buckies; I think periwinkle is the English name. Of these two I made my
+whole diet, devouring them cold and raw as I found them; and so hungry
+was I, that at first they seemed to me delicious.
+
+Perhaps they were out of season, or perhaps there was something wrong in
+the sea about my island. But at least I had no sooner eaten my first
+meal than I was seized with giddiness and retching, and lay for a long
+time no better than dead. A second trial of the same food (indeed I had
+no other) did better with me and revived my strength. But as long as I
+was on the island, I never knew what to expect when I had eaten;
+sometimes all was well, and sometimes I was thrown into a miserable
+sickness; nor could I ever distinguish what particular fish it was that
+hurt me.
+
+All day it streamed rain; the island ran like a sop, there was no dry
+spot to be found; and when I lay down that night, between two boulders
+that made a kind of roof, my feet were in a bog.
+
+The second day, I crossed the island to all sides. There was no one part
+of it better than another; it was all desolate and rocky; nothing living
+on it but game birds which I lacked the means to kill, and the gulls
+which haunted the outlying rocks in a prodigious number. But the creek,
+or straits, that cut off the isle from the main land of the Ross, opened
+out on the north into a bay, and the bay again opened into the Sound of
+Iona; and it was the neighborhood of this place that I chose to be my
+home; though if I had thought upon the very name of home in such a spot,
+I must have burst out crying.
+
+I had good reasons for my choice. There was in this part of the isle a
+little hut of a house like a pig's hut, where fishers used to sleep when
+they came there upon their business; but the turf roof of it had fallen
+entirely in; so that the hut was of no use to me, and gave me less
+shelter than my rocks. What was more important, the shell-fish on which
+I lived grew there in great plenty; when the tide was out I could gather
+a peck at a time: and this was doubtless a convenience. But the other
+reason went deeper. I had become in no way used to the horrid solitude
+of the isle, but still looked round me on all sides (like a man that was
+hunted) between fear and hope that I might see some human creature
+coming. Now, from a little up the hillside over the bay, I could catch a
+sight of the great, ancient church and the roofs of the people's houses
+in Iona. And on the other hand, over the low country of the Ross, I saw
+smoke go up, morning and evening, as if from a homestead in a hollow of
+the land.
+
+I used to watch this smoke, when I was wet and cold, and had my head
+half turned with loneliness; and think of the fireside and the company,
+till my heart burned. It was the same with the roofs of Iona.
+Altogether, this sight I had of men's homes and comfortable lives,
+although it put a point on my own sufferings, yet it kept hope alive,
+and helped me to eat my raw shell-fish (which had soon grown to be a
+disgust) and saved me from the sense of horror I had whenever I was
+quite alone with dead rocks, and fowls, and the rain, and the cold sea.
+
+I say it kept hope alive; and indeed it seemed impossible that I should
+be left to die on the shores of my own country, and within view of a
+church tower and the smoke of men's houses. But the second day passed;
+and though as long as the light lasted I kept a bright lookout for boats
+on the sound or men passing on the Ross, no help came near me. It still
+rained; and I turned in to sleep, as wet as ever and with a cruel sore
+throat, but a little comforted, perhaps, by having said good-night to my
+next neighbors, the people of Iona.
+
+Charles the Second declared a man could stay out doors more days in the
+year in the climate of England than in any other. This was very like a
+king with a palace at his back and changes of dry clothes. But he must
+have had better luck than I had on that miserable isle. It was the
+height of the summer; yet it rained for more than twenty-four hours, and
+did not clear until the afternoon of the third day.
+
+This was the day of incidents. In the morning I saw a red deer, a buck
+with a fine spread of antlers, standing in the rain on the top of the
+island; but he had scarce seen me rise from under my rock, before he
+trotted off upon the other side. I supposed he must have swum the
+straits; though what should bring any creature to Earraid, was more than
+I could fancy.
+
+A little later, as I was jumping about after my limpets, I was startled
+by a guinea piece, which fell upon a rock in front of me and glanced off
+into the sea. When the sailors gave me my money again, they kept back
+not only about a third of the whole sum, but my father's leather purse;
+so that from that day out, I carried my gold loose in a pocket with a
+button. I now saw there must be a hole, and clapped my hand to the place
+in a great hurry. But this was to lock the stable door after the steed
+was stolen. I had left the shore at Queensferry with near on fifty
+pounds; now I found no more than two guinea pieces and a silver
+shilling.
+
+It is true I picked up a third guinea a little after, where it lay
+shining on a piece of turf. That made a fortune of three pounds and four
+shillings, English money, for a lad, the rightful heir of an estate, and
+now starving on an isle at the extreme end of the wild Highlands.
+
+This state of my affairs dashed me still further; and indeed my plight
+on that third morning was truly pitiful. My clothes were beginning to
+rot; my stockings in particular were quite worn through, so that my
+shanks went naked; my hands had grown quite soft with the continual
+soaking; my throat was very sore, my strength had much abated, and my
+heart so turned against the horrid stuff I was condemned to eat, that
+the very sight of it came near to sicken me.
+
+And yet the worst was not yet come.
+
+There is a pretty high rock on the northwest of Earraid, which (because
+it had a flat top and overlooked the sound) I was much in the habit of
+frequenting; not that ever I stayed in one place, save when asleep, my
+misery giving me no rest. Indeed, I wore myself down with continual and
+aimless goings and comings in the rain.
+
+As soon, however, as the sun came out, I lay down on the top of that
+rock to dry myself. The comfort of the sunshine is a thing I cannot
+tell. It set me thinking hopefully of my deliverance, of which I had
+begun to despair; and I scanned the sea and the Ross with a fresh
+interest.
+
+On the south of my rock, a part of the island jutted out and hid the
+open ocean, so that a boat could thus come quite near me upon that side,
+and I be none the wiser.
+
+Well, all of a sudden, a coble[381-2] with a brown sail and a pair of
+fishers aboard of it, came flying round that corner of the isle, bound
+for Iona. I shouted out, and then fell on my knees on the rock and
+reached up my hands and prayed to them. They were near enough to hear--I
+could even see the color of their hair; and there was no doubt but they
+observed me, for they cried out in the Gaelic tongue and laughed. But
+the boat never turned aside, and flew on, right before my eyes, for
+Iona.
+
+I could not believe such wickedness, and ran along the shore from rock
+to rock, crying on them piteously; even after they were out of reach of
+my voice, I still cried and waved to them; and when they were quite
+gone, I thought my heart would have burst. All the time of my troubles,
+I wept only twice. Once, when I could not reach the oar; and now, the
+second time, when these fishers turned a deaf ear to my cries. But this
+time I wept and roared like a wicked child, tearing up the turf with my
+nails and grinding my face in the earth. If a wish would kill men, those
+two fishers would never have seen morning; and I should likely have died
+upon my island.
+
+When I was a little over my anger, I must eat again, but with such
+loathing of the mess as I could now scarcely control. Sure enough, I
+should have done as well to fast, for my fishes poisoned me again. I had
+all my first pains; my throat was so sore I could scarce swallow; I had
+a fit of strong shuddering, which clucked my teeth together; and there
+came on me that dreadful sense of illness, which we have no name for
+either in Scotch or English. I thought I should have died, and made my
+peace with God, forgiving all men, even my uncle and the fishers; and as
+soon as I had thus made up my mind to the worst, clearness came upon me:
+I observed the night was falling dry; my clothes were dried a good deal;
+truly, I was in a better case than ever before since I had landed on the
+isle; and so I got to sleep at last, with a thought of gratitude.
+
+The next day (which was the fourth of this horrible life of mine) I
+found my bodily strength run very low. But the sun shone, the air was
+sweet, and what I managed to eat of the shell-fish agreed well with me
+and revived my courage.
+
+I was scarce back on my rock (where I went always the first thing after
+I had eaten) before I observed a boat coming down the sound and with her
+head, as I thought, in my direction.
+
+I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly; for I thought these men
+might have thought better of their cruelty and be coming back to my
+assistance. But another disappointment such as yesterday's was more than
+I could bear. I turned my back, accordingly, upon the sea, and did not
+look again till I had counted many hundreds. The boat was still heading
+for the island. The next time I counted the full thousand, as slowly as
+I could, my heart beating so as to hurt me. And then it was out of all
+question. She was coming straight to Earraid!
+
+I could no longer hold myself back, but ran to the seaside and out, from
+one rock to another, as far as I could go. It is a marvel I was not
+drowned; for when I was brought to a stand at last, my legs shook under
+me, and my mouth was so dry, I must wet it with the sea water before I
+was able to shout.
+
+All this time the boat was coming on; and now I was able to perceive it
+was the same boat and the same two men as yesterday. This I knew by
+their hair, which the one had of a bright yellow and the other black.
+But now there was a third man along with them, who looked to be of a
+better class.
+
+As soon as they were come within easy speech, they let down their sail
+and lay quiet. In spite of my supplications, they drew no nearer in, and
+what frightened me most of all, the new man tee-hee'd with laughter as
+he talked and looked at me.
+
+Then he stood up in the boat and addressed me a long while, speaking
+fast and with many wavings of his hand. I told him I had no Gaelic; and
+at this he became very angry, and I began to suspect he thought he was
+talking English. Listening very close, I caught the word, "whateffer,"
+several times; but all the rest was Gaelic, and might have been Greek
+and Hebrew for me.
+
+"Whateffer," said I, to show him I had caught a word.
+
+"Yes, yes--yes, yes," says he, and then he looked at the other men, as
+much as to say, "I told you I spoke English," and began again as hard as
+ever in the Gaelic.
+
+This time I picked out another word, "tide." Then I had a flash of hope.
+I remembered he was always waving his hand toward the mainland of the
+Ross.
+
+"Do you mean when the tide is out----?" I cried, and could not finish.
+
+"Yes, yes," said he. "Tide."
+
+At that I turned tail upon their boat (where my adviser had once more
+begun to tee-hee with laughter), leaped back the way I had come, from
+one stone to another, and set off running across the isle as I had never
+run before. In about half an hour I came out upon the shores of the
+creek; and, sure enough, it was shrunk into a little trickle of water,
+through which I dashed, not above my knees, and landed with a shout on
+the main island.
+
+A sea-bred boy would not have stayed a day on Earraid; which is only
+what they call a tidal islet; and except in the bottom of the neaps, can
+be entered and left twice in every twenty-four hours, either dry-shod,
+or at the most by wading. Even I, who had the tide going out and in
+before me in the bay, and even watched for the ebbs, the better to get
+my shell-fish--even I (I say), if I had sat down to think, instead of
+raging at my fate, must have soon guessed the secret and got free. It
+was no wonder the fishers had not understood me. The wonder was rather
+that they had ever guessed my pitiful illusion, and taken the trouble to
+come back. I had starved with cold and hunger on that island for close
+upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I might have left my bones
+there, in pure folly.
+
+And even as it was, I had paid for it pretty dear, not only in past
+sufferings, but in my present case; being clothed like a beggar-man,
+scarce able to walk, and in great pain of my sore throat.
+
+I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of both; and I believe
+they both get paid in the end; but the fools first.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[371-1] This selection is from _Kidnapped_, the story of a young man,
+David Balfour by name, who, by the treachery of an uncle who has usurped
+David's right to the family estate and fortune, is taken by force on
+board a brig bound for the Carolinas in North America. In the Carolinas,
+according to the compact made between David's uncle and the captain of
+the brig, David is to be sold. He is saved from this fate by the sinking
+of the brig. The selection as here given begins at the point where David
+is washed from the deck into the sea. The Island of Earraid is a small,
+unimportant island off the coast of Scotland.
+
+[381-2] A coble is a small boat used in fishing.
+
+
+
+
+ELEPHANT HUNTING
+
+_By_ ROUALEYN GORDON CUMMING
+
+
+     NOTE.--Mr. Cumming, a native of Scotland, was always passionately
+     fond of hunting. Even in boyhood he devoted most of his time to
+     sports of the field, and showed a great fondness for all forms of
+     natural history.
+
+     For a time he served in the English army in India, and hunted the
+     big game of those regions. However, he was not satisfied with this,
+     and after a visit to Newfoundland, which was more disappointing to
+     him, he went to Africa and there spent five adventurous years
+     hunting and exploring.
+
+     Throughout this time he kept a journal of his exploits and
+     adventures, and it is from this journal that he wrote his _A
+     Hunter's Life Among Lions, Elephants and Other Wild Animals of
+     South Africa_, from which the following selection is taken. We may
+     judge from his account that he did not find Africa as disappointing
+     as India and Newfoundland had proved.
+
+     His style is not that of a literary man, but he has the happy
+     faculty of presenting things in a very vivid manner, so that we are
+     willing to make some allowance for faults in style. He was
+     conscious of his weakness in this matter, and partially explained
+     it by saying, "The hand, wearied all day with the grasping of a
+     rifle, is not the best suited for wielding the pen."
+
+On the 25th, at dawn of day, we inspanned, and trekked about five hours
+in a northeasterly course, through a boundless open country sparingly
+adorned with dwarfish old trees. In the distance the long-sought
+mountains of Bamangwato at length loomed blue before me. We halted
+beside a glorious fountain, which at once made me forget all the cares
+and difficulties I had encountered in reaching it. The name of this
+fountain was Massouey, but I at once christened it "the Elephant's own
+Fountain." This was a very remarkable spot on the southern borders of
+endless elephant forests, at which I had at length arrived. The fountain
+was deep and strong, situated in a hollow at the eastern extremity of an
+extensive vley,[386-1] and its margin was surrounded by a level stratum
+of solid old red sandstone. Here and there lay a thick layer of soil
+upon the rock, and this was packed flat with the fresh spoor of
+elephants. Around the water's edge the very rock was worn down by the
+gigantic feet which for ages had trodden there.
+
+The soil of the surrounding country was white and yellow sand, but
+grass, trees, and bushes were abundant. From the borders of the fountain
+a hundred well-trodden elephant foot-paths led away in every direction,
+like the radii of a circle. The breadth of these paths was about three
+feet; those leading to the northward and east were the most frequented,
+the country in those directions being well wooded. We drew up the wagons
+on a hillock on the eastern side of the water. This position commanded a
+good view of any game that might approach to drink. I had just cooked my
+breakfast, and commenced to feed, when I heard my men exclaim, "Almagtig
+keek de ghroote clomp cameel;" and, raising my eyes from the
+sassaby[386-2] stew, I beheld a truly beautiful and very unusual scene.
+
+From the margin of the fountain there extended an open level vley,
+without a tree or bush, that stretched away about a mile to the
+northward, where it was bounded by extensive groves of wide-spreading
+mimosas. Up the middle of the vley stalked a troop of ten colossal
+giraffes, flanked by two large herds of blue wildebeests and zebras,
+with an advanced guard of pallahs. They were all coming to the fountain
+to drink, and would be within rifle-shot of the wagons before I could
+finish my breakfast. I, however, continued to swallow my food with the
+utmost expedition, having directed my men to catch and saddle Colesberg.
+In a few minutes the giraffes were slowly advancing within two hundred
+yards, stretching their graceful necks, and gazing in wonder at the
+unwonted wagons.
+
+Grasping my rifle, I now mounted Colesberg, and rode slowly toward them.
+They continued gazing at the wagons until I was within one hundred yards
+of them, when, whisking their long tails over their rumps, they made off
+at an easy canter. As I pressed upon them they increased their pace; but
+Colesberg had much the speed of them, and before we proceeded half a
+mile I was riding by the shoulder of the dark-chestnut old bull, whose
+head towered high above the rest. Letting fly at the gallop, I wounded
+him behind the shoulder; soon after which I broke him from the herd, and
+presently, going ahead of him, he came to a stand. I then gave him a
+second bullet, somewhere near the first. These two shots had taken
+effect, and he was now in my power, but I would not lay him low so far
+from camp; so, having waited until he had regained his breath, I drove
+him half way back toward the wagons. Here he became obstreperous; so,
+loading one barrel, and pointing my rifle toward the clouds, I shot him
+in the throat, when, rearing high, he fell backward and expired.
+
+This was a magnificent specimen of the giraffe, measuring upward of
+eighteen feet in height. I stood for nearly half an hour engrossed in
+the contemplation of his extreme beauty and gigantic proportions; and,
+if there had been no elephants, I could have exclaimed, like Duke
+Alexander of Gordon when he killed the famous old stag with seventeen
+tine, "Now I can die happy." But I longed for an encounter with the
+noble elephants, and I thought little more of the giraffe than if I had
+killed a gemsbok or an eland.
+
+In the afternoon I removed my wagons to a correct distance from the
+fountain, and drew them up among some bushes about four hundred yards to
+leeward of the water. In the evening I was employed in manufacturing
+hardened bullets for the elephants, using a composition of one of pewter
+to four of lead; and I had just completed my work, when we heard a troop
+of elephants splashing and trumpeting in the water. This was to me a
+joyful sound; I slept little that night.
+
+On the 26th I arose at earliest dawn, and, having fed four of my horses,
+proceeded with Isaac to the fountain to examine the spoor of the
+elephants which had drunk there during the night. A number of the paths
+contained fresh spoor of elephants of all sizes, which had gone from the
+fountain in different directions. We reckoned that at least thirty of
+these gigantic quadrupeds had visited the water during the night.
+
+We hastily returned to camp, where, having breakfasted, I saddled up,
+and proceeded to take up the spoor of the largest bull elephant,
+accompanied by after-riders and three of the guides to assist in
+spooring. I was also accompanied by my dogs. Having selected the spoor
+of a mighty bull, the Bechuanas went ahead and I followed them. It was
+extremely interesting and exciting work. The footprint of this elephant
+was about two feet in diameter, and was beautifully visible in the soft
+sand. The spoor at first led us for about three miles in an easterly
+direction, along one of the sandy foot-paths, without a check. We then
+entered a very thick forest, and the elephant had gone a little out of
+the path to smash some trees, and to plow up the earth with his tusks.
+He soon, however, again took the path, and held along it for several
+miles.
+
+We were on rather elevated ground, with a fine view of a part of the
+Bamangwato chain of mountains before us. Here the trees were large and
+handsome, but not strong enough to resist the inconceivable strength of
+the mighty monarchs of these forests. Almost every tree had half its
+branches broken short by them, and at every hundred yards I came upon
+entire trees, and these the largest in the forest, uprooted clean out of
+the ground, or broken short across their stems. I observed several large
+trees placed in an inverted position, having their roots uppermost in
+the air. Our friend had here halted, and fed for a long time upon a
+large, wide-spreading tree, which he had broken short across within a
+few feet of the ground. After following the spoor some distance further
+through the dense mazes of the forest, we got into ground so thickly
+trodden by elephants that we were baffled in our endeavors to trace the
+spoor any further; and after wasting several hours in attempting by
+casts to take up the proper spoor, we gave it up, and with a sorrowful
+heart I turned my horse's head toward camp.
+
+Having reached the wagons, while drinking my coffee I reviewed the whole
+day's work, and felt much regret at my want of luck in my first day's
+elephant hunting, and I resolved that night to watch the water, and try
+what could be done with elephants by night shooting. I accordingly
+ordered the usual watching-hole to be constructed, and, having placed my
+bedding in it, repaired thither shortly after sundown. I had lain about
+two hours in the hole, when I heard a low rumbling noise like distant
+thunder, caused (as the Bechuanas affirmed) by the bowels of the
+elephants which were approaching the fountain. I lay on my back, with my
+mouth open, attentively listening, and could hear them plowing up the
+earth with their tusks. Presently they walked up to the water, and
+commenced drinking within fifty yards of me.
+
+They approached with so quiet a step that I fancied it was the footsteps
+of jackals which I had heard, and I was not aware of their presence
+until I heard the water, which they had drawn up in their trunks and
+were pouring into their mouths, dropping into the fountain. I then
+peeped from my sconce with a beating heart, and beheld two enormous bull
+elephants, which looked like two great castles, standing before me. I
+could not see very distinctly, for there was only starlight. Having lain
+on my breast some time taking my aim, I let fly at one of the
+elephants, using the Dutch rifle carrying six to the pound. The ball
+told loudly on his shoulder, and, uttering a loud cry, he stumbled
+through the fountain, when both made off in different directions.
+
+All night large herds of zebras and blue wildebeests capered around me,
+coming sometimes within a few yards. Several parties of rhinoceroses
+also made their appearance. I felt a little apprehensive that lions
+might visit the fountain, and every time that hyaenas or jackals lapped
+the water I looked forth, but no lions appeared. At length I fell into a
+sound sleep, nor did I awake until the bright star of morn had shot far
+above the eastern horizon.
+
+Before proceeding further with my narrative, it may here be interesting
+to make a few remarks on the African elephant and his habits. The
+elephant is widely diffused through the vast forests, and is met with in
+herds of various numbers. The male is very much larger than the female,
+consequently much more difficult to kill. He is provided with two
+enormous tusks. These are long, tapering, and beautifully arched; their
+length averages from six to eight feet, and they weigh from sixty to a
+hundred pounds each. In the vicinity of the equator the elephants attain
+to a greater size than to the southward; and I am in the possession of a
+pair of tusks of the African bull elephant, the larger of which measures
+ten feet nine inches in length, and weighs one hundred and seventy-three
+pounds. The females, unlike Asiatic elephants in this respect, are
+likewise provided with tusks. Old bull elephants are found singly or in
+pairs, or consorting together in small herds, varying from six to twenty
+individuals. The younger bulls remain for many years in the company of
+their mothers, and these are met together in large herds of from twenty
+to a hundred individuals. The food of the elephant consists of the
+branches, leaves, and roots of trees, and also of a variety of bulbs, of
+the situation of which he is advised by his exquisite sense of smell. To
+obtain these he turns up the ground with his tusks, and whole acres may
+be seen thus plowed up. Elephants consume an immense quantity of food,
+and pass the greater part of the day and night in feeding. Like the
+whale in the ocean, the elephant on land is acquainted with, and roams
+over, wide and extensive tracts. He is extremely particular in always
+frequenting the freshest and most verdant districts of the forest; and
+when one district is parched and barren, he will forsake it for years,
+and wander to great distances in quest of better pasture.
+
+The elephant entertains an extraordinary horror of man, and a child can
+put a hundred of them to flight by passing at a quarter of a mile to
+windward; and when thus disturbed, they go a long way before they halt.
+It is surprising how soon these sagacious animals are aware of the
+presence of a hunter in their domains. When one troop has been attacked,
+all the other elephants frequenting the district are aware of the fact
+within two or three days, when they all forsake it, and migrate to
+distant parts, leaving the hunter no alternative but to inspan his
+wagons, and remove to fresh ground. This constitutes one of the greatest
+difficulties which a skilful elephant-hunter encounters. Even in the
+most remote parts, which may be reckoned the headquarters of the
+elephant, it is only occasionally, and with inconceivable toil and
+hardship, that the eye of the hunter is cheered by the sight of one.
+Owing to habits peculiar to himself, the elephant is more inaccessible,
+and much more rarely seen, than any other game quadruped, excepting
+certain rare antelopes. They choose for their resort the most lonely and
+secluded depths of the forest, generally at a very great distance from
+the rivers and fountains at which they drink. In dry and warm weather
+they visit these waters nightly, but in cool and cloudy weather they
+drink only once every third or fourth day. About sundown the elephant
+leaves his distant midday haunt, and commences his march toward the
+fountain, which is probably from twelve to twenty miles distant. This he
+generally reaches between the hours of nine and midnight, when, having
+slaked his thirst and cooled his body by spouting large volumes of water
+over his back with his trunk, he resumes the path to his forest
+solitudes. Having reached a secluded spot, I have remarked that
+full-grown bulls lie down on their broad-sides, about the hour of
+midnight, and sleep for a few hours. The spot which they usually select
+is an ant-hill, and they lie around it with their backs resting against
+it; these hills, formed by the white ants, are from thirty to forty feet
+in diameter at their base. The mark of the under tusk is always deeply
+imprinted in the ground, proving that they lie upon their sides. I never
+remarked that females had thus lain down, and it is only in the more
+secluded districts that the bulls adopt this practice; for I observed
+that, in districts where the elephants were liable to frequent
+disturbance, they took repose standing on their legs beneath some shady
+tree.
+
+Having slept, they then proceed to feed extensively. Spreading out from
+one another, and proceeding in a zigzag course, they smash and destroy
+all the finest trees in the forest which happen to lie in their course.
+The number of goodly trees which a herd of bull elephants will thus
+destroy is utterly incredible. They are extremely capricious, and on
+coming to a group of five or six trees, they break down not unfrequently
+the whole of them, when, having perhaps only tasted one or two small
+branches, they pass on and continue their wanton work of destruction. I
+have repeatedly ridden through forests where the trees thus broken lay
+so thick across one another that it was almost impossible to ride
+through the district, and it is in situations such as these that
+attacking the elephant is attended with most danger. During the night
+they will feed in open plains and thinly-wooded districts, but as day
+dawns they retire to the densest covers within reach, which nine times
+in ten are composed of the impracticable wait-a-bit thorns, and here
+they remain drawn up in a compact herd during the heat of the day. In
+remote districts, however, and in cool weather, I have known herds to
+continue pasturing throughout the whole day.
+
+The appearance of the wild elephant is inconceivably majestic and
+imposing. His gigantic height and colossal bulk, so greatly surpassing
+all other quadrupeds, combined with his sagacious disposition and
+peculiar habits, impart to him an interest in the eyes of the hunter
+which no other animal can call forth. The pace of the elephant, when
+undisturbed, is a bold, free, sweeping step; and from the peculiar
+spongy formation of his foot, his tread is extremely light and
+inaudible, and all his movements are attended with a peculiar gentleness
+and grace. This, however, only applies to the elephant when roaming
+undisturbed in his jungle; for, when roused by the hunter, he proves the
+most dangerous enemy, and far more difficult to conquer than any other
+beast of the chase.
+
+On the 27th, as day dawned, I left my shooting-hole, and proceeded to
+inspect the spoor of my wounded elephant. After following it for some
+distance I came to an abrupt hillock, and fancying that from the summit
+a good view might be obtained of the surrounding country, I left my
+followers to seek the spoor while I ascended. I did not raise my eyes
+from the ground until I had reached the highest pinnacle of rock. I then
+looked east, and, to my inexpressible gratification, beheld a troop of
+nine or ten elephants quietly browsing within a quarter of a mile of me.
+I allowed myself only one glance at them, and then rushed down to warn
+my followers to be silent. A council of war was hastily held, the result
+of which was my ordering Isaac to ride hard to camp, with instructions
+to return as quickly as possible, accompanied by Kleinboy, and to bring
+me my dogs, the large Dutch rifle, and a fresh horse. I once more
+ascended the hillock to feast my eyes upon the enchanting sight before
+me, and, drawing out my spy-glass, narrowly watched the motions of the
+elephants. The herd consisted entirely of females, several of which were
+followed by small calves.
+
+Presently on reconnoitering the surrounding country, I discovered a
+second herd, consisting of five bull elephants, which were quietly
+feeding about a mile to the northward. The cows were feeding toward a
+rocky ridge that stretched away from the base of the hillock on which I
+stood. Burning with impatience to commence the attack, I resolved to try
+the stalking system with these, and to hunt the troop of bulls with dogs
+and horses. Having thus decided, I directed the guides to watch the
+elephants from the summit of the hillock, and with a beating heart I
+approached them. The ground and wind favoring me, I soon gained the
+rocky ridge toward which they were feeding. They were now within one
+hundred yards, and I resolved to enjoy the pleasure of watching their
+movements for a little before I fired. They continued to feed slowly
+toward me, breaking the branches from the trees with their trunks, and
+eating the leaves and tender shoots. I soon selected the finest in the
+herd, and kept my eye on her in particular. At length two of the troop
+had walked slowly past at about sixty yards, and the one which I had
+selected was feeding with two others, on a thorny tree before me.
+
+My hand was now as steady as the rock on which it rested; so, taking a
+deliberate aim, I let fly at her head a little behind the eye. She got
+it hard and sharp, just where I aimed, but it did not seem to affect her
+much. Uttering a loud cry, she wheeled about, when I gave her the second
+ball close behind the shoulder. All the elephants uttered a strange
+rumbling noise, and made off in a line to the northward at a brisk,
+ambling pace, their huge, fan-like ears flapping in the ratio of their
+speed. I did not wait to load, but ran back to the hillock to obtain a
+view. On gaining its summit the guides pointed out the elephants; they
+were standing in a grove of shady trees, but the wounded one was some
+distance behind with another elephant, doubtless its particular friend,
+who was endeavoring to assist it. These elephants had probably never
+before heard the report of a gun, and, having neither seen nor smelt me,
+they were unaware of the presence of man, and did not seem inclined to
+go any further. Presently my men hove in sight, bringing the dogs and
+when these came up, I waited some time before commencing the attack,
+that the dogs and horses might recover their wind. We then rode slowly
+toward the elephants, and had advanced within two hundred yards of them,
+when, the ground being open, they observed us, and made off in an
+easterly direction; but the wounded one immediately dropped astern, and
+the next moment was surrounded by the dogs, which, barking angrily,
+seemed to engross her attention.
+
+[Illustration: WITH BEATING HEART I APPROACHED A VIEW]
+
+Having placed myself between her and the retreating troop, I dismounted
+to fire within forty yards of her, in open ground. Colesberg was
+extremely afraid of the elephants, and gave me much trouble, jerking my
+arm when I tried to fire. At length I let fly; but, on endeavoring to
+regain my saddle, Colesberg declined to allow me to mount; and when I
+tried to lead him, and run for it, he only backed toward the wounded
+elephant. At this moment I heard another elephant close behind; and on
+looking about, I beheld the "friend," with uplifted trunk, charging down
+upon me at top speed, shrilly trumpeting, and following an old black
+pointer name Schwart, that was perfectly deaf, and trotted along before
+the enraged elephant quite unaware of what was behind him. I felt
+certain that she would have either me or my horse. I, however,
+determined not to relinquish my steed, but to hold on by the bridle. My
+men, who of course kept at a safe distance, stood aghast with their
+mouths open, and for a few seconds my position was certainly not an
+enviable one. Fortunately, however, the dogs took off the attention of
+the elephants; and just as they were upon me, I managed to spring into
+the saddle, where I was safe. As I turned my back to mount, the
+elephants were so very near that I really expected to feel one of their
+trunks lay hold of me. I rode up to Kleinboy for my double-barreled
+two-grooved rifle; he and Isaac were pale and almost speechless with
+fright. Returning to the charge, I was soon once more alongside, and,
+firing from the saddle, I sent another brace of bullets into the wounded
+elephant. Colesberg was extremely unsteady, and destroyed the
+correctness of my aim.
+
+The friend now seemed resolved to do some mischief, and charged me
+furiously, pursuing me to a distance of several hundred yards. I
+therefore deemed it proper to give her a gentle hint to act less
+officiously, and, accordingly, having loaded, I approached within thirty
+yards, and gave it her sharp, right and left, behind the shoulder, upon
+which she at once made off with drooping trunk, evidently with a mortal
+wound. I never recur to this my first day's elephant shooting without
+regretting my folly in contenting myself with securing only one
+elephant. The first was now dying, and could not leave the ground, and
+the second was also mortally wounded, and I had only to follow and
+finish her; but I foolishly allowed her to escape, while I amused myself
+with the first, which kept walking backward, and standing by every tree
+she passed. Two more shots finished her: on receiving them, she tossed
+her trunk up and down two or three times, and, falling on her broadside
+against a thorny tree, which yielded like grass, before her enormous
+weight, she uttered a deep, hoarse cry and expired. This was a very
+handsome old cow elephant, and was decidedly the best in the troop. She
+was in excellent condition, and carried a pair of long and perfect
+tusks.
+
+I was in high spirits at my success, and felt so perfectly satisfied
+with having killed one, that, although it was still early in the day,
+and my horses were fresh, I allowed the troop of five bulls to remain
+unmolested, foolishly trusting to fall in with them next day. How little
+did I then know of the habits of elephants, or the rules to be adopted
+in hunting them, or deem it probable I should never see them more!
+
+Having knee-haltered our horses, we set to work with our knives and
+assagais to prepare the skull for the hatchet, in order to cut out the
+tusks, nearly half the length of which, I may mention, is imbedded in
+bone sockets in the fore part of the skull. To cut out the tusks of a
+cow elephant requires barely one-fifth of the labor requisite to cut out
+those of a bull; and when the sun went down, we had managed by our
+combined efforts to cut out one of the tusks of my first elephant, with
+which we triumphantly returned to camp, having left the guides in charge
+of the carcass, where they volunteered to take up their quarters for the
+night. On reaching my wagons I found Johannus and Carollus in a happy
+state of indifference to all passing events: they were both very drunk,
+having broken into my wine-cask and spirit-case.
+
+On the 28th I arose at an early hour, and, burning with anxiety to look
+forth once more from the summit of the hillock which the day before
+brought me such luck, I made a hasty breakfast, and rode thither with
+after-riders and my dogs. But, alas! I had allowed the golden
+opportunity to slip. This day I sought in vain; and although I often
+again ascended to the summit of my favorite hillock in that and in the
+succeeding year, my eyes were destined never again to hail from it a
+troop of elephants.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[386-1] A vley is a swamp or morass.
+
+[386-2] The sassaby is a large African antelope, resembling the
+hartbeest, but having regularly curved horns.
+
+
+
+
+SOME CLEVER MONKEYS[402-*]
+
+_By_ THOMAS BELT
+
+
+On the dryer ridges near the Artigua River, a valuable timber tree, the
+"nispera," as it is called by the native, is common. It grows to a great
+size, and its timber is almost indestructible; so that we used it in the
+construction of all our permanent works. White ants do not eat it, nor,
+excepting when first cut, and before it is barked, do any of the
+wood-boring beetles. It bears a round fruit about the size of an apple,
+hard and heavy when green, and at this time is much frequented by the
+large yellowish-brown spider-monkey, which roams over the tops of the
+trees in bands of from ten to twenty. Sometimes they lay quiet until I
+was passing underneath, when, shaking a branch of the nispera tree, they
+would send down a shower of the hard round fruit; but fortunately I was
+never struck by them. As soon as I looked up, they would commence
+yelping and barking, and putting on the most threatening gestures,
+breaking off pieces of branches and letting them fall, and shaking off
+more fruit, but never throwing anything, simply letting it fall. Often,
+when on lower trees, they would hang from the branches two or three
+together, holding on to each other and to the branch with their fore
+feet and long tail, whilst their hind feet hung down, all the time
+making threatening gestures and cries.
+
+Sometimes a female would be seen carrying a young one on its back, to
+which it clung with legs and tail, the mother making its way along the
+branches, and leaping from tree to tree, apparently but little
+encumbered with its baby. A large black and white eagle is said to prey
+upon them, but I never saw one, although I was constantly falling in
+with troops of the monkeys. Don Francisco Velasquez, one of our
+officers, told me that one day he heard a monkey crying out in the
+forest for more than two hours, and at last, going out to see what was
+the matter, he saw a monkey on a branch and an eagle beside it trying to
+frighten it to turn its back, when it would have seized it. The monkey,
+however, kept its face to its foe, and the eagle did not care to engage
+with it in this position, but probably would have tired it out.
+Velasquez fired at the eagle, and frightened it away. I think it likely,
+from what I have seen of the habits of this monkey, that they defend
+themselves from its attack by keeping two or three together, thus
+assisting each other, and that it is only when the eagle finds one
+separated from its companions that it dares to attack it.
+
+Sometimes, but more rarely, a troop of the white-faced cebus monkey
+would be fallen in with, rapidly running away, throwing themselves from
+tree to tree. This monkey feeds also partly on fruit, but is incessantly
+on the look-out for insects, examining the crevices in trees and
+withered leaves, seizing the largest beetles and munching them up with
+the greatest relish. It is also very fond of eggs and young birds, and
+must play havoc among the nestlings. Probably owing to its carnivorous
+habits, its flesh is not considered so good by monkey eaters as that of
+the fruit-feeding spider-monkey.
+
+It is a very intelligent and mischievous animal. I kept one for a long
+time as a pet, and was much amused with its antics. At first, I had it
+fastened with a light chain; but it managed to open the links and escape
+several times, and then made straight for the fowls' nests, breaking
+every egg it could get hold of. Generally, after being a day or two
+loose, it would allow itself to be caught again. I tried tying it up
+with a cord, and afterwards with a rawhide thong, but had to nail the
+end, as it could loosen any knot in a few minutes. It would sometimes
+entangle itself around a pole to which it was fastened, and then unwind
+the coils again with the greatest discernment. Its chain allowed it to
+swing down below the verandah, but it could not reach to the ground.
+
+Sometimes, when there was a brood of young ducks about, it would hold
+out a piece of bread in one hand and, when it had tempted a duckling
+within reach, seize it by the other, and kill it with a bite in the
+breast. There was such an uproar amongst the fowls on these occasions,
+that we soon knew what was the matter, and would rush out and punish
+Mickey (as we called him) with a switch; so that he was ultimately cured
+of his poultry-killing propensities. One day, when whipping him, I held
+up the dead duckling in front of him, and at each blow of the light
+switch told him to take hold of it, and at last, much to my surprise, he
+did so, taking it and holding it tremblingly in one hand.
+
+[Illustration: A CEBUS MONKEY]
+
+He would draw things towards him with a stick, and even use a swing for
+the same purpose. It had been put up for the children, and could be
+reached by Mickey, who now and then indulged himself with a swing on it.
+One day, I had put down some bird skins on a chair to dry, far beyond,
+as I thought, Mickey's reach; but, fertile in expedients, he took the
+swing and launched it towards the chair, and actually managed to knock
+the skins off in the return of the swing, so as to bring them within his
+reach. He also procured some jelly that was set out to cool in the same
+way. Mickey's actions were very human like. When any one came near to
+fondle him, he never neglected the opportunity of pocket-picking. He
+would pull out letters, and quickly take them from their envelopes.
+Anything eatable disappeared into his mouth immediately. Once he
+abstracted a small bottle of turpentine from the pocket of our medical
+officer. He drew the cork, held it first to one nostril, then to the
+other, made a wry face, recorked it, and returned it to the doctor.
+
+One day, when he got loose, he was detected carrying off the cream-jug
+from the table, holding it upright with both hands, and trying to move
+off on his hind limbs. He gave the jug up without spilling a drop, all
+the time making an apologetic chuckle he often used when found out in
+any mischief, and which always meant, "I know I have done wrong, but
+don't punish me; in fact, I did not mean to do it--it was accidental."
+Whenever, however, he saw he was going to be punished, he would change
+his tone to a shrill, threatening note, showing his teeth, and trying to
+intimidate. He had quite an extensive vocabulary of sounds, varying from
+a gruff bark to a shrill whistle; and we could tell by them, without
+seeing him, when it was he was hungry, eating, frightened, or menacing;
+doubtless, one of his own species would have understood various minor
+shades of intonation and expression that we, not entering into his
+feelings and wants, passed over as unintelligible.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[402-*] This selection is taken from _The Naturalist in Nicaragua_.
+
+
+
+
+POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC
+
+
+     NOTE.--In the time of Benjamin Franklin, almanacs were a very
+     popular form of literature. Few of the poorer people could afford
+     newspapers, but almost every one could afford an almanac once a
+     year; and the anecdotes and scraps of information which these
+     contained in addition to their regular contents, were read and
+     re-read everywhere.
+
+     In 1732, Franklin began the publication of an almanac. For
+     twenty-five years, under the assumed name of Richard Saunders, he
+     issued it annually. He himself says of it:
+
+     "I endeavored to make it both entertaining and useful; and it
+     accordingly came to be in such demand that I reaped considerable
+     profit from it, vending annually nearly ten thousand. And observing
+     that it was generally read, scarce any neighborhood in the province
+     being without it, I considered it as a proper vehicle for conveying
+     instruction among the common people, who bought scarcely any other
+     books; I therefore filled all the little spaces that occurred
+     between the remarkable days in the calendar with proverbial
+     sentences, chiefly such as inculcated industry and frugality as a
+     means of procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being
+     more difficult for a man in want to act always honestly as, to use
+     here one of the proverbs, it is hard for an empty sack to stand
+     upright.
+
+     "These proverbs, which contain the wisdom of many ages and nations,
+     I assembled and formed into a connected discourse, prefixed to the
+     almanac of 1757, as the harangue of a wise old man to the people
+     attending an auction. The bringing all these scattered counsels
+     thus into a focus enabled them to make greater impression. The
+     piece, being universally approved, was copied in all the newspapers
+     of the continent and reprinted in Britain on a broadside, to be
+     stuck up in houses; two translations were made of it in French and
+     great numbers bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis
+     among their poor parishioners and tenants. In Pennsylvania, as it
+     discouraged useless expense in foreign superfluities, some thought
+     it had its share of influence in producing that growing plenty of
+     money which was observable for several years after its
+     publication."
+
+THE PREFACE FOR THE YEAR 1757
+
+Courteous Reader: I have heard that nothing gives an author so great
+pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted by other learned
+authors. This pleasure I have seldom enjoyed. For though I have been, if
+I may say it without vanity, an eminent author of almanacs annually now
+for a full quarter of a century, my brother authors in the same way, for
+what reason I know not, have ever been very sparing in their applauses,
+and no other author has taken the least notice of me; so that did not my
+writings produce me some solid pudding, the great deficiency of praise
+would have quite discouraged me.
+
+I concluded at length that the people were the best judges of my merit,
+for they buy my works; and besides, in my rambles, where I am not
+personally known I have frequently heard one or other of my adages
+repeated, with _as Poor Richard says_ at the end of it. This gave me
+some satisfaction, as it showed not only that my instructions were
+regarded, but discovered likewise some respect for my authority; and I
+own that to encourage the practice of remembering and repeating those
+sentences, I have sometimes quoted myself with great gravity.
+
+Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I am
+going to relate to you. I stopped my horse lately where a great number
+of people were collected at a vendue[409-1] of merchants' goods. The
+hour of sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the
+times; and one of the company called to a plain, clean old man with
+white locks, "Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the times? Won't
+these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we ever be able to
+pay them? What would you advise us to do?" Father Abraham stood up and
+replied: "If you would have my advice, I will give it you in short; for,
+'a word to the wise is enough,'[409-2] and 'many words won't fill a
+bushel,'[409-3] as Poor Richard says." They all joined, desiring him to
+speak his mind, and gathering round him he proceeded as follows:
+
+Friends and neighbors, the taxes are indeed very heavy, and if those
+laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might
+more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more
+grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our IDLENESS,
+three times as much by our PRIDE, and four times as much by our FOLLY;
+and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us by
+allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and
+something may be done for us. "God helps them that help themselves," as
+Poor Richard says in his almanac of 1733.
+
+It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people
+one-tenth part of their TIME, to be employed in its service, but
+idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that is spent in
+absolute sloth or doing of nothing, with that which is spent in idle
+employments or amusements that amount to nothing. Sloth, by bringing on
+diseases, absolutely shortens life. "Sloth, like rust, consumes faster
+than labor wears; while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard
+says. "But dost thou love life? then do not squander time, for that's
+the stuff life is made of," as Poor Richard says.
+
+How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep? forgetting that
+"the sleeping fox catches no poultry," and that "there will be sleeping
+enough in the grave," as Poor Richard says. If time be of all things the
+most precious, "wasting of time must be," as Poor Richard says, "the
+greatest prodigality;" since, as he elsewhere tells us, "lost time is
+never found again," and what we call "time enough! always proves little
+enough." Let us, then, up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by
+diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. "Sloth makes all things
+difficult, but industry all things easy," as Poor Richard says; and "he
+that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his
+business at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon
+overtakes him," as we read in Poor Richard; who adds, "drive thy
+business! let not that drive thee!" and
+
+    "Early to bed and early to rise
+    Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise."
+
+[Illustration: "THE SLEEPING FOX CATCHES NO POULTRY"]
+
+So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these
+times better if we bestir ourselves. "Industry need not wish," as Poor
+Richard says, and "he that lives on hope will die fasting." "There are
+no gains without pains; then help, hands! for I have no lands;" or, if I
+have, they are smartly taxed. And as Poor Richard likewise observes, "he
+that hath a trade hath an estate, and he that hath a calling hath an
+office of profit and honor;" but then the trade must be worked at and
+the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will
+enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious we shall never starve;
+for, as Poor Richard says, "at the working-man's house hunger looks in,
+but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for
+"industry pays debt, while despair increaseth them."
+
+What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left
+you a legacy, "diligence is the mother of good luck," as Poor Richard
+says, and "God gives all things to industry."
+
+    "Then plow deep while sluggards sleep,
+    And you shall have corn to sell and to keep,"
+
+says Poor Dick. Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how
+much you may be hindered to-morrow; which makes Poor Richard say, "one
+to-day is worth two to-morrows;" and further, "have you somewhat to do
+to-morrow? Do it to-day!"
+
+If you were a servant would you not be ashamed that a good master should
+catch you idle? Are you, then, your own master? "Be ashamed to catch
+yourself idle," as Poor Dick says. When there is so much to be done for
+yourself, your family, your country, and your gracious king, be up by
+peep of day! "Let not the sun look down and say, 'Inglorious here he
+lies!'" Handle your tools without mittens! remember that "the cat in
+gloves catches no mice!" as Poor Richard says.
+
+'Tis true there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but
+stick to it steadily and you will see great effects; for "constant
+dropping wears away stones;" and "by diligence and patience the mouse
+ate in two the cable;" and "little strokes fell great oaks," as Poor
+Richard says in his almanac, the year I cannot just now remember.
+
+Methinks I hear some of you say, "Must a man afford himself no leisure?"
+I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says, "employ thy time
+well if thou meanest to gain leisure;" and "since thou art not sure of a
+minute, throw not away an hour!" Leisure is time for doing something
+useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man
+never; so that, as Poor Richard says, "a life of leisure and a life of
+laziness are two things." Do you imagine that sloth will afford you more
+comfort than labor? No! for, as Poor Richard says, "trouble springs from
+idleness and grievous toil from needless ease." "Many, without labor,
+would live by their wits only, but they'll break for want of stock;"
+whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. "Fly pleasure
+and they'll follow you;" "the diligent spinner has a large shift;" and
+
+    "Now I have a sheep and a cow,
+    Everybody bids me good-morrow."
+
+All which is well said by Poor Richard. But with our industry we must
+likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs
+with our own eyes and not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard
+says,
+
+    "I never saw an oft-removed tree
+    Nor yet an oft-removed family
+    That throve so well as those that settled be."
+
+And again, "three removes are as bad as a fire"; and again, "keep thy
+shop and thy shop will keep thee"; and again, "if you would have your
+business done, go; if not, send." And again
+
+    "He that by the plow would thrive,
+    Himself must either hold or drive."
+
+And again, "the eye of the master will do more work than both his
+hands;" and again, "want of care does us more damage than want of
+knowledge;" and again, "not to oversee workmen is to leave them your
+purse open."
+
+Trusting too much to others' care is the ruin of many; for, as the
+almanac says, "in the affairs of this world men are saved, not by faith,
+but by the want of it;" but a man's own care is profitable; for, saith
+Poor Dick, "learning is to the studious and riches to the careful;" as
+well as "power to the bold" and "heaven to the virtuous." And further,
+"if you would have a faithful servant and one that you like, serve
+yourself."
+
+And again, he adviseth to circumspection and care, even in the smallest
+matters; because sometimes "a little neglect may breed great mischief;"
+adding, "for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the
+horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost;" being
+overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for the want of a little care
+about a horseshoe nail!
+
+So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business;
+but to these we must add frugality if we would make our industry more
+certainly successful. "A man may," if he knows not how to save as he
+goes "keep his nose all his life to the grindstone and die not worth a
+groat at last." "A fat kitchen makes a lean will," as Poor Richard
+says; and
+
+    "Many estates are spent in the getting,
+    Since women for tea[415-4] forsook spinning and knitting,
+    And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting."
+
+If you would be wealthy, says he in another almanac, "think of saving as
+well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her
+outgoes are greater than her incomes."
+
+Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not have so much
+cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families;
+for, as Poor Dick says,
+
+    "Women and wine, game and deceit,
+    Make the wealth small and the wants great."
+
+And further, "what maintains one vice would bring up two children." You
+may think, perhaps, that a little tea or a little punch now and then, a
+diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little more
+entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember what
+Poor Richard says, "many a little makes a mickle"; and further, "beware
+of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship"; and again,
+
+    "Who dainties love shall beggars prove";
+
+and moreover, "fools make feasts and wise men eat them."
+
+Here are you all got together at this vendue of fineries and
+knick-knacks. You call them goods; but if you do not take care they
+will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and
+perhaps they may for less than they cost; but if you have no occasion
+for them they must be dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says: "Buy
+what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy
+necessaries." And again, "at a great pennyworth pause awhile." He means
+that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only and not real; or the bargain
+by straitening thee in thy business may do thee more harm than good. For
+in another place he says, "many have been ruined by buying good
+pennyworths."
+
+Again, Poor Richard says, "'tis foolish to lay out money in a purchase
+of repentance;" and yet this folly is practiced every day at vendues for
+want of minding the almanac.
+
+"Wise men," as Poor Richard says, "learn by others' harm; fools scarcely
+by their own;" but _Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum_.[416-5]
+Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, has gone with a hungry
+belly and half-starved his family. "Silks and satins, scarlets and
+velvets," as Poor Richard says, "put out the kitchen fire." These are
+not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called the
+conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to
+have them! The artificial wants of mankind thus become more numerous
+than the natural; and as Poor Dick says, "for one poor person there are
+a hundred indigent."
+
+By these and other extravagances the genteel are reduced to poverty and
+forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through
+industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it
+appears plainly that "a plowman on his legs is higher than a gentleman
+on his knees," as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small
+estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; they think, "'tis
+day and will never be night;" that "a little to be spent out of so much
+is not worth minding" (a child and a fool, as Poor Richard says, imagine
+twenty shillings and twenty years can never be spent); but "always
+taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the
+bottom." Then, as Poor Dick says, "when the well's dry they know the
+worth of water." But this they might have known before if they had taken
+his advice. "If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow
+some;" for "he that goes a-borrowing goes a sorrowing," and indeed so
+does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it in again.
+
+Poor Dick further advises and says:
+
+    "Fond pride of dress is, sure, a very curse;
+    Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse."
+
+And again, "pride is as loud a beggar as want and a great deal more
+saucy." When you have bought one fine thing you must buy ten more, that
+your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, "'tis easier
+to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it." And
+'tis as true folly for the poor to ape the rich as for the frog to swell
+in order to equal the ox.
+
+    "Great estates may venture more,
+    But little boats should keep near shore."
+
+'Tis, however, a folly soon punished; for "pride that dines on vanity
+sups on contempt," as Poor Richard says. And in another place, "pride
+breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy."
+
+And after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for which so
+much is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot promote health or ease
+pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy; it
+hastens misfortune.
+
+    "What is a butterfly? At best
+    He's but a caterpillar drest,
+    The gaudy fop's his picture just,"
+
+as Poor Richard says.
+
+But what madness must it be to run into debt for these superfluities! We
+are offered by the terms of this vendue six months' credit; and that,
+perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare
+the ready money and hope now to be fine without it. But ah! think what
+you do when you run in debt: you give to another power over your
+liberty. If you cannot pay at the time you will be ashamed to see your
+creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor,
+pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your veracity and
+sink into base, downright lying; for, as Poor Richard says, "the second
+vice is lying, the first is running into debt;" and again, to the same
+purpose, "lying rides upon debt's back;" whereas a free-born Englishman
+ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any man living. But
+poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. "'Tis hard for an
+empty bag to stand upright!" as Poor Richard truly says. What would you
+think of that prince or the government who should issue an edict
+forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of
+imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you are free, have a
+right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach
+of your privileges and such a government tyrannical? And yet you are
+about to put yourself under such tyranny when you run in debt for such
+dress! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of
+your liberty by confining you in jail for life or to sell you for a
+servant if you should not be able to pay him. When you have got your
+bargain you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but "creditors," Poor
+Richard tells us, "have better memories than debtors;" and in another
+place says, "creditors are a superstitious set, great observers of set
+days and times."
+
+The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before
+you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the
+term which at first seemed so long will, as it lessens, appear extremely
+short. Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his
+shoulders. "Those have a short Lent," saith Poor Richard, "who owe money
+to be paid at Easter." Then since, as he says, "the borrower is a slave
+to the lender and the debtor to the creditor," disdain the chain,
+preserve your freedom, and maintain your independence. Be industrious
+and free; be frugal and free. At present, perhaps, you may think
+yourself in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little
+extravagance without injury; but
+
+    "For age and want, save while you may;
+    No morning sun lasts a whole day."
+
+As Poor Richard says, gain may be temporary and uncertain; but ever
+while you live expense is constant and certain; and "'tis easier to
+build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel," as Poor Richard says; so,
+"rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt."
+
+    "Get what you can, and what you get hold;
+    'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold,"[420-6]
+
+as Poor Richard says: and when you have got the philosopher's stone,
+sure, you will no longer complain of bad times or the difficulty of
+paying taxes.
+
+This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do not
+depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence,
+though excellent things, for they may all be blasted without the
+blessing of Heaven; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not
+uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and
+help them. Remember Job suffered and was afterward prosperous.
+
+And now, to conclude, "experience keeps a dear school, but fools will
+learn in no other, and scarce in that;" for it is true, "we may give
+advice, but we cannot give conduct," as Poor Richard says. However,
+remember this: "they that won't be counseled can't be helped," as Poor
+Richard says; and further, that "if you will not hear reason she'll
+surely rap your knuckles."
+
+Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it and
+approved the doctrine, and immediately practiced the contrary, just as
+if it had been a common sermon. For the vendue opened and they began to
+buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his cautions and their own fear
+of taxes. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my almanacs and
+digested all I had dropped on those topics during the course of
+twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired
+any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I
+was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he
+ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made of the sense of
+all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the echo
+of it, and though I had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat,
+I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, if thou
+wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine. I am, as ever,
+thine to serve thee.
+
+  RICHARD SAUNDERS.
+
+  _July 7th, 1757._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[409-1] A vendue is an auction.
+
+[409-2] Very few of the proverbs which Franklin made use of in his
+almanacs were original with him. As he said in his comment, they
+represented "the wisdom of many ages and nations."
+
+[409-3] This is similar to that other proverbial expression--"Fine words
+butter no parsnips."
+
+[415-4] Tea at this time was expensive and regarded as a luxury.
+
+[416-5] He's a lucky fellow who is made prudent by other men's perils.
+
+[420-6] The philosopher's stone, so called; a mineral having the power
+of turning base metals into gold.
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE ROGERS CLARK
+
+
+One of the most remarkable men of Revolutionary times was George Rogers
+Clark, and his exploits read more like those of the hero of some novel
+than like the deeds of a simple soldier and patriot.
+
+In early boyhood and youth he acquired the rather scanty education which
+was then considered necessary for a child of fairly well-to-do parents,
+but he never applied himself so closely to his books as to lose his love
+for the woods and streams of the wild country that surrounded him. He
+became a surveyor, and among the wonders and trials of the wilderness
+lost much of the little polish he had acquired. But he learned the
+woods, the mountain passes and the river courses, and became fully
+acquainted with the wild human denizens of the forests. His six feet of
+muscular body, his courage and his fierce passions fitted him to lead
+men and to overawe his enemies, red or white. He had "red hair and a
+black penetrating eye," two gifts that marked him among the adventurous
+men who were finding their way across the Alleghanies. He tried farming,
+but succeeded better as a fighter in those fierce conflicts with Indians
+and border desperadoes which gave to Kentucky the name of "Dark and
+Bloody Ground."
+
+In 1777, after the breaking out of the Revolution, there were several
+French settlements lying to the north of the Ohio and scattered from
+Detroit to the Mississippi. Among these were Mackinac, Green Bay,
+Prairie du Chien, Vincennes, Kaskaskia and Cahokia. The English were in
+possession of all these and held them usually by a single commanding
+officer and a very small garrison. The French inhabitants had made
+friends with the Indians, and in many instances had intermarried with
+them. Moreover, while they were submissive to the British they were by
+no means attached to them and were apparently quite likely to submit
+with equal willingness to the Americans should they succeed in the
+struggle. This was what Clark understood so thoroughly that he early
+became possessed of the idea that it would be a comparatively simple
+matter to secure to the United States all that promising land lying
+between the Alleghanies, the Ohio and the Mississippi.
+
+The jealousy that existed between Pennsylvania and Virginia over an
+extension westward made it extremely difficult for Clark to get aid from
+the Colonies or even from Virginia, his native state. However, he
+succeeded in interesting Patrick Henry, then governor of Virginia, and
+preserving the greatest secrecy, he set about recruiting his forces.
+
+It was a desperate undertaking, and the obstacles, naturally great, were
+made infinitely more trying by the fact that he could tell none of his
+men the real purpose for which they were enlisting. By May, 1778,
+however, he had secured one hundred and fifty backwoodsmen from the
+western reaches of Virginia. With these he started on his venturous
+undertaking.
+
+Reuben Gold Thwaites, in his _How George Rogers Clark Won the
+Northwest_, describes the volunteers as follows:
+
+"There was of course no attempt among them at military uniform, officers
+in no wise being distinguished from men. The conventional dress of
+eighteenth-century borderers was an adaptation to local conditions,
+being in part borrowed from the Indians. Their feet were encased in
+moccasins. Perhaps the majority of the corps had loose, thin trousers of
+homespun or buckskin, with a fringe of leather thongs down each outer
+seam of the legs; but many wore only leggings of leather, and were as
+bare of knee and thigh as a Highland clansman; indeed, many of the
+pioneers were Scotch-Irish, some of whom had been accustomed to this
+airy costume in the mother-land. Common to all were fringed hunting
+shirts or smocks, generally of buckskin--a picturesque, flowing garment
+reaching from neck to knees, and girded about the waist by a leathern
+belt, from which dangled the tomahawk and scalping-knife. On one hip
+hung the carefully scraped powder horn; on the other, a leather sack,
+serving both as game-bag and provision-pouch, although often the folds
+of the shirt, full and ample above the belt, were the depository for
+food and ammunition. A broad-brimmed felt hat, or a cap of fox-skin or
+squirrel-skin, with the tail dangling behind, crowned the often tall and
+always sinewy frontiersman. His constant companion was his home-made
+flint-lock rifle--a clumsy, heavy weapon, so long that it reached to the
+chin of the tallest man, but unerring in the hands of an expert
+marksman, such as was each of these backwoodsmen.
+
+"They were rough in manners and in speech. Among them, we must confess,
+were men who had fled from the coast settlements because no longer to be
+tolerated in a law-abiding community. There were not lacking mean,
+brutal fellows, whose innate badness had on the untrammelled frontier
+developed into wickedness. Many joined Clark for mere adventure, for
+plunder and deviltry. The majority, however, were men of good parts, who
+sought to protect their homes at whatever peril--sincere men, as large
+of heart as they were of frame, many of them in later years developing
+into citizens of a high type of effectiveness in a frontier
+commonwealth. As a matter of history, most of them proved upon this
+expedition to be heroes worthy of the fame they won and the leader whom
+they followed."
+
+Early in June Clark had reached the falls in the Ohio at the present
+city of Louisville, and here on an island commanding the falls he built
+a block house and planted some corn. Here he left the weak and
+dissatisfied members of his company, and having been joined by a few
+Kentucky volunteers, he resumed his journey down the river. His first
+goal was Kaskaskia on the Mississippi, and after a long and perilous
+journey, the latter part across the country, he captured the post by
+surprise, seizing the French commandant of the English garrison in an
+upper room of his own house. He had little difficulty in winning the
+confidence of the French settlers, who then willingly transferred their
+loyalty to the new Republic that claimed to be their friend.
+
+A different situation developed with the Indians, but after skilful
+treatment and a long interview with representatives of the many tribes
+he succeeded in winning their friendship, or at least a quiet
+neutrality. In the meantime, Father Gibault, an active, friendly French
+priest, had crossed the country and induced the inhabitants of Vincennes
+to raise the American flag. Clark sent Captain Helm to take charge of
+the fort and to lead the French militia.
+
+Clark's ambition was to capture Detroit, but so great were the
+difficulties besetting him that he was compelled to winter at Kaskaskia
+with insufficient forces, struggling to keep peace and to hold the
+country he had so successfully seized. In January, a month after the
+event happened, Clark heard that Hamilton had recaptured Vincennes for
+the British and was preparing to advance on Kaskaskia. Had Hamilton been
+prompt in his actions and proceeded at once against Clark he might
+easily have driven the latter from Kaskaskia and secured to the British
+the wonderful Northwest territory. His delays, however, gave Clark time
+to gather a larger force and to show his wonderful power as a leader and
+his skill as a military campaigner.
+
+Few men could have accomplished what Clark did, for few have either the
+ability or the devotion. "I would have bound myself seven years a
+Slave," he says, "to have had five hundred troops." Nothing, however,
+deterred him. He built a large barge or galley, mounted small cannon
+upon it and manned it with a crew of forty men. This was dispatched to
+patrol the Ohio, and if possible to get within ten leagues of Vincennes
+on the Wabash. It was Clark's determination not to wait for attack from
+the British but to surprise Hamilton in his own fort. It required almost
+superhuman power to gather the men necessary from the motley crowds at
+Kaskaskia and from other posts on the river, but the day after the
+"Willing" (for so he named his barge) sailed, he moved out of Kaskaskia,
+with a hundred and seventy men following him, to march the two hundred
+and thirty miles across the wintry wilderness to Vincennes. How he fared
+and how he accomplished his desire you may read in the selection from
+his journal.
+
+Clark's activity did not end with the capture of Vincennes, but that was
+the most remarkable of his long series of military achievements. No more
+heroic man ever lived, and few Americans have left such a memory for
+high patriotism, self-sacrifice and wonderful achievement. His
+accomplishments are unparalleled in the history of the Mississippi
+valley, and the youth of the region may well be proud that to such a man
+they are indebted for their right to live in the United States.
+
+Unfortunately, Clark's later years were not in keeping with his early
+character. He felt that his country was ungrateful to him, the liquor
+habit mastered him, he was mixed up in unfortunate political deals with
+France, and at last sank into poverty and was almost forgotten. It is
+said that once when in his latter years the State of Virginia sent him a
+sword in token of their appreciation of his services, he angrily thrust
+the sword into the ground and broke the blade with his crutch, while he
+cried out: "When Virginia needed a sword I gave her one. She sends me
+now a toy. I want bread!"
+
+He lived until 1818, and then died at his sister's house near
+Louisville, and was buried at Cave Hill Cemetery in that city.
+
+
+
+
+THE CAPTURE OF VINCENNES[428-1]
+
+_By_ GEORGE ROGERS CLARK[428-2]
+
+
+Everything being ready, on the 5th of February, after receiving a
+lecture and absolution from the priest, we crossed the Kaskaskia River
+with one hundred and seventy men, marched about three miles and
+encamped, where we lay until the 7th, and set out. The weather wet (but
+fortunately not cold for the season) and a great part of the plains
+under water several inches deep. It was very difficult and fatiguing
+marching. My object was now to keep the men in spirits. I suffered them
+to shoot game on all occasions, and feast on it like Indian war-dancers,
+each company by turns inviting the others to their feasts, which was the
+case every night, as the company that was to give the feast was always
+supplied with horses to lay up a sufficient store of wild meat in the
+course of the day, myself and principal officers putting on the
+woodsmen, shouting now and then, and running as much through the mud and
+water as any of them.
+
+Thus, insensibly, without a murmur, were those men led on to the banks
+of the Little Wabash, which we reached on the 13th, through incredible
+difficulties, far surpassing anything that any of us had ever
+experienced. Frequently the diversions of the night wore off the
+thoughts of the preceding day. We formed a camp on a height which we
+found on the bank of the river, and suffered our troops to amuse
+themselves.
+
+I viewed this sheet of water for some time with distrust; but, accusing
+myself of doubting, I immediately set to work, without holding any
+consultation about it, or suffering anybody else to do so in my
+presence; ordered a pirogue to be built immediately, and acted as though
+crossing the water would be only a piece of diversion. As but few could
+work at the pirogue at a time, pains were taken to find diversion for
+the rest to keep them in high spirits. In the evening of the 14th, our
+vessel was finished, manned, and sent to explore the drowned lands, on
+the opposite side of the Little Wabash, with private instructions what
+report to make, and, if possible, to find some spot of dry land. They
+found about half an acre, and marked the trees from thence back to the
+camp, and made a very favorable report.
+
+Fortunately, the 15th happened to be a warm, moist day for the season.
+The channel of the river where we lay was about thirty yards wide. A
+scaffold was built on the opposite shore (which was about three feet
+under water), and our baggage ferried across, and put on it. Our horses
+swam across, and received their loads at the scaffold, by which time the
+troops were also brought across, and we began our march through the
+water.
+
+By evening we found ourselves encamped on a pretty height, in high
+spirits, each party laughing at the other, in consequence of something
+that had happened in the course of this ferrying business, as they
+called it. A little antic drummer afforded them great diversion by
+floating on his drum, etc. All this was greatly encouraged; and they
+really began to think themselves superior to other men, and that neither
+the rivers nor the seasons could stop their progress. Their whole
+conversation now was concerning what they would do when they got about
+the enemy. They now began to view the main Wabash as a creek, and made
+no doubt but such men as they were could find a way to cross it. They
+wound themselves up to such a pitch that they soon took Post Vincennes,
+divided the spoil, and before bedtime were far advanced on their route
+to Detroit. All this was, no doubt, pleasing to those of us who had more
+serious thoughts.
+
+We were now convinced that the whole of the low country on the Wabash
+was drowned, and that the enemy could easily get to us, if they
+discovered us, and wished to risk an action; if they did not, we made no
+doubt of crossing the river by some means or other. Even if Captain
+Rogers, with our galley, did not get to his station agreeable to his
+appointment, we flattered ourselves that all would be well, and marched
+on in high spirits.
+
+The last day's march through the water was far superior to anything the
+Frenchmen[431-3] had an idea of. They were backward in speaking; said
+that the nearest land to us was a small league called the Sugar Camp, on
+the bank of the [river?]. A canoe was sent off, and returned without
+finding that we could pass. I went in her myself, and sounded the water;
+found it deep as to my neck. I returned with a design to have the men
+transported on board the canoes to the Sugar Camp, which I knew would
+spend the whole day and ensuing night, as the vessels would pass slowly
+through the bushes. The loss of so much time, to men half-starved, was a
+matter of consequence. I would have given now a great deal for a day's
+provision or for one of our horses. I returned but slowly to the troops,
+giving myself time to think.
+
+On our arrival, all ran to hear what was the report. Every eye was fixed
+on me. I unfortunately spoke in a serious manner to one of the officers.
+The whole were alarmed without knowing what I said. I viewed their
+confusion for about one minute, whispered to those near me to do as I
+did: immediately put some water in my hand, poured on powder, blackened
+my face, gave the war-whoop, and marched into the water without saying a
+word. The party gazed, and fell in, one after another, without saying a
+word, like a flock of sheep. I ordered those near me to begin a favorite
+song of theirs. It soon passed through the line, and the whole went on
+cheerfully. I now intended to have them transported across the deepest
+part of the water; but, when about waist deep, one of the men informed
+me that he thought he felt a path. We examined, and found it so, and
+concluded that it kept on the highest ground, which it did; and, by
+taking pains to follow it we got to the Sugar Camp without the least
+difficulty, where there was about half an acre of dry ground, at least
+not under water, where we took up our lodging.
+
+The Frenchmen that we had taken on the river appeared to be uneasy at
+our situation. They begged that they might be permitted to go in the two
+canoes to town in the night. They said that they would bring from their
+own houses provisions, without a possibility of any persons knowing it;
+that some of our men should go with them as a surety of their good
+conduct; that it was impossible we could march from that place till the
+water fell, for the plain was too deep to march. Some of the [officers?]
+believed that it might be done. I would not suffer it. I never could
+well account for this piece of obstinacy, and give satisfactory reasons
+to myself or anybody else why I denied a proposition apparently so easy
+to execute and of so much advantage; but something seemed to tell me
+that it should not be done, and it was not done.
+
+The most of the weather that we had on this march was moist and warm for
+the season. This was the coldest night we had. The ice, in the morning,
+was from one-half to three-quarters of an inch thick near the shores and
+in still water. The morning was the finest we had on our march. A little
+after sunrise I lectured the whole. What I said to them I forgot, but it
+may be easily imagined by a person that could possess my affections for
+them at that time. I concluded by informing them that passing the plain
+that was then in full view and reaching the opposite woods would put an
+end to their fatigue, that in a few hours they would have a sight of
+their long-wished-for object, and immediately stepped into the water
+without waiting for any reply. A huzza took place.
+
+[Illustration: CLARK TOOK THE LEAD]
+
+As we generally marched through the water in a line, before the third
+entered I halted, and called to Major Bowman, ordering him to fall in
+the rear with twenty-five men, and put to death any man who refused to
+march, as we wished to have no such person among us. The whole gave a
+cry of approbation, and on we went. This was the most trying of all the
+difficulties we had experienced. I generally kept fifteen or twenty of
+the strongest men next myself, and judged from my own feelings what must
+be that of others. Getting about the middle of the plain, the water
+about mid-deep, I found myself sensibly failing; and, as there were no
+trees nor bushes for the men to support themselves by, I feared that
+many of the most weak would be drowned.
+
+I ordered the canoes to make the land, discharge their loading, and play
+backward and forward with all diligence, and pick up the men; and, to
+encourage the party, sent some of the strongest men forward, with
+orders, when they got to a certain distance, to pass the word back that
+the water was getting shallow, and when getting near the woods to cry
+out, 'Land!' This stratagem had its desired effect. The men, encouraged
+by it, exerted themselves almost beyond their abilities; the weak
+holding by the stronger.
+
+The water never got shallower, but continued deepening. Getting to the
+woods, where the men expected land, the water was up to my shoulders;
+but gaining the woods was of great consequence. All the low men and the
+weakly hung to the trees, and floated on the old logs until they were
+taken off by the canoes. The strong and tall got ashore and built
+fires. Many would reach the shore, and fall with their bodies half in
+the water, not being able to support themselves without it.
+
+This was a delightful dry spot of ground of about ten acres. We soon
+found that the fires answered no purpose, but that two strong men taking
+a weaker one by the arms was the only way to recover him; and, being a
+delightful day, it soon did. But, fortunately, as if designed by
+Providence, a canoe of Indian squaws and children was coming up to town,
+and took through part of this plain as a nigh way. It was discovered by
+our canoes as they were out after the men. They gave chase, and took the
+Indian canoe, on board of which was near half a quarter of a buffalo,
+some corn, tallow, kettles, and other provisions. This was a grand
+prize, and was invaluable. Broth was immediately made, and served out to
+the most weakly with great care. Most of the whole got a little; but a
+great many gave their part to the weakly, jocosely saying something
+cheering to their comrades. This little refreshment and fine weather by
+the afternoon gave new life to the whole.
+
+Crossing a narrow deep lake in the canoes, and marching some distance,
+we came to a copse of timber called the Warrior's Island. We were now in
+full view of the fort and town, not a shrub between us, at about two
+miles distance. Every man now feasted his eyes, and forgot that he had
+suffered anything, saying that all that had passed was owing to good
+policy and nothing but what a man could bear; and that a soldier had no
+right to think, etc.,--passing from one extreme to another, which is
+common in such cases.
+
+It was now we had to display our abilities. The plain between us and the
+town was not a perfect level. The sunken grounds were covered with water
+full of ducks. We observed several men out on horseback, shooting them,
+within a half mile of us, and sent out as many of our active young
+Frenchmen to decoy and take one of these men prisoner in such a manner
+as not to alarm the others, which they did. The information we got from
+this person was similar to that which we got from those we took on the
+river, except that of the British having that evening completed the wall
+of the fort, and that there were a good many Indians in town.
+
+Our situation was now truly critical,--no possibility of retreating in
+case of defeat, and in full view of a town that had, at this time,
+upward of six hundred men in it,--troops, inhabitants, and Indians. The
+crew of the galley, though not fifty men, would have been now a
+reenforcement of immense magnitude to our little army (if I may so call
+it), but we would not think of them. We were now in the situation that I
+had labored to get ourselves in. The idea of being made prisoner was
+foreign to almost every man, as they expected nothing but torture from
+the savages, if they fell into their hands. Our fate was now to be
+determined, probably in a few hours. We knew that nothing but the most
+daring conduct would insure success.
+
+I knew that a number of the inhabitants wished us well, that many were
+lukewarm to the interest of either, and I also learned that the grand
+chief, the Tobacco's son, had but a few days before openly declared, in
+council with the British, that he was a brother and friend to the Big
+Knives. These were favorable circumstances; and, as there was but
+little probability of our remaining until dark undiscovered, I
+determined to begin the career immediately, and wrote the following
+placard to the inhabitants:--
+
+     "TO THE INHABITANTS OF POST VINCENNES:
+
+     "_Gentlemen:_--Being now within two miles of your village, with my
+     army, determined to take your fort this night, and not being
+     willing to surprise you, I take this method to request such of you
+     as are true citizens and willing to enjoy the liberty I bring you
+     to remain still in your houses; and those, if any there be, that
+     are friends to the king will instantly repair to the fort, and join
+     the hair-buyer[437-4] general, and fight like men. And, if any such
+     as do not go to the fort shall be discovered afterward, they may
+     depend on severe punishment. On the contrary, those who are true
+     friends to liberty may depend on being well treated; and I once
+     more request them to keep out of the streets. For every one I find
+     in arms on my arrival I shall treat him as an enemy.
+
+     "(Signed)     G. R. CLARK."
+
+I had various ideas on the supposed results of this letter. I knew that
+it could do us no damage, but that it would cause the lukewarm to be
+decided, encourage our friends, and astonish our enemies.
+
+We anxiously viewed this messenger until he entered the town, and in a
+few minutes could discover by our glasses some stir in every street that
+we could penetrate into, and great numbers running or riding out into
+the commons, we supposed, to view us, which was the case. But what
+surprised us was that nothing had yet happened that had the appearance
+of the garrison being alarmed,--no drum nor gun. We began to suppose
+that the information we got from our prisoners was false, and that the
+enemy already knew of us, and were prepared.
+
+A little before sunset we moved, and displayed ourselves in full view of
+the town, crowds gazing at us. We were plunging ourselves into certain
+destruction or success. There was no midway thought of. We had but
+little to say to our men, except inculcating an idea of the necessity of
+obedience, etc. We knew they did not want encouraging, and that anything
+might be attempted with them that was possible for such a
+number,--perfectly cool, under proper subordination, pleased with the
+prospect before them, and much attached to their officers. They all
+declared that they were convinced that an implicit obedience to orders
+was the only thing that would insure success, and hoped that no mercy
+would be shown the person that should violate them. Such language as
+this from soldiers to persons in our station must have been exceedingly
+agreeable.
+
+We moved on slowly in full view of the town; but, as it was a point of
+some consequence to us to make ourselves appear as formidable, we, in
+leaving the covert that we were in, marched and counter-marched in such
+a manner that we appeared numerous. In raising volunteers in the
+Illinois, every person that set about the business had a set of colors
+given him, which they brought with them to the amount of ten or twelve
+pairs. These were displayed to the best advantage; and, as the low
+plain we marched through was not a perfect level, but had frequent
+risings in it seven or eight feet higher than the common level (which
+was covered with water), and as these risings generally run in an
+oblique direction to the town, we took the advantage of one of them,
+marching through the water under it, which completely prevented our
+being numbered. But our colors showed considerably above the heights, as
+they were fixed on long poles procured for the purpose, and at a
+distance made no despicable appearance; and, as our young Frenchmen had,
+while we lay on the Warrior's Island, decoyed and taken several fowlers
+with their horses, officers were mounted on these horses, and rode
+about, more completely to deceive the enemy.
+
+In this manner we moved, and directed our march in such a way as to
+suffer it to be dark before we had advanced more than half-way to the
+town. We then suddenly altered our direction, and crossed ponds where
+they could not have suspected us, and about eight o'clock gained the
+heights back of the town. As there was yet no hostile appearance, we
+were impatient to have the cause unriddled. Lieutenant Bayley was
+ordered, with fourteen men, to march and fire on the fort. The main body
+moved in a different direction, and took possession of the strongest
+part of the town.
+
+The firing now commenced on the fort, but they did not believe it was an
+enemy until one of their men was shot down through a port, as drunken
+Indians frequently saluted the fort after night. The drums now sounded,
+and the business fairly commenced on both sides. Re-enforcements were
+sent to the attack of the garrison, while other arrangements were
+making in town.
+
+We now found that the garrison had known nothing of us; that, having
+finished the fort that evening, they had amused themselves at different
+games, and had just retired before my letter arrived, as it was near
+roll-call. The placard being made public, many of the inhabitants were
+afraid to show themselves out of the houses for fear of giving offence,
+and not one dare give information. Our friends flew to the commons and
+other convenient places to view the pleasing sight. This was observed
+from the garrison, and the reason asked, but a satisfactory excuse was
+given; and, as a part of the town lay between our line of march and the
+garrison, we could not be seen by the sentinels on the walls.
+
+Captain W. Shannon and another being some time before taken prisoners by
+one of their [scouting parties], and that evening brought in, the party
+had discovered at the Sugar Camp some signs of us. They supposed it to
+be a party of observation that intended to land on the height some
+distance below the town. Captain Lamotte was sent to intercept them. It
+was at him the people said they were looking, when they were asked the
+reason of their unusual stir.
+
+Several suspected persons had been taken to the garrison; among them was
+Mr. Moses Henry. Mrs. Henry went, under the pretense of carrying him
+provisions, and whispered him the news and what she had seen. Mr. Henry
+conveyed it to the rest of his fellow-prisoners, which gave them much
+pleasure, particularly Captain Helm, who amused himself very much
+during the siege, and, I believe, did much damage.
+
+Ammunition was scarce with us, as the most of our stores had been put on
+board of the galley. Though her crew was but few, such a reenforcement
+to us at this time would have been invaluable in many instances. But,
+fortunately, at the time of its being reported that the whole of the
+goods in the town were to be taken for the king's use (for which the
+owners were to receive bills), Colonel Legras, Major Bosseron, and
+others had buried the greatest part of their powder and ball. This was
+immediately produced, and we found ourselves well supplied by those
+gentlemen.
+
+The Tobacco's son, being in town with a number of warriors, immediately
+mustered them, and let us know that he wished to join us, saying that by
+morning he would have a hundred men. He received for answer that we
+thanked for his friendly disposition; and, as we were sufficiently
+strong ourselves, we wished him to desist, and that we would counsel on
+the subject in the morning; and, as we knew that there were a number of
+Indians in and near the town that were our enemies, some confusion might
+happen if our men should mix in the dark, but hoped that we might be
+favored with his counsel and company during the night, which was
+agreeable to him.
+
+The garrison was soon completely surrounded, and the firing continued
+without intermission (except about fifteen minutes a little before day)
+until about nine o'clock the following morning. It was kept up by the
+whole of the troops, joined by a few of the young men of the town, who
+got permission, except fifty men kept as a reserve.
+
+I had made myself fully acquainted with the situation of the fort and
+town and the parts relative to each. The cannon of the garrison was on
+the upper floors of strong blockhouses at each angle of the fort, eleven
+feet above the surface, and the ports so badly cut that many of our
+troops lay under the fire of them within twenty or thirty yards of the
+walls. They did no damage, except to the buildings of the town, some of
+which they much shattered; and their musketry, in the dark, employed
+against woodsmen covered by houses, palings, ditches, the banks of the
+river, etc., was but of little avail, and did no injury to us except
+wounding a man or two.
+
+As we could not afford to lose men, great care was taken to preserve
+them, sufficiently covered, and to keep up a hot fire in order to
+intimidate the enemy as well as to destroy them. The embrasures of their
+cannon were frequently shut, for our riflemen, finding the true
+direction of them, would pour in such volleys when they were opened that
+the men could not stand to the guns. Seven or eight of them in a short
+time got cut down. Our troops would frequently abuse the enemy, in order
+to aggravate them to open their ports and fire their cannon, that they
+might have the pleasure of cutting them down with their rifles, fifty of
+which, perhaps, would be levelled the moment the port flew open; and I
+believe that, if they had stood at their artillery, the greater part of
+them would have been destroyed in the course of the night, as the
+greater part of our men lay within thirty yards of the walls, and in a
+few hours were covered equally to those within the walls, and much more
+experienced in that mode of fighting.
+
+Sometimes an irregular fire, as hot as possible, was kept up from
+different directions for a few minutes, and then only a continual
+scattering fire at the ports as usual; and a great noise and laughter
+immediately commenced in different parts of the town, by the reserved
+parties, as if they had only fired on the fort a few minutes for
+amusement, and as if those continually firing at the fort were only
+regularly relieved. Conduct similar to this kept the garrison constantly
+alarmed. They did not know what moment they might be stormed or [blown
+up?], as they could plainly discover that we had flung up some
+entrenchments across the streets, and appeared to be frequently very
+busy under the bank of the river, which was within thirty feet of the
+walls.
+
+The situation of the magazine we knew well. Captain Bowman began some
+works in order to blow it up, in the case our artillery should arrive;
+but, as we knew that we were daily liable to be overpowered by the
+numerous bands of Indians on the river, in case they had again joined
+the enemy (the certainty of which we were unacquainted with), we
+resolved to lose no time, but to get the fort in our possession as soon
+as possible. If the vessel did not arrive before the ensuing night, we
+resolved to undermine the fort, and fixed on the spot and plan of
+executing this work, which we intended to commence the next day.
+
+The Indians of different tribes that were inimical had left the town and
+neighborhood. Captain Lamotte continued to hover about it in order, if
+possible, to make his way good into the fort. Parties attempted in vain
+to surprise him. A few of his party were taken, one of which was
+Maisonville, a famous Indian partisan. Two lads had captured him, tied
+him to a post in the street, and fought from behind him as a breastwork,
+supposing that the enemy would not fire at them for fear of killing him,
+as he would alarm them by his voice. The lads were ordered, by an
+officer who discovered them at their amusement, to untie their prisoner,
+and take him off to the guard, which they did, but were so inhuman as to
+take part of his scalp on the way. There happened to him no other
+damage.
+
+As almost the whole of the persons who were most active in the
+department of Detroit were either in the fort or with Captain Lamotte, I
+got extremely uneasy for fear that he would not fall into our power,
+knowing that he would go off, if he could not get into the fort in the
+course of the night. Finding that, without some unforeseen accident, the
+fort must inevitably be ours, and that a reenforcement of twenty men,
+although considerable to them, would not be of great moment to us in the
+present situation of affairs, and knowing that we had weakened them by
+killing or wounding many of their gunners, after some deliberation, we
+concluded to risk the reenforcement in preference of his going again
+among the Indians. The garrison had at least a month's provisions; and,
+if they could hold out, in the course of that time he might do us much
+damage.
+
+A little before day the troops were withdrawn from their positions about
+the fort, except a few parties of observation, and the firing totally
+ceased. Orders were given, in case of Lamotte's approach, not to alarm
+or fire on him without a certainty of killing or taking the whole. In
+less than a quarter of an hour, he passed within ten feet of an officer
+and a party that lay concealed. Ladders were flung over to them; and, as
+they mounted them, our party shouted. Many of them fell from the top of
+the walls,--some within, and others back; but, as they were not fired
+on, they all got over, much to the joy of their friends. But, on
+considering the matter, they must have been convinced that it was a
+scheme of ours to let them in, and that we were so strong as to care but
+little about them or the manner of their getting into the garrison.
+
+The firing immediately commenced on both sides with double vigor; and I
+believe that more noise could not have been made by the same number of
+men. Their shouts could not be heard for the fire-arms; but a continual
+blaze was kept around the garrison, without much being done, until about
+daybreak, when our troops were drawn off to posts prepared for them,
+about sixty or seventy yards from the fort. A loophole then could
+scarcely be darkened but a rifle-ball would pass through it. To have
+stood to their cannon would have destroyed their men, without a
+probability of doing much service. Our situation was nearly similar. It
+would have been imprudent in either party to have wasted their men,
+without some decisive stroke required it.
+
+Thus the attack continued until about nine o'clock on the morning of the
+24th. Learning that the two prisoners they had brought in the day before
+had a considerable number of letters with them, I supposed it an express
+that we expected about this time, which I knew to be of the greatest
+moment to us, as we had not received one since our arrival in the
+country; and, not being fully acquainted with the character of our
+enemy, we were doubtful that those papers might be destroyed, to prevent
+which I sent a flag [with a letter] demanding the garrison.[446-5]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The firing then commenced warmly for a considerable time; and we were
+obliged to be careful in preventing our men from exposing themselves too
+much, as they were now much animated, having been refreshed during the
+flag. They frequently mentioned their wishes to storm the place, and put
+an end to the business at once. The firing was heavy through every crack
+that could be discovered in any part of the fort. Several of the
+garrison got wounded, and no possibility of standing near the
+embrasures. Toward the evening a flag appeared with the following
+proposals:--
+
+     "Lieutenant-governor Hamilton proposes to Colonel Clark a truce for
+     three days, during which time he promises there shall be no
+     defensive works carried on in the garrison, on condition that
+     Colonel Clark shall observe, on his part, a like cessation of any
+     defensive work,--that is, he wishes to confer with Colonel Clark as
+     soon as can be, and promises that whatever may pass between them
+     two and another person mutually agreed upon to be present shall
+     remain secret till matters be finished, as he wishes that, whatever
+     the result of the conference may be, it may tend to the honor and
+     credit of each party. If Colonel Clark makes a difficulty of coming
+     into the fort, Lieutenant-governor Hamilton will speak to him by
+     the gate.
+
+       "(Signed) HENRY HAMILTON.
+     "24th February, 1779."
+
+I was at a great loss to conceive what reason Lieutenant-governor
+Hamilton could have for wishing a truce of three days on such terms as
+he proposed. Numbers said it was a scheme to get me into their
+possession. I had a different opinion and no idea of his possessing such
+sentiments, as an act of that kind would infallibly ruin him. Although
+we had the greatest reason to expect a reenforcement in less than three
+days, that would at once put an end to the siege, I yet did not think it
+prudent to agree to the proposals, and sent the following answer:--
+
+     "Colonel Clark's compliments to Lieutenant-governor Hamilton, and
+     begs leave to inform him that he will not agree to any terms other
+     than Mr. Hamilton's surrendering himself and garrison prisoners at
+     discretion. If Mr. Hamilton is desirous of a conference with
+     Colonel Clark, he will meet him at the church with Captain Helm.
+
+       "(Signed) G. R. C.
+     "February 24th, 1779."
+
+We met at the church, about eighty yards from the fort,
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton, Major Hay, superintendent of Indian
+affairs, Captain Helm, their prisoner, Major Bowman, and myself. The
+conference began. Hamilton produced terms of capitulation, signed, that
+contained various articles, one of which was that the garrison should be
+surrendered on their being permitted to go to Pensacola on parole. After
+deliberating on every article, I rejected the whole.
+
+He then wished that I would make some proposition. I told him that I had
+no other to make than what I had already made,--that of his surrendering
+as prisoners at discretion. I said that his troops had behaved with
+spirit; that they could not suppose that they would be worse treated in
+consequence of it; that, if he chose to comply with the demand, though
+hard, perhaps the sooner the better; that it was in vain to make any
+proposition to me; that he, by this time, must be sensible that the
+garrison would fall; that both of us must [view?] all blood spilt for
+the future by the garrison as murder; that my troops were already
+impatient, and called aloud for permission to tear down and storm the
+fort. If such a step was taken, many, of course, would be cut down; and
+the result of an enraged body of woodsmen breaking in must be obvious to
+him. It would be out of the power of an American officer to save a
+single man.
+
+Various altercation took place for a considerable time. Captain Helm
+attempted to moderate our fixed determination. I told him he was a
+British prisoner; and it was doubtful whether or not he could, with
+propriety, speak on the subject. Hamilton then said that Captain Helm
+was from that moment liberated, and might use his pleasure. I informed
+the Captain that I would not receive him on such terms; that he must
+return to the garrison, and await his fate. I then told
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton that hostilities should not commence until
+five minutes after the drums gave the alarm.
+
+[Illustration: WE MET AT THE CHURCH]
+
+We took our leave, and parted but a few steps, when Hamilton stopped,
+and politely asked me if I would be so kind as to give him my reasons
+for refusing the garrison any other terms than those I had offered. I
+told him I had no objections in giving him my real reasons, which were
+simply these: that I knew the greater part of the principal Indian
+partisans of Detroit were with him; that I wanted an excuse to put them
+to death or otherwise treat them as I thought proper; that the cries of
+the widows and the fatherless on the frontiers, which they had
+occasioned, now required their blood from my hand; and that I did not
+choose to be so timorous as to disobey the absolute commands of their
+authority, which I looked upon to be next to divine; that I would rather
+lose fifty men than not to empower myself to execute this piece of
+business with propriety; that, if he chose to risk the massacre of his
+garrison for their sakes, it was his own pleasure; and that I might,
+perhaps, take it into my head to send for some of those widows to see it
+executed.
+
+Major Hay paying great attention, I had observed a kind of distrust in
+his countenance, which in a great measure influenced my conversation
+during this time. On my concluding, "Pray, sir," said he, "who is it
+that you call Indian partisans?" "Sir," I replied, "I take Major Hay to
+be one of the principal." I never saw a man in the moment of execution
+so struck as he appeared to be,--pale and trembling, scarcely able to
+stand. Hamilton blushed, and, I observed, was much affected at his
+behavior. Major Bowman's countenance sufficiently explained his disdain
+for the one and his sorrow for the other.
+
+Some moments elapsed without a word passing on either side. From that
+moment my resolutions changed respecting Hamilton's situation. I told
+him that we would return to our respective posts; that I would
+reconsider the matter, and let him know the result. No offensive
+measures should be taken in the meantime. Agreed to; and we parted. What
+had passed being made known to our officers, it was agreed that we
+should moderate our resolutions.
+
+That afternoon the following articles were signed and the garrison
+surrendered:
+
+I. Lieutenant-governor Hamilton engages to deliver up to Colonel Clark,
+Fort Sackville, as it is at present, with all the stores, etc.
+
+II. The garrison are to deliver themselves as prisoners of war, and
+march out with their arms and accoutrements, etc.
+
+III. The garrison to be delivered up at ten o'clock tomorrow.
+
+IV. Three days time to be allowed the garrison to settle their accounts
+with the inhabitants and traders of this place.
+
+V. The officers of the garrison to be allowed their necessary baggage,
+etc.
+
+Signed at Post St. Vincent (Vincennes), 24th of February, 1779.
+
+Agreed for the following reasons: the remoteness from succor; the state
+and quantity of provisions, etc.; unanimity of officers and men in its
+expediency; the honorable terms allowed; and, lastly, the confidence in
+a generous enemy.
+
+  (Signed) HENRY HAMILTON,
+    _Lieut.-Gov. and Superintendent._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The business being now nearly at an end, troops were posted in several
+strong houses around the garrison and patrolled during the night to
+prevent any deception that might be attempted. The remainder on duty
+lay on their arms, and for the first time for many days past got some
+rest.
+
+During the siege, I got only one man wounded. Not being able to lose
+many, I made them secure themselves well. Seven were badly wounded in
+the fort through ports.
+
+Almost every man had conceived a favorable opinion of
+Lieutenant-governor Hamilton,--I believe what affected myself made some
+impression on the whole; and I was happy to find that he never deviated,
+while he stayed with us, from that dignity of conduct that became an
+officer in his situation. The morning of the 25th approaching,
+arrangements were made for receiving the garrison [which consisted of
+seventy-nine men], and about ten o'clock it was delivered in form; and
+everything was immediately arranged to the best advantage.[452-7]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[428-1] The first permanent settlement in Indiana was made on the Wabash
+River 117 miles southwest of the present city of Indianapolis. On what
+was originally the location of a prominent Indian village, the French
+established a fort in 1702, and it was generally known as _The Post_. In
+1736 the name of Vinsenne, an early commandant of the post, was applied
+to the little settlement, and this name later came to be written
+_Vincennes_, in its present form.
+
+The English took the place in 1763; in 1778 the weak English garrison
+was driven out by the forerunners of George Rogers Clark, who from
+Kaskaskia sent Captain Helm to take charge. The same winter Captain Helm
+and the one soldier who constituted his garrison were compelled to
+surrender to the British General, Hamilton, who had come from Detroit to
+recapture the fort. It was in the following February that Clark made the
+final capture as told in these memoirs. Thereafter Vincennes belonged to
+Virginia, who ceded it to the United States in 1783. Vincennes was the
+capital of Indiana territory from 1801 to 1816.
+
+[428-2] The selection is taken from General Clark's Memoirs.
+
+[431-3] These were men from Vincennes whom Clark had taken from canoes
+and from whom he obtained much information, although it was not given
+with perfect willingness.
+
+[437-4] It was said with some show of justice that General Hamilton had
+paid the Indians a bounty on the scalps of American settlers. His course
+in many ways had aroused the bitterest hatred among the colonists, and
+especially among the "Big Knives."
+
+[446-5] The letter addressed to Lieutenant-governor Hamilton read as
+follows:
+
+"SIR:--In order to save yourself from the impending storm that now
+threatens you, I order you immediately to surrender yourself, with all
+your garrison, stores, etc. For, if I am obliged to storm, you may
+depend on such treatment as is justly due to a murderer. Beware of
+destroying stores of any kind or any papers or letters that are in your
+possession, or hurting one house in town: for, by heavens! if you do,
+there shall be no mercy shown you.
+
+  (Signed)  G. R. CLARK."
+
+In reply the British officer sent the following:
+
+"Lieutenant-governor Hamilton begs leave to acquaint Colonel Clark that
+he and his garrison are not disposed to be awed into any action unworthy
+British subjects."
+
+[452-7] Clark was a man of action, not a scholar; and the errors of
+which his writings are full may well be overlooked, so full of interest
+is what he says. The selections above have been slightly changed,
+principally, however, in spelling and the use of capital letters.
+
+Hamilton was sent in irons to Virginia and was kept in close
+confinement, at Williamsburg, till nearly the end of the Revolution.
+Washington wrote, as a reason for not exchanging the British prisoner,
+that he "had issued proclamations and approved of practices, which were
+marked with cruelty towards the people that fell into his hands, such as
+inciting the Indians to bring in scalps, putting prisoners in irons, and
+giving men up to be the victims of savage barbarity."
+
+
+
+
+THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK
+
+_Adapted from_ EDGAR A. POE
+
+
+     NOTE.--The ingeniousness of the idea in this story marks it as
+     Poe's, though it lacks some of the characteristics which we expect
+     to find in everything that came from the brain of that most unusual
+     writer. Many of his poems and many of his most famous stories, such
+     as _Ligeia_, _The Fall of the House of Usher_, _Eleanora_ and _The
+     Masque of the Red Death_, have a fantastic horror about them which
+     is scarcely to be found in the writings of any other man. _The Gold
+     Bug_, which is included in Volume IX of this series is a
+     characteristic example of another type of Poe's stories; it shows
+     at its best his marvelous inventive power.
+
+     _Three Sundays in a Week_, as given here, has been abridged
+     somewhat, though nothing that is essential to the story has been
+     omitted.
+
+"You hard-hearted, dunder-headed, obstinate, rusty, crusty, musty,
+fusty, old savage!" said I, in fancy, one afternoon, to my granduncle,
+Rumgudgeon, shaking my fist at him in imagination. Only in imagination.
+The fact is, some trivial difference did exist, just then, between what
+I said and what I had not the courage to say--between what I did and
+what I had half a mind to do.
+
+The old porpoise, as I opened the drawing-room door, was sitting with
+his feet upon the mantelpiece, making strenuous efforts to accomplish a
+ditty.
+
+"My _dear_ uncle," said I, closing the door gently and approaching him
+with the blandest of smiles, "you are always so very kind and
+considerate, and have evinced your benevolence in so many--so very many
+ways--that--that I feel I have only to suggest this little point to you
+once more to make sure of your full acquiescence."
+
+"Hem!" said he, "good boy! go on!"
+
+"I am sure, my dearest uncle (you confounded old rascal!) that you have
+no design really and seriously to oppose my union with Kate. This is
+merely a joke of yours, I know--ha! ha! ha!--how very pleasant you are
+at times."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" said he, "curse you! yes!"
+
+"To be sure--of course! I knew you were jesting. Now, uncle, all that
+Kate and myself wish at present, is that you would oblige us--as regards
+the _time_--you know, uncle--in short, when will it be most convenient
+for yourself that the wedding shall--shall come off, you know?"
+
+"Come off, you scoundrel! what do you mean by that?--Better wait till it
+goes on."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!--he! he! he!--oh, that's good--oh, that's capital--such a
+wit! But all we want, just now, you know, uncle, is that you should
+indicate the time precisely."
+
+"Ah!--precisely?"
+
+"Yes, uncle--that is, if it would be quite agreeable to yourself."
+
+"Wouldn't it answer, Bobby, if I were to leave it at random--sometime
+within a year or so, for example?--_must_ I say precisely?"
+
+"_If_ you please, uncle--precisely."
+
+"Well, then, Bobby, my boy--you're a fine fellow, aren't you?--since you
+_will_ have the exact time, I'll--why, I'll oblige you for once."
+
+"Dear uncle!"
+
+[Illustration: "WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY"]
+
+"Hush, sir!" (drowning my voice)--"I'll oblige you for once. You shall
+have my consent--and the _plum_, we mustn't forget the plum--let me see!
+When shall it be? To-day's Sunday--isn't it! Well, then, you shall be
+married precisely--_precisely_, now mind!--_when three Sundays come
+together in a week_! Do you hear me, sir! What are you gaping at? I say,
+you shall have Kate and her plum when three Sundays come together in a
+week--but not _till_ then--you young scapegrace--not _till_ then, if I
+die for it. You know me--_I'm a man of my word_--_now be off_!" Here he
+grinned at me viciously, and I rushed from the room in despair.
+
+A very "fine old English gentleman" was my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, but,
+unlike him of the song, he had his weak points. He was a little, pursy,
+pompous, passionate, semi-circular somebody, with a red nose, a thick
+skull, a long purse, and a strong sense of his own consequence. With the
+best heart in the world, he contrived, through a predominate whim of
+contradiction, to earn for himself, among those who only knew him
+superficially, the character of a curmudgeon. Like many excellent
+people, he seemed possessed with a spirit of tantalization, which might
+easily, at a casual glance, be mistaken for malevolence. To every
+request, a positive "No!" was his immediate answer; but in the end--in
+the long, long end--there were exceedingly few requests which he
+refused. Against all attacks upon his purse he made the most sturdy
+defence; but the amount extorted from him at last, was generally in
+direct ratio with the length of the siege and the stubbornness of the
+resistance. In charity, no one gave more liberally, or with a worse
+grace.
+
+For the fine arts, especially for the belles-lettres, he entertained a
+profound contempt. Thus my own inkling for the Muses had excited his
+entire displeasure. He assured me one day, when I asked him for a new
+copy of Horace, that the translation of "_Poeta nascitur, non
+fit_"[456-1] was "a nasty poet for nothing fit"--a remark which I took
+in high dudgeon. His repugnance to the "humanities" had, also, much
+increased of late, by an accidental bias in favor of what he supposed to
+be natural science. Somebody had accosted him in the street, mistaking
+him for a no less personage than Doctor Dubble L. Dee, the lecturer upon
+quack physics. This set him off at a tangent; and just at the epoch of
+this story, my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, was accessible and pacific only
+upon the points which happened to chime in with the hobby he was riding.
+
+I had lived with the old gentleman all my life. My parents in dying had
+bequeathed me to him as a rich legacy. I believe the old villain loved
+me as his own child--nearly if not quite as well as he loved Kate--but
+it was a dog's existence that he led me after all. From my first year
+until my fifth, he obliged me with very regular floggings. From five to
+fifteen, he threatened me, hourly, with the House of Correction. From
+fifteen to twenty not a day passed in which he did not promise to cut me
+off with a shilling. I was a sad dog it is true, but then it was a part
+of my nature--a point of my faith.
+
+In Kate, however, I had a firm friend, and I knew it. She was a good
+girl, and told me very sweetly that I might have her (plum and all)
+whenever I could badger my granduncle, Rumgudgeon, into the necessary
+consent. Poor girl! she was barely fifteen, and without this consent her
+little amount in the funds was not come-at-able until five immeasurable
+summers had "dragged their slow length along." What then to do? In vain
+we besieged the old gentleman with importunities. It would have stirred
+the indignation of Job himself to see how much like an old mouser he
+behaved to us two little mice. In his heart he wished for nothing more
+ardently than our union. He had made up his mind to this all along. In
+fact he would have given ten thousand pounds from his own pocket (Kate's
+plum was _her own_) if he could have invented anything like an excuse
+for complying with our very natural wishes. But then we had been so
+imprudent as to broach the matter ourselves. Not to oppose it under
+the circumstances, I sincerely believe, was not in his power.
+
+[Illustration: "IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND"]
+
+My granduncle was, after his own fashion, a man of his word, no doubt.
+The spirit of his vows he made no scruple of setting at naught, but the
+letter was a bond inviolable. Now it was this peculiarity in his
+disposition of which Kate's ingenuity enabled us one fine day, not long
+after our interview in the drawing-room, to take a very unexpected
+advantage.
+
+It happened then--so the Fates ordered it--that among the naval
+acquaintances of my betrothed were two gentlemen who had just set foot
+upon the shores of England, after a year's absence, each, in foreign
+travel. In company with these gentlemen, Kate and I, preconcertedly,
+paid uncle Rumgudgeon a visit on the afternoon of Sunday, October the
+tenth--just three weeks after the memorable decision which had so
+cruelly defeated our hopes. For about half an hour the conversation ran
+upon ordinary topics; but at last we contrived, quite naturally, to give
+it the following turn:
+
+_Capt. Pratt._ "Well, I have been absent just one year. Just one year
+to-day, as I live--let me see! yes!--this is October the tenth. You
+remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, I called this day year, to bid you good-bye.
+And by the way, it does seem something like a coincidence, does it
+not--that our friend, Captain Smitherton, has been absent exactly a year
+also, a year to-day?"
+
+_Smitherton._ "Yes! just one year to a fraction. You will remember, Mr.
+Rumgudgeon, that I called with Captain Pratt on this very day last year,
+to pay my parting respects."
+
+_Uncle._ "Yes, yes, yes--I remember it very well--very queer indeed!
+Both of you gone just one year. A very strange coincidence indeed! Just
+what Doctor Dubble L. Dee would denominate an extraordinary concurrence
+of events. Doctor Dub--"
+
+_Kate_ (_interrupting_). "To be sure papa, it _is_ something strange;
+but then Captain Pratt and Captain Smitherton didn't go altogether the
+same route, and that makes a difference you know."
+
+_Uncle._ "I don't know any such thing, you hussy! How should I? I think
+it only makes the matter more remarkable. Doctor Dubble L. Dee--"
+
+_Kate._ "Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round Cape Horn, and Captain
+Smitherton doubled the Cape of Good Hope."
+
+_Uncle._ "Precisely! the one went east and the other went west, you
+jade, and they have both gone quite round the world. By the bye, Doctor
+Dub--"
+
+_Myself_ (_hurriedly_). "Captain Pratt, you must come and spend the
+evening with us to-morrow--you and Smitherton--you can tell us all about
+your voyage, and we'll have a game of whist, and--"
+
+_Pratt._ "Whist, my dear fellow--you forget. To-morrow will be Sunday.
+Some other evening--"
+
+_Kate._ "Oh, no, fie!--Robert's not _quite_ so bad as that. _To-day's_
+Sunday."
+
+_Uncle._ "To be sure--to be sure."
+
+_Pratt._ "I beg both your pardons--but I can't be so much mistaken. I
+know to-morrow's Sunday, because--"
+
+_Smitherton_ (_much surprised_). "What _are_ you all thinking about?
+Wasn't _yesterday_ Sunday, I should like to know?"
+
+_All._ "Yesterday, indeed! you _are_ out!"
+
+_Uncle._ "To-day's Sunday, I say--don't I know?"
+
+_Pratt._ "Oh, no!--to-morrow's Sunday."
+
+_Smitherton._ "You are _all_ mad--every one of you. I am as positive
+that yesterday was Sunday as I am that I sit upon this chair."
+
+_Kate_ (_jumping up eagerly_). "I see it--I see it all. Papa, this is a
+judgment upon you, about--about you know what. Let me alone, and I'll
+explain it all in a minute. It's a very simple thing, indeed. Captain
+Smitherton says that yesterday was Sunday: so it was; he is right.
+Cousin Bobby, and papa and I, say that to-day is Sunday: so it is, we
+are right. Captain Pratt maintains that to-morrow will be Sunday: so it
+will, he is right, too. The fact is, we are all right, and thus _three
+Sundays have come together in a week_."
+
+_Smitherton_ (_after a pause_). "By the bye, Pratt, Kate has us
+completely. What fools we two are! Mr. Rumgudgeon, the matter stands
+thus: the earth, you know, is twenty-four thousand miles in
+circumference. Now this globe turns upon its own axis--revolves--spins
+around--these twenty-four thousand miles of extent, going from west to
+east, in precisely twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr.
+Rumgudgeon?"
+
+_Uncle._ "To be sure--to be sure. Doctor Dub--"
+
+_Smitherton_ (_drowning his voice_). "Well sir, that is at the rate of
+one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail from this position
+a thousand miles east. Of course I anticipate the rising of the sun here
+at London by just one hour. I see the sun rise one hour before you do.
+Proceeding, in the same direction, yet another thousand miles, I
+anticipate the rising by two hours--another thousand, and I anticipate
+it by three hours, and so on, until I go entirely round the globe, and
+back to this spot, when having gone twenty-four thousand miles east, I
+anticipate the rising of the London sun by no less than twenty-four
+hours; that is to say, I am a day _in advance_ of your time. Understand,
+eh?"
+
+_Uncle._ "But Dubble L. Dee--"
+
+_Smitherton_ (_speaking very loud_). "Captain Pratt, on the contrary,
+when he had sailed a thousand miles west of this position, was an hour,
+and when he had sailed twenty-four thousand miles west was twenty-four
+hours, or one day, _behind_ the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday
+was Sunday--thus with you, to-day is Sunday--and thus with Pratt,
+to-morrow will be Sunday. And what is more, Mr. Rumgudgeon, it is
+positively clear that that we are _all right_; for there can be no
+philosophical reason assigned why the idea of one of us should have
+preference over that of the other."
+
+_Uncle._ "My eyes!--well, Kate--well Bobby!--this _is_ a judgment upon
+me as you say. But I am a man of my word--_mark that_! You shall have
+her, my boy (plum and all), when you please. Done up, by Jove! Three
+Sundays in a row! I'll go and take Dubble L. Dee's opinion upon _that_."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[456-1] A poet is born, not made.
+
+
+
+
+THE MODERN BELLE
+
+_By_ STARK
+
+
+    She sits in a fashionable parlor,
+      And rocks in her easy chair;
+    She is clad in silks and satins,
+      And jewels are in her hair;
+    She winks and giggles and simpers,
+      And simpers and giggles and winks;
+    And though she talks but little,
+      'Tis a good deal more than she thinks.
+
+    She lies abed in the morning
+      Till nearly the hour of noon,
+    Then comes down snapping and snarling
+      Because she was called so soon;
+    Her hair is still in papers,
+      Her cheeks still fresh with paint,--
+    Remains of her last night's blushes,
+      Before she intended to faint.
+
+    She dotes upon men unshaven,
+      And men with "flowing hair;"
+    She's eloquent over mustaches,
+      They give such a foreign air.
+    She talks of Italian music,
+      And falls in love with the moon;
+    And, if a mouse were to meet her,
+      She would sink away in a swoon.
+
+    Her feet are so very little,
+      Her hands are so very white,
+    Her jewels so very heavy,
+      And her head so very light;
+    Her color is made of cosmetics
+      (Though this she will never own),
+    Her body is made mostly of cotton,
+      Her heart is made wholly of stone.
+
+    She falls in love with a fellow
+      Who swells with a foreign air;
+    He marries her for her money,
+      She marries him for his hair!
+    One of the very best matches,--
+      Both are well mated in life;
+    _She's got a fool for a husband,
+      He's got a fool for a wife_!
+
+
+
+
+WIDOW MACHREE
+
+_By_ SAMUEL LOVER
+
+
+    Widow machree, it's no wonder you frown,--
+        Och hone! widow machree;
+    Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown,--
+        Och hone! widow machree.
+      How altered your air,
+      With that close cap you wear,--
+      'Tis destroying your hair,
+        Which should be flowing free;
+      Be no longer a churl
+      Of its black silken curl,--
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+
+    Widow machree, now the summer is come,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,
+    When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum?
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+      See the birds go in pairs,
+      And the rabbits and hares;
+      Why, even the bears
+        Now in couples agree;
+      And the mute little fish,
+      Though they can't spake, they wish,--
+        Och hone! widow machree.
+
+[Illustration: FAITH, I WISH YOU'D TAKE ME!]
+
+    Widow machree, and when winter comes in,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,--
+    To be poking the fire all alone is a sin,
+        Och hone! widow machree.
+      Sure the shovel and tongs
+      To each other belongs,
+      And the kettle sings songs
+        Full of family glee;
+      While alone with your cup
+      Like a hermit you sup,
+      Och hone! widow machree.
+
+    And how do you know, with the comforts I've towld,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,--
+    But you're keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld,
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+      With such sins on your head,
+      Sure your peace would be fled;
+      Could you sleep in your bed
+        Without thinking to see
+      Some ghost or some sprite,
+      That would wake you each night,
+        Crying "Och hone! widow machree!"
+
+    Then take my advice, darling widow machree,--
+        Och hone! widow machree,--
+    And with my advice, Faith, I wish you'd take me,
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+      You'd have me to desire
+      Then to stir up the fire;
+      And sure hope is no liar
+        In whispering to me,
+      That the ghosts would depart
+      When you'd me near your heart,--
+        Och hone! widow machree!
+
+
+
+
+LIMESTONE BROTH
+
+_By_ GERALD GRIFFIN
+
+
+"My father went once upon a time about the country, in the idle season,
+seeing if he could make a penny at all by cutting hair or setting
+rashurs or pen-knives, or any other job that would fall in his way.
+
+Weel an' good--he was one day walking alone in the mountains of Kerry,
+without a ha'p'ny in his pocket (for though he traveled afoot, it cost
+him more than he earned), an' knowing there was but little love for a
+County Limerick man in the place where he was, an' being half perished
+with the hunger, an' evening drawing nigh, he didn't know well what to
+do with himself till morning.
+
+Very good--he went along the wild road; an' if he did, he soon sees a
+farmhouse at a little distance o' one side--a snug-looking place, with
+the smoke curling up out of the chimney, an' all tokens of good living
+inside. Well, some people would live where a fox would starve.
+
+What do you think did my father do? He wouldn't beg (a thing one of our
+people never done yet, thank heaven!) an' he hadn't the money to buy a
+thing, so what does he do? He takes up a couple o' the big limestones
+that were lying in the road, in his two hands, an' away with him to the
+house.
+
+[Illustration: HE SOON SEES A FARMHOUSE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE]
+
+'Lord save all here!' says he, walking in the door.
+
+'And you kindly,' says they.
+
+'I'm come to you,' says he, this way, looking at the two limestones, 'to
+know would ye let me make a little limestone broth over your fire, until
+I'll make my dinner?'
+
+'Limestone broth!' says they to him again: 'what's that, _aroo_?'
+
+'Broth made of limestone,' says he; 'what else?'
+
+'We never heard of such a thing,' says they.
+
+'Why, then, you may hear it now,' says he, 'an' see it also, if you'll
+gi' me a pot an' a couple o' quarts o' soft water.'
+
+'You can have it an' welcome,' says they.
+
+So they put down the pot an' the water, an' my father went over an' tuk
+a chair hard by the pleasant fire for himself, an' put down his two
+limestones to boil, an' kept stirrin' them round like stir-about.
+
+Very good--well, by-an'-by, when the wather began to boil--''Tis
+thickening finely,' says my father; 'now if it had a grain o' salt at
+all, 'twould be a great improvement to it.'
+
+'Raich down the salt-box, Nell,' says the man o' the house to his wife.
+So she did.
+
+'Oh, that's the very thing, just,' says my father, shaking some of it
+into the pot. So he stirred it again a while, looking as sober as a
+minister. By-an'-by he takes the spoon he had stirring it an' tastes it.
+
+'It is very good now,' says he, 'altho' it wants something yet.'
+
+'What is it?' says they.
+
+'Oyeh, wisha nothin',' says he; 'maybe 't is only fancy o' me.'
+
+'If it's anything we can give you,' says they, 'you're welcome to it.'
+
+''Tis very good as it is,' says he; 'but when I'm at home, I find it
+gives it a fine flavor just to boil a little knuckle o' bacon, or mutton
+trotters, or anything that way along with it.'
+
+'Raich hether that bone o' sheep's head we had at dinner yesterday,
+Nell,' says the man o' the house.
+
+'Oyeh, don't mind it,' says my father; 'let it be as it is.'
+
+'Sure if it improves it, you may as well,' says they.
+
+'Baithershin!' says my father, putting it down.
+
+So after boiling it a good piece longer, ''Tis fine limestone broth,'
+says he, 'as ever was tasted, and if a man had a few piatez,' says he,
+looking at a pot o' them that was smoking in the chimney corner, 'he
+couldn't desire a better dinner.'
+
+They gave him the piatez, and he made a good dinner of themselves and
+the broth, not forgetting the bone, which he polished equal to chaney
+before he let it go. The people themselves tasted it, an' tho't it as
+good as any mutton broth in the world."
+
+
+
+
+THE KNOCKOUT
+
+_Adapted From The Autobiography of_ DAVY CROCKETT
+
+
+One day as I was walking through the woods, I came to a clearing on a
+hillside, and as I climbed the slope I was startled by loud, profane and
+boisterous voices which seemed to proceed from a thick cover of
+undergrowth about two hundred yards in advance of me.
+
+"You kin, kin you?"
+
+"Yes I kin and I'm able to do it! Boo-oo-oo!--O wake snakes, brimstone
+and fire! Don't hold me, Nick Stoval; the fight's made up and I'll jump
+down your throat before you kin say 'quit.'"
+
+"Now Nick, don't hold him! Just let the wildcat come, and I'll tame him.
+Ned'll see me a fair fight, won't you Ned?"
+
+"O yes, I'll see you a fair fight; blast my old shoes if I don't."
+
+"That's sufficient, as Tom Haines said when he saw the elephant; now let
+him come."
+
+Thus they went on with countless oaths and with much that I could not
+distinctly hear. In mercy's name, I thought, what a band of ruffians is
+at work here. I quickened my gait and had come nearly opposite the thick
+grove, whence the noises proceeded, when my eye caught, indistinctly
+through the foliage of the scrub oaks and hickories that intervened,
+glimpses of a man or men who seemed to be in a violent struggle.
+Occasionally, too, I could catch those deep-drawn, emphatic oaths which
+men utter when they deal heavy blows in conflict. As I was hurrying to
+the spot, I saw the combatants fall to the ground, and after a short
+struggle I saw the uppermost one (for I could not see the others) make a
+heavy plunge with both his thumbs. At the same instant I heard a cry in
+the accent of keenest torture--"Enough, my eye is out."
+
+For a moment I stood completely horror-struck. The accomplices in this
+brutal deed had apparently all fled at my approach, for not a one was to
+be seen.
+
+"Now blast your corn-shucking soul," said the victor, a lad of about
+eighteen, as he arose from the ground, "come cuttin' your shines 'bout
+me agin next time I come to the court-house will you? Get your owl-eye
+in agin if you kin."
+
+At this moment he saw me for the first time. He looked frightened and
+was about to run away when I called out--"Come back, you brute, and help
+me relieve the poor critter you have ruined forever."
+
+Upon this rough salutation he stopped, and with a taunting curl of the
+nose, replied. "You needn't kick before you're spurred. There an't
+nobody here nor han't been, nuther. I was just seeing how I could have
+fout." So saying, he pointed to his plow, which stood in the corner of
+the fence about fifty yards from the battle ground. Would any man in his
+senses believe that a rational being could make such a fool of himself?
+All that I had heard and seen was nothing more nor less than a rehearsal
+of a knock-down and drag-out fight in which the young man had played all
+the parts for his own amusement. I went to the ground from which he had
+risen, and there were the prints of his two thumbs plunged up to the
+balls in the mellow earth, and the ground around was broken up as if two
+stags had been fighting on it.
+
+As I resumed my journey, I laughed outright at this adventure, for it
+reminded me of Andrew Jackson's attack on the United States bank. He had
+magnified it into a monster and then began to swear and gouge until he
+thought he had the monster on his back, and when the fight was over and
+he got up to look for his enemy, he could find none anywhere.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE COUNTRY SQUIRE
+
+_Translated From The Spanish of_ THOMAS YRIARTE
+
+
+    A country squire of greater wealth than wit
+      (For fools are often blessed with fortune's smile),
+    Had built a splendid house and furnished it
+                  In splendid style.
+
+    "One thing is wanting," said a friend; "for though
+      The rooms are fine, the furniture profuse,
+    You lack a library, dear sir, for show,
+                  If not for use."
+
+    "'Tis true, but zounds!" replied the squire with glee,
+      "The lumber-room in yonder northern wing
+    (I wonder I ne'er thought of it) will be
+                  The very thing.
+
+    "I'll have it fitted up without delay
+      With shelves and presses of the newest mode,
+    And rarest wood, befitting every way
+                  A squire's abode.
+
+    "And when the whole is ready, I'll dispatch
+      My coachman--a most knowing fellow--down
+    To buy me, by admeasurement, a batch
+                  Of books in town."
+
+    But ere the library was half supplied
+      With all its pomps of cabinet and shelf,
+    The booby squire repented him, and cried
+                  Unto himself:
+
+    "This room is much more roomy than I thought;
+      Ten thousand volumes hardly would suffice
+    To fill it, and would cost, however bought,
+                  A plaguey price.
+
+[Illustration: THE SQUIRE'S LIBRARY]
+
+    "Now, as I only want them for their looks,
+      It might, on second thoughts, be just as good,
+    And cost me next to nothing, if the books
+                  Were made of wood.
+
+    "It shall be so, I'll give the shaven deal
+      A coat of paint--a colorable dress,
+    To look like calf or vellum and conceal
+                  Its nakedness.
+
+    "And, gilt and lettered with the author's name,
+      Whatever is most excellent and rare
+    Shall be, or seem to be ('tis all the same),
+                  Assembled there."
+
+    The work was done, the simulated hoards
+      Of wit and wisdom round the chamber stood,
+    In binding some; and some, of course, in _boards_
+                  Where all were wood.
+
+    From bulky folios down to slender twelves
+      The choicest tomes, in many an even row
+    Displayed their lettered backs upon the shelves,
+                  A goodly show.
+
+    With such a stock as seemingly surpassed
+      The best collections ever formed in Spain,
+    What wonder if the owner grew at last
+                  Supremely vain?
+
+    What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf
+      And conned their titles, that the squire began,
+    Despite his ignorance, to think himself
+                  A learned man?
+
+    Let every amateur, who merely looks
+      To backs and binding, take the hint, and sell
+    His costly library--_for painted books
+                  Would serve as well_.
+
+     Poetry means more to us and we get more enjoyment from reading it
+     when we understand some of the difficulties that the poet has in
+     writing it and can recognize those things which make it poetry in
+     form.
+
+     For instance, you will notice in the poem which we have just read
+     that every stanza has four lines; that, in printing, the first and
+     third lines begin close to the margin, while the second and fourth
+     lines begin a little farther in on the page--that is, they are
+     _indented_. Now if you will look at the ends of the lines you will
+     see that the words with which the first and third lines terminate
+     are in rhyme, and that the words with which the second and fourth
+     lines terminate are in rhyme. In other words, the indentation at
+     beginning of lines in poetry calls attention to the rhymes.
+
+     It is true throughout _The Country Squire_ that every pair of lines
+     taken alternately ends in rhymes which are perfect or nearly so.
+     Now a perfect rhyme is one in which the two rhyming syllables are
+     both accented, the vowel sound and the consonants which follow the
+     vowels are identical, and the sounds preceding the vowel are
+     different. For instance, the words _smile_ and _style_ rhyme. Both
+     of these are monosyllables and hence accented. The vowel sound is
+     the long sound of _i_; the consonant sound of _l_ follows. The
+     sounds preceding the _i_ are similar but not identical, represented
+     by _sm_ in the first case and _st_ in the second. In the fifth
+     stanza the first line ends with the word _dispatch_, the third with
+     the word _batch_. This rhyme is perfect, because the accent on the
+     word _dispatch_ is naturally on the second syllable. In the ninth
+     stanza the word _dress_ is made to rhyme with _nakedness_. This is
+     not strictly perfect, for the natural accent of _nakedness_ is on
+     the first syllable.
+
+     It may be interesting for beginners to work out the rhyme scheme of
+     a poem and write it down. This is very easily done. Take the first
+     stanza in _The Country Squire_. Represent the rhyming syllable of
+     the first line by _a_, the rhyming syllable of the second line by
+     _b_. It follows then that the rhyming syllable of the third line
+     must be represented by _a_, and the rhyming syllable of the fourth
+     line by _b_. Writing these letters in succession we have the
+     nonsense word _abab_, which will always stand for stanzas of this
+     kind. If you are interested in this turn to the studies at the end
+     of the next poem, _To My Infant Son_.
+
+
+
+
+TO MY INFANT SON
+
+_By_ Thomas Hood
+
+
+    Thou happy, happy elf!
+    (But stop, first let me kiss away that tear,)
+    Thou tiny image of myself!
+    (My love, he's poking peas into his ear,)
+    Thou merry, laughing sprite,
+    With spirits, feather light,
+    Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin;
+    (My dear, the child is swallowing a pin!)
+
+    Thou little tricksy Puck!
+    With antic toys so funnily bestuck,
+    Light as the singing bird that rings the air,--
+    (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)
+    Thou darling of thy sire!
+    (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire!)
+      Thou imp of mirth and joy!
+    In love's dear chain so bright a link,
+      Thou idol of thy parents;--(Drat the boy!
+    There goes my ink.)
+
+      Thou cherub, but of earth;
+    Fit playfellow for fairies, by moonlight pale,
+      In harmless sport and mirth,
+    (That dog will bite him, if he pulls his tail!)
+      Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey
+    From every blossom in the world that blows,
+      Singing in youth's Elysium ever sunny,--
+    (Another tumble! That's his precious nose!)
+
+    Thy father's pride and hope!
+    (He'll break that mirror with that skipping rope!)
+    With pure heart newly stamped from nature's mint,
+    (Where did he learn that squint?)
+    Thou young domestic dove!
+    (He'll have that ring off with another shove,)
+
+[Illustration: "THERE GOES MY INK!"]
+
+    Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest!
+    (Are these torn clothes his best?)
+    Little epitome of man!
+    (He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan,)
+    Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life,
+    (He's got a knife!)
+
+    Thou enviable being!
+    No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,
+      Play on, play on,
+      My elfin John!
+    Toss the light ball, bestride the stick,--
+    (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)
+      With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down,
+    Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,
+    With many a lamb-like frisk!
+      (He's got the scissors snipping at your gown!)
+    Thou pretty opening rose!
+    (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)
+    Balmy and breathing music like the south
+    (He really brings my heart into my mouth!)
+    Bold as a hawk, yet gentle as the dove;
+    (I'll tell you what, my love,
+    I cannot write unless he's sent above.)
+
+     The stanzas of this poem vary considerably in length, but it will
+     be interesting to examine them according to the plans suggested at
+     the end of the preceding poem, _The Country Squire_. The first
+     stanza here has eight lines, the first four of them rhyming
+     alternately in pairs, the next four in couplets. If now we apply
+     the plan that is suggested for writing out the rhyme scheme, the
+     word for the first stanza is _ababccdd_.
+
+     The second stanza has ten lines. Its rhyme scheme is evidently
+     quite different, for here the first six lines rhyme in couplets and
+     the last four alternately in pairs. The word to represent such a
+     scheme is _aabbccdede_.
+
+     Can you write out the words which will represent the rhyme scheme
+     in the other stanzas in this poem?
+
+     Find the other poems in this book and write out the rhyme scheme
+     for them. Notice that in most poems the stanzas have the same
+     number of lines, and that the rhyme scheme of one stanza is just
+     like that of another. Take the other books in this series and turn
+     to the poems, find what an endless variety of rhymes there is and
+     how the scheme differs in different poems.
+
+
+
+
+PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES
+
+
+NOTE.--The pronunciation of difficult words is indicated by respelling
+them phonetically. _N_ is used to indicate the French nasal sound; _K_
+the sound of _ch_ in German; _ue_ the sound of the German _ue_, and French
+_u_; _oe_ the sound of _oe_ in foreign languages.
+
+  ALGIDUS, _al' ji dus_
+
+  ANJOU, _oN'' zhoo'_
+
+  ATHELSTANE, _ath' el stane_
+
+  BANGWEOLO, _bang'' we o' lo_
+
+  BECHUANALAND, _beck'' oo ah' na land_
+
+  BOIS-GUILBERT, BRIAN DE, _bwah geel bayr'_, _bre oN' deh_
+
+  CEDRIC, _ked' rick_, or _sed' rick_
+
+  CHALDEA, _kal de' ah_
+
+  CHARGE D'AFFAIRES, _shahr'' zhay' daf fayr'_
+
+  CHIAJA, _kyah' ya_
+
+  FALERII, _fah le' ry i_
+
+  FRONT-DE-BOEUF, _froN deh beuf'_
+
+  GIBAULT, _zhee bo'_
+
+  KHIVA, _ke' vah_
+
+  LIGEIA, _li je' yah_
+
+  MAISONVILLE, _may'' zoN veel'_
+
+  MALVOISIN, _mal vwah saN'_
+
+  MARESCHAL, _mahr' shal_
+
+  MASSOUEY, _mas su' y_
+
+  NAOMI, _nay o' mi_
+
+  NGAMI, _ngah' me_
+
+  NICARAGUA, _nee'' kar ah' gwah_
+
+  ONEIDA, _o ni' dah_
+
+  PSALMS, _sahms_
+
+  RAKSH, _rahksh_
+
+  ROWENA, _ro e' na_
+
+  RUSTUM, _roos' tum_
+
+  SAGA, _say' gah_
+
+  SEIUS, _se' yus_
+
+  SEISTAN, _says' tahn_
+
+  SENNACHERIB, _sen nak' e rib_
+
+  SOHRAB, _so' rahb_
+
+  TARPEIAN, _tahr pe' yan_
+
+  TONGRES, _toN' gr'_
+
+  VELASQUEZ, _vay lahs' kayth_
+
+  VENEZUELA, _ven e zwe' lah_
+
+  VINCENNES, _vin senz'_
+
+  YRIARTE, _e re ahr' tay_
+
+  ZOUCHE, _zooch_
+
+
+
+
+   ix  Babocck changed to Babcock
+  Plate facing p. 30  Abbottsford changed to Abbotsford
+   37  glady changed to gladly
+   45  Saxon, Rowena. changed to Saxon, Rowena."
+   60  avow-himself changed to avow himself
+   76  occupy. "Ladies," changed to occupy. Ladies,"
+   86  puting changed to putting
+  106  burden?" changed to burden?
+  108  landingplace changed to landing-place
+  161  carelessnesss changed to carelessness
+  172  "It is yours changed to 'It is yours
+  174  Aber-baijan changed to Ader-baijan
+  182  Gudruz changed to Gudurz
+  196, fn. 23  indentification changed to identification
+  221  Engand changed to England
+  264  its breast!" changed to its breast!
+  308  with Chrismas holly changed to with Christmas holly
+  345  hear me! changed to "hear me!
+  352  footsool changed to footstool
+  356  Chrismas Eve the mass changed to Christmas Eve the mass
+  363, fn. 13  line means. changed to line means,
+  363, fn. 15  ascent to to changed to ascent to
+  363, fn. 15  Now. gentlemen changed to Now, gentlemen
+  368  woful-wan changed to woeful-wan
+  432  well acount for changed to well account for
+  451  and patroled during changed to and patrolled during
+  452  bady changed to badly
+  460  Why, papa changed to "Why, papa
+
+  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling
+
+  blindman's-buff / blind-man's buff
+  candle-light / candlelight
+  eye-brows / eyebrows
+  farm-house / farmhouse
+  fellow-men / fellowmen
+  fore-feet / forefeet
+  home-made / homemade
+  house-tops / housetops
+  look-out / lookout
+  on-looking / onlooking
+  plow-man / plowman
+  sea-weed / seaweed
+  snuff-box / snuffbox
+  to-morrow / tomorrow
+  wild-cat / wildcat
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 6, by
+Charles H. Sylvester
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