Page images
PDF
EPUB

sided under the table into a dark place, and was motionless, all but his eye, which followed every one. Ailie got worse, and began to wander in her mind. 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.

The end was drawing on; the golden bowl was breaking; the silver cord was fast being loosed. The body and 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 know whose rod and staff were comforting her.

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 without a stain. "What is our life? It is even a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."

Rab, all this time, had been fully 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.

"Rab," said James, roughly, pointing with his thumb to the bottom of the bed. Rab leaped up and settled himself. "Master John, wait for me," said the carrier, and disappeared in the darkness, thundering down stairs 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 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 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 into town.

He had an armful of blankets, and was streaming with perspiration. Motioning Rab down, he took his wife in his arms and laid her in the blankets; then, lifting her, he nodded sharply to me, and, with a resolved but utterly miserable face, strode along the passage and down stairs, followed by Rab.

I would 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, and then, taking Jess by the head, he moved away. He did not notice me; neither did Rab, who presided behind the cart.

James buried his wife, with his neighbors mourning, Rab watching the proceedings from a distance. James looked after everything; then, rather suddenly, fell ill, and was insensible when the doctor came.

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. Rab once more looked on, and slunk home to the stable.

And what of Rab? I asked for him next week of the carrier who got the good-will 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 with the dog?"

I was not to be so put off.

66 Where's Rab ?"

He, getting confused and red, and intermeddling with his hair, said, "Indeed, sir, Rab's dead."

"Dead! what did he die of ?"

'Well, sir," said he, getting redder, "he did n't exactly die; he was killed. I was loth to make away with the old dog, but I could do nothing else."

I believed him. Fit end for Rab, quick and complete. His teeth and friends gone, why should he keep the peace and be civil ?

He was buried near the burn; the children of the village, his companions, who used to make very free with him and sit on his ample stomach as he lay half asleep at the door in the sun, watching the solemnity.

-Adapted from John Brown, M. D.

4. A TURKISH LEGEND.

A certain Pasha, dead five thousand years,
Once from his harem fled in sudden tears,
And had this sentence on the city's gate
Deeply engraven, "Only God is great."

So these four words above the city's noise
Hung like the accents of an angel's voice,
And evermore from the high barbacan
Saluted each returning caravan.

Lost is that city's glory. Every gust

Lifts, with crisp leaves the unknown Pasha's dust,
And all is ruin -save one wrinkled gate
Whereon is written, "Only God is great."

- Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

5. THE LADY OF SHALOTT.

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;

And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs forever
By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken - sail'd

Skimming down to Camelot:

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to tower'd Camelot:

And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in upland airy,
Listening, whispers, "'T is the fairy
Lady of Shalott.'

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colors gay.
She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:

There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:

« PreviousContinue »