NUMBER TEN. Sal. Oh! art thou ready to forgive, my brother? To pardon him who found one single error, Of glorious qualities Mal. Ad. Oh, stay thee, Saladin! I did not ask for life. I only wished Cries loudly for the blood of Malek Adhel. Pleased by my fate to add one other leaf Sal. Thou shalt not. [Enter ATTENDANT, Atten. My lord, the troops assembled by your order Tumultuous throng the courts. The prince's death Not one of them but vows he will not suffer. The mutes have fled; the very guards rebel. Nor think I, in this city's spacious round, Can e'er be found a hand to do the office. Mal. Ad. Oh, faithful friends! [To Atten.] Thine shalt. Atten. Mine ?--Never! The other first shall lop it from the body. Sal. They teach the Emperor his duty well. Tell them he thanks them for it. Tell them, too, That ere their opposition reached our ears, Atten. Oh, joyful news! I haste to gladden many a gallant heart, [Exit. Sal. These men, the meanest in society, The outcasts of the earth,-by war, by nature The accents of affection from thy lips, Oh, these can cast aside their vowed allegiance, Call back one danger which thou hast not shared, Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed, When death seemed certain, only uttered, "BROTHER!" Saladin and his foes, and that brave breast Mal. Ad. By these tears, I can! O brother! from this very hour, a new, A glorious life commences! I am all thine! May this sword fence thee in the bloody field. My heart, my soul, my sword, are thine forever. UNCLE DANIEL'S APPARITION AND PRAYER. The following, from "THE GILDED AGE," by Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens,} and Charles Dudley Warner, represents a family emigrating from Eastern Tennessee into Missouri. The subjects of this sketch had never before been out of sight of "The Knobs of East Tennessee." Whatever the lagging, dragging journey may have been to the rest of the emigrants, it was a wonder and delight to the children, a world of enchantment; and they believed it to be peopled with the mysterious dwarfs and giants and goblins that figured in the tales the negro slaves were in the habit of telling them nightly by the shuddering light of the kitchen fire. At the end of nearly a week of travel, the party went into camp near a shabby village which was caving, house by house into the hungry Mississippi. The river astonished the children beyond measure. Its mile-breadth of water seemed an ocean to them, in the shadowy twilight, and the vague riband of trees on the further shore, the verge of a continent which surely none but they had ever seen before. "Uncle Dan'l" (colored,) aged 40; his wife," aunt Jinny,” aged 30, "Young Miss" Emily Hawkins, "Young Mars" Washington Hawkins and "Young Mars" Clay, the new member of the family, ranged themselves on a log, after supper, and contemplated the marvelous river and discussed it. The moon rose and sailed aloft through a maze of shredded clond-wreaths; the sombre river just perceptibly brightened under the veiled light; a deep silence pervaded the air and was emphasized, at intervals, rather than broken, by the hooting of an owl, the baying of a dog, or the muffled crash of a caving bank in the distance. The little company assembled on the log were all children, (at least in simplicity and broad and comprehensive ignorance,) and the remarks they made about the river were in keeping with their character; and so awed were they by the grandeur and the solemnity of the scene before them, and by their belief that the air was filled with invisible spirits and that the faint zephyrs were caused by their passing wings, that all their talk took to itself a tinge of the supernatural, and their voices were subdued to a low and reverent tone. Suddenly Uncle Dan'l exclaimed: "Chil'en, dah's sumfin a comin'!" All crowded close together and every heart beat faster. Uncle Dan'l pointed down the river with his bony finger. A deep coughing sound troubled the stillness, way toward a wooded cape that jutted into the stream a mile distant. All in an instant a fierce eye of fire shot out from behind the cape and sent a long brilliant pathway quivering athwart the dusky water. The coughing grew louder and louder, the glaring eye grew larger and still larger, glared wilder and still wilder. A huge shape developed itself out of the gloom, and from its tall duplicate horns dense volumes of smoke, starred and spangled with sparks, poured out and went tumbling away into the farther darkness. Nearer and nearer the thing came, till its long sides began to glow with spots of light which mirrored themselves in the river and attended the monster like a torchlight procession. "What is it! Oh, what is it, Uncle Dan'l!" With deep solemnity the answer came: It was not necessary to say it twice. They were all kneeling, in a moment. And then while the mysterious coughing rose stronger and stronger and the threatening glare reached farther and wider, the negro's voice lifted up its supplica tions: "O Lord, we's ben mighty wicked, an' we knows dat we 'zerve to go to de bad place, but good Lord, deah Lord, we aint ready yit, we aint ready-let dese po' chil'en hab one PPP* mo' chance, jes' one mo' chance. Take de ole niggah if you's got to hab somebody.-Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know whah you's a gwine to, we don't know who you's got yo' eye on, but we knows by de way you's a comin', we knows by de way you's a tiltin' along in yo' charyot o' fiah dat some po' sinner's a gwyne to ketch it. But good Lord, dese chil'en don't b'long heah, dey's f'm Obedstown whab dey don't know nuffin, an' you knows, yo' own sef, dat dey aint 'sponsible. An' deah Lord, good Lord, it aint like yo' mercy, it aint like yo' pity, it aint like yo' long-sufferin' lovin'-kindness for to take dis kind o' 'vantage o' sich little chil'en as dese is when dey's so many ornery grown folks chuck full o' cussedness dat wants roastin' down dah. O Lord, spah de little chil'en, don't tar de little chil'en away f'm dey frens, jes' let 'em off jes' dis once, and take it out'n de ole niggah. HEAH I IS, LORD, HEAH I IS! De ole niggah's ready, Lord, de ole The flaming and churning steamer was right abreast the party, and not twenty steps away. The awful thunder of a mud-valve suddenly burst forth, drowning the prayer, and as suddenly Uncle Dan'l snatched a child under each arm and scoured into the woods with the rest of the pack at his heels. And then, ashamed of himself, he halted in the deep darkness and shouted, (but rather feebly :) "Heah I is, Lord, heah I is!" There was a moment of throbbing suspense, and then, to the surprise and comfort of the party, it was plain that the august presence had gone by, for its dreadful noises were receding. Uncle Dan'l headed a cautious reconnoissance in the direction of the log. Sure enough "the Lord" was just turning a point a short distance up the river, and while they looked, the lights winked out and the coughing diminished by degrees and presently ceased altogether. "H'wsh! Well now dey's some folks says dey aint no 'ficiency in prah. Dis chile would like to know whah we'd a ben now if it warn't fo' dat prah? Dat's it. Dat's it!" "Uncle Dan'l, do you reckon it was the prayer that saved us?" said Clay. Does I reckon? Don't I know it! Whah was yo' eyes? Warn't de Lord jeɛ' a comin' chow! chow! CHOW! an' a goin' on turrible-an' do de Lord carry on dat way 'dout dey's sumfin don't suit him? An' warn't he a lookin' right at dis gang heah, an' warn't he jes' a reachin' for 'em? An' d'you spec' he gwyne to let 'em off 'dout somebody ast him to do it? No indeedy!" 66 Do you reckon he saw us, Uncie Dan'l?" "De law sakes, chile, didn't I see him a lookin at us?" 66 Did you feel scared, Uncle Dan'l?" No sah! When a man is 'gaged in prah, he aint 'fraid o' nuffin-dey can't nuffin tetch him." "Well what did you run for?" "Well, I-I-Mars Clay, when a man is under de influence ob de sperit, he do-no what he's 'bout-no sah; dat man do-no what he's 'bout. You mout take an' tah de head off'n dat man an' he wouldn't scasely fine it out. Dah's de Hebrew chil'en dat went frough de fiah; dey was burnt considable— ob coase dey was; but dey didn't know nuffin 'bout it-heal right up agin; if dey'd ben gals dey'd missed dey long haah. (hair,) maybe, but dey wouldn't felt de burn.” "I don't know but what they were girls. I think they were." "Now Mars Clay, you knows better'n dat. Sometimes a body can't tell whedder you's a sayin' what you means or whedder you's a sayin' what you don't mean, 'case you says 'em bofe de same way." "But how should I know whether they were boys or girls?" "Goodness sakes, Mars Clay, don't de good book say? 'Sides, don't it call 'em de He-brew chil'en? If dey was gals wouldn't dey be de she-brew chil'en? Some people dat kin read don't 'pear to take no notice when dey do read." "Well, Uncle Dan'l, I think that My! here comes another one up the river! There can't be two!" 66 We gone dis time-we done gone dis time, sho'! Dey aint two, Mars Clay-dat's de same one. De Lord kin 'pear eberywhah in a second. Goodness, how de fiah an' de smoke do belch up! Dat mean business, honey. He comin' now like he fo'got sumfin. Come 'long, chil'en, time you's gwyne to roos'. Go 'long wid you-ole Uncle Dan'l gwyne out in de woods to rastle in prah-de ole niggah gwyne to do what he kin to sabe you agin." He did go to the woods and pray; but he went so far that he doubted, himself, if the Lord heard him when He went by. |