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Held his head high, and cared for no man, he."
Slowly and sadly Enoch answered her:
“ His head is low, and no man cares for him.
I think I have not three days more to live;
I am the man.” At which the woman gave
A half-incredulous, half-hysterical cry.
“ You Arden, you ! nay,

sure he was a foot
Higher than you be.” Enoch said again,
“My God has bowed me down to what I am ;
My grief and solitude have broken me;
Nevertheless, know you that I am he
Who married - but that name has twice been changed,
I married her who married Philip Ray.
Sit, listen." Then he told her of his voyage,
His wreck, his lonely life, his coming back,
His gazing in on Annie, his resolvę,
And how he kept it. As the woman heard,
Fast flowed the current of her easy tears,
While in her heart she yearned incessantly
To rush abroad all round the little haven,
Proclaiming Enoch Arden and his woes ;
But awed and promise-bounden she forbore,
Saying only, “See your bairns before you go!
Eh, let me fetch 'em, Arden," and arose
Eager to bring them down, for Enoch hung
A moment on her words, but then replied:

Woman, disturb me not now at the last,
But let me hold my purpose till I die.
Sit down again; mark me and understand,
While I have power to speak. I charge you now,
When you shall see her, tell her that I died

Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;
Save for the bar between us, loving her
As when she laid her head beside my own.
And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
So like her mother, that my latest breath
Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.
And tell my son that I died blessing him.
And say to Philip that I blessed him too;
He never meant us any thing but good.
But if my children care to see me dead,
Who hardly knew me living, let them come,
I am their father, but she must not come,
For my dead face would vex her after-life.
And now there is but one of all my blood,
Who will embrace me in the world-to-be :
This hair is his; she cut it off and gave it,
And I have borne it with me all these years,
And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:
It will moreover be a token to her,
That I am he.”

He ceased; and Miriam Lane Made such a voluble answer promising all, That once again he rolled his eyes upon her Repeating all he wished, and once again She promised

Then the third night after this, While Enoch slumbered motionless and pale,

And Miriam watched and dozed at intervals,
There came so loud a calling of the sea,
That all the houses in the haven rang.
He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad,
Crying with a loud voice, “A sail ! a sail !
I am saved ;” and so fell back and spoke no more.

So passed the strong heroic soul away. And when they buried him the little port Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.





im-prov-vi-sa-to're, one who com- | naïve-te (nälēv-), ingenuousness.

poses and sings extempore. re-per-toire' (re-per-twär'), reperlong-bow, fib, invention.

tory or collection.

He was

THERE came into the “Cave” a gentleman with a lean brown face and long black mustachios, dressed in very loose clothes, and evidently a stranger to the place. At least, he had not visited it for a long time. pointing out changes to a lad who was in his company; and, calling for sherry-and-water, he listened to the music, and twirled his mustachios with great enthusiasm.

At the very first glimpse of me, the boy jumped up from the table, bounded across the room, ran to me with his hands out, and, blushing, said, “Don't you know me?

It was little Newcome, my schoolfellow, whom I had not seen for six years, grown a fine tall young stripling now, with the same bright blue eyes which I remembered when he was quite a little boy.

“What the deuce brings you here?” said I. He laughed and looked roguish. “My father — that's

would come. He's just come back from India. He says all the wits used to come here, - Mr.

my father

From The Newcomes.

Sheridan, Captain Morris, Colonel Hanger, Professor Porson. I told him your name, and that you used to be very

kind to me when I first went to Smithfield. I've left now : I'm to have a private tutor. I say, I've got such a jolly pony.

t's better fun than old Smiffle." Here the whiskered gentleman, Newcome's father, pointing to a waiter to follow him with his glass of sherry-and-water, strode across the room twirling his mustachios, and came up to the table where we sat, making a salutation with his hat in a very stately and polite manner, so that Hoskins himself was, as it were, obliged to bow; the glee-singers murmured among themselves (their eyes rolling over their glasses towards one another as they sucked brandy-and-water), and that mischievous little wag, little Nadab the improvvisatore (who had just come in), began to mimic him, feeling his imaginary whiskers, after the manner of the stranger, and flapping about his pocket-handkerchief in the most ludicrous manner. Hoskins checked this ribaldry by sternly looking towards Nadab, and at the same time calling upon the gents to give their orders, the waiter being in the room, and Mr. Bellew about to sing a song. Newcome's father came up, and held out his hand to

I dare say I blushed, for I had been comparing him to the admirable Harley in the “Critic,” and had christened him Don Ferolo Whiskerandos.

He spoke in a voice exceedingly soft and pleasant, and with a cordiality so simple and sincere that my laughter shrank away ashamed, and gave place to a feeling much more respectful and friendly. In youth, you see, one is touched by kindness. A man of the world may, of course, be grateful or not as he chooses.


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