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Till I heard—the crack of a pistol-shot; and I sprang to the workshop door.
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That door was locked and the bolt shut fast. I could not cry, nor speak,
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But I snatched my boy from the corner there, sick with a sudden dread,
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And carried him out through the garden plot, forgetting my arms were weak,
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Forgetting the rainy torrent that beat on my bare young head;
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The front door yielded to my touch. I staggered faintly in,
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Fearing—what? He stood unharmed, though the wall showed a jagged hole.
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In his trembling hand, his aim had failed, and the great and deadly sin
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Of his own life's blood was not yet laid on the poor man's tortured soul.
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But the pistol held another charge, I knew; and like something mad
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I shook my fist in my poor man's face, and shrieked at him, fierce and wild,
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"How can you dare to rob us so?"—and I seized the little lad;
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"How can you dare to rob your wife and your little helpless child?"
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All of a sudden, he bowed his head, while from his nerveless hand
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That hung so limp, I almost feared to see the pistol fall.
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"Maggie," he said in a low, low voice, "you see me as I stand
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A hopeless man. My plan has failed. That letter tells you all."
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Then for a moment the house was still as ever the house of death;
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Only the drip of the rain outside, for the storm was almost o'er;
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But no;—there followed another sound, and I started, caught my breath;
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As a stalwart man with a heavy step came in at the open door.
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I shall always think him an angel sent from heaven in a human guise;
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He must have guessed our awful state; he couldn't help but see
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There was something wrong; but never a word, never a look in his eyes
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Told what he thought, as in kindly way he talked to Joe and me.
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He was come from a thriving city firm, and they'd sent him here to say
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That one of Joe's inventions was a great, successful thing;
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And which do you think? His window-catch that he'd tinkered up one day;
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And we were to have a good per cent on the sum that each would bring.
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And then the pleasant stranger went, and we wakened as from a dream.
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My man bent down his head and said, "Little woman, you've saved my life!"
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The worn look gone from his dear gray eyes, and in its place, a gleam
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From the sun that has shone so brightly since, on Joe and his happy wife!
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Jeannie Pendleton Ewing.
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The Two Glasses
Table of Contents
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There sat two glasses filled to the brim
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On a rich man's table, rim to rim,
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One was ruddy and red as blood,
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And one was clear as the crystal flood.
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Said the Glass of Wine to his paler brother:
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"Let us tell tales of the past to each other;
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I can tell of banquet and revel and mirth,
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Where I was king, for I ruled in might;
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For the proudest and grandest souls of earth
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Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.
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From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;
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From the heights of fame I have hurled men down.
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I have blasted many an honored name;
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I have taken virtue and given shame;
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I have tempted youth with a sip, a taste,
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That has made his future a barren waste.
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Far greater than any king am I,
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Or than any army beneath the sky.
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I have made the arm of the driver fail,
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And sent the train from the iron rail.
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I have made good ships go down at sea.
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And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.
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Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall;
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And my might and power are over all!
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Ho, ho, pale brother," said the Wine,
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"Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?"
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Said the Water Glass: "I cannot boast
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Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host;
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But I can tell of hearts that were sad,
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By my crystal drops made bright
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