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Where was the boasted superiority of the Texans over the Indian race? or were these individuals around us of that class of beings who, not daring to reside within the jurisdiction of the law, were obliged to lead a borderer's life, exposed to all the horrors of Indian warfare and famine?

She was studying the face of the man, the dark, brave face that was now her whole world. She was aware of the horseman behind, with his burden, she was aware of the horrors surrounding them, but the face of the man held her, held her without a qualm of fear now. If death lay before them she was in his arms. Buck's thoughts were far enough from death.

The king could protect them from the horrors with which they were threatened on his account, not as the head of the executive, but as a hostage. He was a danger in his palace; he would be a security in prison.

He grinned, and though she could not see him grin, she knew that he was doing it. She knew that he was even then imagining a hundred horrors that the Rangars would endure before they died. She might name her terms. She could save them. "No!" she hissed hoarsely. "No! They are my terms! I name them! You must spare them spare the Rangars spare every man on this hill, and theirs, and all they have!"

Think what would be the effect if a fire broke out anywhere in this block!" He looked at me in a startled way. "True," he said; "we must fly. I would cheerfully give my life if its sacrifice would arrest these horrors; but it would not." Christina came and stood beside him. He wrote a letter to General Quincy. He made three copies of it.

He had just been distributing decorations to his fusiliers and territorials, and they were marching past him, flags flying and bugles playing. Every one of those men had a record of heroism, and every face in those ranks had looked on horrors unnameable.

You may perhaps look with a smile on the profusion of Latin mottoes some crawling endwise up the shaft of a pillar, some issuing on a scroll from angels' trumpets on the emblematic horrors, the figures rising headless from the grave, and all the traditional ingenuities in which it pleased our fathers to set forth their sorrow for the dead and their sense of earthly mutability.

Hardly could any revolution be more disastrous for the great mass of the population than the present order or rather disorder of our life, with its daily sacrifices to exhausting and unnatural toil, to poverty, drunkenness, and profligacy, with all the horrors of the war that is at hand, which will swallow up in one year more victims than all the revolutions of the century.

'You wouldn't like to have inspired the most beautiful poem that was ever written? cried Doreen incredulously. 'No, I wouldn't like to have inspired a vision of such horrors, maintained Vava stoutly. Doreen could not help laughing at her tone. 'Then you can't admire some of my pictures, she suggested. 'I like your little dog, Vava replied, laughing too.

Still, they saw no hesitation in each other's faces, and they nodded a mute and unprotesting assent when a shaggy man near them said in a meek voice: "We'll git swallowed." The youth stared at the land in front of him. Its foliages now seemed to veil powers and horrors.