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"'There burned our breaming-fagots, All pale along the shore: There rose our worn pavilions A sail above an oar: As flashed each yearning anchor Through mellow seas afire, So swift our careless captains Rowed each to his desire. "'Where lay our loosened harness? Where turned our naked feet? Whose tavern mid the palm-trees? What quenchings of what heat? Oh fountain in the desert!
And now, had I been near enough, I would have leaped upon them to slay and be slain, since life was become a hateful thing. As it was, crouched there 'mid the leaves, I watched them crawl from the rock dragging their hurt comrade with them.
The veranda actually projected over its brink, and seemed to hang in mid air above it. Mainwaring almost mechanically threw his arm out to catch the incautious girl, who had stepped heedlessly to its extreme edge. "How odd! Don't you find it rather dangerous here?" he could not help saying. "I mean you might have had a railing that wouldn't intercept the view and yet be safe?"
He brought out three hundred pounds, British currency; he remained in the country just four months, and returned to England with barely enough to pay his passage home. Son of the isles! rave not to me Of the old world's pride and luxury; Why did you cross the western deep, Thus like a love-lorn maid to weep O'er comforts gone and pleasures fled, 'Mid forests wild to earn your bread?
"Revolution, I suppose;" responded Deane calmly, mid turning to his nearest neighbor, he continued in the first French that came to him, "Une autre révolution, n'est-ce-pas, Monsieur?"
Her being turned to this younger man as the needle to the pole, even though his words were false, his kiss a betrayal. When the mid hour hung in silence over the wilderness a figure came out of the darkness and stood at the gate beside that watcher, Cif Bordoux, who paced its length with noiseless tread.
In dark seas where the whirlpool rages Stands the eternal Rock of Ages; Amid dangers dire, 'mid wreck and wraith God plants the banner of Christian faith. Unworthy the sailor whose heart doth fail When the God of storms rides on the gale; Coward the soldier who shuns the grave, And thrice accursed the trembling slave Who in life's battles, darkest hour Renounces God and denies His power.
"Then there are three dresses good enough for my eyes, but neither is good enough for the youths of Longpuddle," he said. "No, not that exactly, Dick. Still, you see, I do want to look pretty to them there, that's honest! But I sha'n't be much longer." "How much?" "A quarter of an hour." "Very well; I'll come in in a quarter of an hour." "Why go away?" "I mid as well."
Thus we might contrast our condition very favourably with that of many poor fellows, who have been compelled to leave their sinking ships in the mid Atlantic or Pacific hundreds of miles from any known coast, without chart or compass, and with a scant supply of water and provisions.
The couple bore up bravely until the whistle blew-then, clasping each other in an almost brutal embrace, they parted, he to jump into the moving train mid the shouts of well-wishers, and she, her shoulders shaking with emotion, to return to her empty home. Four months later, almost to a day, I again put my head out of the car window as we stopped at Changis.
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