The Felon’s Wife.The scene was a court of justice, where criminals were tried,And a woman and child[234]stood sobbing close by a prisoner’s side.The man was the woman’s husband, the child their darling boy,And they waited the dreadful sentence that would two fond lives destroy.The sunshine streamed through the window and fell on the judge’s face,[235]While the song of a bird in a tree-top[236]seemed harsh and out of place;Then the sunlight merged into shadow,[237]and the bird had ceased to sing—So quick are the fitful changes that fate and nature bring.The ordeal soon was over, and the woman stood alone,Alone with her tender offspring, with a heart that weighed like stone.The convict’s tear still glistened like a gem on her pallid cheek,And that tear-drop mutely told her what his white lips could not speak.’Twas a sad farewell, that parting, for it severed man and wife—Doomed her to toil unaided; him to servitude for life:But time soothes[238]the deepest sorrow, and love will hope and pray,And soon like a dream grew the terrors of that sad and awful day.* * * * *’Tis night on the Mississippi, and a steamer, staunch and new,Has stopped at a village landing her fuel to renew;A man, the only passenger, steps[239]hurriedly on board,And mates and crew stand ready, waiting the captain’s word:“Haul in the gang-plank, lively! cast off your hawser, quick!”Who—oo! blows the hoarse, loud whistle, for the fog hangs low[240]and thick:Dong! dong! rings the pilot’s signal; plash! plash! go the mammoth wheels,And into the gloomy shadows, like a monster swan she steals.[241]A hundred souls are sleeping, and the engine’s throbbing drone[242]Has lulled the weary look-out with its drowsy monotone.Now the mist is lifting[243]slightly, and a light[244]gleams on the shore—’Tis gone; now the night grows blacker,[245]more dismal than before:Who-oo! goes the whistle hoarsely, but the steamer plows along,For the pilot knows his bearings and he softly hums a song.Who—oo! comes a sound, and faintly, like an echo far away;And the engine still is droning, still is heard the raining spray:“Boat ahead, sir!”[246]calls the look-out; “Ay, ay, sir, boat ahead!”Thus replies the watchful pilot as he glances at the red,[247]Then turns to see the green[248]light, which the mist-clouds magnifyTill upon each wheelhouse, gleaming, stares a single monster eye.Below the lights burn dimly, for all are locked in sleep,Save the stewardess and a porter who silent vigil keep—Who—oo! that’s close upon us! dong! quick goes the pilot’s bell,The engineer springs promptly and handles his lever well:“God help us! what has happened?” the frantic people cry,While terror and wild confusion are seen in every eye:Hark[249]to the trampling overhead! to the rudder’s rattling chain!To the shrieks that come from the cabin, where the women still remain!One blinding flash![250]one shudder! now everything is still,Save the swash[251]of the flowing river, and the sigh of the night wind[252]chill.The papers were full of the story, ’twas their theme for a day or more,Then the tale grew old and the world rolled on as smoothly as before.In a lowly home by the river[253]live a woman and her son,And the lines on their patient faces show what toil and care have done:They stand with a priest and surgeon, near the bed of a dying man,And hark to his broken whispers, while his ashen face they scan:His life had been worse than wasted, and his soul was black with sin,And a seething hell of sorrow was raging his breast within—“Yet—I’d—make—one—reparation—” and his trembling voice sinks low—“I—would—do—one—thing—of—honor—tho’ the last—before—I—go.”From—the—wreck—of—the—smouldering—steamer—fate—bore—me—bleeding—here,—That—my—awful—retribution—to—these—victims—might—appear—I—swear![254]—” and his voice grows louder, “if—you—search—that—satchel—there—[255]You—will—find—some—strange—confessions—and—the—proofs—of—truth—they bear—”On the wall[256]hangs a bag all blistered, which the woman hastes to reach,For she of all his hearers knows the purport of his speech.“This[257]proves my husband’s innocence! Thank God for what you’ve said!”And she turns to the lonely passenger, only to find him dead.* * * * *Softly the sunbeams golden steal[258]by a prison barLighting an empty dungeon whose iron door stands ajar;[259]And the same sun lights a cottage,[260]with a warm and cheery glow,Where three fond hearts united, with rapture overflow:“O, husband,” the woman whispers, “I knew that you told me true;”And he smiles and gently answers, “let us our vows renew;Come, boy, kiss your new found mother, whom we’ll love to the end of life,For we’ve bid farewell forever to the grief-tried felon’s wife.”—Geo.M. Vickers.Gestures.[234]H. O.[235]Left H. O.[236]A. L.[237]B. P. H. O.[238]P. H. O.[239]H. F.[240]B. P. H. O.[241]H. F.[242]P. H. F.[243]Raise hand P.[244]H. L.[245]B. V. H. O.[246]Look up.[247]Look up to right.[248]Look up to left.[249]Raise hand to listen.[250]V. H. O.[251]P. Sw.[252]A. O.[253]H. O.[254]Raise hand to swear.[255]Ind. H. O.[256]H. O.[257]Fist raised as though holding satchel.[258]P. Sw.[259]H. O.[260]Left H. O.
The Felon’s Wife.The scene was a court of justice, where criminals were tried,And a woman and child[234]stood sobbing close by a prisoner’s side.The man was the woman’s husband, the child their darling boy,And they waited the dreadful sentence that would two fond lives destroy.The sunshine streamed through the window and fell on the judge’s face,[235]While the song of a bird in a tree-top[236]seemed harsh and out of place;Then the sunlight merged into shadow,[237]and the bird had ceased to sing—So quick are the fitful changes that fate and nature bring.The ordeal soon was over, and the woman stood alone,Alone with her tender offspring, with a heart that weighed like stone.The convict’s tear still glistened like a gem on her pallid cheek,And that tear-drop mutely told her what his white lips could not speak.’Twas a sad farewell, that parting, for it severed man and wife—Doomed her to toil unaided; him to servitude for life:But time soothes[238]the deepest sorrow, and love will hope and pray,And soon like a dream grew the terrors of that sad and awful day.* * * * *’Tis night on the Mississippi, and a steamer, staunch and new,Has stopped at a village landing her fuel to renew;A man, the only passenger, steps[239]hurriedly on board,And mates and crew stand ready, waiting the captain’s word:“Haul in the gang-plank, lively! cast off your hawser, quick!”Who—oo! blows the hoarse, loud whistle, for the fog hangs low[240]and thick:Dong! dong! rings the pilot’s signal; plash! plash! go the mammoth wheels,And into the gloomy shadows, like a monster swan she steals.[241]A hundred souls are sleeping, and the engine’s throbbing drone[242]Has lulled the weary look-out with its drowsy monotone.Now the mist is lifting[243]slightly, and a light[244]gleams on the shore—’Tis gone; now the night grows blacker,[245]more dismal than before:Who-oo! goes the whistle hoarsely, but the steamer plows along,For the pilot knows his bearings and he softly hums a song.Who—oo! comes a sound, and faintly, like an echo far away;And the engine still is droning, still is heard the raining spray:“Boat ahead, sir!”[246]calls the look-out; “Ay, ay, sir, boat ahead!”Thus replies the watchful pilot as he glances at the red,[247]Then turns to see the green[248]light, which the mist-clouds magnifyTill upon each wheelhouse, gleaming, stares a single monster eye.Below the lights burn dimly, for all are locked in sleep,Save the stewardess and a porter who silent vigil keep—Who—oo! that’s close upon us! dong! quick goes the pilot’s bell,The engineer springs promptly and handles his lever well:“God help us! what has happened?” the frantic people cry,While terror and wild confusion are seen in every eye:Hark[249]to the trampling overhead! to the rudder’s rattling chain!To the shrieks that come from the cabin, where the women still remain!One blinding flash![250]one shudder! now everything is still,Save the swash[251]of the flowing river, and the sigh of the night wind[252]chill.The papers were full of the story, ’twas their theme for a day or more,Then the tale grew old and the world rolled on as smoothly as before.In a lowly home by the river[253]live a woman and her son,And the lines on their patient faces show what toil and care have done:They stand with a priest and surgeon, near the bed of a dying man,And hark to his broken whispers, while his ashen face they scan:His life had been worse than wasted, and his soul was black with sin,And a seething hell of sorrow was raging his breast within—“Yet—I’d—make—one—reparation—” and his trembling voice sinks low—“I—would—do—one—thing—of—honor—tho’ the last—before—I—go.”From—the—wreck—of—the—smouldering—steamer—fate—bore—me—bleeding—here,—That—my—awful—retribution—to—these—victims—might—appear—I—swear![254]—” and his voice grows louder, “if—you—search—that—satchel—there—[255]You—will—find—some—strange—confessions—and—the—proofs—of—truth—they bear—”On the wall[256]hangs a bag all blistered, which the woman hastes to reach,For she of all his hearers knows the purport of his speech.“This[257]proves my husband’s innocence! Thank God for what you’ve said!”And she turns to the lonely passenger, only to find him dead.* * * * *Softly the sunbeams golden steal[258]by a prison barLighting an empty dungeon whose iron door stands ajar;[259]And the same sun lights a cottage,[260]with a warm and cheery glow,Where three fond hearts united, with rapture overflow:“O, husband,” the woman whispers, “I knew that you told me true;”And he smiles and gently answers, “let us our vows renew;Come, boy, kiss your new found mother, whom we’ll love to the end of life,For we’ve bid farewell forever to the grief-tried felon’s wife.”—Geo.M. Vickers.Gestures.[234]H. O.[235]Left H. O.[236]A. L.[237]B. P. H. O.[238]P. H. O.[239]H. F.[240]B. P. H. O.[241]H. F.[242]P. H. F.[243]Raise hand P.[244]H. L.[245]B. V. H. O.[246]Look up.[247]Look up to right.[248]Look up to left.[249]Raise hand to listen.[250]V. H. O.[251]P. Sw.[252]A. O.[253]H. O.[254]Raise hand to swear.[255]Ind. H. O.[256]H. O.[257]Fist raised as though holding satchel.[258]P. Sw.[259]H. O.[260]Left H. O.
The scene was a court of justice, where criminals were tried,And a woman and child[234]stood sobbing close by a prisoner’s side.The man was the woman’s husband, the child their darling boy,And they waited the dreadful sentence that would two fond lives destroy.The sunshine streamed through the window and fell on the judge’s face,[235]While the song of a bird in a tree-top[236]seemed harsh and out of place;Then the sunlight merged into shadow,[237]and the bird had ceased to sing—So quick are the fitful changes that fate and nature bring.The ordeal soon was over, and the woman stood alone,Alone with her tender offspring, with a heart that weighed like stone.The convict’s tear still glistened like a gem on her pallid cheek,And that tear-drop mutely told her what his white lips could not speak.’Twas a sad farewell, that parting, for it severed man and wife—Doomed her to toil unaided; him to servitude for life:But time soothes[238]the deepest sorrow, and love will hope and pray,And soon like a dream grew the terrors of that sad and awful day.* * * * *’Tis night on the Mississippi, and a steamer, staunch and new,Has stopped at a village landing her fuel to renew;A man, the only passenger, steps[239]hurriedly on board,And mates and crew stand ready, waiting the captain’s word:“Haul in the gang-plank, lively! cast off your hawser, quick!”Who—oo! blows the hoarse, loud whistle, for the fog hangs low[240]and thick:Dong! dong! rings the pilot’s signal; plash! plash! go the mammoth wheels,And into the gloomy shadows, like a monster swan she steals.[241]A hundred souls are sleeping, and the engine’s throbbing drone[242]Has lulled the weary look-out with its drowsy monotone.Now the mist is lifting[243]slightly, and a light[244]gleams on the shore—’Tis gone; now the night grows blacker,[245]more dismal than before:Who-oo! goes the whistle hoarsely, but the steamer plows along,For the pilot knows his bearings and he softly hums a song.Who—oo! comes a sound, and faintly, like an echo far away;And the engine still is droning, still is heard the raining spray:“Boat ahead, sir!”[246]calls the look-out; “Ay, ay, sir, boat ahead!”Thus replies the watchful pilot as he glances at the red,[247]Then turns to see the green[248]light, which the mist-clouds magnifyTill upon each wheelhouse, gleaming, stares a single monster eye.Below the lights burn dimly, for all are locked in sleep,Save the stewardess and a porter who silent vigil keep—Who—oo! that’s close upon us! dong! quick goes the pilot’s bell,The engineer springs promptly and handles his lever well:“God help us! what has happened?” the frantic people cry,While terror and wild confusion are seen in every eye:Hark[249]to the trampling overhead! to the rudder’s rattling chain!To the shrieks that come from the cabin, where the women still remain!One blinding flash![250]one shudder! now everything is still,Save the swash[251]of the flowing river, and the sigh of the night wind[252]chill.The papers were full of the story, ’twas their theme for a day or more,Then the tale grew old and the world rolled on as smoothly as before.In a lowly home by the river[253]live a woman and her son,And the lines on their patient faces show what toil and care have done:They stand with a priest and surgeon, near the bed of a dying man,And hark to his broken whispers, while his ashen face they scan:His life had been worse than wasted, and his soul was black with sin,And a seething hell of sorrow was raging his breast within—“Yet—I’d—make—one—reparation—” and his trembling voice sinks low—“I—would—do—one—thing—of—honor—tho’ the last—before—I—go.”From—the—wreck—of—the—smouldering—steamer—fate—bore—me—bleeding—here,—That—my—awful—retribution—to—these—victims—might—appear—I—swear![254]—” and his voice grows louder, “if—you—search—that—satchel—there—[255]You—will—find—some—strange—confessions—and—the—proofs—of—truth—they bear—”On the wall[256]hangs a bag all blistered, which the woman hastes to reach,For she of all his hearers knows the purport of his speech.“This[257]proves my husband’s innocence! Thank God for what you’ve said!”And she turns to the lonely passenger, only to find him dead.* * * * *Softly the sunbeams golden steal[258]by a prison barLighting an empty dungeon whose iron door stands ajar;[259]And the same sun lights a cottage,[260]with a warm and cheery glow,Where three fond hearts united, with rapture overflow:“O, husband,” the woman whispers, “I knew that you told me true;”And he smiles and gently answers, “let us our vows renew;Come, boy, kiss your new found mother, whom we’ll love to the end of life,For we’ve bid farewell forever to the grief-tried felon’s wife.”—Geo.M. Vickers.
The scene was a court of justice, where criminals were tried,And a woman and child[234]stood sobbing close by a prisoner’s side.The man was the woman’s husband, the child their darling boy,And they waited the dreadful sentence that would two fond lives destroy.The sunshine streamed through the window and fell on the judge’s face,[235]While the song of a bird in a tree-top[236]seemed harsh and out of place;Then the sunlight merged into shadow,[237]and the bird had ceased to sing—So quick are the fitful changes that fate and nature bring.The ordeal soon was over, and the woman stood alone,Alone with her tender offspring, with a heart that weighed like stone.The convict’s tear still glistened like a gem on her pallid cheek,And that tear-drop mutely told her what his white lips could not speak.’Twas a sad farewell, that parting, for it severed man and wife—Doomed her to toil unaided; him to servitude for life:But time soothes[238]the deepest sorrow, and love will hope and pray,And soon like a dream grew the terrors of that sad and awful day.* * * * *’Tis night on the Mississippi, and a steamer, staunch and new,Has stopped at a village landing her fuel to renew;A man, the only passenger, steps[239]hurriedly on board,And mates and crew stand ready, waiting the captain’s word:“Haul in the gang-plank, lively! cast off your hawser, quick!”Who—oo! blows the hoarse, loud whistle, for the fog hangs low[240]and thick:Dong! dong! rings the pilot’s signal; plash! plash! go the mammoth wheels,And into the gloomy shadows, like a monster swan she steals.[241]A hundred souls are sleeping, and the engine’s throbbing drone[242]Has lulled the weary look-out with its drowsy monotone.Now the mist is lifting[243]slightly, and a light[244]gleams on the shore—’Tis gone; now the night grows blacker,[245]more dismal than before:Who-oo! goes the whistle hoarsely, but the steamer plows along,For the pilot knows his bearings and he softly hums a song.Who—oo! comes a sound, and faintly, like an echo far away;And the engine still is droning, still is heard the raining spray:“Boat ahead, sir!”[246]calls the look-out; “Ay, ay, sir, boat ahead!”Thus replies the watchful pilot as he glances at the red,[247]Then turns to see the green[248]light, which the mist-clouds magnifyTill upon each wheelhouse, gleaming, stares a single monster eye.Below the lights burn dimly, for all are locked in sleep,Save the stewardess and a porter who silent vigil keep—Who—oo! that’s close upon us! dong! quick goes the pilot’s bell,The engineer springs promptly and handles his lever well:“God help us! what has happened?” the frantic people cry,While terror and wild confusion are seen in every eye:Hark[249]to the trampling overhead! to the rudder’s rattling chain!To the shrieks that come from the cabin, where the women still remain!One blinding flash![250]one shudder! now everything is still,Save the swash[251]of the flowing river, and the sigh of the night wind[252]chill.The papers were full of the story, ’twas their theme for a day or more,Then the tale grew old and the world rolled on as smoothly as before.In a lowly home by the river[253]live a woman and her son,And the lines on their patient faces show what toil and care have done:They stand with a priest and surgeon, near the bed of a dying man,And hark to his broken whispers, while his ashen face they scan:His life had been worse than wasted, and his soul was black with sin,And a seething hell of sorrow was raging his breast within—“Yet—I’d—make—one—reparation—” and his trembling voice sinks low—“I—would—do—one—thing—of—honor—tho’ the last—before—I—go.”From—the—wreck—of—the—smouldering—steamer—fate—bore—me—bleeding—here,—That—my—awful—retribution—to—these—victims—might—appear—I—swear![254]—” and his voice grows louder, “if—you—search—that—satchel—there—[255]You—will—find—some—strange—confessions—and—the—proofs—of—truth—they bear—”On the wall[256]hangs a bag all blistered, which the woman hastes to reach,For she of all his hearers knows the purport of his speech.“This[257]proves my husband’s innocence! Thank God for what you’ve said!”And she turns to the lonely passenger, only to find him dead.* * * * *Softly the sunbeams golden steal[258]by a prison barLighting an empty dungeon whose iron door stands ajar;[259]And the same sun lights a cottage,[260]with a warm and cheery glow,Where three fond hearts united, with rapture overflow:“O, husband,” the woman whispers, “I knew that you told me true;”And he smiles and gently answers, “let us our vows renew;Come, boy, kiss your new found mother, whom we’ll love to the end of life,For we’ve bid farewell forever to the grief-tried felon’s wife.”—Geo.M. Vickers.
The scene was a court of justice, where criminals were tried,
And a woman and child[234]stood sobbing close by a prisoner’s side.
The man was the woman’s husband, the child their darling boy,
And they waited the dreadful sentence that would two fond lives destroy.
The sunshine streamed through the window and fell on the judge’s face,[235]
While the song of a bird in a tree-top[236]seemed harsh and out of place;
Then the sunlight merged into shadow,[237]and the bird had ceased to sing—
So quick are the fitful changes that fate and nature bring.
The ordeal soon was over, and the woman stood alone,Alone with her tender offspring, with a heart that weighed like stone.The convict’s tear still glistened like a gem on her pallid cheek,And that tear-drop mutely told her what his white lips could not speak.’Twas a sad farewell, that parting, for it severed man and wife—Doomed her to toil unaided; him to servitude for life:But time soothes[238]the deepest sorrow, and love will hope and pray,And soon like a dream grew the terrors of that sad and awful day.* * * * *’Tis night on the Mississippi, and a steamer, staunch and new,Has stopped at a village landing her fuel to renew;A man, the only passenger, steps[239]hurriedly on board,And mates and crew stand ready, waiting the captain’s word:“Haul in the gang-plank, lively! cast off your hawser, quick!”Who—oo! blows the hoarse, loud whistle, for the fog hangs low[240]and thick:Dong! dong! rings the pilot’s signal; plash! plash! go the mammoth wheels,And into the gloomy shadows, like a monster swan she steals.[241]
The ordeal soon was over, and the woman stood alone,
Alone with her tender offspring, with a heart that weighed like stone.
The convict’s tear still glistened like a gem on her pallid cheek,
And that tear-drop mutely told her what his white lips could not speak.
’Twas a sad farewell, that parting, for it severed man and wife—
Doomed her to toil unaided; him to servitude for life:
But time soothes[238]the deepest sorrow, and love will hope and pray,
And soon like a dream grew the terrors of that sad and awful day.
* * * * *
’Tis night on the Mississippi, and a steamer, staunch and new,
Has stopped at a village landing her fuel to renew;
A man, the only passenger, steps[239]hurriedly on board,
And mates and crew stand ready, waiting the captain’s word:
“Haul in the gang-plank, lively! cast off your hawser, quick!”
Who—oo! blows the hoarse, loud whistle, for the fog hangs low[240]and thick:
Dong! dong! rings the pilot’s signal; plash! plash! go the mammoth wheels,
And into the gloomy shadows, like a monster swan she steals.[241]
A hundred souls are sleeping, and the engine’s throbbing drone[242]Has lulled the weary look-out with its drowsy monotone.Now the mist is lifting[243]slightly, and a light[244]gleams on the shore—’Tis gone; now the night grows blacker,[245]more dismal than before:Who-oo! goes the whistle hoarsely, but the steamer plows along,For the pilot knows his bearings and he softly hums a song.
A hundred souls are sleeping, and the engine’s throbbing drone[242]
Has lulled the weary look-out with its drowsy monotone.
Now the mist is lifting[243]slightly, and a light[244]gleams on the shore—
’Tis gone; now the night grows blacker,[245]more dismal than before:
Who-oo! goes the whistle hoarsely, but the steamer plows along,
For the pilot knows his bearings and he softly hums a song.
Who—oo! comes a sound, and faintly, like an echo far away;And the engine still is droning, still is heard the raining spray:“Boat ahead, sir!”[246]calls the look-out; “Ay, ay, sir, boat ahead!”Thus replies the watchful pilot as he glances at the red,[247]Then turns to see the green[248]light, which the mist-clouds magnifyTill upon each wheelhouse, gleaming, stares a single monster eye.Below the lights burn dimly, for all are locked in sleep,Save the stewardess and a porter who silent vigil keep—Who—oo! that’s close upon us! dong! quick goes the pilot’s bell,The engineer springs promptly and handles his lever well:
Who—oo! comes a sound, and faintly, like an echo far away;
And the engine still is droning, still is heard the raining spray:
“Boat ahead, sir!”[246]calls the look-out; “Ay, ay, sir, boat ahead!”
Thus replies the watchful pilot as he glances at the red,[247]
Then turns to see the green[248]light, which the mist-clouds magnify
Till upon each wheelhouse, gleaming, stares a single monster eye.
Below the lights burn dimly, for all are locked in sleep,
Save the stewardess and a porter who silent vigil keep—
Who—oo! that’s close upon us! dong! quick goes the pilot’s bell,
The engineer springs promptly and handles his lever well:
“God help us! what has happened?” the frantic people cry,While terror and wild confusion are seen in every eye:Hark[249]to the trampling overhead! to the rudder’s rattling chain!To the shrieks that come from the cabin, where the women still remain!One blinding flash![250]one shudder! now everything is still,Save the swash[251]of the flowing river, and the sigh of the night wind[252]chill.The papers were full of the story, ’twas their theme for a day or more,Then the tale grew old and the world rolled on as smoothly as before.
“God help us! what has happened?” the frantic people cry,
While terror and wild confusion are seen in every eye:
Hark[249]to the trampling overhead! to the rudder’s rattling chain!
To the shrieks that come from the cabin, where the women still remain!
One blinding flash![250]one shudder! now everything is still,
Save the swash[251]of the flowing river, and the sigh of the night wind[252]chill.
The papers were full of the story, ’twas their theme for a day or more,
Then the tale grew old and the world rolled on as smoothly as before.
In a lowly home by the river[253]live a woman and her son,And the lines on their patient faces show what toil and care have done:They stand with a priest and surgeon, near the bed of a dying man,And hark to his broken whispers, while his ashen face they scan:His life had been worse than wasted, and his soul was black with sin,And a seething hell of sorrow was raging his breast within—“Yet—I’d—make—one—reparation—” and his trembling voice sinks low—“I—would—do—one—thing—of—honor—tho’ the last—before—I—go.”
In a lowly home by the river[253]live a woman and her son,
And the lines on their patient faces show what toil and care have done:
They stand with a priest and surgeon, near the bed of a dying man,
And hark to his broken whispers, while his ashen face they scan:
His life had been worse than wasted, and his soul was black with sin,
And a seething hell of sorrow was raging his breast within—
“Yet—I’d—make—one—reparation—” and his trembling voice sinks low—
“I—would—do—one—thing—of—honor—tho’ the last—before—I—go.”
From—the—wreck—of—the—smouldering—steamer—fate—bore—me—bleeding—here,—That—my—awful—retribution—to—these—victims—might—appear—I—swear![254]—” and his voice grows louder, “if—you—search—that—satchel—there—[255]You—will—find—some—strange—confessions—and—the—proofs—of—truth—they bear—”On the wall[256]hangs a bag all blistered, which the woman hastes to reach,For she of all his hearers knows the purport of his speech.“This[257]proves my husband’s innocence! Thank God for what you’ve said!”And she turns to the lonely passenger, only to find him dead.* * * * *Softly the sunbeams golden steal[258]by a prison barLighting an empty dungeon whose iron door stands ajar;[259]And the same sun lights a cottage,[260]with a warm and cheery glow,Where three fond hearts united, with rapture overflow:“O, husband,” the woman whispers, “I knew that you told me true;”And he smiles and gently answers, “let us our vows renew;Come, boy, kiss your new found mother, whom we’ll love to the end of life,For we’ve bid farewell forever to the grief-tried felon’s wife.”—Geo.M. Vickers.
From—the—wreck—of—the—smouldering—steamer—fate—bore—me—bleeding—here,—
That—my—awful—retribution—to—these—victims—might—appear—
I—swear![254]—” and his voice grows louder, “if—you—search—that—satchel—there—[255]
You—will—find—some—strange—confessions—and—the—proofs—of—truth—they bear—”
On the wall[256]hangs a bag all blistered, which the woman hastes to reach,
For she of all his hearers knows the purport of his speech.
“This[257]proves my husband’s innocence! Thank God for what you’ve said!”
And she turns to the lonely passenger, only to find him dead.
* * * * *
Softly the sunbeams golden steal[258]by a prison bar
Lighting an empty dungeon whose iron door stands ajar;[259]
And the same sun lights a cottage,[260]with a warm and cheery glow,
Where three fond hearts united, with rapture overflow:
“O, husband,” the woman whispers, “I knew that you told me true;”
And he smiles and gently answers, “let us our vows renew;
Come, boy, kiss your new found mother, whom we’ll love to the end of life,
For we’ve bid farewell forever to the grief-tried felon’s wife.”
—Geo.M. Vickers.
Gestures.