AT MIDNIGHT. EDGAR FAWCETT. There is something at the window, I heard it twice; I heard it thrice; I hear it now again Above the whirling tempest and the rushes of the rain. Why should I chill and tremble At little sounds like these, And sweat for fright in my bed at night, And feel my pulses freeze,— I, that have battled bravely with perils upon seas? We were together on the raft. I moaned to Heaven for food; The merciless gale brought not a sail To the sea's great solitude. Courage," he whispered . . . and at last mad famine fired my blood! God! how he shuddered when he saw And raved for life beneath the knife, And caught me with his wasted arms in agonized embrace! Why should I chill and tremble At little sounds like these, And sweat with fright in my bed at night And feel my pulses freeze? Back, dim ghost at the window, to thy grave in the tossing seas! BURGLAR BILL. [FROM THE LONDON PUNCH.] (You must open in a hushed voice, and with an air of wonder at the world's iniquity.) Through a window in the attic, brawny Burglar Bill has crept; Stealthily he seeks a chamber where the jewelry is kept. (Pronounce "joolery.") He is furnished with a jemmy, centre-bit, and carpet-bag For the latter "comes in handy," as he says, "to stow the swag." ("Femmy," "centre-bit," and "carpet-bag" are important words. Put good coloring into them.) Here, upon the second landing, he secure may work his will; Down below's a dinner party- up above the house is still. ... (Start here, and extend first finger.) Suddenly in spell-bound horror-all his satisfaction ends; For a little white-robed figure by the banister descends! (This line requires careful handling, or it may be imagined that the figure was sliding down the banisters, which would simply ruin the effect. Observe the bold but classic use of the singular in "banister," which is more pleasing to the ear than the plural.) Bill has reached for his revolver- (business here with fan) — but he hesitates to fire: Child is it, or apparition, that provokes him to perspire? Can it be his guardian angel, sent to stay his hand from crime? (In a tone of awe.) He could wish she had selected some more seasonable time! "Go away!" he whimpers, hoarsely; "burglars have their bread to earn! I don't need no Gordian angel comin' givin' me a turn!" (Shudder and hide your eyes, then change your manner to a naïve surprise.) But the blue eyes open wider, ruby lips reveal their pearl: "I is not a garden angel; I is dust a yickle girl! (Be very artless here.) "On the thtairs to thit I'm doin' till the tarts and jellies tum ; Partinthon, the butler, alwayth thaves for Baby Bella thome! Poor man, 'oo is lookin' 'ungry - leave 'oo burgling fings up dere; Tum along and have some thweeties, thitting on the bottom thtair!" |