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the bastion', and tolled the funeral dirge of the notary from the Torre de la Campaná,* or tower of the bell.
The notary's wife pressed through the crowd with a whole progeny of little embryo Escribanoes at her heels', and throwing herself
at the feet of the captain-general', implored him not to sacrifice the life of her husband', and the welfare of herself and her numerous little ones', to a point of pride ; “ for you know the old governor too well?,” said shé, “ to doubt that he will put his threat in execution if you hang the soldier.”
The captain-general was overpowered by her tears and lamentations', and the clamors of her callow brood. The corporal was sent up to the Alhambra under a guard, in his gallows garb', like a hooded friar'; but with head erect' and a face of iron. The Escribano was demanded in exchangé, according to the cartel. The once bustling and self-sufficient man of the law was drawn forth from his dungeon', more dead than alive. All his flippancy and conceit had evaporated'; his hair, it is said', had nearly turned gray with affright', and he had a downcast', dogged look', as if he still felt the halter round his neck.
The old governor stuck his one arm a kimbó, and for a moment surveyed him with an iron smile. “Henceforth, my friend'," said hé,“ moderate your zeal in hurrying others to the gallows'; be not too certain of your own safety', even though you should have the law on your sidè; and above al”, take care how you play off your schoolcraft another time upon an old soldier."
A THUNDER STORM ON THE PRAIRIES.
In crossing a prairie of moderate extent, rendered little better than a slippery bog by the recent showers', we were overtaken by a violent thunder-gust. The rain came rattling upon us in torrents', and spattered up like steam along the ground'; the whole landscape was suddenly wrapped in gloom that gave a vivid effect to the intense sheets of lightning', while the thunder seemed to burst over our very heads', and was reverberated by the groves
and forests that checkered and skirted the prairie. Man and beast were so pelted', drenched', and confounded', that the line was thrown in complete confusion`; some of the horses were so frightened as to be almost unmanageable, and our scattered cavalcade looked like a tempest-tossed fleet, drive ing hither and thither, at the mercy of wind and wave.
* Tor-ra, Campa-na.
At length', at half-past two o'clock', we came to a halt', and, gathering together our forces', encamped in an open and lofty grové, with a prairie on one side, and a stream on the other. The forest immediately rung with the sound of the axé, and the crash of falling trees. Huge fires were soon blazing'; blankets were stretched before them, by way of tents'; booths were hastily reared of bark and skins'; every fire had its group drawn close around it, drying and warming themselves', or preparing a comforting meal. Some of the rangers were discharging and cleaning their rifles', which had been exposed to the rain'; while the horses', relieved from their saddles and burthens', rolled in the wet grass.
The showers continued from time to time, until late in the evening. Before dark, our horses were gathered in and tethered about the skirts of the camp', within the outposts', through fear of Indian prowlers', who are apt to take advantage of stormy nights for their depredations and assaults. As the night thickened’, the huge fires became more and more luminous'; lighting up masses of the overhanging foliage, and leaving other parts of the grove in deep gloom. Every fire had its goblin group around it', while the tethered horses were dimly seen', like specters', among the thickets"; excepting that here and there a gray' one stood out in bright relief.
The grove thus fitfully lighted up by the ruddy glare of the fires', resembled a vast leafy domé, walled in by opake darkness'; but every now and then two or three quivering flashes of lightning in quick succession', would suddenly reveal a vast champaign country', where fields and forests', and running streams', would starť, as it weré, into existence for a few brief seconds', and', before the eye could ascertain them', vanish again into gloom.
A thunder storm on a prairié, as upon the ocean', derives grandeur and sublimity from the wild and boundless waste over which it rages and bellows. It is not surprising that these awful phenomena of nature should be objects of superstitious reverence to the poor savages', and that they should consider the thunder the angry voice of the Great Spirit. As our halfbreeds sat gossiping round the firé, I drew from them some of the notions entertained on the subject by their Indian friends. The latter declare that extinguished thunderbolts are sometimes picked up by hunters on the prairies', who use them for the heads of arrows and lances', and that any warrior thus armed' is invincible. Should a thunder storm occur', however', during battlé, he is liable to be carried away by the thunder, and never be heard of more.
A warrior of the Konza tribé, hunting on a prairie, was overtaken by a storm', and struck down senseless by the thunder. On recovering', he beheld the thunderbolt lying on the ground', and a horse standing beside it. Snatching up the bolt”, he sprang upon the horse, but found', too laté, that he was astride of the lightning. In an instant he was whisked away over prairies, and forests', and streams', and deserts', until he was flung senseless at the foot of the Rocky Mountains'; from whencé, on recovering', it took him several months to return to his own people.
This story reminded me of an Indian tradition', related by a traveler', of the fate of a warrior who saw the thunder lying upon the ground', with a beautifully wrought moccason on each side of it. Thinking he had found a prizé, he put on the moccasons'; but they bore him away to the land of spirits', from whence he never returned.
These are simple and artless tales', but they had a wild and romantic interest heard from the lips of half-savage narrators', round a hunter's firé, in a stormy night, with a forest on one side, and a howling waste on the other'; and wheré, peradventuré, savage foes might be lurking in the outer darkness.
LESSON L X XIII.
A room in the Castle.
Enter Hubert and two attendants. Hubert. Heat me these irons hot': and, look' thou stand' Within the arras: when I strike
foot' Upon the bosom of the ground', rush forth', And bind the boy', which you shall find with mé,
Fast to the chair": be heedfulo: hence, and watch'. 1. Attend. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples'! Fear not yoù : look to 't'.
(Exeunt Attendants.) Young lado, come forth'; I have to say with you.
Enter ARTHUR. Arthur. Good morrow', Hubert'. Hub.
Good morrow', little princé. Arth. As littlè princé, (having so great a titlé
To be more princé,) as māy be.—You are sad". Hub. Indeed', I have been' merrier'.
Mercy on me!
I were your son', so you would love mé, Hubert .
He will awake my mercy', which lies dead':
Therefore I will be sudden', and despatch. (Aside.) Arth. Are you sick’, Huberť ? you look pāle to-day' :
In sooth', I would you were a little sick',
I warrant, I love you more than yoù do me'.
(Showing a paper.)
How now, foolish rheum', (Aside.)
Can you not read it' ? is it not fair writ' ?
with hot irons burn out both mine eyės' ? Hub. Young boy', I must'. Arth.
And will' you? Hub.
And I will.
I knit my handkerchief about your brows',
Nay', you may
love was crâfty lové,
So much as frown', on you?
I have sworn' to do it';
The iron of itself, though heat* red-hot',
I would not have believed a tongue but Hubert's'.
(Stamps.) Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, fc.
Dò as I bid
dò. Arth. O', save me, Hubert', savè me! my eyes are ouť,
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men'.
you be so boist'rous rough' ?
Whatever torment you do put me to.
(Exeunt Attendants.) Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend';
He hath a stērn look', but a gentlè heart":
Give life to yours'.
Come boy', prepare yourself.
* Pronounced het.