There in seclusion and remote from men
The wizard hand lies cold,
Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen,
And left the tale half told.
Ah, who shall lift that wand of magic power,
And the lost clue regain?
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower
Unfinished must remain!
* * * * *
WHAT WILL BECOME OF THEM?
A STORY IN TWO PARTS.
PART I
"Please, Ma'am, I want to come in out of the rain," said the dripping
figure at the door.
"And who are you, Sir?" demanded the lady, astonished; for the bell had
been rung familiarly, and, thinking her son had come home, she had
hastened to let him in, but had met instead (at the front-door of her
fine house!) this wretch.
"I'm Fessenden's fool, please, Ma'am," replied the son--not of this
happy mother, thank Heaven! not of this proud, elegant lady, oh,
no!--but of some no less human-hearted mother, I suppose, who had
likewise loved her boy, perhaps all the more fondly for his
infirmity,--who had hugged him to her bosom so many, many times, with
wild and sorrowful love,--and who, be sure, would not have kept him
standing there, ragged and shivering, in the rain.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108