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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 82, August, 1864"


He comes hurrying from the cars under his umbrella, which is braced
against the gale and shuts out from his eyes the sight of the
unsheltered wretch. And he is hastily entering his door, which is opened
to him by the eager children, when they scream alarm; and looking over
his shoulder, he perceives, following at his heels, the fright. He is
one of your full-blooded, solid men; but he is startled.
"What do you want?" he cries, and lifts the threatening umbrella.
"I'm hungry," says the intruder, with a ghastly glare, still advancing.
He stands taller in his tattered shoes than the solid gentleman in his
boots; and those long, lean, claw-like hands act as if anxious to clutch
something. Papa thinks it is his throat.
"By heavens! and do you mean to"--And he prepares to charge umbrella.
"You may!" answers the wretch, with perfect sincerity, presenting his
ragged bosom to the blow.
The lord of the castle lowers his weapon. The children huddle behind
him, hushing their screams.
"Go in, Minnie! In, all of you! Tell Stephen to come here,--quick!"
The children scamper.


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