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Till I heard—the crack of a pistol-shot; and I sprang to the workshop door. That door was locked and the bolt shut fast. I could not cry, nor speak, But I snatched my boy from the corner there, sick with a sudden dread, And carried him out through the garden plot, forgetting my arms were weak, Forgetting the rainy torrent that beat on my bare young head; The front door yielded to my touch. I staggered faintly in, Fearing—what? He stood unharmed, though the wall showed a jagged hole. In his trembling hand, his aim had failed, and the great and deadly sin Of his own life's blood was not yet laid on the poor man's tortured soul. But the pistol held another charge, I knew; and like something mad I shook my fist in my poor man's face, and shrieked at him, fierce and wild, "How can you dare to rob us so?"—and I seized the little lad; "How can you dare to rob your wife and your little helpless child?" All of a sudden, he bowed his head, while from his nerveless hand That hung so limp, I almost feared to see the pistol fall. "Maggie," he said in a low, low voice, "you see me as I stand A hopeless man. My plan has failed. That letter tells you all." Then for a moment the house was still as ever the house of death; Only the drip of the rain outside, for the storm was almost o'er; But no;—there followed another sound, and I started, caught my breath; As a stalwart man with a heavy step came in at the open door. I shall always think him an angel sent from heaven in a human guise; He must have guessed our awful state; he couldn't help but see There was something wrong; but never a word, never a look in his eyes Told what he thought, as in kindly way he talked to Joe and me. He was come from a thriving city firm, and they'd sent him here to say That one of Joe's inventions was a great, successful thing; And which do you think? His window-catch that he'd tinkered up one day; And we were to have a good per cent on the sum that each would bring. And then the pleasant stranger went, and we wakened as from a dream. My man bent down his head and said, "Little woman, you've saved my life!" The worn look gone from his dear gray eyes, and in its place, a gleam From the sun that has shone so brightly since, on Joe and his happy wife! Jeannie Pendleton Ewing.

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There sat two glasses filled to the brim
On a rich man's table, rim to rim,
One was ruddy and red as blood,
And one was clear as the crystal flood.
Said the Glass of Wine to his paler brother:
"Let us tell tales of the past to each other;
I can tell of banquet and revel and mirth,
Where I was king, for I ruled in might;
For the proudest and grandest souls of earth
Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.
From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;
From the heights of fame I have hurled men down.
I have blasted many an honored name;
I have taken virtue and given shame;
I have tempted youth with a sip, a taste,
That has made his future a barren waste.
Far greater than any king am I,
Or than any army beneath the sky.
I have made the arm of the driver fail,
And sent the train from the iron rail.
I have made good ships go down at sea.
And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.
Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall;
And my might and power are over all!
Ho, ho, pale brother," said the Wine,
"Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?"
Said the Water Glass: "I cannot boast
Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host;
But I can tell of hearts that were sad,
By my crystal drops made bright

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