ould have preserved existence, had not our noble ancestors
nourished you with their bread, and defended you with their blood. In
times of famine, they gave you grain, and when the plague swept over you
with its hot breath of death, they built hospitals to receive you, found
nurses to take care of you, and educated physicians to save you from the
grave. When from a herd of unformed brutes they had nurtured you into
human beings, they built schools and churches for you, sharing
everything with you save the dangers of the battle field, for war they
knew you were not formed to bear. As the sharp lance of the pagan was
wont to recoil, shattered and riven, from the glittering armor of my
fathers, so recoil your vain words as they strike the dazzling record
of their long-consecrated glory. They disturb not the repose of their
sacred ashes. Like the howlings of a mad dog, who froths, bites, and
snaps as he runs, until he is driven out of the pale of humanity, so
fall your accusations, dying out in their own insanity.

But it is almost dawn, and time you should depart from the halls of my
ancestors! Pass in safety and in freedom from their home, my guest!

PANCRATIUS. Farewell then, until we meet again upon the ramparts of the
Holy Trinity. And when your powder and ball shall be utterly exhausted?

THE MAN. _We will then approach within the length of our swords._
Farewell!

PANCRATIUS. We are twin Eagles, but your nest is shattered by the
lightning! (_He takes up his cloak and liberty cap._) In passing from
your threshold, I leave the curse, due to decrepitude, behind me. I
devote you and your son to destruction!

THE MAN. Ho! Jacob!

Enter Jacob.

Conduct this man in safety through my last post on the hill!

JACOB. So help me God the Lord!

Exit Jacob with Pancratius.

DEATH IN LIFE.

In some dull hour of doubt or pain,
Who has not felt that life is slain--
And while there yet remain

Long years, perhaps, of joyless mirth,
Ere earth shall claim its kindred earth,
Such years were nothing worth

But that some duty still demands
The sweating brow, the weary hands?
And so Existence stands

With an appeal we cannot shun,
To make complete what Life begun,
With toil from sun to sun.

And so we keep the sorry tryst,
With all its fancied sweetness missed--
Consenting to exist

When Life has fled beyond recall,
And left us to its heir in thrall,
With chains