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” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ‘He don’t mean you no harm. Have you thought of the monstrous lie you are adding to your theft?" "Lie?" said Spurlock, astounded. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion. III.
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