A Predicament, Page 2

  Andrew O'Phlegethon, you really make haste to fly,

  and then turned to the darling of my heart, to the one-eyed! the shaggy-haired Diana. Alas! what a horrible vision affronted my eyes? Was that a rat I saw skulking into his hole? Are these the picked bones of the little angel who has been cruelly devoured by the monster? Ye gods! and what do I behold—is that the departed spirit, the shade, the ghost, of my beloved puppy, which I perceive sitting with a grace so melancholy, in the corner? Hearken! for she speaks, and, heavens! it is in the German of Schiller—

  "Unt stubby duk, so stubby dun

  Duk she! duk she!"

  Alas! and are not her words too true?

  "And if I died, at least I died

  For thee—for thee."

  Sweet creature! she too has sacrificed herself in my behalf. Dogless, niggerless, headless, what now remains for the unhappy Signora Psyche Zenobia? Alas–nothing! I have done.

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