Drolls From Shadowland Part 12

"A capital idea that!" quoth the young man, cheerfully.

He looked up, but the raven had hopped away among the branches.

"Well, at any rate, his hint was well meant, and I'll follow it!" quoth the young man, striding out boldly towards the houses which he could just see glimmering beyond the edge of the wood.

"Ugh! How ugly and dirty it has become!" quoth the maiden, gazing in the crystal at the soul which she had coveted and stolen. "I will throw it away, it no longer amuses me!"

And she threw it from her into the mire of the city: and the wheels and the feet rapidly buried it in the mud.

The grey-haired Bishop looked "so beautiful" in his coffin, that the deaconesses and the dear good sisters longed to kiss him.

"None of 'em ever found out that you wanted a soul," croaked the raven, who sat perched on the window-sill, blinking in the sunshine.

But there was no response to this: for how can a dead man talk?

THE END.