Indian Tales Part 67

Mulvaney turned to me.

"Lave me to talk to him, sorr," said Mulvaney.

I left, and on my way home thought a good deal over Ortheris in particular, and my friend Private Thomas Atkins whom I love, in general.

But I could not come to any conclusion of any kind whatever.

L'ENVOI

And they were stronger hands than mine That digged the Ruby from the earth-- More cunning brains that made it worth The large desire of a King; And bolder hearts that through the brine Went down the Perfect Pearl to bring.

Lo, I have wrought in common clay Rude figures of a rough-hewn race; For Pearls strew not the market-place In this my town of banishment, Where with the shifting dust I play And eat the bread of Discontent.

Yet is there life in that I make,-- Oh, Thou who knowest, turn and see.

As Thou hast power over me, So have I power over these, Because I wrought them for Thy sake, And breathe in them mine agonies.

Small mirth was in the making. Now I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay, And, wearied, at Thy feet I lay My wares ere I go forth to sell.

The long bazar will praise--but Thou-- Heart of my heart, have I done well?