[!-- Marker --] LESSON LXII.
LE' GEND, fictitious narrative.
MOR' TAL, deadly.
COM' BAT, battle; conflict.
PRI ME' VAL, first; primitive.
MUS' CU LAR, strong; vigorous.
CA DAV' ER OUS, pale; sickly.
REF U GEE', runaway; fugitive.
QUAR' TER, mercy; indulgence.
PIN' ION ED, confined; shackled.
A BYSS', yawning gulf.
PRO POS' AL, offer; proposition.
DI SHEV' EL ED, disordered.
IM BO' SOM ED, surrounded; inclosed.
CON FESS' ED, owned; acknowledged.
RE LENT' ING, pitying; compassionate.
RAN' DOM, venture.
SU PER STI' TION, false religious belief.
A VENGE', take satisfaction for.
UN CON' SCIOUS, unaware.
SUB LIM' I TY, grandeur.
THE BIBLE LEGEND OF THE WIS SA HI' KON.
LIPPARD.
1. It was here in the wilds of the Wis sa hi' kon, on the day of battle, as the noonday sun came shining through the thickly clustered leaves, that two men met in mortal combat. They grappled in deadly conflict near a rock that rose, like the huge wreck of some primeval world, at least one hundred feet above the dark waters of the Wis sa hi'kon.
2. That man with the dark brow and the darker gray eye,—with the muscular form, clad in the blue hunting-frock of the Revolution,—is a Continental, named Warner. His brother was murdered at the massacre of Pao'li. That other man, with long black hair drooping along his cadaverous face, is clad in the half-military costume of a Tory refugee. That is the murderer of Pao'li, named Dabney.
3. They had met there in the woods by accident; and now they fought, not with sword or rifle, but with long and deadly hunting-knives, that flash in the light as they go turning, and twining, and twisting over the green-sward. At last, the Tory is down!—down on the green-sward, with the knee of the Continental upon his breast,—that up-raised knife quivering in the light,—that dark-gray eye flashing death into his face!
4. "Quarter! I yield!" gasped the Tory, as the knee was pressed upon his breast. "Spare me!—I yield!"
5. "My brother," said the patriot soldier, in a low tone of deadly hate,—"My brother cried for quarter on the night of Pa o' li, and, even as he clung to your knees, you struck that knife into his heart. Oh, I will give you the quarter of Pa o' li!" And his hand was raised for the blow, and his teeth were clinched in deadly hate. He paused for a moment, and then pinioned the Tory's arms, and, with one rapid stride, dragged him to the verge of the rock, and held him quivering over the abyss.
6. "Mercy!" gasped the Tory, turning black and ashy by turns, as that awful gulf yawned below. "Mercy! I have a wife! a child! spare me!"