erary Monthly_, 1095.

UNTIL HE COMETH

GEORGE BURWELL DUTTON '07

THE CHARACTERS

AHASUERUS, the Wandering Jew.

ANSELM, a holy monk.

A band of travellers,--merchants, peasants, soldiers, who stop at the
monastery over night.

Monks of the monastery.

The time is the twelfth century, a Christmas eve.

The place is the great hall of the monastery of St. Cuthbert. The room
is a large one, with cold stone walls and a heavy-beamed ceiling,
lighted by flaring torches. The rear wall is broken by a massive oaken
door leading to the courtyard of the monastery, and two rudely glazed
windows. On the right an open doorway leads to the chapel and to one
side of the doorway is a shrine to the Virgin and Child, before which
some candles burn with wavering flames. On the opposite side of the
room is a huge fireplace with a blazing log fire. The wind is roaring
outside, and even blows through the rude hall in great, gusty
draughts, while a fine powder of snow sifts in through crevices of
windows and door.

SCENE I. [The travellers, with some of the monks of the monastery, are
seated before the fire. The Jew, bent, gaunt and gray-bearded, stands
to one side, unrecognized, muttering to himself indistinctly. He has
evidently just entered, for the melted snow still gleams from his
clothing. The company disregard him, conversing among themselves.]

A SOLDIER. Now, by Our Lady, 'tis a raw cold night--
I mind me when on such a night I lay
Unsheltered in the trenches facing Mons
In Flanders.

A MERCHANT. Hem! Sir Longbeard tells a tale.
List, all!

THE SOLDIER. By Holy mass--

THE MERCHANT. Ho! Hear the oaths!
They 're thick as--

THE SOLDIER. Hark ye! Hush thy meddling tongue!

A PEASANT. A quarrel! Mark them!

A MONK. Shame! On such a night
When angels fill the air, and voices sweet,
Mysterious, sing their golden songs of peace--
On this glad night to quarrel?

THE SOLDIER. Why, to-night--

THE MONK. On such a night was Christ, our Saviour, born,
While all the earth was wrapped in sacred peace.
This is the holy eve, and on the morrow,
With solemn chant we shall observe the birth
Of that sweet Christ-child whom we worship all.

THE SOLDIER. Then I'll not quarrel--my hand upon it. There.

THE MERCHANT. Nor I. And here's my hand, good soldier. There.

[The company is silent for a moment, while the wind moans in the great
chimney.]

THE MERCHAN