e agen.

"'Death and the devil!' said he. 'It's one or both, either way; and I
prefer 'em hot to cold!'

"He drank off half the glass, smacked his lips, and stood staring a
moment.

"'Dear, dear!' said the gal, in a voice like falling water, 'you've drunk
blood, sir!'

"My grandfather gave a yell, slapped the rest of the liquor in the faces
of his friends, and threw the cup agen the bars. It broke with a noise
like thunder, and at that he up'd with his hands and fell full length
into the snow."

There was a pause. The little man by the door was twisting nervously in
his chair.

"He came to--of course, he came to?" said he at length.

"He come to," said the banjo solemnly, "in the bitter break of dawn; that
is, he come to as much of hisself as he ever was after. He give a
squiggle and lifted his head; and there was he and his friends a-lyin' on
the snow of the high downs."

"And the house and the gal?"

"Narry a sign of either, sir, but just the sky and the white stretch; and
one other thing."

"And what was that?"

"A stain of red sunk in where the cup had spilt."

There was a second pause, and the banjo blew into the bowl of his pipe.

"They cleared out of that neighbourhood double quick, you'll bet," said
he. "But my grandfather was never the same man agen. His face took
purple, while his friends' only remained splashed with red, same as birth
marks; and, I tell you, if he ever ventur'd upon 'Kate of Aberdare,' his
cheeks swelled up to the reed of his clarinet, like as a blue plum on a
stalk. And forty year after, he died of what they call solution of blood
to the brain."

"And you can't have better proof than that," said the little man.

"That's what _I_ say," said the banjo. "Next player, gentlemen, please."

DARK DIGNUM

"I'd not go higher, sir," said my landlady's father. I made out his
warning through the shrill piping of the wind; and stopped and took in
the plunging seascape from where I stood. The boom of the waves came up
from a vast distance beneath; sky and the horizon of running water seemed
hurrying upon us over the lip of the rearing cliff.

"It crumbles!" he cried. "It crumbles near the edge like as frosted
mortar. I've seen a noble sheep, sir, eighty pound of mutton, browsing
here one moment, and seen it go down the next in a puff of white dust.
Hark to that! Do you hear it?"

Through the tumult of the wind in that high place came a liquid vibrant
sound, like the muffl