rs a prey;
The fruit of all his toil shall be
By strangers borne away.

None shall be found that to his wants
Their mercy will extend,
Or to his helpless orphan seed
The least assistance lend.

A swift destruction soon shall seize
On his unhappy race;
And the next age his hated name
Shall utterly deface."

"I know the Psa'am--I know the Psa'am!" said the leader hastily; "but I
would as lief not sing it. 'Twasn't made for singing. We chose it once
when the gipsy stole the pa'son's mare, thinking to please him, but
pa'son were quite upset. Whatever Servant David were thinking about when
he made a Psalm that nobody can sing without disgracing himself, I can't
fathom! Now then, the Fourth Psalm, to Samuel Wakely's tune, as improved
by me."

"'Od seize your sauce--I tell ye to sing the Hundred-and-Ninth to
Wiltshire, and sing it you shall!" roared Henchard. "Not a single one
of all the droning crew of ye goes out of this room till that Psalm is
sung!" He slipped off the table, seized the poker, and going to the door
placed his back against it. "Now then, go ahead, if you don't wish to
have your cust pates broke!"

"Don't 'ee, don't'ee take on so!--As 'tis the Sabbath-day, and 'tis
Servant David's words and not ours, perhaps we don't mind for once,
hey?" said one of the terrified choir, looking round upon the rest. So
the instruments were tuned and the comminatory verses sung.

"Thank ye, thank ye," said Henchard in a softened voice, his eyes
growing downcast, and his manner that of a man much moved by the
strains. "Don't you blame David," he went on in low tones, shaking his
head without raising his eyes. "He knew what he was about when he wrote
that!... If I could afford it, be hanged if I wouldn't keep a church
choir at my own expense to play and sing to me at these low, dark times
of my life. But the bitter thing is, that when I was rich I didn't need
what I could have, and now I be poor I can't have what I need!"

While they paused, Lucetta and Farfrae passed again, this time homeward,
it being their custom to take, like others, a short walk out on the
highway and back, between church and tea-time. "There's the man we've
been singing about," said Henchard.

The players and singers turned their heads and saw his meaning. "Heaven
forbid!" said the bass-player.

"'Tis the man," repeated Henchard doggedly.

"Then if I'd