University of Virginia Library

XII.—THE CONDEMNED CELL.

Brown, Stevens.
Stevens.
The leader gets the credit of the act.
Why, look ye, Captain! My wounds are fivefold
What there fell to you, of course, my luck;
And think of Thompson butchered by the fiends;
And Leeman's head blown off, after he cried,
Throwing his hands in air, “Don't shoot!”
And Newby's body eaten by the hogs.
And yet the sympathy is all for you,
The love,—people who live a thousand miles
Away, mending your coat, or writing notes.
Captain, it makes me laugh, or would do that,
If those untutored halls that shelled my head
Had not made laughing out of place.

Brown.
Stevens, you always were a cheerful boy!
There is some truth in what you say, and force;
And yet, right well you know, each friend of mine
Feels just the same for you, as they for me.
And then our men passed off in that sad way:
Kagi died in fair fight, and Leary too;
Stevens, a resolute soldier like yourself
Abides the brunt of war, accepts his wounds,
And never thinks the consequence will end
Of these our deeds with what is sped today.
On least events the pregnant issues hang!
Out of the shattered acorn, from that weak
And shredded circumstance, the tiny sprout,
The vast majestic forest fronts the storm,
In peace receives the lurid blaze of heaven,
And doth outlive the gash of centuries;
Then, from its mossy ruin, build new groves.
Not all of us will fall below that floor
With our poor, quivering atoms, downward dropped,
Swinging in empty space.

Stevens.
Old Harper's Ferry well deserved its name,
“The hole,”—a trap; just that and nothing more!

Brown.
It seems a moral clear to Southern minds.

Stevens.
A simple story. Down came we in force,
Some twenty strong, into that pit dug deep
Among the mountains, by the flashing streams
That sweep their billows thro' Virginia's vales,—
Came down, swooped up the armory, the bridge,
The railroads stopped, with prisoners filled the jail,
And morning dawned to show a thousand men,
A score of marksmen, shooting at a mark.
As I have often thought, yes! I could laugh
The whole of a long summer's day at that

Brown.
Stevens! I grant you, were our plans revealed?

Stevens.
Avis thinks Cook confesses something.

Brown.
Much as he knows. I never told the names
Of those who helped me. In the end,
The poor particulars of these events
Will be washed off, and only generals
Remain to mirror out their prescience

Stevens.
In our young day, we do not feel the same
As in your age. I never know this more
Then when I hear you reason of these things.
Kagi, methinks, held somewhat of your views.
There is in youthful hearts an element
That will not be defined,—Coppie and Cook
Acted from this spontaneous force,
And the old Kansas life ran in their veins,—
The wild romance, the charms of the free air;
To sleep within the moon, and feel the night wind
Curl around your farm, the bending grass
Whisper its loving secrets to your ear,
And sing you into utter dreams of peace;
Your friends the wailing winds; the halls of light,—
Your dazzling halls,—the stars!

Brown.
Yes, youth is hopeful; it the future hath.
The picture of your sisters yet you keep.
It will be safe, and shall go back to them.
Believe it, not for me more than yourself,
Shall drop the sympathetic tear.

Stevens.
Captain, I did but play! I know it thus,
But this to me seems a slow work in jail,
With all these sores teasing my brain at once!

(Avis enters.)
Avis.
Boys, speak low when you are talking!
I ought not leave you; but I'll not be starved
For all the Jews or judges on this street.
That growling crowd, outside, thinks both of ye
A team of rattlesnakes. Poor shucks!
If they own slaves, I am not one of them.