Joshua Marvel. B. L. Farjeon
drew and flourished when occasion needed. His fine voice, now deep as a man's, now tender as a woman's, expressed all the passions, and expressed them well. In the library which Dan and Joshua possessed there was an odd volume of Shakspeare's works, and when the street-actor said, in a melancholy dreamy tone,--
"It waves me still:--go on, I'll follow thee,"
Joshua remembered (as much from the intelligent action of the actor as from the words themselves) that it was a Ghost whom Hamlet was addressing. The words were so impressively spoken, that Joshua almost fancied he saw a Shade before the man's uplifted hand. Then, when Hamlet cried,--
"My fate cries out,
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
Still am I called. Unhand me, gentlemen!"
(struggling with his visionary opponents and breaking from them, and drawing his wooden sword)
"By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
I say, away! Go on, I'll follow thee;"
Joshua experienced a thrill of emotion that only the representation of true passion could have excited. As the man uttered the last words, Joshua heard a shuddering sigh close to him. Turning his head, he saw Susan, whose face was a perfect encyclopædia of wondering and terrified admiration.
"Who is he following, Joshua?" she asked in a whisper, clutching him by the sleeve.
"The Ghost! Hush!"
"The Ghost!" (with a violent shudder.) "Where?"
Joshua pressed her hand, and warned her to be silent, so as not to disturb the man. Susan held his hand tightly in hers, and obeyed.
The Ghost that the actor saw in his mind's eye was standing behind Susan. The man advanced a step in that direction, and stood with outstretched sword, gazing at the airy nothing. Susan trembled in every limb as the man glared over her shoulder, and she was frightened to move her head, lest she should see the awful vision whose presence was palpable to her senses. The man had commenced the platform-scene, where Hamlet says, "Speak; I'll go no further;" and the Ghost says, "Mark me!" when a tumult took place. At the words, "Mark me!" a vicious boy picked up a piece of mud, and threw it at the man's face, with the words, "Now you're marked;" at which several of the boys and girls laughed and clapped their hands. The actor made no answer, but, seizing the boy by the shoulder held him fast and proceeded with the scene. The boy tried to wriggle himself away, but at every fresh attempt the man's grasp tightened, until, thoroughly desperate, the boy broke into open rebellion.
Actor. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatched.
Boy (struggling violently). Just you let me go, will you?
Actor. Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unaneal'd.
Boy (beginning to cry). Come now, let me go will you? You're a hurting of me! Let me go you--(bad words).
Actor (calm and indifferent). No reckoning made, but sent to my account,
With all my imperfections on my head.
A girl's voice. Pinch him, Billy!
A boy's voice. Kick him, Billy!
Billy did both, but the actor continued.
Actor. Oh, horrible! Oh, horrible! Most horrible!
Billy. Throw a stone at him, some one!
Actor (sublimely unconscious). If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.
A stone was thrown; and as if this were a signal for a general attack, a shower of stones was hurled at the actor. One of them hit him on the forehead; hit him so badly that he staggered, and, releasing his hold of Billy, raised his hand to his head, while an expression of pain passed into his face. Hooting and yelling, "Look at the mad actor!" "Hoo, hoo! look at the crazy fool!"--the crowd of boys and girls scampered away, and left the man standing in the road, with only Susan and Joshua for an audience. Joshua was hot with indignation, and Susan, spell-bound by awe and fear, stood motionless by Joshua's side, while large tears trickled from her eyes into her open mouth.
The blood was oozing from the wound in the man's forehead, and his long fair hair was crimson-stained. His eyes wandered around distressfully, and a sighing moan died upon his lips. The fire of enthusiasm had fled from his countenance, and in the place of the inspired actor, Joshua saw a man whose face was of a deathly hue, and from whose eyes the light seemed to have departed. With his hand pressed to his forehead, he staggered a dozen yards, and then leaned against the wall for support.
"He is badly hurt, I am afraid," said Joshua.
Susan walked swiftly up to the man.
"Shall we assist you home?" she said. "Home!" he muttered. "No, no! Money! want money!"
As he spoke he drooped, and would have fallen to the ground but for Joshua, who caught the man on his shoulder, and let him glide gently on to a doorstep. Susan wiped the blood from his face with her apron. He looked at her vacantly, closed his eyes, and fainted.
"He is dying, Joshua!" cried Susan, her trembling fingers wandering about the man's face. "Oh, the wicked boys! Oh, the wicked boys!"
A woman here came out of a house with a cup of cold water, which she sprinkled upon his face. Presently the man sighed, and struggled to his feet, murmuring, "Yes, yes; I must go home."
"Where do you live?" asked Joshua. "We will assist you."
He did not answer, but walked slowly on like one in a dream. Assisting but not guiding his steps, Joshua and Susan walked on either side of him, and supported him. Although he scarcely seemed to be awake, he knew his way, and turning down a street even commoner than its fellows, he stopped at the entrance to a miserable court. Waving his hand as if dismissing them, he walked a few steps down the court, and entered a house, the door of which was open. Impelled partly by curiosity, but chiefly by compassion, Joshua and Susan followed the man into a dark passage, and up a rheumatic flight of stairs, into a room where want and wretchedness made grim holiday.
"Minnie!" he muttered hoarsely, and all his strength seemed to desert him as he spoke--"Minnie, child! where are you?"
He sank upon the ground with a wild shudder, and lay as if death had overtaken him. At the same moment there issued from the corner of the room where the deepest shadows gathered, a child-girl, so marvellously like him, with her fair waving hair, her large beautifully-shaped mouth, her white teeth, and her great restless gray eyes, that Joshua knew at once that they were father and daughter.
Minnie crept to the man, and sat beside him. She spoke to him, but he did not reply. And then she looked at Joshua and Susan, whose forms were dimly discernible in the gathering gloom.
"What is the matter with father?" she asked of them in a faint moaning voice.
"Some bad boys threw a stone at him, and hit him on the forehead," Joshua answered. "He will be better presently, I hope."
Minnie did not heed what he said, but felt eagerly in her father's pockets, and, not finding what she searched for, began to cry.
"No, no," she said, beating her hands together; "it is not that. He is weak and ill because he has had nothing to eat. I thought he would have brought home enough to buy some bread, but he hasn't a penny."
Joshua remembered the man's words, "Money! I want money!" and he immediately realized that the poor creatures were in want.
"Are you hungry, Minnie?" he asked.
"I have not had any breakfast," she answered wearily. "No more has father. Nor any dinner. We had some bread last night. We ate it all up. Father went out to-day, hoping to