DEATH, THE LEVELLER.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4366, 25 May 1901, Page 6 (Supplement)

DEATH, THE LEVELLER.

(By A. AI. Brown, Mastertcn.) The fever burns feverishly within me, and in agony I toss upjm my hard straw pallet. Hov» it presses on me and weighs me down, this ragged coverlet that once seemed all too thin 1 Fires consume me, and torture my poor starved body. But there is no hand to tend mo, (H cool mv parched lips with blessed water. No sound but tho moans that are torn from me breaks the stilling stillness of tho garret. Oh, mv poor bursting herd! AYatorl AVater! A ha I

AA’hat strange and hideous shapes are these that press upon mo? They mock at me, and grin fiendishly! Their presence scorches mo, but there is no escape, for they final all round in thousands, nay, in myriads, suffocating me with their evil burning breath. Closer and closer! Ah. I suffocate! AMlo beings, away! But as I speak a sudden chill presence comes aeon me. Icy fingers touch my forehead, and fasten on it with vicc-liko grip- Behold! a now shaoe, a tangible one, but, alas, more hideous, more Ijjathsomo, than tlie rest. A ghastly skeleton, with grinning jaws, and in its sockets dull, pale, sunken eyes! On mighty raven black wings it hovers above my starting eyes. A hollow voice startles the stillness where terror reigns —“Mortal, I come for thee!” Fear makes mo dumb. But to my unspoken question comes tho answer; “Tho Alesscnger of Death!”

A shudder of horror chills thc fever in me. Aly tongue finds voice as I start up. “Oh, spare me, dread creature! Thou noedcst mo mot. lam but young. Take not my poor life! AA’hnt is it to thee?” The' bony hand unrolls a black scroll, on which are many strange and fiery letters. “Death claims thee. Thy name is written here. Haste!” the hollow voice replies. “Oh, wait! Wait!” I cry in agony. “Take the aged, tho rich, who have enjoyed the w/orld. Leave such as I, who have youth and have not tasted happiness. Be not cruel and relentless, but spare mo! Alas, how have I deserved to die?”

“Frail mortal, my master bids me bring thee, and I may not tarry, for I have much to do.”

Aly voice is torn with despair. "But it is cruel, unjust! Why leave the rich, the great, whose death is a glory, and why take those who must die alone and unknown?” “Mortal.” the hollow voice is even and cold, “Death sends for rich and poor alike, px-inces and beggars, and none can withstand his call. Even now, at his command, I, his messenger, have robbed a throne. The spirit of the greatest of earthly sovereigns has passed at his bidding into the Unknown of mortals. Even now there goes up a great cry of grief—the grief of an Empire, the greatest in this world of yours. But Death, my master, is relentless.” “Relentless! Relentless!’’ The word echoes and re-echoes, with sepulchral ring, tln'/'ough the cold, unheeding darkness of the garret. It fills me with the last mad strength of despair. As the dying ember bursts into sudden flame, so the hunted life within me springs into a last fierce revolt. I start up. I shako back furiously my ragged locks. I fling my gaunt frame against the grinning shape that mocks at my despair. In vaim! As tho spoilt-, w-avo falls back, shattered, helplesss. from the cruel impregnable rook that holds it captive, so sink I dpwn on the pallet, broken, strcngthless, almost annihilated. Tho Ego is near dissolution. Will has left me, Thought puts on its cloak, tho Senses slin away. Oblivion approaches. Tho hollow voice of the Skeleton Form sounds far away—a distant polling bell. Fever, and the Torturer’s iev touch, work upon a numbed body. The Skeleton’s bony arms grip tightly, closely; but dread pain has gone. Consciousness has almost forsaken the worn clay. Bub hark! The icy voic© arrests for a mloment my journey into eternal time, eternal space. “Mortal, thou goest in the wake of her that was thy Queen, tho great Empress, earth’s mightiest sovereign!” Tho words, the hollow tones, pierce the thick veil of unconsciousness that is my shroud. Departing Reason pauses, and with a last mechanical effort seizes the meaning of the words. The mighty Queen, tho great, the noble, the beloved Queen. To follow her! A sudden light breaks through the darkness. ■ It is the awakening of the Soul. Before me lies the Great Unknown, a vast tract, hut marked by golden footsteps! And at the end awaits tho Dawn! Behind-me, for mortal gaze, lies a palo corpse in a chill, dark garret. But on the white lips a smilo, the touch of Dawn!