Half-Hours with Great Story-Tellers

Half-Hours with Great
Story-Tellers

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Title: Half-Hours with Great Story-Tellers
Author: Various
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HALF-HOURS
WITH
GREAT STORY TELLERS.
_ARTEMUS WARD, GEORGE MACDONALD, MAX ADELER,
SAMUEL LOVER, AND OTHERS._
1891

CONTENTS.
GREY DOLPHIN Richard Harris Barham MOSES, THE SASSY
Artemus Ward MR. COLUMBUS CORIANDER'S GORILLA
THE FATE OF YOUNG CHUBB Max Adeler BOOTS AT THE
HOLLY-TREE INN Charles Dickens THE ENTHUSIAST IN
ANATOMY John Oxenford "THE LIGHT PRINCESS" George
Macdonald LEGEND OF THE LITTLE WEAVER Samuel Lover

GREY DOLPHIN.
"He won't--won't he? Then bring me my boots," said the Baron.
Consternation was at its height in the castle of Shurland--a catiff had
dared to disobey the Baron; and--the Baron had called for his boots!
A thunderbolt in the great hall had been a bagatelle to it.
A few days before, a notable miracle had been wrought in the
neighborhood; and in those times miracles were not so common as they
are now; no royal balloons, no steam, no railroads,--while the few
saints who took the trouble to walk with their heads under their arms,
or to pull the Devil by the nose, scarcely appeared above once in a

century:--so the affair made the greatest sensation.
The clock had done striking twelve, and the Clerk of Chatham was
untrussing his points preparatory to seeking his truckle-bed; a half-
emptied tankard of mild ale stood at his elbow, the roasted crab yet
floating on its surface. Midnight had surprised the worthy functionary
while occupied in discussing it, and with his task yet unaccomplished.
He meditated a mighty draft: one hand was fumbling with his tags,
while the other was extended in the act of grasping the jorum, when a
knock on the portal, solemn and sonorous, arrested his fingers. It was
repeated thrice ere Emmanuel Saddleton had presence of mind
sufficient to inquire who sought admittance at that untimeous hour.
"Open! open! good Clerk of St. Bridget's," said a female voice, small
yet distinct and sweet,--an excellent thing in woman.
The Clerk arose, crossed to the doorway, and undid the latchet.
On the threshold stood a lady of surpassing beauty: her robes were rich,
and large, and full; and a diadem, sparkling with gems that shed a halo
around, crowned her brow: she beckoned the Clerk as he stood in
astonishment before her.
"Emmanuel!" said the lady; and her tones sounded like those of a silver
flute. "Emmanuel Saddleton, truss up your points, and follow me!"
The worthy Clerk stated aghast at the vision; the purple robe, the cymar,
the coronet,--above all, the smile; no, there was no mistaking her; it
was the blessed St. Bridget herself!
And what could have brought the sainted lady out of her warm shrine at
such a time of night? and on such a night? for it was dark as pitch, and
metaphorically speaking, 'rained cats and dogs.'
Emmanuel could not speak, so he looked the question.
"No matter for that," said the saint, answering to his thought. "No
matter for that, Emmanuel Saddleton; only follow me, and you'll see!"
The Clerk turned a wistful eye at the corner cupboard.
"Oh! never mind the lantern, Emmanuel; you'll not want it; but you
may bring a mattock and a shovel." As she spoke, the beautiful
apparition held up her delicate hand. From the tip of each of her long
taper fingers issued a lambent flame of such surpassing brilliancy as
would have plunged a whole gas company into despair--it was a 'Hand
of Glory,' [Footnote: One of the uses to which this mystic chandelier
was put, was the protection