If Tam O'Shanter'd had a wheel, and other poems and sketches . metropolis in exact was walking on a littlein advance of us, one arm thrownover the neck of his burro and the V other holding the folds of the gayNavajo blanket that hung like themantle of a Roman senator overhis shoulder. His head was bowedin thought and he did not sharethe illusion until attracted by ournoisy delight. At a sign from oneof us he lifted his eyes. For a m* ISHMAEL, THE EXILE. 137. moment he wavered as thoughin a dream, and then a light,vivid as the transforming scepter inthe sky, flashed over
If Tam O'Shanter'd had a wheel, and other poems and sketches . metropolis in exact was walking on a littlein advance of us, one arm thrownover the neck of his burro and the V other holding the folds of the gayNavajo blanket that hung like themantle of a Roman senator overhis shoulder. His head was bowedin thought and he did not sharethe illusion until attracted by ournoisy delight. At a sign from oneof us he lifted his eyes. For a m* ISHMAEL, THE EXILE. 137. moment he wavered as thoughin a dream, and then a light,vivid as the transforming scepter inthe sky, flashed over his face. He gave a strong shout,ringing and exultant. St. Petersburg! he cried. St. Petersburg, my love!I could not go back to you but you have come to me. He stretched his arms toward the vision in the cloudsand murmured low, inarticulate words of joy and tender-ness, his face working with intense emotion. He turnedto my father: I am not Ishmael, but John, he said. Behold anew apocalypse—St. Petersburg! St. Petersburg! He beat his hands against his breast as if to still theheart leaping against its prison walls, and, turning, ran afew steps in the direction of the fast vanishingtowers and cathedrals above the glacier heights;then, with uplifted arms, fell face downwardupon the mountain path as he had fallen „upon the floor of our little room so manyyears before. We bent over him frantic with griefas father laid his hand upon his heart
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