The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 361: what you’re looking at

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$50 THE MYSTERIES his feet, yet half afraid to dip them into the still water for fear lest some monster should thrust up its huge head to seize upon his limbs. Parched with thirst, he drank and drank again; and yet the water refreshed him not; for it was = was warm to sickliness. Profoundly unbappy scomed that man; and yet his was a countenar :e that could searcely express anything beyond the ferocity and devilish wicked- ness which belonged to hie character. His gar- ments, of an European fashion, were travel-soiled ; and as the man sat by that pool, he ever and anon looked around him, as if in utter consternation and diemay when the sense smot: him of the stupen- dous loneliness and utter heiplessness of his position. Presently that dense silenc oc was broken by the sound of something rustling in the brake on the opposite side of the pool ; and the object, whatever x wore, plunged into the water, which rippled slug- gishly, and became still and smooth again. With what awful terror did that man spring up to his feet !|—how literally did his hair s; nd on end !— what intense anguish, what exrcruc' ting suspense, what ineffable dread were depicted . pon his counte- mance! An observer—if there had been one—might have forgotten hie abhorrent ugliness in the sense of compassion which would have been felt for a being who evidently suffered such dire horror. And no wonder that he should so suffer !—for when that sound broke thus suddenly upon his startled ear, a thousand crucifying apprehensions swept through his brain. Was it a huge serpent about to fling out its hideous length at him and encircle him in ita slimy, horrible, deadly folds P— or was i¢ a tiger springing at him P—or was it some other monster belonging to that scene in the midst of which he found himeelf thue lonely, thus friendless, thus unprotected and forlorn? The ecene itself was in India: the place was a jungle ;—and that man was the Burker. He had escaped from Inderabad: but now how bitterly did he curse himself for having taken that step! At least a hundred miles lay betwixt him and the capital of Queen Indora’s kingdom: he might possibly retrace his way—he might go back to hie fortress: but he dared not; for in order to effect his flight he had slain the sentinel who guarded the paseage from which his eell opened ; and he could not entertain the hope that Queen Indora or her royal husband would so far overlook Fee rune Of $0 leave him in possession of his ife Yet, on the other hand, of what value was that life amidst the horrors of this jungle? He knew not where to place himself in order to be in safety. If he sat beneath the shade of a tree, the hideous idea would creep over him that a huge snake might at any instant dart down with ita tre- mendous length and wind its loathsome ooils around-him. If he sought the groves, he dreaded lest the silence should suddenly be broken by the how! of a wild beast aod its claws should be struck deep into his palpitating flesh. If he made his way through the underwood, he felt every instant ae if the deadly cobra were winding around his legs. If he rested himsclf upon the grase by the side of a stream or pool, his blood still curdled with the apprehension that some insidious reptile was gliding through the rank luxuriance of that OF THE COURT. herbage towards him. This man lived an entire age of horrors in every passing miuute. At an early hour in the morning of that day he had paesed through a little village, where some builock-drivers, cooking their rice in the publics khan, had from charity given him « portion of their food. Thenee journeying onward, he had insensibly plunged deeper and deeper into this wild seene of fearful beauty, which, when too late to yetreat, he discovered to be a jungle swarming with the brute and reptile enemies of man. It were vain for the Barker to ask himsolf whet he should do: his imagination could saggest no- thing—unless now and then he reficeted that it were better to attempt to make his way baek to Inderabad, and dare whatever fate might attend him there, than wander about in this abject wretchedness of mind to perish by the venom of « serpent, in the coils of a snake, or by the fangs and claws of a wild beast. And this reflection again occurred to the Burker after that startliag incident which had filled him with sueh horrible apprehension by the side of the stagnant pool. Yos—his resolve was now taken; and he began to retrace his way, as well as he could recoliest it, towards the direction from which he had come. He thought that if he could only regain the vil- lage where he had seceived the alms of ries in the morning, he might thence trace bis road back to Inderabad. But pathway in the jungle there was none; and in a very little time the Burker found that he was completely ai fault concerning the direction which be ought to pursue. There cere tainly was @ group of trees whieh he did not remember to have noticed before: there was s pool by whioh he assuredly had not passed; and there again was the rain of some ancient temple that seemed te indicate a spot unmarked by him before, Again he sat down in a plees which he fancied to be the most secure from any sudden atteck on the part of reptile or wild beast; and again did he abandon himeelf to blank despair. It was a email open spot, denuded of verdare—vwith underwood at a little distanes, and a clump of trees rising in the midst about forty yards of. Hie eyes were riveted upon those trees, because be now sat motionless, and the gaze of ons in sech a state of miud is wont to fix iteelf upon something. Yes—utterly motionless he sat, his elbows upoa his knees, his hands supporting bis countenanes. Sloely through his mind rolled all the incidents of his life—a hideous phantasmagoria—e horrible panorame; and the wretch was appalled by the ecenes that memory thus in esucecssion conjured up. What would he give to be enabled tw live his entire life over again! And yet it was not y remorse—bat only regret which the msn felt: not remorse for the crimes themscives, dust regret that he should heve committed them, inse- much as his present position was omp of their consequences. He cursed bimself as a fvol, rather than luathed himself as a criminal. His gaze was fixed upon the clamp of trees, at first vacantly—until at length something began to attract his attention, It seemed as if one loag stem was in motion while the others were ste- tionary. He strained his regards. No—-it mast be an illusion !—all those stems were utterly stuil ; for how eould they possibly be agitated when there was not a breath of air to raffle the smallest of COMIC DOG / (CO