The Tell-Tale Heart - The Pioneer, January 1843 — reading text

other hour I did not move a muscle, and in the man’s terror must have been extreme! It grew meantime I did not hear the old man lie down. louder, | say, louder every moment: —do you He was still sitting up in the bed, listening ; — mark me well? I have told you that I am ner- just as I have done, night after night, hearken- vous:—solam. And now, at the dead hour ing to the death-watches in the wall. of night, and amid the dreadful silence of Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew that old house, so strange a noise as this excited that it was the groan of mortal terror. It was me to uncontrollable wrath. Yet, for some not a groan of pain, or of grief—oh, no! — minutes longer, I refrained and kept still. But it was the low, stifled sound that arises from the beating grew louder, Jouder! I thought the bottom of the soul when overcharged with the heart must burst! And now a new anxiety awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, seized me —the sound would be heard by a just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has neighbor! ‘The old man’s hour had come! welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. leaped into the room. He shrieked once— I say I knew it well. Iknew what the old man once only. In an instant I dragged him to the felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I heart. I knew that he had been lying awake then sat upon the bed and smiled gaily, to find ever since the first slight noise, when he had the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, turned in the bed. His fears had been, ever the heart beat on, with a muffled sound. This, since, growing upon him. He had been trying however, did not vex me; it would not be to fancy them causeless, but could not. He heard through the walls. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and ' had been saying to himself —‘‘ It is nothing but the wind in the chimney —it is only a examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, ; mouse crossing the floor,’ or ‘‘it is merely a stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart ; cricket which has made a single chirp.”’ Yes, and held it there many minutes. There was he had been trying to comfort himself with no pulsation. The old man was stone dead. these suppositions; but he had found all in His eye would trouble me no more. vain. Allin vain: because death, in approach- If, still, you think me mad, you will think so ing the old man, had stalked with his black no longer when I describe the wise precautions shadow before him, and the shadow had now | I took for the concealment of the body. The reached and enveloped the victim. And it was | night waned, and I worked hastily, but in si- the mournful influence of the unperceived sha- | lence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. dow that caused him to feel — although he | I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. Dea Qa nla i2wi Nl THE POET AND APOLLO. 31 I then took up three planks from the flooring of My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my the chamber, and deposited all between the ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The scantlings. I then replaced the boards so clev- ringing became more distinct: I talked more erly, so cunningly, that no human eye— not freely, to get rid of the feeling ; but it contin- even his — could have detected anything wrong. ued and gained definitiveness — until, at length, There was nothing to wash out—no stain of | I found that the noise was not within my ears. any kind — no blood-spet whatever. I had been No doubt I now grew very pale ; — but I talk- too wary for that. A tub had caught all— ha! ed more fluently, and with a heightened voice. ha! Yet the sound increased — and what could I do? When I had made an end of these labors, it It was a low, dull, quick sound—much such a was four o’clock — still dark as midnight. As sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. the bell sounded the hour, there came a knock- I gasped for breath — and yet the officers heard ing at the street door. J went down to open it it not. I talked more quickly — more vehe- with a light heart, — for what had I now to fear? mently ; —but the noise steadily increased. I There entered three men, who introduced them- arose, and argued about trifles, ina high key selves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the and with violent gesticulations ; — but the noise police. A shriek had been heard by a neigh- steadily increased. Why would they not be bor during the night; suspicion of foul play gone? I paced the floor to and fro, with heavy had been aroused ; information had been lodged strides, as if excited to fury by the observations at the police-office, and they (the officers) had of the men ; — but the noise steadily increased. been deputed to search the premises. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed —I raved I smiled,— for what had I to fear? I bade —I swore! I swung the chair upon which I the gentlemen welcome. ‘The shriek, | said, had sat, and grated it upon the boards ; — but was my own in a dream. The old man, I men- the noise arose over all and continually increas- tioned, was absent in the country. I took my ed. It grew louder— louder —Jouder! And visiters all over the house. 1 bade them search still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. —search well. I led them, at length, to Avs Was it possible they heard not? Almighty chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, God!—no, no! ‘They heard!—they sus- undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confi- pected !—they knew !—they were making a dence, I brought chairs into the room, and de- mockery of my horror!— this I thought, and sired them here to rest from their fatigues ; this I think. But anything better than this ag- while I myself, in the wild audacity of my per- ony! Anything was more tolerable than this fect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very derision! | could bear those hypocritical smiles spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! victim. —and now — again '—hark! louder! louder ! The officers were satisfied. My manner had louder ! louder ! — convinced them. I was singularly at ease. ‘* Villains!’’ I shrieked, ‘‘ dissemble no They sat, and, while I answered cheerily, they more! I admit the deed !— tear up the planks! chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I —here, here !— it is the beating of his hide- felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. | ous heart! ”’ PPP LA LDP LD PLL PL LLL LLL THE POET AND APOLLO. ‘¢ O, master of the golden lyre, Dread twanger of the golden bow, I cal] upon thee, mighty sire, Old, outcast, blind, and full of woe. *¢ T have poured out my soul like rain Upon the dry and withered earth ; And what has been my luckless gain ¢ A wrinkled heart and honor’s dearth. ‘¢ All earthly things have I explored, Sounded the deeps of love and hate, And often hath my spirit soared High o’er the dark abyss of fate.  | 32 THE PIONEER. ‘¢ Now therefore grant me what I seek, Some gift that none with me may share, A larger vision than these weak Unaided eyes could ever dare.’’ So prayed a poet once of old, A poet wise, without a peer, By long-pent agony made bold To seek his father’s pitying ear. Se Apollo heard, and sadly smiled, Then, murmuring scarce above his breath, ‘¢ Bear thou,’’ he sighed, ‘* unto my child Sea ae My last and greatest gift, oh Death.”’ a ee tes —_ Se aRR Se iS hits eotage THE PLAYS OF THOMAS MIDDLETON. —-— BY J. R. LOWELL. * A great poem is a fountain forever overflowing with the waters of wisdom and delight, and after one rson and one age have exhausted all of its divine effluence which their peculiar relations enable them to share ; another and Pas: another succeeds, and new relations are ever developed, the source of an unforeseen and unconceived delight.” Shelley's Defence of Poetry. Poets are the forerunners and prophets of and as Poesy is the searcher out and inter- changes in the moral world. Driven, by their preter of all these, tracing by her inborn sym- fine nature, to search into and reverently con- pathy the invisible nerves