BRETON TROUT STREAMS 61 



He swung into the tree, but there he 

 stayed, moving in impotence among the 

 branches, bound by a power greater than 

 his own. He strove to break the tree, 

 but could not. He raved, he struggled, 

 all in vain. 



Then said Death to 3Iisery, *' If you will 

 let me go, I have so much to do, I swear 

 to give you ten long years." But Misery 

 snarled through his paucity of teeth : 

 *' Ten years forsooth I I wait for the com- 

 ing of God and judgment !" Then Death 

 howled among the leaves. He gibbered 

 like an ape, shaking the branches, while 

 Misery mocked from below. At length 

 Death panted, " Have your own way," he 

 gasped ; ** you shall live on to the end of all 

 things." 



So was Death freed, and sprang from 

 the apple-tree, gripping his scythe. In 

 rage he passed on through the landes 

 slaying the old folk and the children as 

 well. 



There is one only whom he may never 

 touch — Misery dwells on through eternity 

 — waiting the Judgment Day. 



