The paper was yellow, and showed a lattice of folds
where it had been pressed into the locket; but the handwriting, though
small, was clear and neat, and there was no mistaking a word of what was
there set down. 'Twas so short, I could read it at once:
The days of our age are threescore years and ten;
And though men be so strong that they come
To fourscore years, yet is their strength then
But labour and sorrow, so soon passeth it
Away, and we are gone.
--Psalm 90, 21
And as for me, my feet are almost gone;
My treadings are wellnigh slipped.
--73, 6
But let not the waterflood drown me; neither let
The deep swallow me up.
--69, 11
So, going through the vale of misery, I shall
Use it for a well, till the pools are filled
With water.
--84, 14
For thou hast made the North and the South:
Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in thy name.
--89, 6
So here was an end to great hopes, and I was after all to leave the vault
no richer than I had entered it. For look at it as I might, I could not
see that these verses could ever lead to any diamond; and though I might
otherwise have thought of ciphers or secret writing, yet, remembering
what Mr. Glennie had said, that Blackbeard after his wicked life desired
to make a good end, and sent for a parson to confess him, I guessed that
such pious words had been hung round his neck as a charm to keep the
spirits of evil away from his tomb.
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