So let her call what names she
likes--an' welcome! It does me no harm--Frightened? Me frightened? What
would I be frightened of, will you tell me that? Of the few soldiers,
maybe, that'll be comin' after the rioters? Good gracious me! That would
be a lot to be frightened at! No, no, lad; I may be a bit stiff in the
back, but there's some strength left in the old bones; I've got the stuff
in me yet to make a stand against a few rubbishin' bay'nets.--An' if it
came to the worst! Willin', willin' would I be to say good-bye to this
weary world. Death'd be welcome--welcomer to me to-day than to-morrow.
For what is it we leave behind? That old bundle of aches an' pains we
call our body, the care an' the oppression we call by the name o' life.
We may be glad to get away from it,--But there's something to come after,
Gottlieb!--an' if we've done ourselves out o' that too--why, then it's
all over with us!
GOTTLIEB
Who knows what's to come after? Nobody's seen it.
OLD HILSE
Gottlieb! don't you be throwin' doubts on the one comfort us poor people
have. Why has I sat here an' worked my treadle like a slave this forty
year an' more?--sat still an' looked on at him over yonder livin' in
pride an' wastefulness--why? Because I have a better hope, something as
supports me in all my troubles.
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