rt--the murderer detailed what he had done. He spoke
quietly and firmly, in his usually stern and tyrannical style, as if
severe upon himself, for being what?--a man of blood, a thief, a
perjured false accuser? No, no; lower in the scale of Mammon's judgment,
worse in the estimate of him whose god is gold; he was now a pauper, a
mere moneyless forked animal; a beggared, emptied, worthless, penniless
creature: therefore was he stern against his ill-starred soul, and took
vengeance on himself for being poor.

It was a consistent feeling, and common with the mercantile of this
world; to whom the accidents of fortune are every thing, and the
qualities of mind nothing; whose affections ebb and flow towards
friends, relations--yea, their own flesh and blood, with the varying
tide of wealth: whom a luckless speculation in cotton makes an enemy,
and gambling gains in corn restore a friend; men who fall down mentally
before the golden calf, and offer up their souls to Nebuchadnezzar's
idol: men who never saw harm nor shame in the craftiest usurer or
meanest pimp, provided he has thousands in the three per cents.; and
whose indulgent notions of iniquity reach their climax in the
phrase--the man is poor.

So then, with unhallowed self-revenge, Simon rigidly detailed his
crimes: he led the whole court step by step, as I have led the reader,
through the length and breadth of that terrible night: of the facts he
concealed nothing, and the crowded hall of judgment shuddered as one
man, when he came to his awful disclosure, hitherto unsuspected,
unimagined, of that second strangulation: as to feelings, he might as
well have been a galvanized mummy, an automaton lay-figure enunciating
all with bellows and clapper, for any sense he seemed to have of shame,
or fear, or pity; he admitted his lie about the door, complimented Burke
on the accuracy of his evidence, and declared Roger Acton not merely
innocent, but ignorant of the murder.

This done, without any start or trepidation in his manner as formerly,
he turned his head over his left shoulder, and said, in a deep whisper,
heard all over the court, "And now, Aunt Quarles, I am coming; look out,
woman, I will have my revenge for all your hauntings: again shall we
wrestle, again shall we battle, again shall I throttle you, again,
again!"

O, most fearful thought! who knoweth but it may be true? that spirits of
wickedness and enmity may execute each other's punishment, as those of
rig