nd coarse; even laughter I could hear,
the noise increasing at each moment. Then the muffled sound of wheels
upon the snow, and the cries of the drivers as they urged their horses
forward. Then a long interval, in which nought was heard save the happy
whistle of some poor postilion, who, careless of his errand, whiled away
the tedious time with a lively tune. And lastly, there came the dull
noise of feet moving step by step down the stair, the muttered words,
the shuffling sound of feet as they descended, and the clank of the
coffin as it struck against the wall.

The long, low parlor was filled with people, few of whom I had ever
seen before. They were broken up into little knots, chatting cheerfully
together while they made a hurried breakfast. The table and sideboard
were covered with a profusion I had never witnessed previously.
Decanters of wine passed freely from hand to hand; and although the
voices fell somewhat as I appeared amidst them, I looked in vain for one
touch of sorrow for the dead, or even respect for his memory.

As I took my place in the carriage beside the attorney, a kind of dreamy
apathy settled down on me, and I scarcely knew what was passing. I only
remember the horrible shrinking sense of dread with which I recoiled
from his one attempt at consolation, and the abrupt way in which he
desisted, and turned to converse with the doctor. How my heart sickened
as we drew near the churchyard, and I beheld the open gate that stood
wide awaiting us! The dusky figures, with their mournful black cloaks,
moved slowly across the snow, like spirits of some gloomy world; while
the death-bell echoed in my ears, and sent a shuddering through my
frame.

"What is to become of the second boy?" said the clergyman, in a low
whisper, but which, by some strange fatality, struck forcibly on my ear.

"It's not much matter," replied Basset, still lower; "for the present he
goes home with me. Tom, I say, you come back with me to-day."

"No," said I, boldly; "I'll go home again."

"Home!" repeated he, with a scornful laugh,--"home I And where may that
be, youngster?"

"For shame, Basset!" said the clergyman; "don't speak that way to him.
My little man, you can't go home today. Mr. Basset will take you with
him for a few days, until your late father's will is known, and his
wishes respecting you."

"I'll go home, sir!" said I, but in a fainter tone, and with tears in my
eyes.

"Well, well! let him do so for to-da