oo, has tossed our thoughts into strange confusion, but without
tearing them away from their one determined centre. Yonder leaden
Judge sits immovably upon our soul. Will he never stir again? We shall
go mad unless he stirs! You may the better estimate his quietude by the
fearlessness of a little mouse, which sits on its hind legs, in a
streak of moonlight, close by Judge Pyncheon's foot, and seems to
meditate a journey of exploration over this great black bulk. Ha! what
has startled the nimble little mouse? It is the visage of grimalkin,
outside of the window, where he appears to have posted himself for a
deliberate watch. This grimalkin has a very ugly look. Is it a cat
watching for a mouse, or the devil for a human soul? Would we could
scare him from the window!

Thank Heaven, the night is well-nigh past! The moonbeams have no longer
so silvery a gleam, nor contrast so strongly with the blackness of the
shadows among which they fall. They are paler now; the shadows look
gray, not black. The boisterous wind is hushed. What is the hour? Ah!
the watch has at last ceased to tick; for the Judge's forgetful fingers
neglected to wind it up, as usual, at ten o'clock, being half an hour
or so before his ordinary bedtime,--and it has run down, for the first
time in five years. But the great world-clock of Time still keeps its
beat. The dreary night--for, oh, how dreary seems its haunted waste,
behind us!--gives place to a fresh, transparent, cloudless morn.
Blessed, blessed radiance! The daybeam--even what little of it finds
its way into this always dusky parlor--seems part of the universal
benediction, annulling evil, and rendering all goodness possible, and
happiness attainable. Will Judge Pyncheon now rise up from his chair?
Will he go forth, and receive the early sunbeams on his brow? Will he
begin this new day,--which God has smiled upon, and blessed, and given
to mankind,--will he begin it with better purposes than the many that
have been spent amiss? Or are all the deep-laid schemes of yesterday as
stubborn in his heart, and as busy in his brain, as ever?

In this latter case, there is much to do. Will the Judge still insist
with Hepzibah on the interview with Clifford? Will he buy a safe,
elderly gentleman's horse? Will he persuade the purchaser of the old
Pyncheon property to relinquish the bargain in his favor? Will he see
his family physician, and obtain a medicine that shall preserve him, to
be an hon