d a sentence of death by the judge.

"Your case," said the judge, as he was about to pronounce sentence, "is
another proof of the certainty with which Providence never, so to speak,
loses sight of the man who deliberately sheds his fellow creature's
blood. It is an additional and striking instance too, of the retributive
spirit with which it converts all the most cautious disguises of guilt,
no matter how ingeniously assumed, into the very manifestations by which
its enormity is discovered and punished."

After recommending him to a higher tribunal, and impressing upon him the
necessity of repentance, and seeking peace with God, he sentenced him to
be hanged by the neck on the fourth day after the close of the assizes,
recommending his soul, as usual, to the mercy of his Creator.

The Prophet was evidently a man of great moral intrepidity and firmness.
He kept his black, unquailing eye fixed upon the judge while he spoke,
but betrayed not a single symptom of a timid or vacillating spirit. When
the sentence was pronounced, he looked with an expression of something
like contempt upon those who had broken out, as usual, into those
murmurs of compassion and satisfaction, which are sometimes uttered
under circumstances similar to his.

"Now," said he to the gaoler, "that every thing is over, and the worst
come to the worst, the sooner I get to my cell the better. I have
despised the world too long to care a single curse what it says or
thinks of me, or about me. All I'm sorry for is, that I didn't take more
out of it, and that I let it slip through my hands so asily as I did. My
curse upon it and its villany! Bring me in."

The gratification of the country for a wide circle round, was
now absolutely exuberant. There was not only the acquittal of the
good-hearted and generous old man, to fill the public with a feeling
of delight, but also the unexpected resurrection, as it were, of honest
Bartholomew Sullivan, which came to animate all parties with a double
enjoyment. Indeed, the congratulations which both parties received, were
sincere and fervent. Old Condy Dalton had no sooner left the dock than
he was surrounded by friends and relatives, each and all anxious to
manifest their sense of his good fortune, in the usual way of "treating"
him and his family. Their gratitude, however, towards the Almighty for
the unexpected interposition in their favor, was too exalted and pious
to allow them to profane it by convivial indul