amidst the angered rush of battle; he who, fearless, had seen
his comrades falling around him like trees before the hurricane; he
who, unappalled, had heard the shrieks of the wounded and dying, wept
at the recollection of childhood. What a scene for God and the angels
to look down upon!

David White sedulously strove to renew the acquaintanceships of his
boyhood, but amongst none, either of those who remembered him, or
others to whom he was a perfect stranger, did he contrive to make a
friend. His company, however, was not avoided, for his conversation
abounded with strange and interesting adventures in various foreign
lands, often instructive; but there were too many demands for the
possessor of an able body, and too extensive a prevalence of sound
morality, for him to find a spirit any way congenial to his own in the
vicinity of his home. He therefore took up his residence at the Bend,
which was a kind of stopping-place for boats passing up and down the
river, and where congregated all grades of society. His pursuits were
now undisguisedly those of a gambler--and still further, though
unknown--those of a smuggler. His mother received frequent, though
indirect communications concerning her son's course of conduct at the
neighboring village--indeed, few days passed in which she did not
incidentally obtain such intelligence. He appeared occasionally at the
old homestead, but his stay was seldom prolonged beyond a few hours.
His conduct cost his mother many a heart-pang, but the day when she
could influence his mind had long since gone by, and she entertained
no hope of a reformation--indeed, such an occurrence would have
appeared almost a miracle in the eyes of those acquainted with his
character and mode of action. Thus months lapsed away into the
infinitude of the past; summer came round, and soon an eventful and
crime-stained night rolled into its place.

The moon waxed high in her career. Midnight was gathering slowly over
the earth; that hallowed and mysterious hour, the isthmus between two
days. But the deep-toned thunder was muttering at intervals in the
sky, and the torn clouds swept on in massy columns, dark and aspiring,
growing blacker and blacker as they rolled up the great heavens, and
portending a terrible convulsion of the elements. The night was far
advanced, and in all respects suited to the purpose of David White.
Twelve o'clock was already striking, when he issued from a private
door of the time-wor