assing out the front way,
and flinging the door wide open as he departed. Within an hour and a
half more he was at home. There all was silent and dreary, but he had
no observation to fear. Striking a light, he carefully washed the
blood from his hands, and disarraying himself of the cast-off clothing
which he had assumed for the occasion, thrust them into the fire, and
watched until the whole was entirely consumed. Having thus guarded
against direct evidence, he made some artful dispositions of negative
disproof, that he might be provided with full armor against all
suspicions; and then retiring to his homely bed with a feelingless
heart, and unmurmuring conscience, he slept soon and deeply.

PART III.

"Alas! for earthly joy, and hope, and love,
Thus stricken down, e'en in their holiest hour!
What deep, heart-wringing anguish must they prove,
Who live to weep the blasted tree or flower.
Oh, wo! deep wo to earthly love's fond trust,
When all it once has worshiped lies in dust!"

Time glided on--days dawned and waned--weeks came and went--soon
months were numbered with the ruins of the past, and when the old
year, with sober meekness, took up his bright inheritance of luscious
fruits, a pomp and pageant filled the splendid scene. The yellow maize
and golden sheaves stood up in the fields, and the fading meadow, like
a crushed flower, gave out a dying fragrance to the fresh, cool winds,
that, sporting playfully amongst the tree-tops, swept downward from
their high communion, and stooped to dally with its sweet decay. Then
the apple-boughs were heavily laden with crimson fruit, peeping like
roses from their garniture of woven foliage; the purple grape-clusters
dotted the creeping vine, half transparent in their tempting
lusciousness; the red cherries seemed, in the distance, like the
burning brilliancy of a summer sunset struggling through the branches
and tangled leaves that intervened; and the downy peach peered
provokingly from amongst the sheltering green, where, all the summer
long, it had stolen the first blush of saffron-vested Aurora, when
seraph hands unbar the gates of morning, and the last ray of golden
light that paused at the flame-wrought portals of expiring day to look
reluctant back. Another change came over the face of nature, and
delicate-footed spring seemed to have come again with her lap full of
leaves and blossoms. The trees cast aside their long-worn garniture of