low's eye. "I would bet my life that
neither of us go to the cricket-match to-morrow at S----. Bill will have
a different job on hand. It will be the ball and not the bat, that is to
win the game they hope to play."

I had only to be at the place at the right hour, and with a dexterous
blow stun, without killing my victim, and secure the prize; and then
return and detect the ruffians in the very act. For this purpose, I
determined to secure the cooperation of another gamekeeper, who might
accompany me to the avenue, and help me to secure the villains. I was so
elated with this plan, that I forgot my own share of the guilt. The
leaven of iniquity that I had introduced into the breast of another, was
already at work, and two human beings were subjected to the same
temptation to which I had yielded.

It is astonishing how a fellowship in guilt hardens the guilty. Men,
like wolves, are often great cowards alone; but give them a few
companions in crime, and pusillanimity is instantly converted into
ferocity. The coward is always cruel; the mean-spirited, merciless. The
consciousness that two of my fellow-men premeditated committing the same
crime, wonderfully strengthened me in my resolution of plunging my soul
into the abyss of guilt. I had another passion to gratify, which had
rankled for years in my breast,--that of revenge. A wish to over-reach
and disappoint Bill Martin was a stronger incentive to this deed than
the mere lucre of gain. The burning hatred I had cherished from boyhood
was on the eve of being gratified. I should, in case of failure on my
part, at least secure his destruction.

When I reached home, I found two of the principal members of the
cricket-club, both respectable tradesmen in the village, waiting to see
me. I was their best hand, and they left no argument unurged, in order
to induce me to go. I took them separately aside, and confidentially
informed them of my reasons for staying at home. This I justly thought
would avert all suspicion from me as the real culprit. Of course they
were convinced that my going was out of the question, and took their
leave with regret.

My mother was not very well. She had a bad head-ache, and complained of
being very nervous, (a fine word she had picked up from the parson's
wife,) and we passed a very dull evening together.

I had never before shunned my mother's eye; but this night I could not
look steadily at her. She at length noticed my agitation, and asked i