l virtue. When, therefore, the very little
conversation which took place among them, and that little in so low a
tone, is placed in connection with the dark and deadly object of their
meeting, it is no wonder that one cannot help feeling strangely and
fearfully on contemplating it.

About twelve o'clock they were all assembled but one individual, whom
they appeared to expect, and for whom they looked out eagerly. Indeed
they all came to a unanimous resolution of doing nothing that pertained
to the business of the night until he should come. For this purpose they
had not to wait long. A little past twelve a tall and powerful young
man entered, leading by the hand poor insane Mary O'Regan--his pitiable
and unconscious mother. He had heard of the death of his brother, during
the cruel scene at Drum Dhu, and of the other inhuman outrage which
had driven her mad. He had come from a remote part of England with the
single, fixed, and irrevocable purpose of wreaking vengeance on the head
of him who had brought madness, desolation, and death upon his family.

On his entering, there was a slight low murmur of approbation, but the
appearance of his mother caused it to die away. This, however, was
almost immediately succeeded by another of a very different
character--one in which there was a blending of many feelings--compassion,
rage, revenge. The first thing the young man did was to take a candle in
his hand, and hold it first close to his mother, so as that she might be
distinctly seen, and afterward, near to his own face, in order that she
might have a clear and equally distinct view of him. "Mother," said he,
then, in a full voice, "do you know your son?" Her eye was upon him as
he spoke, but it was vacant; there appeared no trace of recognition or
meaning in it.

"You all see that miserable sight," said he--"there my mother stands,
and doesn't know who it is that is spaking to her. There she stands,
blasted and destroyed by the oppressor. You all see this heart-breaking
sight with your own eyes, and you all know who did it."

'Tis singular how closely virtue and crime are allied! The very sympathy
excited by this touching and melancholy spectacle--the very tenderness
of the compassion that was felt for the mother and son, hardened the
heart in a different sense, and stimulated them to vengeance.

"Now," said the young man, whose name was Owen, "let them that have been
oppressed and harassed by this Vulture, state their gr