THE INQUEST. EUROPEAN.' fect enjoyment of mutual confidence in the same principles, the same tastes, of mutual delight in the same ministering of- BY RICHARD JOHNS, AUTHOR OF LEGEND AND ROMANCE, AFRICAN AND fices of tenderness, compassion, and aid, to all who needed care or consolation. And, above all, on each returning Sab- In the year 1793, the population of a small borough town bath day "they walked together to the House of God," mak-in a western county of England was thrown into a most extraing sweet discourse by the way on every thing that breathes and lives by His almighty power, whether it be in animate or inanimate life :-all had a voice or breath to waft His praise. But this partner of her soul also died. Fatal consumption burried him from this mortal life; or, "Rather," she said with a bright smile, “translated him from my side to live for ever in immortal youth, with the spirits of the 'just made perfect.' I never felt that I had lost him." And so it was that the mourning and betrothed bride never made a second choice. My heart," continued she, "had thus early received another link to the blessed chain that drew it upward; and with this holy book, to be the oracle of my Saviour's promise to me," (and she laid her hand on the volume of the sacred Scriptures which always occupied a place near her), "how could I fail to take comfort and be happy!" I kissed the saintly lips that spoke these things; and now that she too is gone to her grave, where her parents and her lover sleep, and the meek spirit is flown to join theirs in their heavenly home, I often dwell with a grateful tenderness on these memories of my good Aunt Anna. CHARADE. There kneels in holy St. Cuthbert's aisles, Wide spread the fame of the holy man, St. Ursula's prioress comes to-day, ordinary state of excitement. A coroner's inquest was about to be held at the Crown Inn, the principal house of entertain ment within its precincts, on the body of a stranger, name un known, which had been discovered in the abode of a person who had but recently become an inhabitant of the place. The great room in the Crown was too small to hold the crowd that pressed into it, and it was with no little difficulty that the chief constable of the borough could preserve a space for the coroner and jury. On a cumbrous table lay the body of the deceased, towards which all eyes were directed; for in those days, in provinces distant from the mighty heart of the kingdom, the jury did not merely visit the body, and, leaving the sad wreck of mortality to the silence of a deserted chamber, solve, or attempt to solve, in another room the cause of death. No! there lay the deceased-a sheet lightly fell on the rigid form in thin folds, which even in shrouding made painfully evident the nature of the object concealed. Many a time du ring the morning had that sheet been lifted to satisfy the curi osity of the horror-lovers of H-; but now the jurors had arrived, and, after greeting their acquaintances in the room, had taken their places near the table. They were most of them tradesmen of the town, or small farmers from the neighborhood. There were only two or three of a superior grade, and one of these was an old man, who, had he so chosen, might well have claimed exemption from serving on juries and filling parish offices, by reason of age; but his youth had been a season of constant employment, and having retired from business-for the sexegenarian had been a merchant of Liverpool-he found a relief from idleness in the civic duties of his native town. He was foreman of the grand jury at the quarter sessions-twice had he served as overseer of the poor -he was a perpetual churchwarden. Indeed, though his incapacity from advanced age was latterly perceptible to most of his friends, he would not allow himself to be unfit for any office, however onerous, except that of special constable. At The jury were now waiting the coming of the coroner. length the hum of the eager crowd and the more subdued converse of the jury were stilled by the appearance of this functionary, escorted by the landlord. Mr. Greene, who was a She comes with an offering-she comes with a prayer very important-looking and somewhat bustling man, commenced For she leads to the altar the Lady Clare. Mary, mother! how fair a maid, To leave the world for a cloister's shade! She yields to-morrow her gold and lands, "Daughter! since last thou hast kneeled for grace, Why doth he tremble-that holy man, St. Ursula's altar was dressed that day, The maiden was there, but the monk was away; Was never seen more in St. Cuthbert's aisles! 10 business directly; the jury was sworn, and the sheet withdrawn from the body. The jurymen gathered round the table -a corpse was extended before them, the blue livid tint of which might have belonged to a cholera subject. A few darker spots were thinly scattered about the ghastly frame, as though decomposition had commenced; still no effluvium arose from the body, and the flesh was firm and elastic under pressure; but the features and head were frightfully swollen, presenting an appearance scarcely human. Mr. Parr, the old man we have before mentioned, was one of the few who had not until that moment seen the corpse uncovered. That some very powerful poison had caused the stranger's death, there could be no doubt; and on this being communicated to Mr. Parr, he had, previous to the coroner's entrance, been instancing a curious case of poisoning which had come under his notice on an inquest some five-and-twenty years ago, the poison used having been of a character then new in England, and, indeed, he believed the method of producing it was still unknown; yet had it been found in the possession of a mere lad, who, it was supposed, obtained it from some sailor belonging to one of the Liverpool slave-traders, for the purpose of destroying his master. It had several times been the lot of the worthy merchant to be summoned on inquests; but now he stood at the feet of the deceased appalled and trembling, unlike the experienced juror who had looked upon death in many of its most hideous shapes. The gaping throat of the suicide was not here-here was no trace of the murderer's bloody hand. Had death been compassed by the subtle influence of poison, the old man had seen sterner sights than even the blue and spotted corpse before him. But the hue of that corpse, the swelling of those features, reminded him of the inquest of which he had been but the moment before speaking. The past seemed suddenly recalled to him-he could almost have believed that he again looked upon the body of one whom he had loved when living, and when dead had, in conjunction with others, solved the cause of his dissolution, and delivered the author of it up to condign punishment. A feeling of sickness crept over him, and he would have fainted had he not been supported by several of the jurymen who came to his assistance. Amid the cries of "Poor old Mr. Parr!-poor old gentleman!-take him out of the room-loosen his neckcloth, he is in a fit!" and other exclamations of sympathy and advice, the ancient juror was removed from the apartment; Mr. Greene snappishly remarking, that old men were no better than old women, and ought to give up public business. As if to contradict him, and before a substitute could be chosen, Mr. Parr returned. He looked very pale, and his step was unsteady; but he walked to his seat, and, apologising for the interruption he had caused, declared himself well enough to perform his part in the inquest. The first witness called was an elderly female, who gave her name Sarah Hodge, servant to Mr. Morton, in whose house the dead man was found. The deponent stated that she had lived six months with her master, who was a gentleman of independent fortune, residing in a very quiet way within half a mile of the town, her only fellow-servant being a male attendant of Mr. Morton, called James-she did not know his other name. Her master was a great invalid, and, to use her own words, seemed "very much troubled in his mind;" but the deponent seldom saw him, her duty being to keep the house clean, and perform the office of cook, while James waited on Mr. Morton, and slept in the next room to him, that he might be ready at all calls. On the morning previous to the night when the body of the deceased was found on the premises, James informed her that he had leave to go and visit his friends, whom he had only seen once since he had returred with his master from abroad. Witness naturally asked how Mr. Morton could do without him; and James answered, that their master had said he was better, and could well spare him for a few days. He further remarked, that she would now have to make Mr. Morton's bed, and wait upon him, as well as look to the housekeeping. Deponent had occasion to go out on an errand towards evening, and, on returning, went into the parlor, where she saw her master, who told her that James was gone, and that he should not want her any more that night, as he was going to bed. About twelve o'clock on the night in question, or it might be early in the morning of the following day, witness was awoke by the cries of Mr, Morton. Thinking he had been taken suddenly ill, she quickly went to his assistance, but found the door of the dressing-room locked. Her master was talking loudly in the bed-room, which communicated with the dressing-room. He was imploring for mercy, and occasionally uttered the word "murder;" but this was not as an exclamation. At length all became silent, and the witness, who was a woman of strong nerve, continued knocking at the door, but without succeeding in gaining admittance. Just as she had made up her mind to seek the aid of their nearest neighbour, a farmer, who lived about two hundred yards off, her master came out of the room, "looking as pale as a ghost." Without uttering a syllable, he beckoned her in; he then shut the door, and confronting her, deliberately said, "Before you go into the other room, I must tell you that I have had a visitor since you went to bed." At this moment the calmness which he had assumed passed away, and the deponent declared that his eyes rolled, and he gnashed his teeth horribly. "This visitor has been taken ill," he continued, "has died-has poisoned himself!" According to witness's account, her master then became more and more violent, and talked a great deal about murdered bodies not resting in their graves, and of brother slaying brother. Fully convinced that Mr. Morton was deranged, and that the visitor he talked of was but a fancy of his diseased brain, she begged him to go to bed. "No, no! not I!" he exclaimed. "Go you and close the eyes of the corpse." And then he caught hold of the deponent's hand and grasped it convulsively. Witness, alarmed as she felt, was impelled by curiosity, together with a wish to discover if her master were labouring under a mental delusion, to enter the bed-room. She there found the deceased stretched on Mr. Morton's bed; the body was in every respect as though it had been laid out, except that the jaw had no sustaining band; and the eyes were nearly closed; the arms and legs were straightened; and the whole figure was completely naked. Deponent stated that she was so frightened at the unexpected appearance of such a spectacle, that she rushed from the room. Mr. Morton tried to stop her as she passed him; but his grasp was feeble, and she succeeded in escaping from the house. Having reached the neighbouring farm, she told her story; and before daybreak Mr. Morton was arrested on suspicion of murder. On the witness being being asked if she could in any way identify the deceased as her fellow-servant, who was supposed to have left the house the evening before the finding of the body; she deposed that, from the swollen state of the features, she should not have known her "own father under the like circumstances;" but that James wore whiskers, while the face of the dead man was closely shaved. In fact, she could not for one moment entertain the idea that it was the man servant; and she doubted not he would return in a few days, when he had expended the leave given him by his master, with whom he was on the best possible terms, having, witness believed, lived with him many years. It further appeared that sundry articles of wearing apparel had been taken from James's room, which witness supposed he had now with him; while in her master's chamber no portion of clothing was discovered that could have belonged to the dead man. Thus closed the first evidence, to which such undivided attention was paid by the jury and the crowd of by-standers, that the peculiar and intense interest Mr. Parr took in every word uttered by the woman escaped remark. With his chin resting on his hands, which were supported by his gold-headed cane, he never permitted his eyes to wander from the face of the witness till she had ceased speaking. He then groaned audibly, shook his head, and leant back in his chair, saying, in a deliberate but whispered tone, "This is past my comprehension." Mr. Greene looked in the direction of the old juror, and sneeringly remarked to several of the youngest men near him, that elderly people ought to know when they were past work, and then proceeded to call the farmer mentioned in the evidence of Sarah Hodge. From this witness nothing more could be elicited than a corroboration of the finding of the body of the dead man on the bed, and the unaccountable fact that, on searching the apartment, no wearing apparel could be discovered as having belonged to the deceased. Lastly, the constable who arrested Mr. Morton was sworn, and stated that his prisoner, from the moment the charge was made against him of being privy or accessary to the death of the stranger in his house, had refused to answer any question put to him. In short, from the depositions of the two last witnesses, it appeared that the bearing of the accused was cold, haughty, and collected, as though he either felt conscious of his innocence, or was prepared for the worst; the housekeeper, Sarah Hodge, alone having perceived in him any agitation. The time, however, had now arrived when it was necessary that any evidence which Mr. Morton might have to offer should be heard. Scarcely ten hours had elapsed since his apprehension; for the event which caused it had occurred the preceding night. He was then in custody of two constables in an adjoining apartment, a door communicating with which being thrown open, he was summoned to appear. Every eye in the room was strained towards the opening. So great was the excitement, that several of the jury rose, in spite of Mr. Greene's authoritative "Keep your seats, gentlemen; no confusion. Constable will you command silence among the people there, or I shall order the room to be cleared?" Mr. Parr, who had resumed his former position, his venerable head resting on his cane, convulsively grasped the strong support, which trembled under the influence of his agitation as the prisoner entered. Mr. Morton was habited in deep mourning, with a scrupulous regard to neatness. His features, which were of a Grecian cast, might have been handsome, but for their haggardness. His head was nearly bald, the forehead low, and squarely formed. After cautioning Mr. Morton not to commit himself, the coroner inquired if he had anything he wished to communicate in the present state of the proceedings? But the eye of the accused met not the peering regard of Mr. Greene; it had rested for a moment on the linen cloth which hid the body, and the long-drawn breath which followed, evidently showed the relief Mr. Morton experienced in being spared the more painful sight of the stark and hideous corpse. Again he looked around-the coroner was speaking-the prisoner heard him not. Mr. Parr had risen from his seat; the old man trembled in every limb. He fixed his gaze on the supposed murderer-their eyes met. Mr. Greene followed the direction of Mr. Morton's wild look of recognition; but, not being the most acute of coroners, he saw nothing very particular in it. Mr. Parr had fallen down in a fit, and this he imagined had called the attention of the prisoner. "I thought it would be so!" he exclaimed. "Too bad, too bad,-interrupting business in this way. However much I may respect Mr. Parr in private life, this is the last time I shall ever allow him to be summoned on a jury. He is too over the corpse-I might have been mistaken-but I beheld you changed, yet still-" "It is old for the work." Then turning to the accused, who, whatever might be his sensations at the sight of the juror, had apparently recovered his self-possession-for his large, dark eyes "A living judgement!" exclaimed the prisoner. rested quietly on the speaker-Mr. Greene said, "We will but right you should be informed how-why you may perhear any thing you have to offer in explanation of the part you chance guess." may have taken in this matter another time." Mr. Morton With a calmness of manner that was almost appalling to bowed, and the coroner, looking round on the jurymen, re- Mr. Parr, who could not but suspect the storm that raged marked, "It will be necessary to subject the body to medical within the breast of the wretched man, he now rose from the examination, so the inquest must at all events have been ad-seat, which he had not quitted on the entrance of his visiter, journed, had not this interruption occurred. To-morrow, gentlemen, at the same hour, if you please. The prisoner will of course remain in custody, with liberty to communicate with his friends, they not being witnesses as to the question touching the death of the deceased." The inquest was adjourned, and Mr. Morton being conducted to another room of the inn, the door of which a constable strictly guarded, was left to commune with his own heart, and ponder over the events of the last twelve hours. Mr. Parr in the mean time had been conveyed home to his own house. He had long been a widower; but his nephew and niece resided with him, and paid him the attention of a son and daughter. His second indisposition was, like the first, only a fainting fit, and toward evening he was quite recovered. His energy of mind seemed also to have rallied, and he expressed his intention of visiting the prisoner at the Crown Inn. On his nephew representing to him that it might be imprudent to risk further excitement, which, from physical debility, he was unable to bear, the old man said "I am determined to go. I understand Mr. Greene has struck my name out of the list of jurymen, and I shall appear no more in this extraordinary case; but I have reasons of my own for feeling interested in it. You need not mention what I am now saying. One day I may be more explicit on the subject; but before I sleep I must have speech with him they call the poisoner of yon horrid corpse." Mr. Parr shuddered as he concluded this short expostulation with his nephew, who, fearing to distress him by farther opposition, yielded the point, and, carefully wrapped up by his niece, the old gentleman proceeded to the Crown, which was situated in the next street. Mr. Parr had prepared a note for the prisoner. On this being delivered, an answer was returned that Mr. Morton would see him. "You are the only person that he has allowed to come nigh him except the constables, and those he could not keep away,' said the landlord of the inn. "To Mr. Vellum, the attorney, who wanted to be his lawyer, he sent word that he did not need his advice. Then there's Sarah Hodge, his house-keeper, who, now she has had time to think a bit, is very sorry she was in such a mortal hurry to charge her master with being a murderer, and he so kind-hearted too as she said, who would not hurt a fly. Sarah wanted to beg his pardon; but Mr. Morton sent her word by one of the constables, that though he could not see her, she should not be without her wages. He's a generous gentleman, and has ordered the two men that keep watch on him to call for what they like. I do n't believe he poisoned the man at all," concluded Boniface, on whose opinion this liberality for the good of the house was working a visible change, as he conducted the old juror to the door of the prisoner's room. Here he was made over to the charge of a constable, who ushered him into the presence of the individual he sought. "You are welcome," said Mr. Morton, after having for a moment silently regarded the countenance of his visiter. He waved his hand to the constable, who, placing a chair for Mr. Parr, withdrew, "You remember me, then," replied the juror. Perhaps you saw me this morning, and expected that I should seek you." "I saw you-remembered you-I felt that you would come to me," exclaimed the prisoner in a hollow tone. "There are dispositions of an angry and avenging Providence which must have a record, or many a fearful warning would be lost Need I tell you that the present is one of these?" "You have much to tell me," answered Mr Parr, "if I am to understand that which I beheld this morning. I tremble. now to think of it. An event of a quarter of a century ago seemed again enacted before my eyes. It appeared to me that I once more looked on the corpse of my friend and of your brother. I tried to think it was but a vision-a fancy such as the mind is sometimes betrayed into when we imagine that we have ere now been participators in the scene around us. I returned to the room I had left; the sheet was then and placed a bottle of wine and glasses on the table. He again threw himself into his chair, and confronted the old juror, who, having watched his proceedings, at length said, "I want no refreshment, Mr. Morton, if so it please you to be called. My only thirst is for information as to the sight of to-day in connection with the past, when you bore another and, to me, a more familiar name." "What is thy thirst to me?" hoarsely cried the prisoner, while in an instant a hideous smile, that was not of mirth,' lighted up his thin face. "I can drink! Yes!-to-day the goblet comes not from the hands of the dead-and to-day I may drink the wine to the dregs, nor see it bubble again to the brim of the cup, that the pale, blue lips of the murdered may quaff!" Morton poured wine into a large glass, and drank it off. When he replaced the tumbler on the table his countenance had lost the gleam of unnatural excitement which had so strangely illumed it. "You may pledge me safely," he remarked, laying particular emphasis on the word 'safely.' Mr. Parr bowed, and would have answered; but, in a tone which admitted not of reply, the prisoner continued, "You came not here to bandy compliments with me-drink or not as it pleases you. There is mercy in Heaven-I can drink.” As he uttered this last extraordinary expression, it occurred to Mr. Parr, prepared as he was for the excitement of the interview he had sought, that he might have possibly put himself in the power of a maniac. He was in another instant reassured by Morton, who, clasping his head between his two emaciated hands, as though to still the rocking of his brain, exclaimed "Forgive me forgive me, my dear sir! I will be collected, and I will tell you all you wish to know, but not now. Do not be alarmed if I talk wildly; it is not madness, but sanesane agony. I may inform you of things hard to believe, but doubt them not. What saw you this morning? What now lies in the room beneath us? Do not be afraid of me. Tomorrow I will give myself up to justice-will that satisfy you? Now leave me. Before I die I will place in your hands a tale of horror, which you must not read till after my death. You may call it the ravings of madness; but it has been to me all too true." The prisoner became suddenly silent. He buried his face. in his hands, and bowed his head on the table. Mr. Parr again addressed him, expressing a wish not to be considered in the light of an enemy who sought his destruction, but as a friend, who, let his guilt be what it might, would willingly serve him. Mr. Morton answered not but by a convulsive laugh; he waved his hand impatiently, but looked not up, and his visiter was constrained, in courtesy to the wretchedness he could not alleviate, to quit the apartment. The next day Mr. Parr was too unwell to attend the inquest even as a spectator, but his nephew brought him the information that Mr. Morton had declared himself the murderer of the deceased; but had not offered any explanation as to who his victim was, or any particulars respecting the cause of his crime. The body had undergone surgical examination, and the action of a violent poison on the brain and intestines was evident, but the exact nature of this active agent of death not all the medical men within twenty miles of the town could discover. The servant, James, had not yet returned-the time for which he had leave to absent himself not having expired. Nothing further was likely to be elicited by protracting the inquest, and it was accordingly brought to a close, Mr. Morton being committed by the coroner's warrant to the county jail, to await his trial for the murder of a person unknown. It so happened that in the whole case there was not any magisterial examination, the local magistrates being in London, deeply interested in a question connected with the franchise of the borough; and the only other law-dispenser of the neighbourhood, the vicar of the parish, being dangerously ill. Before Mr. Morton was removed to the county-prison, he directed that the body of the murdered man should be buried by torchlight, and a most expensive funeral, the cost of which was liberally defrayed by the supposed murderer, gathered together a crowd of spectators, such as never before assembled in the churchyard of H. Curiosity was at its utmost stretch to discover who the deceased person was, and whether he had been introduced alive or dead into Mr. Morton's house; but no further light was thrown on the matter. The time had come and passed when, according to the housekeeper's statement, James, the man-servant, ought to have returned; but he had not made his appearance, though every means of procuring his evidence by advertisements in the papers, and posting-bills distributed throughout the country, were duly tried. In spite of Sarah Hodge's testimony that the deceased was in many respects unlike her fellow-servant, not a few of the gossips of the town believed that James was the murdered man; but how were they to account for the pains his murderer must have taken to disguise the body. Other busy tongues said that James must have been an accessary in the crime committed by his master, and had, therefore, kept out of the way. At length the assize time arrived. The day was fixed for Mr. Morton's trial, when it was hoped this extraordinary criminal would make full confession. His behaviour in person had been marked by the most profound melancholy. He held little communion with any one, the medical attendant, and the chaplain of the jail excepted; the former of these officials gave it as his opinion that the prisoner was sinking fast, and that even if he escaped the penalty of the law, his death would speedily ensue; the latter as a physician of the soul, found his cares equally unavailing. Mr. Morton treated him with curiosity, but ever refused to join him in religious exercises, and shunned all mention, either in justification or repentance, of his crime. Old Mr. Parr, who had kept all he knew respecting the accused scrupulously locked in his own bosom, repaired to the assize town, to be at hand in case Mr. Morton should at any time recollect his promise to him, and require his attendance. He had written to the prisoner, and was much disappointed that no answer had been returned, even up to the morning of the day fixed for his trial. At seven o'clock that morning Mr. Morton was found dead in his bed. The prisoner had passed from the finite judgment of man, to the dread tribunal of an unseen world. Never was public opinion so completely baffled. The day of trial had come, but the accused was even as his supposed victim-dead, and his secret had died with him. It was toward noon of the day marked by this last event that, as Mr. Parr was on the point of returning to H, he he was waited on by the chaplain of the jail. Mr. Morton had not forgotten his promise to the old merchant, having placed in the safe custody of the reverend gentleman the strange document which we now lay before our readers. “Richard Merville, now called Morton, to Charles Parr, gentleman, late merchant of Liverpool. master.' On this I worked to his conviction. He was hanged, and I-I was above suspicion. "But a golden cradle rocks not the conscience to sleep. Wealth was mine, and all that wealth could bestow. Friends gathered round me; but I sat in the room where I had pledged my brother in a poisoned cup. He who had lain with me in the womb, whose bed was mine till we were even past childhood; he who loved me as a second self, save that he valued my happiness beyond his own. This generous, this confiding brother I had murdered! How could I look upon the board where the deed was done? I sold off every thing I possessed in Liverpool, and went on the Continent. It was then you lost sight of me. Oh, how often had I heard the praises of the affectionate brother who could not be happy in the place that reminded him of his loss! It reminded me of my crime my most unnatural crime! I left England, and France being then open to our countrymen, plunged into the dissipations of the French capital. I hired a château within a short distance of Paris. Splendid were the salons of the rich English stranger. The young, the pure, the intellectual, mingled there with the libertine, the depraved, the infidel; but pleasure was the object of all: the innocent saw not defilement in the contact, and the vile laughed to mark their prey within the vortex of destruction. I lived in a bewilderment of excitement, and, ere a year had quite elapsed from the period of my brother's death, if I had not forgotten him-forgotten how he died conscience was unheard amid the revel and the song. And love, too, in all the delirium of passion, had taken possession of my soul-what had I to do with conscience ?-I who would have steeped that soul in twice its guilt to win one smile from Matilde de B. She sat by me at the banqnet. It was the hour when the revel was hushed, the loud voice stilled, a few, a chosen few yet lingered. Delicious music wantoned on the perfumed air; the silken drapery waved in the nightbreeze; and the moon looked in upon our bliss, and paled the lamps that had lit our noisy revelry, as though she came to assert her right to minister in passion's hour. Now, Matilde !' I cried,' thou hast kissed the cup, and I have drunk from its brim the sweet poison of thy sigh!' Poison; The word had awakened an echo-whence it came I knew not. None heard it but myself, for Matilde smiled; her hand was ready to receive the goblet; but, startled at my frenzied gaze, she drew it back, and looked around with dread. Oh! in that moment a whirlwind-rush of thought had lashed my brain into a storm of memory. 'Twas the anniversary of my brother's death. It was the hour I saw him drink 'Good night' unto his murderer! Ere Matilde, seeing no cause for fear, had turned to chide my jesting with her, a hand had taken the cup. My brother stood beside me, habited as I had last beheld him. He looked around the banquet-hall, replaced the goblet on the table, and fixed his eyes on me. Then slowly he passed from among us. I fell from my seat in a swoon. When I came to myself I was in charge of my servants. fled? No! I perceived that I was in my usual sleeping room. "Reckless of reputation, Matilde must have remained by me, and for her the state-chamber of the château had been prepared. It was morning-I would attend her toilet. The delirium I had been in during the night could not have left me, for, no sooner was I struck with this idea than I became completely possessed with it. I made my valet dress me. I insisted on his acquainting Madame de B- that I would wait on her. In vain the man opposed me. I listened not to what he had to say, and ere he could prevent me, I made my way into the chamber where, flinging open the curtains of the bed, I beheld-not Matilde-but the corpse of my brother! How I became not on the instant irrevocably mad has ever been a wonder to me; but my brain strangely stood the shock, and after a while a dread of impending danger made me bestir myself to dispose of the body. I pretended not to account for its appearance in my bed, and I had it removed, and buried at night, with little ceremony, in the consecrated ground of a neighboring ruined abbey. By flying into Italy I baffled the inquiries of the authorities respecting the corpse which had so mysteriously been found in my house, and so silently disposed of; and the latter portion of Louis the Fifteenth's reign was too much convulsed by his arbitrary measures to allow of the public mind dwelling long on private occurrences, however strange. "I know not why I should feel a satisfaction in revealing my unnatural crime, and its terrible consequences; but for a reason which, if I recollect rightly, influenced my promise to you when we last met-met, after a lapse of many years, when my career was nearly ended-as if it were ordained that so awful a judgment might not be without record. I feel that I have almost done with time. This pulse beats feebly the last throbs of existence. Let me, then at once lay bare the ulcer of my soul. I have not to tell you who I was when you knew me in Liverpool, where, perhaps, you envied my happy position. My father was rich, and I was indulged as few sons have been. Carriages, horses, money, all at my command; but I expended, not enjoyed. I had a burning discontent at my heart; my twin-brother-he who was born but some few minntes before I had looked upon the light-my father, in the pride of his heart, had resolved to make his principal heir. We were his only children, for our birth had caused our mother's death. Oh! that she had died ere she had conceived us! That I should be well provided for, I never doubted, but I was not content. Some busy demon seemed ever whispering, even as in the voice of mine own heart, the days of mourning for my father are at hand; then will I slay my brother:' and they did come. Henry Merville was the possessor of princely wealth for a few fleeting months, and then died by poison. I was the poisoner. Old man, you were on the inquest. Yes! you were one of those who returned a verdict of Wilful Murder' against an innocent stripling-a boy whom my brother out of charity had placed about his person. It was I who strewed the hellish powder in the boy's trunk. It was I who, in exaggerated detail, swore to some passages of anger between my two victims. I knew that the chidden servant had said before witnesses that he would be even with his Had all my guests "The next year I was in a village at the foot of Mount Ve suvius. I had been a wanderer through Italy, and now a dread came over me that the anniversary of my crime might again be marked by the appearance of my brother: I there fore sought a scene of desolation, for the volcano had been lately in full eruption, and vineyards, and villages, and flocks, "To quiet the people, I paid a large sum for a religious procession, and by the advice of the priests the supernatural body was consumed, and its ashes, sprinkled with holy water, cast into the sea. might look up while the precious draught was at my lips. "Farewell!" Thus ended a narration, in which the wild imaginings of a monomaniac were strangely blended with the records of guilt. That the crimes which had maddened the unhappy criminal commenced in the poisoning of his brother, there could be little doubt; but of his after-career he was the only chronicler. Old Mr. Parr to the day of his death was a firm believer in the supernatural portion of the story; but there were among those admitted into the old gentleman's confidence, matter-offact persons not a little sceptical. James, the servant, never "Now, at least, I may have rest!' I exclaimed. The again appeared, and it was thought probable that Mr. Morcorpse which exists not but in the ocean slime cannot again ton, who, it may be perceived, avoided any mention of this become tangible.' Thus I argued, and I thought myself free man in his narrative, poisoned him with the same drug which from my tormentor; but through every city of the Continent effected the first murder of the poisoner, and, grown madly it followed me. I have been imprisoned on suspicion of mur- enamored of his work, he must have prepared the body of his der, and narrowly escaped condemnation. I have been con- victim, even after death, to play its part in the fatal drama of demned, and bought life with gold. I have seen others in- a brother's destruction. Slightly worthy of credit as these volved in the like predicaments by the curse I had brought suggestions may be, in the absence of all proof, such was the upon them, but some special Providence seemed to bring them only attempt ever made to explain the mystery of the Inquest. through their troubles-protecting even me! "Still was my heart hardened to my crime. I have spent my awful anniversaries on the ocean. In the privacy of my cabin I have received my visitant. I have placed the goblet to my lips, and looked for the hand that was to receive it,― and it ever came. I have questioned the apparition in my frenzy as to what was required of me; but it remained silent, and after a minute's stay, has disappeared by my bed place, and the stark, hideous, naked corpse, was laid out before me. Prepared for this, I have lowered the intruder into the waves, and cast it off, saying to myself, 'Now again can I mingle with the world; for a brief year my ordeal is past.' On the morrow I have heard of a corpse being under the ship's bows, and I have had it hauled on deck, lashed in a hammock, with shot at its feet, and then it has sunk, and I was for awhile at peace. Time passed on, and I continued still a wretch, without a single earthly tie. On whom could I bring the weight of such a curse,-of such a mystery? I never made a friend, for my fitful moodiness repelled my fellow-creatures. "Strange are the changes of the human heart!-I know not how repentance came, but an anniversary did at length arrive, when in a contrite spirit I received my visiter. I prayed, I besought him that this judgment should pass from me; but he spoke not. Yet I hoped my repentance would avail me, and that for the last time I should sepulchre the restless corpse. But the next year proved the fallacy of such hopes; and the next, and the next. I became almost mad with the horrid destiny that clung to me. I shunned society; and, grown weary of scenes in which I had witnessed so much misery, I left Europe. "I roamed through distant and strange lands. Not long ago I was in Arabia. The last rays of the desert sun had sunk beneath its sea of sand. The caravan to which I had attached myself halted for the night by the side of a fountain. I would have given ingots of gold to drink, but I dared not. The eyes of many were upon me. The Mahommedans smoked their long pipes in silence, and one by one I saw them drop asleep. The very guards slumbered as they sat on the ground, clinging to the shafts of their spears. Yet I dared not drink. It was nearly midnight; one of these slumberers 'My good sir-” "Well, come, you shall have the time," said Mr. Bite. And let the reader take this assurance; we paint no shadow, but a real serf of Plutus, a veritable Bite, even as he lived. "You shall have the time, sir," and Bite's eye sparkled, and he leered like an ogre on his prey. "We'll call the five hundred, six hundred and fifty, and-" "What, sir! a hundred and fifty for one week?-you can't ask it!" exclaimed the victim, aghast. "You want the accommodation, eh, sir?" meekly inquired Bite. "It is life or death to me." "I know that," said the flinty Money-Lender; and, in such cases, it is always my maxim to sell life as dearly as I can." "But, Mr. Bite-" Mr. Bite coughed, took out his watch, and said, "Past ten o'clock." To give the true expression of Bite's character, we are fain to paint him in a family group: yes, to bring out all the peculiar attributes of his mind-and, we repeat, we deal not in fiction-it is necessary to place the Money-Lender in his old, familiar scenes. Enter, then, Bite's clerk, the managing harpy of the firm, to take his daily lesson: "If Mr. Firetop calls about his bill for two hundred-" "Mr. Firetop's bill," answers the Money-Lender, "isn't worth pipe-light; but, as he has some innocent, good men at |