while the proceedings were going on, she flitted up and down the country like an evil spirit-now here, now there with a mysterious swiftness that added to her fame for supernatural agency. Supplication -vows of vengeance-curses, deep and dire, she used, as it was her purpose to coax or to intimidate those whose evidence was to be used against her sons, but all was unavailing; and when they were now pronounced guilty, her face grew black, and she muttered and trembled, but shed no tears.

When, with the rest of the grand jury, Colonel B- was leaving the court house, she threw herself in his way, flung back her bright red cloak, the hood of which had, until then, enveloped her head, and, on her bended knees, with her hands clasped, and her long grey hair streaming behind, she cursed him with the energy and bitterness of a fiend. "Go along," she said, “and may the curse o' the widow, that's now left childless and desolate, cling about you night, noon, and mornin', as long as you live, and in the flames of hell after ye die-aye, black, hard-hearted, contrivin' villain as ye are, an' always was, an' always will be! Aye, go your ways, and may my curse be poison to your body and your soul! May you never know satisfaction or contintmint in this world, and may my revenge bring you to a sudden death, and send your soul, hot an' hissin', to hell, from where it came! This is my curse, an' may it fall on you hot and heavy, I pray God!"

It was not the words alone, but the fearful demoniac wildness of the manner, which, to those who beheld the woman, gave an impression of indescribable horror. She paused as if from exhaustion; and Mr Mwent over to her, and in words of pity, which even disgust could not overcome, besought her to go away, and submit with decent quiet to the fate which the law had necessarily brought upon her sons. "Away!" she said, " away! chicken-hearted fool, that wouldn't spake a word for my boys! May be I'll have revenge of you too; but you're not wicked, an' I mustn't curse you." She disappeared, and was seldom seen afterwards in the glen; but once a-year, on the anniversary of the day on which

her sons were convicted, she presented herself before Colonel Band renewed her curse. No matter where he went-she dogged him and on that day, except he confined himself to his chamber, the widow renewed her malediction. Thrice he detected her in crimes, for which he was enabled to throw her into jail for a short period, but still she got free again, and again she tracked his steps, and poured out upon him the bitterness of her heart.

About a month before the evening on which Mr M- rushed forth to seek from Colonel B― personal satisfaction for the insult offered to his daughter, the widow's son had returned from his exile of seven years. The woman still occupied her wretched cabin on the hill-side, and to that miserable home the young man returned. The old woman now walked more erect—a gleam of fierce joy was seen now and then to shoot from beneath her projecting brow, and people said it was not like the joy she should have shewn to see her son again, for there was “no tinderness in it, at all at all." But a satisfaction in which there was nothing of tenderness lurked in the woman's heart she had persuaded her son to undertake a murder! On the day on which Colonel Bwrote his letter to Emily, he received a note, which was found in the hall. How it came there, no one could tell; but it was in a woman's hand, ill spelled, and asking him to be on the bank of the stream, below the widow Lynch's cabin, that evening, at the rising of the moon. There were initials to the note which he knew he put it in the fire, and determined to keep the appointment. He had gone out before Mr Marrived at his gate, and the servant replied, with a look of astonishment, to the quick and fierce demand if his master were at home, "Is it the masther you want, sir?"

"Yes I want to see him directly."
"He's gone out.”
"Where?"

Mr M, as he turned away, determined to seek out the Colonel before he rested. He chanced to follow exactly in his steps; but rapidly as he walked, it was some time before he perceived his antagonist at a considerable distance in advance of him, walking on the pathway which skirted the stream, as it ascended towards the mountain region. The moon had just risen, calm, and bright, and beautiful, peacefully beaming on the rocks and furze, and glancing in the rapid stream as it pounced along from stone to stone, yet almost seeming to hush its wonted murmurs, through sympathy with the calm softness of the light that trembled upon it. Such an appearance of nature formed a singular contrast with the burning fever in the heart and brain of the insulted parent, who now strode along, irritated even more than he had previously been, by the sight of the man whose injuries he sought to resent and avenge. He had now approached within a dozen paces-his hands were upon his pistols, and he was about to call out to Colonel B, who was just going to pass round a huge lump of granite that lay in the way, and would have concealed him momentarily from the view of Mr M, when the report of a pistol from the other side was heard, and in the same instant Colonel B― leaped breast high from the ground, and then fell flat upon it,

a dead man.

A moment before, and Mr Mhad been himself eager to inflict such a doom upon the man who now lay stretched almost at his feet, yet at the sight of what was done, he was petrified with horror, and stood for a moment, feeling as if his burning heart had been plunged in icy water. The next moment his recollection returned, and rushing round the rock, from the other side of which the shot appeared to have come, he found the Widow Lynch and her son, the latter with a pistol in his hand, still smoking from the discharge which had killed Colonel B- "Murderers!" said Mr M-, drawing forth one of his pistols," you are detected in your foul assassination. Surrender yourself instantly," he added to the son, "or you die as surely as the man you have just shot." The man made no reply, but

to dis

was soon over-,

flung himself upon Mr M arm him-in the struggle the pistol was discharged, and the ball whizzing past the ear of the ruffian, did him no injury. Mr Mpowered, as his arms having been seized, he could not use his second pistol; the murderer was strong, and having flung him down, planted his knee upon his breast.

"What shall we do with him, mother?" he said. "Best send him after the Colonel, to give him a character," she replied, with a wild and fiend-like laugh. "I said I'd have my revenge of him too, an' the divil has put it in my way sooner than I expected."

The prostrate man thought of his daughter, and wished for life. "Woman," he exclaimed, "I never injured you!"-" Hah-you lie-you lie!" almost shrieked the hag. "I asked you to speak a word for my boys-for the boy that now has you in his grip-and you would not-But,' she added, after a little pause, “Ican't hate you, as I did the villain that's just done for. If you're let go, will you swear never to say a word to man or mortal of what you have seen to-night?"—"No," said Mr M— firmly-"Kill me, if you must; but if I live, I shall do my duty, and endeavour to bring you both to justice."

"Hoh, you will ?" said the woman, and repeated her horrid laugh-" but say your prayers thin, if you think they'll do you any good, afore you die." She paused again a little space-her eyes glistened as if some joyful thought had struck her, and she whispered to her son.

"What brought you here, wid a pistol in your hand ?" she said again, addressing Mr M.

"May God forgive me," he replied," a wicked purpose; but I trust that sin, great as it was in intention, may not be imputed to me!"

"I don't think you liked the Curnel much, more than ourselves, MrM. Maybe if we hadn't been in the way just now, you'd have saved us the trouble? What brought you here, I say, at this time, wid a pistol in your hand?"

"Not to assassinate a man in cold blood,” replied Mr M- —. “A crime so foul as that I have not to answer for."

"Maybe you will though," said the woman, "and save other people from being suspected. Lay hoult on him, Dinnis, and take him off. I charge him wid having shot the Curnel, and you'll back what I say-You seen him, didn't you?"-and again came forth the devilish laugh.

In a moment the unfortunate Mr M― saw the dreadful situation in which he was placed-his brain spun round, and he grew sick, with the fear not of death, but of infamy. "Spare me, spare me!" he cried out in agony.

"No," replied the woman, in a tone which seemed like the echo of his own 66 No" to her proposal a minute before-the wretch mocked him even then.

It would protract my tale too much to tell minutely all that followed. A host of circumstances were brought forward against Mr M. He was proved to have followed the Colonel to a lonely place under strong irritation; to have taken his pistols with him, of which one was discharged, and the woman Lynch and her son swore positively to having come upon him, as the murder was done. All this was coherent, while his story was improbable, and unsupported. True, he had the Colonel's letter, which he said had provoked him to follow him with pistols; but the magistrates, who examined it, could see nothing in it but a proposal for an elopement, and not at all justificatory of the proceeding which it was said to have induced. True, the character of the woman Lynch and her son was bad as bad could be, and it was very possible to suppose them capable of the murder which Mr M alleged they had committed; but there was no particle of evidence against them, save the assertion of the accused, who had the strongest possible interest in speaking falsely. The weapon, too, with which he alleged the murder had been committed, could not be found, although the most diligent search had been made in and around Lynch's cabin. Mr Mwas committed, by the magistrates, for trial. Who shall paint his misery, or that of the wretched Emily? Death, a felon's death-infamy, horrible infamy-hung over her father's head, and no ray of comfort pierced through this dreadful storm of un

speakable calamity. For a time, something like insanity took possession of the unfortunate prisoner; but at last the consolation of religion visited him, and Emily became his ministering angel, and he wept, and was calm, and tasted something like peace even in the midst of misery and tears.

Time rolled on-property lives, though men, who call it theirs, die; and it became necessary to arrange for the disposition of Colonel B's effects. The heir-at-law was his nephew, who had but a few weeks before been on a visit with him, and he now returned, petrified with horror at what had happened, and utterly incredulous as to the guilt of Mr MHe visited him in prison, and listened to his statement, which was given in the language, and with the deportment, of a man who had done with this world, and only testified the truth, for the truth's sake. The pri soner's daughter was with him, for humanity did not refuse that blessing to his gloomy cell; and if one may speak of female loveliness in such a situation, even there, the touching dignity of her extreme sorrow, and the pious duty of filial love in which she was constantly engaged, gave a depth of beauty almost angelic to her peerless face and form.

Tears stood in the young gentleman's eyes, as he mounted his horse to quit the prison-gate. "Aye, your honour," said the servant, as he held the stirrup, and spoke with the familiarity which their respective ages made not unnatural between master and servant, " 'twas a sorrowful sight you seen, I'll warrant me-a kind gentleman they always said he was, -and the poor young crathur-sure it's hard, an' heavy, an' arely her misfortunes have come upon her."

66

Aye," replied his master, with a sigh, aye-Do you know these people that are the witnesses against him, Peter ?"

"Know thim? to be sure I do, your honour-but I b'lieve the divil knows them better nor any one else, an' has his hoult over thim strong enough."

"Do you know the spot where my uncle was shot?"

"I do, your honour, well. I seen it the day before yisterday, and the mark of the blood on the ground, God bless us, an' be about us!"

"I wish you would bring me to the place."

"Whin, your honour ?" "This evening, after we ride home."

"The cross of Christ be about us! Sure, sir, it is not to go there after dark you want?"

"No; there will be moonlight. It was about this day month the murder was committed-and by moonlight. I wish to see it under similar circumstances."

"An you're not afeerd, sir?" "Afraid, fool! No; of what should I be afraid?"

"Why, your honour, to say nothin' of evil sperrits, for maybe you that has been at college doesn't beleeve in them like us poor people-but it's just convanient to the Lynches' cabin, an' where they are I'm thinkin' there's little good."

Never mind, take courage, and bring me to the place. I have a particular reason for wishing to go there."

Now, in sober truth, young Frederick B had no reason at all, but he had a strong impression upon his mind, derived from he knew not what a presentiment, if philosophy would allow of such a thing-that by going, he would discover something of importance; and upon this impression, or presentiment, he acted.

At moonrise he arrived with his servant at the entrance of the gorge, through which the stream passes into the glen. Their horses were left in the care of one of the cottagers, and they proceeded on foot up the pathway which, exactly a month previously, had been trodden about the same hour by Colonel B and Mr M. The present night, too, was calm and clear as that night had been, and all was silence, save the rushing of the eager stream.

The servant, although somewhat confident from the presence of his master, who had been "at College," yet felt some fear withal, and as they came within sight of the rock where the murder was committed, which they did while yet a very considerable distance from it, he involuntarily stopped, and looked round with an anxious gaze as far as his eyes could reach.

"What is the matter, Peter ?" said his master.

"Nothin',sir-only I thought I seen -Look, sir, don't you think you see somethin' movin' down the side o' the hill, toart [towards] the rock ?"

"Yes," said his master, looking in the direction pointed out, "I do see what I take to be two persons walking that way. I see them now more plainly-it is a man and a woman. What ails you, man?-does one man and an old woman frighten you?"

“It's the Widdy Lynch and her son," whispered the man; "an' the divil's not far off, in some shape or other, I'll be bail."

"Hush, Peter-let us observe their motions-see, they are getting down under the shadow of that rock. Good Heaven! they have vanished!"

"No, your honour," said Peter, smiling to find that for once he knew better than his master who had been at college-"they're only gone close to the rock, and are quite hid in the shade-the bames o' the moon is all on the other side-they're gone there to hatch some divilment, I'll warrant me."

"Could we get to the other side of the rock without being perceived by them, Peter ?"

"Not if you go straight forward, sir-for they'd see us immadiately; but if you go up the side of the hill a bit, and keep up till we get beyant the rock, thin we can come down upon the far side of it."

"Let us do so, then. I should wish, if possible, to hear their consultation."

The plan was put into execution, and in half an hour they found themselves approaching the rock on the opposite side from that on which they had before seen it.

"Think you they are still there?" said Frederick B

"I do, sir," replied the servant; "I kep my eye on the place, an' barrin' they wint within the last two minits, they're still in the same spot." "How shall we get close upon them?"

"You can climb up upon the rock, an' get over their heads," replied the servant, whose spirit of enterprise had now overcome his fear.

"Good-that will be the best