than that of a hound with the halter round his neck.
Yet, as Mr Dennis knew and could have told them, these were the two
commonest states of mind in persons brought to their pass. Such was the
wholesome growth of the seed sown by the law, that this kind of harvest
was usually looked for, as a matter of course.

In one respect they all agreed. The wandering and uncontrollable train
of thought, suggesting sudden recollections of things distant and long
forgotten and remote from each other--the vague restless craving for
something undefined, which nothing could satisfy--the swift flight of
the minutes, fusing themselves into hours, as if by enchantment--the
rapid coming of the solemn night--the shadow of death always upon them,
and yet so dim and faint, that objects the meanest and most trivial
started from the gloom beyond, and forced themselves upon the view--the
impossibility of holding the mind, even if they had been so disposed,
to penitence and preparation, or of keeping it to any point while one
hideous fascination tempted it away--these things were common to them
all, and varied only in their outward tokens.

'Fetch me the book I left within--upon your bed,' she said to Barnaby,
as the clock struck. 'Kiss me first.'

He looked in her face, and saw there, that the time was come. After a
long embrace, he tore himself away, and ran to bring it to her; bidding
her not stir till he came back. He soon returned, for a shriek recalled
him,--but she was gone.

He ran to the yard-gate, and looked through. They were carrying her
away. She had said her heart would break. It was better so.

'Don't you think,' whimpered Dennis, creeping up to him, as he stood
with his feet rooted to the ground, gazing at the blank walls--'don't
you think there's still a chance? It's a dreadful end; it's a terrible
end for a man like me. Don't you think there's a chance? I don't mean
for you, I mean for me. Don't let HIM hear us (meaning Hugh); 'he's so
desperate.'

Now then,' said the officer, who had been lounging in and out with his
hands in his pockets, and yawning as if he were in the last extremity
for some subject of interest: 'it's time to turn in, boys.'

'Not yet,' cried Dennis, 'not yet. Not for an hour yet.'

'I say,--your watch goes different from what it used to,' returned the
man. 'Once upon a time it was always too fast. It's got the other fault
now.'

'My friend,' cried the wretched creature, falling on his knees, 'my