pon collecting his faculties,
were the skeleton fingers twined within his own.

"What have you done with the body? Why have you left this with me?"
demanded he.

"It was not my intention to have done so," answered the sexton,
suspending his occupation. "I have just made fast the lid, but it is
easily undone. You had better restore it."

"Never," returned Luke, staring at the bony fragment.

"Pshaw! of what advantage is a dead hand? 'Tis an unlucky keepsake, and
will lead to mischief. The only use I ever heard of such a thing being
turned to, was in the case of Bow-legged Ben, who was hanged in irons
for murder, on Hardchase Heath, on the York Road, and whose hand was cut
off at the wrist the first night to make a Hand of Glory, or Dead Man's
Candle. Hast never heard what the old song says?" And without awaiting
his grandson's response, Peter broke into the following wild strain:

THE HAND OF GLORY[1]

From the corse that hangs on the roadside tree
--A murderer's corse it needs must be--,
Sever the right hand carefully:--
Sever the hand that the deed hath done,
Ere the flesh that clings to the bones be gone;
In its dry veins must blood be none.
Those ghastly fingers white and cold,
Within a winding-sheet enfold;
Count the mystic count of seven:
Name the Governors of Heaven.[2]
Then in earthen vessel place them,
And with dragon-wort encase them,
Bleach them in the noonday sun,
Till the marrow melt and run,
Till the flesh is pale and wan,
As a moon-ensilvered cloud,
As an unpolluted shroud.
Next within their chill embrace
The dead man's Awful Candle place;
Of murderer's fat must that candle be
--You may scoop it beneath the roadside tree--,
Of wax, and of Lapland sisame.
Its wick must be twisted of hair of the dead,
By the crow and her brood on the wild waste shed.
Wherever that terrible light shall burn
Vainly the sleeper may toss and turn;
His leaden lids shall he ne'er unclose
So long as that magical taper glows.
Life and treasures shall he command
Who knoweth the charm of the Glorious Hand!
But of black cat's gall let him aye have care,
And of screech-owl's venomous blood beware!

"Peace!" thundered Luke, extending his mother's hand towards the sexton.
"What seest thou?"

"I see something shine. Hold it nigher the light. Ha! that is strange,
truly. How came that ring