bt and doom. I stand here a mark and
scorn to the whole world; but, though all unite in my condemnation, I
still fearlessly and distinctly declare my innocence. I am neither a
parricide nor a murderer! and I now await my sentence with the calmness
and fortitude which a clear conscience alone can give."

Murmurs of disapprobation ran though the court.

"What a hypocrite!" muttered some, as the jury left the court to consult
together about the verdict.

"Do you observe the striking likeness between the prisoner at the bar
and his cousin, the second witness against him?" whispered a gentleman
in the crowd to a friend near him. "By Jove, 'tis a fearful resemblance.
I would not be so like the murderer for worlds. 'Tis the same face."

"Perhaps," said his friend, "they are partners in guilt. I have my
doubts. But 'tis unlawful to condemn any man."

"He's a bad fellow by his own account," said the other. "It was he who
first led the prisoner to commit the theft. I think one of them deserves
death as much as the other."

"Whist, man! Yon handsome rogue is the miser's heir."

"Humph!" said the first speaker. "If I were on the jury--"

"Here they come, there is death in their very looks, I thought as much,
he is found guilty."

The judge rose; a death-like stillness pervaded the court during his
long and impressive address to the prisoner. The sentence of death was
then pronounced, and Anthony Marcus Hurdlestone was ordered for
execution on the following Monday.

"This dreadful day is at length over," he said as he flung himself on
his pallet of straw in the condemned cell, on the evening of that
memorable day. "Thank God it is over, and I know the worst, and nothing
now remains to hope or fear. A few brief hours and this weary world will
be a dream of the past, and I shall awake from my bed of dust to a new
and better existence, beyond the power of temptation--beyond the might
of sin. My God, I thank Thee. Thou hast dealt justly with Thy servant.
The soul that sinneth, it must die; and grievously have I sinned in
seeking to mar Thy glorious image--to cast the life thou gavest me as a
worthless boon at Thy feet. I bow my head in the dust and am silent
before Thee. Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"

His meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the chaplain of the
jail--a venerable Christian who felt a deep interest in the prisoner,
and who now sought him to try and awaken him to a full sense of his