es in the
fifth story."

"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed the dying man; "that sin is off my soul!
Natalie, dear wife, farewell! Forgive! forgive all!"

These were the last words he uttered; the priest, who had been
summoned in haste, held up the cross before his failing sight; a few
strong convulsions shook the poor bruised and mangled frame; and then
all was still.

And thus ended the Young Advocate's Wedding Day.

* * * * *

[FROM DICKENS'S HOUSEHOLD WORDS FOR JUNE 29.]

THE POWER OF MERCY.

Quiet enough, in general, is the quaint old town of Lamborough. Why
all this bustle to-day? Along the hedge-bound roads which lead to it,
carts, chaises, vehicles of every description are jogging along filled
with countrymen; and here and there the scarlet cloak or straw bonnet
of some female occupying a chair, placed somewhat unsteadily behind
them, contrasts gaily with the dark coats, or gray smock-frocks of the
front row; from every cottage of the suburb, some individuals join the
stream, which rolls on increasing through the streets till it reaches
the castle. The ancient moat teems with idlers, and the hill opposite,
usually the quiet domain of a score or two of peaceful sheep, partakes
of the surrounding agitation.

The voice of the multitude which surrounds the court-house, sounds
like the murmur of the sea, till suddenly it is raised to a sort
of shout. John West, the terror of the surrounding country, the
sheep-stealer and burglar, had been found guilty.

"What is the sentence?" is asked by a hundred voices.

The answer is "Transportation for Life."

But there was one standing aloof on the hill, whose inquiring eye
wandered over the crowd with indescribable anguish, whose pallid cheek
grew more and more ghastly at every denunciation of the culprit, and
who, when at last the sentence was pronounced, fell insensible upon
the green-sward. It was the burglar's son.

When the boy recovered from his swoon, it was late in the afternoon;
he was alone; the faint tinkling of the sheep-bell had again replaced
the sound of the human chorus of expectation, and dread, and jesting;
all was peaceful, he could not understand why he lay there, feeling
so weak and sick. He raised himself tremulously and looked around, the
turf was cut and spoilt by the trampling of many feet. All his life
of the last few months floated before his memory, his residence in
his father's hovel with ruffianly comrades, th