d by the dense masses of
foliage beneath which he was riding. By the time, however, that he
reached the summit of Snow Hill the moon struggled through the clouds,
and threw a wan glimmer over the leafy wilderness around. The deep
slumber of the woods was unbroken by any sound save that of the frenzied
rider bursting through them.

Well acquainted with the forest, Wyat held on a direct course. His
brain was on fire, and the fury of his career increased his fearful
excitement. Heedless of all impediments, he pressed forward--now dashing
beneath overhanging boughs at the risk of his neck--now skirting the
edge of a glen where a false step might have proved fatal.

On--on he went, his frenzy increasing each moment.

At length he reached the woody height overlooking the marshy tract
that formed the limit of his ride. Once more the moon had withdrawn her
lustre, and a huge indistinct black mass alone pointed out the
position of the haunted tree. Around it wheeled a large white owl,
distinguishable by its ghostly plumage through the gloom, like a
sea-bird in a storm, and hooting bodingly as it winged its mystic
flight. No other sound was heard, nor living object seen.

While gazing into the dreary expanse beneath him, Wyat for the first
time since starting experienced a sensation of doubt and dread; and the
warning of his old and faithful attendant rushed upon his mind. He tried
to recite a prayer, but the words died away on his lips--neither would
his fingers fashion the symbol of a cross.

But even these admonitions did not restrain him. Springing from his
foaming and panting steed, and taking the bridle in his hand, he
descended the side of the acclivity. Ever and anon a rustling among the
grass told him that a snake, with which description of reptile the spot
abounded, was gliding away from him. His horse, which had hitherto
been all fire and impetuosity, now began to manifest symptoms of alarm,
quivered in every limb, snorted, and required to be dragged along
forcibly.

When within a few paces of the tree, its enormous rifted trunk became
fully revealed to him; but no one was beside it. Wyat then stood still,
and cried in a loud, commanding tone, "Spirit, I summon thee!--appear!"

At these words a sound like a peal of thunder rolled over head,
accompanied by screeches of discordant laughter. Other strange and
unearthly noises were heard, and amidst the din a blue phosphoric light
issued from the yawning crevice in