es one single, pitying human being, who will take
the trouble to heap the sod over a friendless, homeless wretch, as I
now am.'

"'Calm yourself, darling; they cannot connect me with it. I will bury
it. But few persons know of it, and they dare not tell.'

"He went to the cellar. I could hear him working away and talking
excitedly to himself. I approached the steps and listened. He had
ceased for a moment, I could hear his heavy breathing. I stepped down
a few steps; he turned toward me, coat off; his face grimed with
perspiration and dirt, he glared upon me. 'Aha, you come too late; I
have concealed it, I am not the owner of it; you cannot prove _me_
guilty.' His mind was wandering; he imagined the officers were come to
take him. I moved toward him; a pistol shot, a heavy fall, and he had
escaped--so far as human penalty was concerned. Here I was, alone, on
this accursed island; even the servants had fled in terror, and left
me with the dead body of my husband. His blood ran from the wound, and
formed in little pools, which the thirsty black earth drank, and left
no stain. Now was I strong with frenzy; the method of madness was on
me; I seized the tools, which the suicide had left, and commenced to
dig what must now be a grave--wider, and deeper, and longer I dug it;
then settled the body into it; and covering it up, heaped and rounded
it. I did not mind the work; it was excitement and kept me from dying.
I went out into the open air--it was not yet light--the peaceful
heavens gave no sign of wrath, and the bright twinkling stars looked
down upon this scene of crime, and madness, and suicide, as serenely
as they had before the island was changed from a domestic paradise to
a pandemonium. I hear him calling, as if from the river; it is a
stifled cry for assistance. I must go to him. I can save him, and
I--"

The newspaper of that period contained the following:

"The body of a female was found floating in the river at the
Great Falls of the Potomac--Unknown."

* * * * *

THE FAIRIES OF WARM SPRING MOUNTAIN.

A LEGEND OF BERKELEY SPRINGS.

To one who has not lived in a mountain country the abounding beauty
of those sequestered regions is unknown. The mountains, blue, dim, and
mysterious, with range backing range, and pillaring the heavens, lift
their mist-enveloped peaks far above this breathing, thinking world.
There the wild deer roams in solitude and security,