Have you noticed, reader, while perusing this narrative, that nearly all
the characters introduced have been more or less tainted with
crime?--Even Sydney, good, generous and noble as he was, had his faults
and weaknesses. Alas! human excellence is so very scarce, that had we
taken it as the principal ingredient of our book, we should have made a
slim affair of it, indeed.

But you may remember, that in the former portions of our story, we made
a slight allusion to one Sophia Franklin. _She_, excellent young lady!
shall redeem us from the imputation of total depravity. Her virtue and
goodness shall illumine our dark pages with a celestial light--even
though her mother and sister were _murderesses_!

Sophia Franklin it was, then, whom we have introduced as walking on the
Common, with thoughtful and pensive air, on that fine afternoon in early
spring.

But _why_ thoughtful, and _why_ pensive? Surely she must be
happy.--There certainly cannot exist a creature made in God's glorious
image, who would plant the thorn of unhappiness in the pure breast of
that gentle girl?

There is. Her worst enemies are her nearest relatives. Her mother and
sister are plotting to sacrifice her to the lust of a rich villain, for
gold.

Oh, GOLD!--Great dragon that doth feed on human tears, and human honor,
and human blood! Thou art the poor man's phantom--the rich man's curse.
Magic is thy power, thou yellow talisman; thou canst cause men and women
to forget themselves, their neighbors, their God! See yon grey-headed
fool, who hugs gold to his breast as a mother hugs her first born; he
builds houses--he accumulates money--he dabbles in railroads. A great
man, forsooth, is that miserly old wretch, who stoops from manhood to
indulge the dirty promptings of a petty avarice. But is he happy? NO;
how can such a thing be happy, even tho' he possess thousands
accumulated by his detestable meanness--when men spit on him with
contempt; decency kicks him, dishonorable care will kill him, infamy
will rear his monument, and the devil will roast him on the hottest
gridiron in hell--_and he knows it!_

But to resume. Slowly did Sophia pursue her walk to the end of the mall,
and as slowly did she retrace her steps; then, crossing a narrow path,
she approached the venerable old elm, whose antique trunk is a monument
of time. She had scarcely made two circuits around this ancient tree,
when a gentleman who had espied her from a distance, advanced and