anity from the land? Yet, I hope that this awful tide is near its turning, and that those of us who are not overwhelmed by it quickly, will not be overwhelmed by it at all. Several of the first men in the colony have already declared their dissatisfaction with both the manner and result of these murderous trials. I will mention the names of some of them, for I know that they are too high in station for any one to dare attack them. They are the Honorable Simon Bradstreet, our late governor; the Honorable Thomas Danforth, our late deputy governor; Major Saltonstall, lately one of our judges ; the reverend Elders Increase, Mather, Samuel Willard, and various others. Only four ministers, Messrs. Cotton Mather, Noyse, Parris, and Hale, are still violent for the prosecutions. If it were not for these signs, I should despair for my fellow-citizens. As it is, I have a strong hope in the great assembly, which will meet on the second Wednesday of October. It will stay the evil, I am confident; if it does not, then New England is undone and undone. I ask, in conclusion, is it not strange, that Master Newton should find it a proof of our guilt that we shed no tears? For my part, I feel proud of New England, that not one person before this bar has shown any such unworthy weakness. And now, still unweeping, fellow-townsmen, I leave myself in your hands, and ask you, without fear, to judge whether I am a sorcerer, and worthy of death."

When he ceased speaking, there was a wonderful silence in the church, as if people were still waiting for him to go on. Then many persons rose to their feet tumultuously, and there came a rushing murmur of voices, bursting forth in passionate undertones from every part of the audience. "Silence!"

cried Stoughton, gesturing violently to Herrick; and the sheriff's harsh, piercing voice yelled in answer, "Silence! silence!" The excited crowd sank and stilled itself at the word of the law; and in a few moments nothing was audible but the sobs of several women. On the spectators More's defense had evidently made a powerful impression; and, perhaps, on the jury. Stoughton replied to it in his charge; absolutely responded to it, point by point; absolutely instructed those twelve men to a condemnation. They retired, and the audience remained in an agitated suspense. As minutes, and, finally, hours passed away, many persons slipped out of the house and commenced violent discussions about the door. Two parties appeared in these dialogues: one advocating the innocence of the prisoner; another all the more condemnatory and furious. But the prevalent feeling was a speechless anxiety; and earnestly listening groups gathered around any talker of importance. "He has a bad name," said Cotton Mather, with his usual delightful pleasantry. Morus, or More; perhaps, he is the very blackamoor who haunts the afflicted."

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The reverend gentleman looked about for a smile; but even Deacon Bowson could not enjoy a joke at the moment. Then there was a cry that the jury had returned; and the crowd swept into the church in a clamor of haste. Mighty silence followed, in the midst of which the foreman rose and pronounced the brutal verdict of guilty. Exclamations, sobs, and groans burst forth suddenly, overpowered soon by a low but resolute murmur of horrible applause. More turned his eyes anxiously toward Rachel, and saw her head sink on the shoulder of sister Ann.

"I

him, with that irresistible "man of sense," at last produced a fervent aspiration, on the part of most of his acquaintance, that the aforesaid "man of sense" might be made, forthwith, the centre of attraction for all the birds of prey in the metropolis.

"No, sir, I'd soon manage any one who tried to garrote me. I'd hold my chin down so that he couldn't get the handkerchief round my throat, and then I'd kick, sir-so." In vigorously illustrating his system, Mr. Biffles hit his toe very hard against the fire-place and knocked down the shovel and tongs-of course trying immediately to look as if he hadn't done it and hadn't hurt himself. "Let me see any man who could stand that."

"But, suppose, sir, you were taken by surprise?" said his interlocutor.

"Folly, sir. A man ought never to be taken by surprise. A man of sense always has his presence of mind. I defy them, sir, to take me by surprise. I will let them see, sir, that Junius Biffles is not to be done, sir, by any manner of means, sir. I say again, let them try, sir."

Mr. Junius Biffles was one of those extremely aggravating members of society who assume the duties of judge and jury with regard to their neighbors. Nobody ever made a mistake that Mr. Junius Biffles did not show the precise origin and progress of the error, and indicate how " any man of sense" (by which title he was supposed especially to refer to Junius Biffles, esq.) would have avoided the blunder. If anybody's house were broken open and the platechest rifled, Mr. Biffles would show as exactly how it had been managed as if he had been confederated with the burglars, and knew all their secrets, and would fulminate anathemas against the unfortunate victim for not having taken precautions which "any man of sense" would naturally have done. If a man were taken in by Peter Funks, pocketbook-stuffers, patent-safes, confidencemen, or anything of the sort, the way in which Mr. Biffles's eloquence would him and swoop down upon

It may, therefore, be imagined that Mr. Biffles was perfectly magnificent in

atrocity of the garrote. Never before had he been known to reach such a height of eloquence as in disclosing the simple means by which "any man of sense" would frustrate the sudden and dastardly attack; never had he poured forth such a flood of contempt as he did upon the cowardly victims of the outrage. Indeed, it is generally supposed, that it was the scorn of Biffles and not any business difficulty which drove an unfortunate man, who had been once robbed by the new method, to his rash and unexpected suicide. Consequently, the desire for his suppression became even more active and unanimous than before.

Among others, perhaps, no one entertained this desire more earnestly than Frank Gayville, to whom the introductory remarks of this narrative were addressed.

But

Frank Gayville was a clerk in Mr. Biffles's counting-house; so one would think that he might have heard enough of Biffles without being a constant visitor at that gentleman's residence. though Frank spoke of Biffles's conversation in terms the very reverse of complimentary, yet in that gentleman's parlor, with that gentleman standing before him in his favorite attitude, with his back to the fire and his skirts beneath his arm, and that gentleman's voice, in indignant objurgation of some offender against the opinions of "any man of sense," sounding in his ears, was Mr. Frank Gayville to be found at least three times a week. And, in fact, if Mr. Biffles had confined his harangues to the counting-house, I doubt whether Frank would have seriously objected to them; for, having settled in his mind that an attention to business interfered with due attention to Mr. Biffles, Frank not only listened with resignation, but sometimes even exercised his imagination in inventing frightful burglaries and

unprecedented swindles to form the text for the morning's discourse. But at home it was a different thing; for in the parlor there, in addition to Mr. Biffles, there sat one of the prettiest little women that any one ever laid eyes on: and Frank had strongly developed that youthful instinct which impels young men to prefer for interlocutors pretty young ladies to stout elderly gentlemen. On this ground, therefore, Frank held himself justified in wishing that a temporary garrote might compress the esophagus of that "man of sense," Mr. Junius Biffles.

The young lady in question stood to Mr. Biffles in the relation of niece. Mr. Biffles had had a sister, who, after the fashion of only daughters, had run away with a by-no-means eligible young gentleman. After suffering to a very painful extent the penalties of her im prudence, this sister had appeared with a little girl in her arms at Mr. Biffles's door. Thence she was carried to Mr. Biffles's bedroom; and, after remaining alive long enough to confide to the care of her brother her orphan child, she thought she had nothing else to keep her in a world where she had suffered so much-and so she died. Little Emma O'Brien (in most runaway matches one of the parties is from the Emerald Isle) did justice to the care of her uncle by growing up very pretty and very good; while, at the same time, she proved her title to her surname, by being full of spirits and full of mischief. She was a perfect little housekeeper, but kept the servants in rapidly alternating states of "giving warning right away," and desiring to spend the rest of their lives in her service, while her uncle became most slavishly subservient to all her pretty wills and wonts. Finding, soon, that domestic tyranny was becoming very tame and monotonous, the little beauty essayed to extend her empire, and had, for some time, been engaged in reducing to subjection the by-no-means unwilling heart of Mr. Francis Gay

ville.

Laying snares for young gentlemen is, however, a very dangerous amusement; and pretty Miss Emma was no sooner aware that she had possession of Frank's heart than she discovered that she had lost her own in the operation. A result like this is seldom long a secret between the parties; so Mr. Frank Gayville and Miss

Emma O'Brien had plighted troth during an accidental meeting on Hudson square (what a nice, quiet place Hudson square is, by-the-way, and, for such a secluded spot, it is quite wonderful what a number of people happen to meet there), and were, at the present moment, devising schemes by which to get old Biffles's consent to their union.

66

As

Mr. Biffles had, in the case of Emma's mother, such a terrible lesson on the subject of imprudent marriages, that he had taken firm ground in the opposite extreme. He would make no allowances for prospects; no 66 man of sense" would think of admitting anything so vague into his calculation. No man of sense" would think of asking him to support his niece and her husband; and though, of course, he was going to give her everything he had, and she should always live with him, of course "no man of sense" would think of letting her marry any one without an independent fortune ready made. no one was ever known to argue Mr. Biffles out of an opinion, and it was a perfectly herculean effort to produce the same effect by persuasion, the unfortunate lovers had every prospect of growing gray in their attachment, or, more probably, becoming tired out of it, before any chance of union appeared. With a mind in the state to which the mind of youth is generally brought by a first and ardent affection, Frank may be pardoned for being extremely bored by Mr. Biffles-bored to such an extent that Biffles became a perfect nightmare to him. He was perpetually dreaming of Biffles-dreaming that, for some cause or other, he was condemned to garrote Biffles, and that Biffles always painfully and ignominiously repulsed him by some of the methods which he continually prescribed, and which always seemed ludicrously insufficient; or he was driven to commit burglary on the premises and was tumbling into a quicksand of chairs made ready for him (which always let him down into the centre of the heap, and never would let him up), or breaking his shins noisily against carefully-disposed coal-scuttles on the stairs, or encountering Biffles, who proceeded to stir him up with a hot poker, or scarify him with boiling water, or perforate him with a revolver, or do something indefinite, combining the agonies of everything else. Tor

unprecedented swindles to form the text for the morning's discourse. But at home it was a different thing; for in the parlor there, in addition to Mr. Biffles, there sat one of the prettiest little women that any one ever laid eyes on: and Frank had strongly developed that youthful instinct which impels young men to prefer for interlocutors pretty young ladies to stout elderly gentlemen. On this ground, therefore, Frank held himself justified in wishing that a temporary garrote might compress the oesophagus of that "man of sense," Mr. Junius Biffles.

The young lady in question stood to Mr. Biffles in the relation of niece. Mr. Biffles had had a sister, who, after the fashion of only daughters, had run away with a by-no-means eligible young gentleman. After suffering to a very painful extent the penalties of her im prudence, this sister had appeared with a little girl in her arms at Mr. Biffles's door. Thence she was carried to Mr. Biffles's bedroom; and, after remaining alive long enough to confide to the care of her brother her orphan child, she thought she had nothing else to keep her in a world where she had suffered so much-and so she died. Little Emma O'Brien (in most runaway matches one of the parties is from the Emerald Isle) did justice to the care of her uncle by growing up very pretty and very good; while, at the same time, she proved her title to her surname, by being full of spirits and full of mischief. She was a perfect little housekeeper, but kept the servants in rapidly alternating states of "giving warning right away," and desiring to spend the rest of their lives in her service, while her uncle became most slavishly subservient to all her pretty wills and wonts. Finding, soon, that domestic tyranny was becoming very tame and monotonous, the little beauty essayed to extend her empire, and had, for some time, been engaged in reducing to subjection the by-no-means unwilling heart of Mr. Francis Gayville.

Laying snares for young gentlemen is, however, a very dangerous amusement; and pretty Miss Emma was no sooner aware that she had possession of Frank's heart than she discovered that she had lost her own in the operation. A result like this is seldom long a secret between the parties; so Mr. Frank Gayville and Miss

Emma O'Brien had plighted troth during an accidental meeting on Hudson square (what a nice, quiet place Hudson square is, by-the-way, and, for such a secluded spot, it is quite wonderful what a number of people happen to meet there), and were, at the present moment, devising schemes by which to get old Biffles's consent to their union.

As

Mr. Biffles had, in the case of Emma's mother, such a terrible lesson on the subject of imprudent marriages, that he had taken firm ground in the opposite extreme. He would make no allowances for prospects; no "man of sense" would think of admitting anything so vague into his calculation. No "man of sense" would think of asking him to support his niece and her husband; and though, of course, he was going to give her everything he had, and she should always live with him, of course "no man of sense" would think of letting her marry any one without an independent fortune ready made. no one was ever known to argue Mr. Biffles out of an opinion, and it was a perfectly herculean effort to produce the same effect by persuasion, the unfortunate lovers had every prospect of growing gray in their attachment, or, more probably, becoming tired out of it, before any chance of union appeared. With a mind in the state to which the mind of youth is generally brought by a first and ardent affection, Frank may be pardoned for being extremely bored by Mr. Biffles-bored to such an extent that Biffles became a perfect nightmare to him. He was perpetually dreaming of Biffles-dreaming that, for some cause or other, he was condemned to garrote Biffles, and that Biffles always painfully and ignominiously repulsed him by some of the methods which he continually prescribed, and which always seemed ludicrously insufficient; or he was driven to commit burglary on the premises and was tumbling into a quicksand of chairs made ready for him (which always let him down into the centre of the heap, and never would let him up), or breaking his shins noisily against carefully-disposed coal-scuttles on the stairs, or encountering Biffles, who proceeded to stir him up with a hot poker, or scarify him with boiling water, or perforate him with a revolver, or do something indefinite, combining the agonies of everything else. Tor