for deaf mutes; my sister, Mary Maria, took orders for Professor
Pumpernickel's Essence of Latchkeys for flavoring mineral springs, and I
set up as an adjuster and gilder of crossbeams for gibbets. The other
children, too young for labor, continued to steal small articles exposed
in front of shops, as they had been taught.

In our intervals of leisure we decoyed travelers into our house and
buried the bodies in a cellar.

In one part of this cellar we kept wines, liquors and provisions. From
the rapidity of their disappearance we acquired the superstitious belief
that the spirits of the persons buried there came at dead of night and
held a festival. It was at least certain that frequently of a morning we
would discover fragments of pickled meats, canned goods and such débris,
littering the place, although it had been securely locked and barred
against human intrusion. It was proposed to remove the provisions and
store them elsewhere, but our dear mother, always generous and
hospitable, said it was better to endure the loss than risk exposure: if
the ghosts were denied this trifling gratification they might set on
foot an investigation, which would overthrow our scheme of the division
of labor, by diverting the energies of the whole family into the single
industry pursued by me--we might all decorate the cross-beams of
gibbets. We accepted her decision with filial submission, due to our
reverence for her wordly wisdom and the purity of her character.

One night while we were all in the cellar--none dared to enter it
alone--engaged in bestowing upon the Mayor of an adjoining town the
solemn offices of Christian burial, my mother and the younger children,
holding a candle each, while George Henry and I labored with a spade and
pick, my sister Mary Maria uttered a shriek and covered her eyes with