the reader must suppose himself to be present, and shall go on to
describe the scene which presents itself.

On entering, we found the house nearly crowded; but we could observe
that there were very few of the young and light-hearted present, and
scarcely any females, unless those who were related to the family of the
deceased, or to himself. The house was low and long, and the kitchen
in which they had laid him out was spacious, but badly furnished.
Altogether its destitution was calculated to deepen the sense of awe
which impressed those who had come to spend the night with the miserable
widow and wailing orphans of the murderer.

The unfortunate man had been executed that morning after having
acknowledged his crime, and, as the laws of that period with respect to
the interment of the convicted dead were not so strict as they are at
present, the body was restored to his friends, in order that they might
bury it when and where they wished. The crime of the unhappy man was
deep, and so was that which occasioned it. His daughter, a young and
beautiful girl, had been seduced by a gentleman in the neighborhood who
was unmarried; and that act of guilt and weakness on her part was the
first act that ever brought shame upon the family. All the terrible
passions of the father's heart leaped into action at the rain of his
child, and the disgrace which it entailed upon his name. The fury of
domestic affection stimulated his heart, and blazed in his brain even
to madness. His daughter was obliged to fly with her infant and
conceal herself from his vengeance, though the unhappy girl, until the
occurrence of that woful calamity, had been the solace and the sunshine
of his life. The guilty seducer, however, was not doomed to escape the
penalty of his crime. Morrissey--for that was the poor man's name--cared
not for law; whether it was to recompense him for the degradation of