course of people; and where many gravestones repeat the same facts, the same verses, and the same texts, and stand forth, as public witnesses, boldly to attest that the number of the illiterate is great, and that poverty of invention and sterility of fancy are universal. But these places were soon to be viewed in another light. The church was ancient and handsome, in a good Gothic style, and more spacious than the solitary district required. In the wide aisle in the middle of the nave was an enormous flag-stone with two huge iron rings, like the rings fixed upon piers and in harbours for mooring vessels; they were thick and ponderous, and not less rusty than such as have been exposed to the sea water. The massy stone closed the entrance to vaults, which extended, it was said, on all sides under the church. The edges of the stone for the most part fitted the pavement very closely, but, at certain seasons, and particularly during the hay-harvest, for especial reasons, it appeared to have been raised and replaced carelessly; as it then lay unevenly, and there was a vacant space at one side, where the black darkness beneath might be plainly discerned, and through which a letter, or a thin volume, might be dropped into the vault. At these times the congregation did not choose to tread upon the stone, or to come very near it in going out of church. It had been a hot and dry summer, as the size and soundness of the walnuts proved, the level of the stone had been much disturbed, the chinks gaped wider than heretofore, and had not yet closed at the commencement of autumn.

"Well, indeed, I know not what has come to our vicar! I told him the great stone was quite awful to look upon that we ought to put up a bit of a rail round it to keep people off; they are afraid to go near it. It would be a dreadful thing certainly, if it should fall in and carry some of them into the vaults along with it. But I suppose we are to have them up in the church amongst us next! Well, when it comes to that, I hope I may be a long way off! He would not hear of a rail, but told me there was no danger, that the stone lay unequally through the drought, which caused the pavement to shrink from it; that it is unwise to be alarmed, for there is no more danger in a vault than in any other place. But I said, 'Pray, sir, did you ever tread upon the stone yourself?' He made no answer; so I asked him if he would like to go down into the vault by himself. He looked a little pale at this I thought, and after some study said, Why, Joshua, would it not be rather a vain thing, think you, to descend thither alone without a very pressing occasion?' It is very well for the parson to try to lay it all upon the drought; there might be a very sore drought upon the earth, but there is a far sorer drought where she is!"

Thus did Joshua Longbotham, an honest farmer, and one of the churchwardens, and consequently a man worthy of attention, grumble aloud against his vicar in the churchyard after evening service on a fine Sunday in the autumn. Two or three boys drew near: the good-humoured old man loved the company of boys; he loved their conversation, or rather that they should listen to his interminable discourses, and assent to his assertions, for the confirmation of young gentlemen in the actual receipt of a learned education was flattering and satisfactory, and their patience and complaisance were often rewarded with apples, pears, and plums. He repeated in the churchyard to his youthful audience the complaints which he had just uttered to himself, with large additions and illustrations; he repeated them more fully by the way, with considerable augmentations at his own door, and presently again in all their detail, before the fire in his airy and ample kitchen. The boys heard and approved; Martha, the maid, sent at intervals from the window-seat a deep-drawn sigh, and having deliberately

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wiped an eye, a mouth, or other feature with the corner of a snow-white apron, sadly ejaculated, "Eh me!" Not so the dame: " my poor Kit!" she struggled hard to interpose" but only think of my poor Kit!" It was impossible to force in more by any effort, until Joshua withdrew to the chamber to select a few mellow apples, then Betty Longbotham, her eyes and mouth being much wiped, began in her turn an orderly discourse; and Martha, when her mistress was in possession of the house, came from the window-seat, and stood, a patient listener, behind her elbow-chair. "But only think of my poor Kit!" Christopher Longbotham, the son of Betty by a former marriage, and her only child (for the story is short when it is stripped of repetitions, reflections, sighs, and tears) being then a fair-haired, bright-eyed boy of nineteen, with his poor father's smile and glittering teeth, once drew near to the chink. It is easy to talk, but it is all nonsense to say, that it was never so wide or never open so late before!" The years were signified very precisely when the chink appeared as early, gaped as much, and remained as long. In one of these years Christopher-he had always been a venturous child crept up softly to the big stone, the church being open just before evening service, and listening silently heard scratchings in the vault beneath, and he thrust a long wand, which he had cut from the old elder-tree in the garden for the purpose, down the chink. It entered readily, and he moved it about freely for some time, but on a sudden it was snatched violently out of his hand with great force, as by a strong man; and upon this he was so much terrified, that he instantly ran away. Oftentimes afterwards the thought of what he had done would come across him in his place in the gallery over the side-aisle, whilst he was playing the flute for the singers. He would tremble, and a cold sweat broke out all over his body, and his breath failed him, so that he could not blow; he was forced, therefore, to leave the singers, male and female, to themselves, to get through the psalms as they could, ceasing to assist them most reluctantly, because with no other accompaniment than the double bass, the clarionet, and the bassoon, and without his flute, as he constantly declared, and his mother believed, the music was not worth listening to.

"And I solemnly affirm, that often in my bed at night, when I think what an act my own flesh and blood has done, when I think where the stick that grew in our garden has gone, and in whose keeping it certainly is at this time a stick which my poor Kit, God forgive him, cut with his own hands off the elder-tree, from which so many gallons of good wholesome wine, that has been drunk in our house, were made (I never was so glad in my life as I was when the old tree was blown over by the great storm, and I only wonder that our old house and all was not carried away) - when I think upon these things, I tremble so, that the bed trembles, and the chamber trembles all over, so that you may hear the china and glasses jar together in the corner cupboard in our parlour below. Poor fellow, he never got quite over it! My poor Kit never throve well after it; and when he went away to the South to get a purer air, as they told me, he only went to be buried far away from us all, in a strange land! Oh! that Lady Bowles-she was a hussy! It was all through her! Only think of my poor Kit!"

The pretty Gothic church may be said to have had a double chancel; on the north side of the eastern end was the ordinary chancel, with a large window at the extremity, and the communion table under it, and several handsome monuments in marble on each side. On the south of the same end was an additional chancel, or rather a porch or chapel, which had no

window at the end, but three narrow lancet windows on the right in the south side. One of these gave light from the top only: the rest were closed on the inside with stone, so that the place was very dark. The tomb was on the left, or north side: it was protected by iron rails on three sides; on the other side was the wall. The rails were very high, twelve feet at least, and very thick, and set very close together; consequently it was impossible to see much of the tomb: they increased the darkness by their shadows, and the obscurity was augmented by the continual accumulation of dust. and dirt. A female larger, much longer surely than any living woman, lay upon her back on a couch, enveloped in most ample draperies: pleat within pleat, fold upon fold covered the whole person, the arms, and the feet; the head likewise was enshrined in cowls and hoods. At her feet was a drawn sword: this, at least, was plainly to be seen, for the light fell upon it; at her feet also, but in the darkest corner, sat a low black figure, called the Imp of Sin. To trace it distinctly would have been impossible, even if terror did not impede the vision, yet the dusky outline closely resembled other representations of the same being. The body of Lady Bowles had been deposited in the vault immediately under her tomb, and the entrance to the vaults being at a great interval, it seemed, as was reported, that they were very extensive.

At the distance of three measured miles from the church, towards the south-west, stood the Hall; the spot might be discovered for a mile and more on every side, by the incessant cries of countless rooks, and it was often clearly indicated by a black cloud of innumerable birds hovering above the lofty trees. The mansion was encompassed by a flat level park; old trees, crowded with nests, seemed to press together and to hem it in closely, save that on the south side they had retired a short distance to afford room for certain antique gardens and their clipped hedges, straight walks, and gradations of terraces. The house was of grey stone, its aspect gloomy and ancient, its form square, each front similar, being alike surmounted with gables, crowned with a forest of tall chimneys, and pierced by numerous casement windows of very various forms and dimensions. For every week of the year there was a chimney or hearth in the roomy edifice, and for every day a window. Sundry ancient men affirmed, that they were able to show the window of the very room in which the foul deed was done. Some murky casement, in a dark corner, was pointed out with much mystery, after long deliberation, but it was remarkable that of the 365 windows, a different one was selected by each of the hoary seniors, and indeed the same awe-stricken guide would occasionally indicate, in trembling perplexity, another instead of that which he had himself lately distinguished as the only true one. Sundry ancient women told, that they had heard from a grandmother, or a great-aunt, that her companion, when a girl, had been led by a former housekeeper at the Hall into the fatal dressing-closet, and that there, upon her knees on the bare floor, she had gazed with her young eyes at the indelible stains which, when the sun shone strongly, were evidently blacker than the black parqueted oak itself; and that when she could no longer endure the intolerable sight, how the terrified maiden rushed out of the room, thanking God that she had escaped so, and vowing that she would never set foot in it again, not even if she might thus win the heart and hand of the finest young lord in the land.

In the long gallery was a dingy old picture, which any body might inspect; it represented a young lady seated in a chair, her long hair falling all around, the ends not merely touching, but lying in large ringlets upon the ground. Her features were regular, her countenance handsome, but hard,

her eyes bright and bold, with something of fear lurking in the corners; it was not the aspect of a happy woman, a forced cheerfulness strove in vain to hide an aching heart, and an affected confidence to cover perpetual apprehension. At her feet lay a drawn sword, and in deep shadow at the back of the picture, sat crouching on the ground behind her chair a low black figure, like a mis-shapen dwarf, or an ape, slowly combing the lady's hair with short crooked fingers. "There sits Pride!" said the old housekeeper, with conspicuous aversion in showing the painting. "It is not for me to speak against her, that is not my place! or to tell all I know," she added very mysteriously; "but there sits Madam Pride!" "That is Lady Bowles, is it not?" "Yes." "And that is the Imp of Sin?" "Yes." "The same that is on the monument?" "Yes." "And there is the sword?" "Yes." Like one who having much to hide, fears lest some disclosure should be extorted forcibly, the cautious housekeeper was already standing before another portrait, explaining that upon which she could dwell with more satisfaction. The Hall, it is true, had been the scene of the cruel and unnatural slaughter, yet it had been cleared by repeated and powerful exorcisms, lustrated by innocent prayers and pure piety, and sanctified by the long practice of maiden virtues, by heavenly kindness, and the meekest charity. Save only the dismal dressing-closet, the access to which had been walled up for more than a hundred years, it was not accounted an uneasy habitation, nor were the grave, formal, antiquated grounds, or indeed the immediate vicinity, terrible even on the darkest nights; the territory was rather reputed to be, on the contrary, safe and innoxious.

There was a rude rock about two miles from the Hall, situated in a pleasant valley; the sides were steep, and the top was covered with long grass and hazle bushes. It was called Lady Bowles's Chair, and was in size equal to an ordinary dwelling-house; it could not be ascended without a ladder, except by an active climber; it was believed that nobody ever ventured to get to the top, and certainly in the autumn the ripe nuts were seen there hanging ungathered; and when a few of these slipped their shells and fell to the ground, they remained unheeded by the boys. A field-path passed close by the Chair on the western side: by day, for a rustic footway it was not unfrequented, but by night the traveller made a large and inconvenient circuit towards the west, shunning the direct and well-trodden road; for the rock hung over the path, and there was a narrow ledge on the side, upon which two or three persons might sit. And here sat side by side Lady Bowles and the Imp of Sin by night, and chiefly about haytide, when the bloody deed was done. The belief of the reality of such visits was firmly rooted, and the dread of the spot was strong among the country folk, but it was not rumoured that any body had ever seen or heard any thing remarkable here.

At the "Alders," Jonas Coverdale's farm, where the poor handmaiden was born, it was far otherwise. Of numerous windows, many were built up with stone, gray as the dingy walls; many were blocked with mouldering boards, and a few still admitted a doubtful light through dim warped casements. Moss, stonecrop, and tall grass stood securely on the pointed roofs and lofty walls, which were tinged with a dull sap-green, as were the sluggish pools and ponds, whither all the waters that fell from heaven upon the rank herbage of the adjoining fields slowly crept, and where it stilly slept." It always rains at the Alders,' and when it rains nowhere else!" A dark cloud hung over it in the air above, and in the air beneath a dense chilly fog folded it around. Slugs and frogs, toads and newts crawled forth

from the stagnant waters to the rushy lawn, to the long damp passages, and to the gloomy kitchen. The huge edifice, house, stalls, and barns, was sheltered by high hedges of holly, box, and yew, which for several generations had run into wild disorder, unclipped and unheeded, and the winds were warned to seek another course, and to shun the humid spot, by clumps and belts of ever dripping trees, of alders, willows, and sycamores. Damp as the grave, silent as death, the cattle were fat and sleek, but mute: they fed in silence, looking sad, as though they knew their fate, and quietly waited for the butcher's knife. The sheep would never bleat, the kine lowed not, nor would the drowsy house-dog bark at any earthly visitor; during the night the poor beast howled miserably with frantic fear. The occupiers grew rich, but they throve not; old Saul Coverdale, the granduncle of Jonas, might have paved his chamber with silver, and made his bed of gold, yet he found small comfort in his wealth. "You say no good will come of it that may be; but it is hard for an old man to quit the house he was born in. They will not harm me - I am not unrighteous enough for them; I am a poor, but I am a just man!" He was often warned, but he answered thus, and he staid there until he had a stroke of palsy in his bed, whereby he suddenly lost the entire use of his right side, and then he suffered himself to be carried to the house of his niece, a widow, where he remained nearly a year, until he died. Old Saul appeared to have lost his speech also through the palsy however those who were accustomed to him, although his words were very indistinct, could sometimes understand them. He was often heard muttering to himself, "Well, when the devil has got fast hold of one half, it is better not to struggle with him, but to let him have his way, and take the other half quietly, for he is sure to get the whole at last!" And he told them things which he had himself seen and heard at the "Alders," and that made their hearts to sink within them.

It was a dismal deed for a gentlewoman to slay with her own hand her helpless handmaiden! The poor girl was combing Lady Bowles's long hair, as she was wont to do daily for several hours, one rainy afternoon during the hay-harvest in the fatal dressing-closet. She remarked that the hair was turning gray at the back of the head; her mistress, in anger, told her to prove her words, and to take two looking-glasses and show her the gray hairs. This the poor handmaiden attempted many times, but in vain, for the Imp of Sin caused the gray hairs to seem dark in the mirrors, darker than the rest: the lady insisted the more on seeing them, and railed at her, and threatened her, so that at last she fell down on her knees before her, declared that she had been mistaken, and besought her earnestly, with many tears, to forgive her blemished sight. Then Lady Bowles ran her through the bare breast with a drawn sword, as the poor handmaiden kneeled weeping at her feet. The sword hung high over the chimney, out of the lady's reach, but the Imp of Sin took it down, and put it into her hand ready drawn.

The black traces of innocent blood could not be removed by washing from the floor of the dressing-closet; water made the stain darker; and whenever a dog enters that chamber, he runs at once to the spot, and snuffs there, although it be covered with carpets, as if he scented blood newly shed. Lady Bowles, being exceedingly rich, was able to purchase impunity: her wealth prevented punishment, and even inquiry; but she was forbidden to quit the Hall: and there she remained until her death in deep solitude. After the murder she became charitable towards the poor, expending large sums every year in her bounties, and especially in marrying and portioning