Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. Have you thought of the monstrous lie you are adding to your theft?" "Lie?" said Spurlock, astounded. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. There's my thumb upon it. " "Not in the least, Sir," replied Tom, in a drowsy tone, and with a look seeming to imply that he was too much accustomed to odd noises at night to heed them. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. “Who?” She asked. "Stop, Caliban," interposed Mrs.
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