To leave the neighbourhood had been his first impulse; but the fear of awakening suspicion determined him to remain, and endure conjectures, wonderings, and allusions, which made him sick at heart. He seemed barred and shut out from the sympathies and humanities of social life. But years rolled away, and pity and wonder died away That a sailor should perish off some distant coast, and be heard of no more, was no new event in the annals of human suffering; and except in the faithful heart of poor Susan, scarcely any remembrance of Frank Gordon was retained.

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Gradually, the fears of Cumming had subsided, and a comparative calm had stolen over his feelings and conscience. True, it was a fearful crime, committed in an hour of intense passion; but he lived in the esteem and confidence of his fellow men, and no vial of wrath had been poured on his devoted head by the avenging hand of Providence. Every day, the remembrance of his crime became less acute and oppressive; and at length he began to look with something like complacency, on the honest industry, regularity, and usefulness of his life.

Mr. Forrester listened to the tale of his feelings with strong emotion. Never had he been more

keenly sensible of his deep responsibility, as an "ambassador from God to guilty man." The comparative peace of Cumming's mind was exchanged for the agony, not only of remorse, but of terror; he believed that his earthly doom was fixed, as irrevocably as that of the guilty King, who saw his fearful condemnation inscribed by no mortal hand on the walls of his palace; and he fancied that a decree of eternal vengeance had gone forth against him. With desperate eagerness he surrendered himself to justice, repeating his confession to a neighbouring magistrate; and in a few days he had exchanged the cheerful home of his master for the dreary cell of a felon's prison.

Some weeks intervened before the trial came on. In spite of Walton's reiterated entreaties, Cumming resolved to plead guilty. His mind continued in a state of deep despondency: he believed, that like Cain, the first murderer, he was an object of abhorrence to God and man, branded by the hand of the Eternal; and that the shame and ignominy awaiting him on earth, were but preludes to the everlasting shame and contempt which would be poured on his devoted head hereafter.

Day after day, did Mr. Forrester devote hours to the unhappy man, listening with deep sympathy

and patient tenderness, to the out-pourings of his harassed spirit. It was the Pastor's earnest desire to change the feelings and language of despair, to those of humble penitence: to prove, that in the midst of judgment, God remembers mercy; that even in this moment of utter desolation, amidst the chill and dreary darkness of that dungeon, a beam of heaven's own light could penetrate. Again, and again, he represented to the stricken man, that the judgments of God in this world, however severe, and though they may appear in a measure retributive, are still tempered with loving kindness and tender mercy; that correction, not vengeance, is their object; that they are intended, while they declare in the most emphatic language the watchful providence of God and his hatred of sin, to excite in the heart of the sinner, that repentance which shall not be repented of,-that they are, in fact, the work of love, that wondrous love, which willeth not that any should perish—which attaches unspeakable value to one immortal soul!

It was long, ere hope shed a beam over the tossed and troubled spirit of the criminal. Mr. Forrester, indeed, had no desire to check the salutary workings of penitence, to lull the soul with anodynes, which at once deaden the sense of sin, and bewilder

rather than strengthen the mind. It was when this sense of sin was felt in all its intenseness and poignancy—when, sunk in the depths of humiliation, the penitent scarely dared to raise his eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, exclaiming, "God be merciful to me, a sinner;" it was then that the Pastor dwelt upon the ineffable goodness of Him who came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance, "to seek and to save that which was lost;" it was then that he expatiated upon the touching instances of grace and mercy, recorded for our consolation and instruction in the book of Truth; that he pointed to the welcomed prodigal, to the dying thief, to the heavenly host rejoicing amidst the glory by which they are encircled, "over one sinner that repenteth."

Hope at length dawned upon the soul of the criminal; comfort visited his heart. It was, however, a hope chastened by humility; a touching sense of the Redeemer's love, melting the heart to gratitude, but not kindling it to rapture.

Mr. Forrester did not desire to hear from his lips the language of that triumphant faith, which beholds the radiant crown prepared by the Lord, the righteous Judge: he did not desire to see the martyr's rapture, the saint's ecstatic joy: it was enough for him, that

while his penitent was humbled under a consciousness of guilt, he was soothed by a sense of pardon.

On the awful day of trial, Cumming pleaded guilty. In vain did the Judge remonstrate, and declare that the law of England secured every possible indulgence to the accused.

"I am a murderer!" exclaimed Cumming. "God himself has borne witness to my crime, and I can say nothing but, Guilty!"

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The sentence of the law was pronounced — and meekly did the criminal prepare for his awful doom. From that hour, his master scarcely ever left him to talk with him, to read, and to pray by his side, were the only occupations that could at all soothe his own perturbed spirit. Confinement, and mental anguish, had wrought a considerable change on the frame of the prisoner; his form was bent, his cheek pale and thin, his eye dim; but the peace of a patient spirit sat upon his brow. He spoke of past days-of Walton's constant kindness-of the children, to whom his heart still clung; then his voice faltered, and a tear rolled down his furrowed cheek.

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They loved me," said he; "but the name of old John Cumming must now be a forbidden sound; it must never pollute their innocent lips. May God bless them!" continued he, clasping his withered