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. Free! All the fine ecstasy, without the numbing terror. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. . “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. laws alone swamp our small staff. Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps.
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