through dainty flesh, as with a gleam of sudden lightning, it buried the weapon in the heart. She groaned heavily; the feet and hands quivered; the hot blood gurgled from the bosom. It was over.

In pleasant mood, with jest and repartee, as empty goblets and the remains of food near by might plainly speak, the two had supped. The Rector lay stupefied with wine. The soul of the burglar revolted. "No, he would not take another life. No, he would not; one was enough. He would fly." He sought the outer door. Vain attempt! The implement here failed. Escape he must; but how? Could he only find the keys? They must be on Madame's person. Could he avail himself of the garments of the master he might pass unquestioned. Once in the street, the wretch thought "I am safe."

It was but an instant and the keen blade smote home again. A hollow groan! The severed ventricle spouted to the ceiling. For a moment the dying man's eyes opened wildly and threw a look of subtle and all-abhorrent recognition at the murderer's face; then, slowly settling down, like some great steamer, when, with all her living crew she dives headlong beneath the waves, the Rector of Richmanstown slept his last sleep.

Do dogs scent death? The fierce and surly tenant of the kennel, fed so long by those white hands that worms must make their meal on now, with mighty leaps was tearing at his chain. And now a monotonous howl arises, wild, wailing and terrible.

The burglar robed himself in haste, drew the dead man's hat over his eyes, wrapped the dead man's heavy cloak about his person, and strode rapidly down the stairs. Evidently the house was aroused, for now the watch-dog began to tear at the chain again, while that howl had given place to a deep, unearthly baying, as if the beast scented blood. The murderer's hand was on the latch-key, the door opened

as he tipped the dull negress who guarded it with a golden fee. Staggering heavily over the threshold he was grasped in the arms of Handy Ben and Cunning Joe.

Winter had set in again with redoubled severity. The broad Hudson was a mass of solid ice. The cattle cowered in their stalls to feel the keen north wind as it whistled around the gables. Out-door sports were at an end. The thermometer stood far below zero. It was the coldest day for years.

It is eleven o'clock in the morning. Sleigh bells jingle with merry music as load after load of Van Waggeners and Roosevelts and twenty good old Netherlandish names besides, shawled and cloaked and muffed and tippeted and hooded and packed away in furs, with shouts of healthy laughter and stampings of feet and brushings of icicles from chin and eyebrow, are deposited upon the broad stoop, and hurried, with hospitable haste to stand and thaw before great stoves.

Sambo and his Dinah were there as might have been inferred by guffaws of merriment from the rear building.— Three generations of the Van Twiggles had been served by three generations of native Abysinians, who, adopting the patronimic of their master's family had increased and multiplied and sent out thriving offshoots to the remote regions of Saugerties and Dirrup. Rattle, rattle, shook the bones. The Columbian Minstrels had turned out in full force, and now, with preliminary scraping of fiddles and tuning of the banjo, to the infinite delight of a half score of ebony urchins of all sizes, were about to marshal themselves into the keeping room.

Our friend Miles, being master of ceremonies, had sent up a sleigh load of music in honor of Miss Katrina's wedding. The sable melodists took their places upon a temporary platform, and commenced their matinee with

THE DARKIE'S WEDDING.

"Sambo, nay, thou must not take her,"

Massa said, he was a Quaker,

When I asked if I might marry

Pompey's daughter, smiling Harrie.
Then he cried, "Thou must not do it,

If thou dost, thy hide will rue it."

CHORUS.-Verily and notwithstanding,
I will go to Coeyman's Landing.

To the Parson I will take her.

Ho, boys, ho! We'll cheat the Quaker.
While the broad-brims are at meeting
We our vows will be repeating.
Let the cups and saucers rattle;

Two can kiss and never prattle.

CHORUS.-Verily and notwithstanding,

Ho, boys, ho! for Coeyman's Landing.

While the table cloth's a-spreading
Celebrate the darkie's wedding.

Parson said, "Boy, wilt thou take her?"
Yea, I cried, to spite the Quaker.
"Hold him tight then handsome Harrie."
That's the way the darkies marry.

CHORUS.-Verily and notwithstanding,

Kiss the bride at Coeyman's Landing.

Is there an ebony Cupid who rules in mythic realms high above the sources of the Nile, or where the gold sands glitter beyond Timbuctoo? He it must have been who invented the double shuffle and taught the first dark lover

to thumb the banjo and rattle the bones. This mirthful spirit had to-day taken especial possession of his sable myrmidons.

Sambo gracefully bowed at the close of this instructive and melodious ditty, and said, "Brudder Bones, I hab de honor to propound a corumblebum. What fish dat swims in 'Sopus creek am like Miss Katrina's eyes?"

BONES, "Gib em up, Sambo; gib em up."

SAMBO, "Mass' Hans Bronk, him know. They be shiners. He's bin tryin to hook em dese tree years. Dat puts me in mind about our 'sperience wid de bull Bull-frogs and dinner pots. Strike up, darkies."

Then the Minstrels brought down the house with

THE GHOST OF ESOPUS CREEK.

We paddled down Esopus Creek :
Our old canoe wid fun did leak;

De creek was wet; our lips were dry;

We made no wry face at the rye.

We fished for perch and silver eel;
Oh! darkies, hear de bull-frogs squeal.

First Cudjoe caught a turtle old,
Joe took a perch and Pete a cold;
Then Cudjoe cried, “A whale I've got ;"
His line had hooked a dinner-pot.

De moon was setting in de sky ;-
Oh! darkies, hear de bull-frogs cry.

Bones took de cover off de pot,
Den dropt de kettle like a shot;
Out ob it came a something white,
And Cornstalk fainted at de sight.
De stars went in, dar lights went out ;-
Oh! darkies, hear de bull-frogs shout.

Den Brudder Bones, he cried aloud,
"What means dis kettle's smoking cloud?"