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surgeon immediately pronounced likely to prove mortal. The unfortunate wretch overheard the opinion of the surgeon, and cried out with a savage joy, which filled every person present with horror, ‘Then I’ll disappoint the law yet. If I could nay mak my escape in ae way. I’ll do it in another. Sleep, sleep, they say, it’s a sleep.' ‘Alas! young man,’ said Mr THOMSON, shuddering as he spoke, ‘in that sleep there are awful dreams to the wicked. Dreams do I say? they are horrible realities. God grant that you may not find—’ ‘It’s a lie!' interrupted he with a dreadful oath, ‘I’ll not believe it—sae ye need na preach to me.' Mr THOMSON, finding he could do no good by continuing the conversation, left the room; and it was not long after this he learned, that the wretched murderer died still hardened and impenitent.
THE SPOILED CHILD.
Musing on long-gone-by times I approach- ed my brother’s cottage, and a thousand little incidents of my early days rushed in to my remembrance. This stone,’ said I to myself, ‘was the starting place of our races and that gate was our goal. Round yonder aged thorn we used to hunt the hare, and
