even at present he often urges you to take bloody revenge for an injury received when you were a boy?"—Earnscliff started; the Recluse appeared not to observe his surprise, and proceeded,—"The trumpet will blow, the young blood-hound will lap blood, and I will laugh and say, For this I have preserved thee!" He paused, and continued,—"Such are my cures;—their object-their purpose, perpetuating the mass of misery, and playing even in this desert my part in the general tragedy. Were you on your sick-bed, I might, in compassion, send you a cup of poison."
"I am much obliged to you, Elshie, and certainly shall not fail to consult you with so comfortable a hope from your assistance."
"Do not flatter yourself too far," replied the Hermit, "with the hope that I will positively yield to the frailty of pity. Why should I snatch a dupe, so well fitted to endure the miseries of life as you are, from the wretchedness which his own vi-
