great criminals; and the pages were soiled and thumbed with use.

Here, he read of dreadful crimes that made the blood run cold; of

secret murders that had been committed by the lonely wayside; of

bodies hidden from the eye of man in deep pits and wells: which

would not keep them down, deep as they were, but had yielded them

up at last, after many years, and so maddened the murderers with

the sight, that in their horror they had confessed their guilt,

and yelled for the gibbet to end their agony. Here, too, he read