sledge-hammers, airy but ponderous, in some distant chamber, — and to tread along the entries as with stately footsteps, and rustle up and down the staircase, as with silks miraculously stiff, — whenever the gale catches the house with a window open, and gets fairly into it.

Would that we were not an attendant spirit here! It is too awful! This clamor of the wind through the lonely house; the Judge’s quietude, as he sits invisible; and that pertinacious ticking of his watch!

As regards Judge Pyncheon’s invisibility, however, that matter will soon be remedied. The northwest wind has swept the sky clear. The window is distinctly seen. Through its panes, moreover, we dimly catch the sweep of the dark, clustering foliage outside, fluttering with a constant