The fate of the vanquished Billy Goat is soon related. A council of war decided that he should be taken into a dense pine thicket, there suspended head downwards, and thrashed _ad libitum_, by the whole army. The sentence was carried into execution immediately; and though he was cut down and released after our vengeance was satisfied, I yet owe it to truth and history to declare, that before a week elapsed, he died of a broken heart, and was buried by Colonel Averitt with all the honors of war. If it be any satisfaction to the curious inquirer, I may add in conclusion, that the Rev. Mr. Craig avenged his _manes_, by wearing out a chinquapin apiece on the backs of "Weasel," the captain and officers, and immediately afterward disbanded the whole army. [Decoration] IV. _FOR AN ALBUM._ When first our father, Adam, sinned Against the will of Heaven, And forth from Eden's happy gates A wanderer was driven, He paused beside a limpid brook, That through the garden ran, And, gazing in its mirrored wave, Beheld himself--_a man_! God's holy peace no longer beamed In brightness from his eye; But in its depths dark passions blazed, Like lightnings in the sky. Young Innocence no longer wreathed His features with her smile; But Sin sat there in scorched dismay, Like some volcanic isle. No longer radiant beauty shone Upon his manly brow; But care had traced deep furrows there, With stern misfortune's plow. Joy beamed no longer from his face; His step was sad and slow; His heart was heavy with its grief; His bosom with its woe. Whilst gazing at his altered form Within the mirrored brook, He spied an angel leaning o'er, With pity in her look. He turned, distrustful of his sight, Unwilling to believe, When, lo! in Heaven's own radiance smiled, His sweet companion, Eve! Fondly he clasped her to his heart, And blissfully he cried, "What tho' I've lost a Paradise, I've gained an angel bride! No flowers in Eden ever bloomed, No! not in heaven above, Sweeter than woman brings to man-- Her friendship, truth, and love!" These buds were brought by Adam's bride, Outside of Eden's gate, And scattered o'er the world; _to them_ This book I dedicate. [Decoration] [Decoration] V. _PHASES IN THE LIFE OF JOHN POLLEXFEN._ PHASE THE FIRST. There are but three persons now living who can truthfully answer the question, "How did John Pollexfen, the photographer, make his fortune?" No confidence will be violated, now that he is dead, and his heirs residents of a foreign country, if I relate the story of that singular man, whose rapid accumulation of wealth astonished the whole circle of his acquaintance.