Morden started, as lurid lights gleamed in a mass, over him. He stumbled down the declivity, and fell, his head striking against his lifeless steed! Unearthly shrieks of laughter saluted him, and as he sprung to his feet, the witch, surrounded by flames, was waving her arms in fiendish joy. He once more found himself on the path close beside her. All again was darkness, and now he heard the witch enter the cave. He prepared to follow her. The entrance was small, and could only admit him by crawling through. His face came in contact with the jutting rocks, and he imagined that around his neck the hag had placed her hands, to strangle him. He crept in, but saw nothing. No object could be distinguished, until, on a floor far below him, he beheld a few embers burning on the hearth, and a form walking around, and by its shadow intercepting the light. The ground was damp beneath his hands, and the very worms were crawling over them, and thus early claiming connexion, by twining around them the marriage ring of the grave. He knew not how to let himself down into the interior. The light from the embers, meanwhile, was gradually increasing; and at length he recognized the witch rubbing her hands over them. Her head was uncovered, and her long grey locks were flung back from a brow black and wrinkled. He could not remove his eyes from her, and every moment he expected that she would arise, and curse him with her arts. She lighted a taper, and placed it upon a small coffin, and sung a death dirge; at every interval, when she paused for breath, making the most unnatural mirth. The lid of the coffin slowly arose, as she removed the taper, and a beautiful boy raised his face, so pale and deadly, over which golden locks curled, like young spirits. His sweet blue eyes met those of Morden; his little hands were pressed together, and his lisping voice said, mournfully,--“Father!” Morden sprang down, when, with a wild shriek, the witch turned upon him, and attempted to mimic the tones in which the fond word “father” had been breathed. He prepared to rush upon her, when every limb was powerless. He could not move, and yet all his senses were intensely active and awake. He beheld the coffin again closed, and glad now would he have been, could he have returned to his home, to assure himself of his child’s safety. The witch began some awful and unholy rites, as she lowered the coffin into a hole dug beside the embers, and then over the spot, after her incantations had been muttered, sprung up a mossy tomb-stone, with this inscription,-- Edward Morden, AGED FIVE YEARS. 1643.