“I have it!” he exclaimed, rubbing his brow and scratching his head, “yes: the priest, towards the conclusion of his discourse last Sunday, told us that the yew was a type of death. He said that it was black, and so was death: it grew in the church-yard, and so did death. Then he stated--” “Go on, go on,” interrupted Jeremiah impatiently,--“proceed, brother. I fell asleep over that point.” “Then he stated,” continued Gideon, “that as the yew was the emblem of the death of old men, so the cypress, being a much smaller tree, might, with great propriety, be considered as an emblem of the death of young men. Now I am a young man, Jeremiah, and the cypress is, therefore, the tree for me!” “But is there a cypress in ‘the Rough?’” “No, no,” was the answer, “remain here for a little, and I will bring one. Satan can have no objection, unless he be a coward, to one standing without roots.” Still Gideon did not leave the house, and some uncomfortable thoughts were evidently clouding his brow, at least that part of it which the nightcap left uncovered. “Should Nelly come down, and find that I am out, she would leave me to cool all night, on the wrong side of the door. But covered with glory, from fiendish achievements, could she resist me?”--and elated with the idea, he looked a few inches taller, and braver by as many; strode with a martial air twice across the room, and then strode out. Jeremiah was not fond of adventures: and the truth was, that he had not asked where his brother was going for the cypress, lest he should have been answered by another question, “would he not accompany him?” He himself confessed that he was rather of a _sedentary_ disposition, and must, therefore, have declined to leave his chair. Meanwhile Gideon was threading his way to the churchyard, which was at a little distance. The priest, it seems, had said, that should any of his hearers have the curiosity to see a cypress, he would, when the service was over, shew them one. A few had remained behind: of whom, some not being very excellent herbists, had expected to find winter apples there; because, as they reasoned, the tree was an emblem of death, and the eating of an apple had brought death into the world. Gideon was not of this class. He was forced to remain behind, because Mrs. Chiselwig had strictly enjoined him never to be nearer her on their way home, than a hundred yards; so that he received the benefit of the priest’s illustration, and knew exactly the situation of the cypress. He entered the churchyard, found the spot, and then ascertained that he had forgot a digging spade. It was dim twilight, but the snow on the ground made objects, otherwise invisible, to be seen, and the tailor recognized a form approaching. He at once concluded that it was the enemy, and took his station, as directed, behind the cypress. He heard a deep groan, and then a shriek. Nothing terrified, Gideon called out, in a ferocious tone, “Come, James, come,” when he received an answer,