On the morning succeeding, Monteagle had early taken his place in the Post Office line, (as extensive as that of Banquo’s issue which flitted before the eyes of the Scottish regicide,) awaiting the delivery of their letters. This line is one of the most singular sights in the world, composed not only of representatives from every section of our own country, but from almost every nation on the face of the globe. Monteagle was disappointed. There was no letter for him. Only those who have been thousands and thousands of miles away from home, can understand the full effect of this crushing disappointment. Instantly the mind conjures up many dismal reasons as the cause of the non-arrival of the expected letters. What can be the matter?—Have our friends forgotten us, has sickness wasted the hand that used to seize the pen with such avidity to tell us all the warm feelings the writers entertained for us? Or has death forever stilled the beatings of those hearts we dearly loved? Months we know must elapse ere these questions can have a response, and in the meanwhile we must experience all the bitterness of hope deferred. Monteagle left the Office almost envying the lucky ones who were tearing the envelopes from the missives they had received and with eager eyes scanning the lines. But could Monteagle have narrowly watched the different readers, he would have seen that in the majority of instances the letters brought news that had better never reached the recipients. Here a splendid looking fellow, the very embodiment of manly beauty, read a letter that informed him that the girl, in hopes of wedding whom he had left home to win a fortune in California, had been married to a man with no other recommendation than a hundred thousand dollars. There might be seen a stalwart man, his rough cheek blanched and the tears gushing from his eyes, as he read that his only daughter—the cherished idol of his affections, had gone to the narrow house, appointed for all the living. But we need not pursue the theme, any one who has noticed attentively the ‘line’ we speak of has seen matter for much and melancholy meditation, even if he has been fortunate enough to experience none of those bitter disappointments himself. Belcher Kay and his fellow-rogues soon expended the money they obtained by the robbery of Vandewater’s store in riotous living. So a new crime was determined on. But it was necessary that he should be quick in his plans, for his means were daily becoming more limited, and he was well aware that success depended in a great measure upon promptitude. But what was he to do when his pecuniary resources were entirely exhausted.