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him its occupants were sleeping. He then opened the door, and having before accurately examined the position of the bureau, and found the key that opened it, he silently took the money, and crossed to the bed-room door. It was then Mrs. Hargrave awoke. He knew she could not see him in the dark room, but what a moment was that for him! She might awaken her husband. He was prepared for this, and had become a murderer in his heart.

All again became still. At last he reached the street door, and undetected in the darkness and snow that was falling fast, was about leaving it, when he found he had forgotten the bunch of keys. Another trial remained for him. The keys might lead to detection, and he returned to the bed-chamber. Mrs. Hargrave was again wakened, and Carley could hear her drawing back the curtains; he almost fancied he could see her eyes glaring at him, through the dark atmosphere of the apartment. His situation was becoming critical, when, to increase its horrors, he listened to her wakening her husband. Miles drew from his breast the weapon with which he had provided himself;--one blow and all was over;—but his better angel staid his hand from adding murder to robbery. He heard Hargrave say he would go to the kitchen for a light. It was a retired apartment, and Carley determined to go down stairs, secrete himself in the parlour, and escape while the other was examining the room. He had left the hall-door a-jar, and if once at it, there was no longer cause to fear. We have seen how Hargrave searched the chamber. He committed two mistakes in neither opening the bureau, nor going down to the street-door; and Miles Carley had time to make good his retreat. The girl, his accomplice, was the first at the door in the morning. She found it laid to, but then she swore otherwise; her oath was believed, for she did not prevaricate; not being suspected, she was not so rigidly examined, and her fellow-servant had nothing to tell, for she knew nothing.

At this part of the narrative, the curate again supported her head and moistened her lips, when all in the room were startled by a deep groan and a heavy fall. The door had not been closed, there were listeners outside, and the body of George Hargrave rolled in at his wife's feet. The girl did not see him, and the doctor opening a vein, he was soon restored. He had fainted from the violence of contending emotions,—— hope, joy, and astonishment.

more.

I must conclude the girl's story. Miles Carley had promised her a large share of the plunder. It was true he supported her, but she sought She had committed sin and perjury on his account, and expected greater wages than he seemed inclined to give. He had managed her for five years, when, in the unguarded joy of hopes almost consummated by his union with Fanny, and his certainty that Hargrave would never prosecute his son-in-law, he refused to give her fifty pounds as a marriage portion. She swore she would have revenge, and although when the coach stopped at A-, her anger had given way to other reflections,

God willed it otherwise, and her death-bed became the place of her confession, and the instrument of justice. Her confession was written out by the curate, authenticated by his, the rector's, and the doctor's signatures; while George Hargrave quitted A that very night for London, and the next morning Ellen Robinson was numbered amongst the dead.

The morning after this discovery, Carley and Mr. Pix, who had just returned from a short journey, sat at breakfast in Carley's chambers in the city. The breakfast was comfortable, its arrangements decent, and the apartment calculated to convey to one's mind an idea of very tolerable means, and a large quantity of human comfort. Mr. Pix was just the person for enjoying in his heart both the place and the meal. The fact is, Mr. Pix would rather eat or drink at any other body's expense than his own. He had a decided aversion to the ungentlemanly habit of putting his hands in his pockets. Carley handed him a cup of tea. "Another bit of sugar. Thank you, that will do. By the bye, now, Carley, that I have time," Mr. Pix had just commenced operations on a spiced round,-"how is little Hargrave? You saw her that night ?"

"I went for that purpose."

"I know you did. Send that muffin this way. Where did you get this round? Well, so you have asked papa and mamma, and intend making a match of it."

"How the deuce do you know ?" asked Carley, somewhat startled, “I am sure I didn't tell you."

"No; but I read your intention in your eyes. What did they say? would be most happy, were highly delighted, I suppose; and Fanny ?Don't you intend telling me all about it ?”

"Not now."

"Indeed. Give me another cup of tea, and don't keep all the toast to yourself, as if you had a lease of it in perpetuity," said Mr. Pix, looking at his plate while he spoke. "I heard it reported that you held a levee yesterday, when two milliners, three dressmakers, a tailor, and a hackneycoach proprietor attended. The fact is, Carley, you are making prepa rations."

"Pshaw!"

"Oh, very well. Then it's true. When you send me the glovesBy the bye, I had forgotten-who's to be your second ?"

"Here's your tea; is it sweet enough ?"

"Would make a crock of honey blush-but I was at the gloves.When you send me them" Mr. Pix paused. The door was opened, and two gentlemen of very equivocal appearance entered the apartment. Carley jumped up at the intrusion, but there was a something in the men's manner he did not like, for he sat down again, and became very pale; while Mr. Pix threw himself back into his chair, arranged his neck-cloth, and attempted to look very superb.

1842.-SEPTEMBER.

2 U

"Beg your pardon, gentlemen," said one of the intruders, advancing towards the table. "I want Mr. Carley; which is he?"

"That's him at your elbow, my old 'un," said Pix, who immediately perceived that their visit boded no good.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the man to Miles, without noticing Pix, "to disturb you. But this here matter be's very serious, and

"I know all about it," said Carley,-" Ellen Robinson." "That's her name, sir."

"May

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burn her with its hottest fires," muttered Carley between his clenched teeth, but her sentence had been pronounced before he spoke. "Is she in the city now?"

“No, sir, she's dead-died at some place twenty miles out of London." "Dead, eh?" A ray of hope crossed his countenance. "Will one of you, gentlemen, call a coach, and I will immediately attend you. Dead," he continued, speaking to himself, "then her evidence dies with her." "Carley, what's wrong?" said Pix.

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"The fact is then, Pix, there's a woman in the business."

"I see," said Mr. Pix, with a strange twinkle in the corner of his left eye-"I see it all. Eh? Carley,

so smooth, so methodistical, so, so

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what a nice one you are? and you

I'll never trust in appearances again."

My dear Pix, you have my secret, and I must rely on you." "I'm as dumb as a post."

"Good bye, then. You'll dine with me at five."

"With pleasure. Oh, Carley, what a dd cunning one you are." Mr. Pix took up his hat, and shaking hands with Carley, departed.

Miles, under the guidance of the officers, went to Bow-street. He saw Hargrave there before him. Many plans entered his mind, but he gave them all up. Some of his city friends were in the office, and every one looked at him in the manner of men convinced of his guilt. Hargrave never raised his eyes, even in the direction of his position. The magistrates thought that there was evidence enough to warrant a committal. The signed confession of Ellen Robinson astonished Carley, and he was seen to grow pale as it was read to him. He thought of privately addressing Hargrave, but again he feared that might look like guilt, and he was committed for the robbery without being able to make any defence. His heart fell as he entered the prison walls. The magistrates, in raising the question as to where he had been that night, pointed to a hope of escape which he eagerly embraced. The testimony of a dying woman was strong; that of several living witnesses might be as convincing. George Hargrave was now pitied. Hundreds who before had expressed a bad opinion of him, wondered how he had ever been suspected, while it was singular to think of the number of people who never could think

well of Carley. Even Mr. Pix never could tolerate him, for Mr. Pix had been disappointed in his dinner.

The time wore on. The day for Carley's trial was almost arrived. The night before it had come. Hargrave and his family had been all some time living in London; for not many days after Carley's committal, his friends persuaded him to take a situation offered by one of the first mercantile houses in the city. It would be an opening to something better, and he did not think himself justified in refusing it. They gave up their little cottage in A with regret, and again took up their abode in London. The night previous to the trial they sat a little later than usual, discoursing about Carley. Mrs. Hargrave had never much admired him. She certainly would have given her consent to his marriage with Fanny, for which they now all saw his reasons; but there had been more of necessity than choice in her approval. Hargrave always thought him attentive and zealous for his master's welfare. Fanny said nothing.

The clock struck twelve, and just as the last tones were becoming inaudible, some one knocked violently at the door. It was opened, and a man running into the room exclaimed

"Mr. Carley has cut his throat, and hasn't a minute to live. He wants to see you, sir."

"Go on then," said Hargrave, leaping up from his seat, and following the man, whom he knew to be an attendant in the prison, while Mrs. Hargrave almost fainted, and Fanny sat by, astonished and horrified.

Hargrave was in time. Carley had not yet expired, but the spectacle he exhibited was shocking to look at. He instantly knew Hargrave, and beckoned him to him, gasping out

“I am guilty, guilty-Forgive me, oh, forgive me.”

"May God forgive you, who can," said Hargrave fervently. "My forgiveness you already have," and he turned from the sight. There was a groan, he looked in Carley's face. The blood gurgled out of a deep wound in his neck, his head fell down on his chest, and he expired.

Hargrave's reputation had been established, and the suicide escaped a trial in this life, to go before another judge in the next. When the wonder and talk had subsided, Hargrave obtained some atonement for what he had suffered, in the re-establishment of his former high character. Several houses entrusted him with their goods, and Fanny marrying not long after, Hargrave went into partnership with his sonin-law. He is still living in the enjoyment of a green old age.

PAST AND PRESENT STATE OF AFGHANISTAN.

CHAPTER V.

Sketch of the Present War-Treaty with Runjit Singh-Disposition of the Forces Preliminary Operations-Passage of the Bolan-March to Candahar— Storming of Ghuzni-Shah Sujah reinstated at Cabul-Storming of Khelat-Return of Sir J. Keane to India-Khelat retaken by the Beluchis-Guerilla War of the Ghilzis and Cakers-General Rising of the Afghans in the autumn of 1811-Overthrow of the English, and Annihilation of their Forces in Cabul-Subsequent Movements of the Anglo-Indian Armies-Conclusion.

We shall now give our readers a few "dates and distances," slight chronicles of the Anglo-Afghan war; the length to which this subject has run in our pages, precluding us from entering into the military de tails we at first contemplated.

Having resolved on war, Lord Auckland set to work in earnest; M'Naghten was sent to Runjit's court, and succeeded in forming a treaty (dated 26th June, 1838,) to which Sujah was party, whereby the Maharajah was to supply Sikh armies in aid of Sujah's restoration, receiving in return a renunciation of all Afghan rights to all the territory which he (Runjit) had overrun near the Indus; also subsidies, presents, and commercial privileges. Sujah besides bound himself to fight against every enemy of the English, to communicate with no foreign power, but through or with their permission, to leave the distribution of questioned borders to them, in short to be their servant, provided they restored him the throne. In pursuance of the same policy, orders were issued for the assemblage of troops at Bombay and near Delhi, and commissions were issued in Sujah's name, but by English orders and management, for raising ten thousand men under the name of an auxiliary army, and the regular Indian army was increased about fifteen thousand men.

On the 1st November, the Bengal troops mustered at Kurnal, about eighty miles west of Delhi, and on the 8th marched for Ferozpore, seated on the bank of the Sutlege, about seventy miles further down than Ludiana. Shortly after the concentration of the Bengal troops at Ferozpore, news arrived that the Shah of Persia, having suffered severely in a sally made by Kamran, had raised the seige of Herat on the 9th September. The effect of this news was to induce a diminution of the invading force, and instead of the entire army assembled, moving on Afghanistan, and Ferozpore being occupied by additional forces, it was arranged that one corps should remain there as a reserve. And here a strange fact occurred; it seems that Sir Henry Fane had selected the choice regiments of Bengal for this ultra-Indus campaign, and when it was determined that part should remain, he actually sanctioned the casting lots for which regiments were to be stationary, and which to join the army of operations; a pro

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