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132 such a vast but silent crowd; we are at once conscious that the cause is terrible which can induce the unusual stillness. The issue of a trial on which hangs life or death, is indeed an appalling thing. We know that men are about to take away that which they cannot give—that a few words of human breath will deprive of breath one of the number for ever; and though we acknowledge that in this evil world punishment is the only security against crime, and that blood for blood has been a necessity from the beginning of time; still, we feel that the necessity is a dreadful one. A low murmur of execration—something like the dull sound of the sea, when the waves prophesy, as it were, of the coming storm—ran through the court as the prisoners were brought in. "Order!" said the judge, in a clear, calm voice; and again the deepest stillness prevailed. The female came first, so wrapped in her cloak that both her face and figure were quite concealed. The gipsy himself advanced with as much indifference, and casting as careless glances around, as if he were but walking over a wild heath on a summer morning. He was dressed in a loose great-coat, fastened about his waist with a leathern belt, and wore round his throat a dingy crimson handkerchief; yet, in spite of his dress, he had that air of dignity which personal advantages always confer when attended by entire freedom and self-possession. His height, his firm step, his handsome features, attracted every