blind, unwilling instrument of a controlling force, he was,
notwithstanding, justly chargeable with every misfortune, and, like a
malefactor, must endure the consequences.

Long he sat thus absorbed in these wretched reflections. He stared
upon the water, but saw nothing: the tide rose and wet his feet, but
he felt it not; the wind blew chill, but he was not cold. He got up
at last from his seat, and was recalled to life. He felt stiff from
having been in one posture so long. He took out his watch, and found
it was twelve o'clock. He looked at the sun, and perceived it did not
contradict the watch, and turned his steps homeward.

The crow from the topmost bough of a withered tree eyed him as he
passed along quite near, and croaked once, but did not leave his
perch. Armstrong heard him not. Nor did he heed the blue-bird singing
in the noonday sun to the arbutus blossoms crushed by his unwitting
feet, or notice the petulant squirrel flinging down the shells of his
nuts, as if in mockery at the passing stranger. He was met by Primus
in the village street, who took off his cap, but to the salutation
of the negro he paid no regard. The General stopped as he passed, and
turned round, with a sorrowful surprise, to look after him, and shook
his head. It was the first time Mr. Armstrong had passed him without
notice and a kind word. The negroes are very superstitious, and great
observers of signs. He remarked that Mr. Armstrong's hat was pulled
over his eyes, in the same manner he wore it at the funeral of his
wife, and augured some impending calamity.

Mr. Armstrong entered his house, and threw himself into a seat, but
he sat only a moment. Something seemed to be wanting. A restless
impatience possessed him. He took up the tongs and begun to alter