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Simón Grayberry, the old sexten of Bushport, was dying. Bushport was a respeotable little fishing village perched on a saucy-looking bluff right over the ocean; at its foot was a snug little cove, running up in santly beach to the very base of the rook, where the fishing orait lay cozily at anchor, when they were not scudding over the waves miles away, or rooking idly to the musicof Üie fish-lines and tlie dancing of the porpoises. Bushport had one church (Methodist) and one graveyard, where Simón Grayberry had, for years too niany to remeniber, supervised the departure from earth of the sires and grandsires of the hardy young fishermen who were now growing up around him. Simon had grown gray in the service of the dead, among whom, ten years before, he had deposited thé last remaius of his faithful wit'e; and now the gathering shadows of the final summons told hiin that he, too, must prepare to join those silent ones in their last resting-place. Three years before, Simon had parted with his only son, a hardy sailor, who had gone on a whaling voyage. Six months later news had come that the ship had sunk in the northern seas, and all on board had perished. All in the village moumed the stout-hearted Torn Grayberry, who had grown up, man and boy, among them; but chiefly had mourned a little fair-haired creature, just in her teens, to whom Torn had been more than to any other. Alice Scott, so had grief matured her. had grown into womanhood in tliosé thirty months, and she it was who, taking upon herself üie duties of a tlaughter to him who had none, had devoted herself to him ever since ; until the old man had learned to regard her as such, and to grieve for his lost son chiefly that his sad fate had prevented the possibility of her ever becoming so in very truth. She it was who now sat beside Simon's wasted form, held his hand, and watched the last spark of life as it flickered low before the final darkuess. Simon had been respected in his day and generation, and all the village waited sadly for news of his departure. A few of the older men, rough, hard-featured fishermen, stood at his bedside, while one or two of their wives, rough, too, but kindly disposed, ministered to his few remaining necessities. The doctor stood near liim, and held his hand ; the tallow candle on the table flickered, as a draught of wind burst in under the door and rattledthecasement; storm gusts held high carnival outside ; for it was in the last days of November, and the snow-clouds were sailing on heavily freightcd. Suddenly the doctor raised his hand warningly"; Alice rose and leaued over the bed, while the rest drew closer together, and then the head and shoulders raised painfully in the bed, the dull eyes lighted up, and, with one skinny forefinger pointing to the door, while his gray locks and matted beard trembled with a convulsive motion, the old sexton spoke : " One, two, three, four, five ! Five rings, one bracek-t, two pins ! Who shall have them ? Toni shall have them. Who says it's robbery?" The old man tumed his head from one side to the other, and glanced at the startled and horror-stricken ones around him; and then he said, slowly, in a whisper : " I buried - them - under - the-" The cliin feil heavily on his breast' and he sank down into the bed in a confused mass. There was much talk the next day about the last words of old Simon, and, tliough sundry wise heads were shaken, and some shrewd doubts were expressed, they were generally set down as the last, incoherent exclamations oí' a brain whieh had ceased to act lucidly, and were passed over. The body was properly laid out ; watchers came forward to sit up with it ; and the next day following was appointed for the funeral services. Old Simon's cottage was near the graveyard; his body lay on the bed where he had laid for forty years ; and the little sitting-room next to it was occupied on the watch night by the two old crones who had volunteered for the purpose. A bright fire blazed on the hearth; the table, with two lighted candles, stood beside it; the tea-kettle sang noisily on the hob; and these two, sitting comfortably in their Boston rockers, were inclined to take the night easily, and cliatted over the merits and peculiarities of the dead, the strange occurrence of his last raoments, and anytliing that turned up in the way of villago gowip, as those ttill vhu nviiHtom Hu-nwlvCH to wh dutíes. Meanwhile the snow-storm tliat liad been promising a visit had all day been busy, and now was drifting into white masses through the street, aud whirliug in blinding clóuds through the ni-, vrhiíe not a single being in the whole village was out of doors, aud in the houses warm fires and hot drinks did their best to make things cozy and comfor+able. So the hours wore away, and, as tLe evening grew late, the two old orones, grown tired of goesip, had nodded their frowsy old headfi flt ohë another until both had gollo off into a profouhd alid h'öisy sleep. Now, down the street, a short distance from Simon Grayberry's cottage, there was a tavem, and in tlie bar-room, where a huge wood fire was crackling and hissing up the wide-moutlied chimney, there were congregated, as usually congregated there in winter nights, a dozen or so of the inhabitants of the village, who met tJms nightly to enjoy their punch and their pipes iu social communion. This night, in particular, pipes and punch were in extraordinary demand. The season had been so open and free froni stonns that this was réally the first occasion that had oftVred such a gathering, and it had be611 raken advantage of by tu're 'ohan the usual quota of joly, 'weatherbeaten tars, who sat and canvjssed, sententiously, such subjects as carne before them. Ainong them, naturally enough, the qnestion of Sexton ïrayberry's remarkable utterances at lis off-going was brought prominentiy orward. "Blarst my hyes !" said "English 3ob," as lie was called, a buríj gobdnatured-looking fellow, Whö leaned back against the mantel, and talked, ia a nisky voice, through a cloud of "the 'ssence of oíd Virginia ;'" 'Tve a hidea he ole ohap's been a priggin' summat as aid 'eavy on 'is conshuns." " Nonsense !" answered the landlord, seeing no one else was likely to take it up ; " oíd Simón was ae holiest as they rnsike 'em ; and, beside, where on earth could he íind anything to ' prig' ih this consumed poor place ?" This was unanswerable, and tke viiiier of the dead was sitehced for a moment. Preüently a long, lean, slab-sided, antern-jawed Yankee peddler, who had ome in belated and put up for the night, )ut in bis word. He was dressed in a áded, seedy-looking suit of black, and resented anything but an inviting apjearance. He had been silent thus far, ïad heard the story of the deathbed cene told and retold, and now, as he at with his legB crossed and his chair tilted back, he drawled out : "Waal, I'm a stranger here, andhain't ot no cali to meddle with thiügs that on't conearn m, büt if it was so as I ïed auy interest in these parts I should e kinder lookin' round after the family ewelry, and if the live people's plunder vas all right, I should - well I should ïev my suspicions !" Bverybody stared at that, and the andlord, who feit botind to support the redit of his deceased friend, had aleady opened his raouth to cali the vitu)erative vender of small Wares to order, when the door opened, and his wife alled him, with such evident earnestess that he turned at once, abandoned lis intention, and followed her out of the oom. Every effort was now made to bring ie peddler to book, and induce him to xplain his meaning ; but notíiing more ould be got out of him than : " Waal, I ain't a-goin' to consarn myeK in what ain't none of mv bus'nesR. )ut I only say, if it was my oase, I should be suspicious !" Sundry growls and sour looks were begimiiug to show tliat his indefiuite advice was not palatable, and inight be resented ; and matters, in fact, were beginning to assume a squally appearanoe, when tlie landlord re-entered. "Boys," said he, "my wife and I ain't nowise satisfled about the Boston coach not coming in ; she's more than three honrs late, and, thougli it is a rough night, she ought to have been here before tliis ; and, in my humble opinión, slie's a darned sight more importance than tliat damed purveyor of pins and needies' suspicions about what he don't know nothing consarnin. " Here he jerked his thumb in the direction of the peddler, who shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing. Now the village of Bushport was situated just twenty-one miles north-and-byeast of the good city of Boston ; from which place there came, three times a week, a coach bearing the mail, leaving Boston at 4 o'clock in the afteruoon, and performing the journey in about four hours, if nothing interrupted of a nature calculated to prevent safe and moderately rapid driving. This was " coach-day," and, punctnally at 4, the aforesaid vehicle, painted blue, and appropriately named the "Bluebird," started valiantly forth, out of the stable-yard in a narrow street in the suburbs of Boston, and, with three passengers inside for way-stations and one passenger outside for Bushport, took its way along the high-roads, in a directionnorth-and-by-eastward,th rough what was already a respectable snowstorm, hoping to accomplish the journey before the roads became so blocked up as to utterly preclude wheeling ; for the snow-storm had come on suddenly, and the Bluebird's runners were at Bushport. The first ten miles were made in two hours and a half, and there the last "inside" lelt the coach rejoicing. Eleven miles to go, the snow drifting heavily, and a blinding wind driving in the faces of the driver and the one " outside," who said he was a sailor, and laughed to scorn the idea of " going below on account of a blasted little snowsquall." Seven miles further on, the Bluebind stopped to change horses, and driver and "outside" went into the little tavern to get supper. A fine, stalwart, sailor-looking fellow was the "outside ;" tall and handsome, with chestnut curls all over his head and down on his white forehead; laughing blue eyes shining through the drops of wet tliat hung on his eyelashes ; rosy cheeks, that glistened after the pelting they had received. Driver and "outside " were both urged to put up for the night ; but the driver was plucky, and would not be bluffed off briuging his mail in, and the " outside" swore, witli a very salt oath, that he wonld get to Bushport that night if he had to walk there. So the supper was eaten, two hot toddies swallowed, and, with two lighted pipes in mouth, driver and "outside" mounted on the box, and the whip cracked, and away they went again into the driving wind, and through the drifting snow. It was now past 0, and, thongh fchfi coach pressed gallantly forward, it made bnt little headwav, the smoking horsen having desperate "bard worktokeepou at a fust walk. Tv.o of '.mi' mil.liiMiii..,'!! pMMed over when, as the Coach tilade a sliarp tutti round a bend in the road which tli wind had blown dry, the off foré-whee struok a tree, which au unlucky blast hat blown across the road, and, with a jol and a heave, over went the Bluebird, anc away flew driver and " outside" into drift, where they disappeared to crawl ou again, shake themselves, and stare lugu briously at the downfallen vehicle. Por tunately, they were near a farm-house and thither botli betook themselves, anc obtaining assistance, the horses wer soon housed in a comfortable barn. Th driver then annonnced his intention o accepting the cordial invitation they both received to remain all night, but tli "outside," game to the last, resistec every solicitation, and, after warming himself, outwardly by the flre, and in wardlywith a glags of " summat liot, swung a bundie which he carried ove his shoulder, and, with a stout stick in his hand, plunged resolutely into the snow again. The farm-lionse door closed behim him, and, as he gnined the i-oad, niarked only by the long white line between the fields and woods on either side, he almost feit inclined to give it up ; but he was a courageous fellow, this sailor, and, stifling the moinentary weakness, he ti-udged on. It was past 11 when the lights of the villagc appeared, and, with a sigh of relief, he stepped more lightly, thinking of the warm reception whioh was to repay him for this night's inconvenience, and many other nights' perils nd adrersity. As he moved on, his thoughts took j simpe in two forma of expression ! " I wonder if tlie oíd man lives !" anc " I wonder if she has forgotten me!" The straggling houses of the village were passed ; the oíd church loomed up in the darkness ; a cottage near by was lighted up in one room, and he leaned f or a moment on the railing of the graveyard, and hesitated, Suddenly, as his eyes glaneed over üie well-remembered stones, he saw something move. A chili, more pieroing than the cold blaat he had been under for so many houra, almost froze his blood, for the sailor-mind is proverbially superstitious. But he atood still, gazed and waited. It was a tall figure; white - of course everything was white - and it tottered weakly toward the gate near which he leaned. Presently it reached him, opened the gate, and, as he stood -with hidtongue cliuging to the roof of his mouth, and his hair bristling with fear, he knew who it was - it was Simon Grayberry, the sexton of Bushport. Springing forward, he calight the old man in his arms, wliile he shouted to him: "Father! father! It is me! Don't you know me? It's Torn - your boy Torn I" Then the old sexton stood erect, and, holding up hia finger, whispered; " Huah ! don't speak bo loüd ! l've got them, every one ! I robbed them !" and he pointed to the graves. "But, Torn, I'm sorry ! I'm sorry ! And you won't teil any one !" Torn put the little box which his father gave him carefuUy in his pocket ; a dim idea of the truth possessed him, and, taking the emaciated forra in his arms, he stepped with his burden to the door of the tavern, which waa aearer than the cottage, and where he saw a light burning ; and so, just as the landlord had made the remark concerning the lateness of the Boston coach, it happened thatthe tavern door opened, and a stout figure, in a sou'wester and covered with snow, staggered in, hearing in his arms the body of Sexton Grayberry. "Bear a hand ! Boys, it's me, Tom Grayberry, and this is my father. I found the old gentleman wandering in the graveyard in his mght-clothes ; he must have been out of his head." Such a start as that crowd of fishermen got may be imagined. They retreated backward into a corner, and looked at Tom and the prostrate form at his feet as though both were ghosts. Finally the landlord clapped Tom on his shoulder, and said : " You're Tom Grayberry, that I'll go bail ; but the old man's dead, and we left two ,women a-watching of him up to the cottage ; he died last night." Tom hal risen up, and stood looking at him for a moment ; then he stooped down, tore open the long gown that wrapped the old man, and placed his hand over his heart. It had stopped beating. "He is dead now," said Tom. " Come with me, some of you;" and, raising the body tenderly in his irms, he strode through the door, over the way, and straight on to the cottage. The landlord ran ahBad and opened the door, while the crowd followed at a respectful distance. As they entered the sitting-room, the two women rose, screaming, out of their sleep, frightened at their sudden inroad. But nothing recked Tom, as he carried the body straight past them into the bedroom, and laid it on the empty bed ! The whole matter was plain now ; the window was open, and through it the old sexton, awaked from his swoon, had taken his f earful course. Tom said nothing about the box of jewelry, and two days after the old sexton was quietly buried in the little churchyard. Tom stayed in Bushport many montlis; and when the spring opened he and sweet Alice Scott were married in the old church . And the good people of Bushport never knew anything more definite than the Yankee peddler's "suspicions" and their own imaginings about Simon Grayberry's deathbed speech, or the true story of "TheSexton'sGhost."