by decay,) is allowed to lie conspicuously in the scene of the outrage — I allude to the handkerchief with the name of the deceased.  If this was accident, it was not the accident of a gang.  We can imagine it only the accident of an individual.  Let us see.  An individual has committed the murder.  He is alone with the ghost of the departed.  He is appalled by what lies motionless before him.  The fury of his passion is over, and there is abundant room in his heart for the natural awe of the deed.  His is none of that confidence which the presence of numbers inevitably inspires.  He is alone with the dead.  He trembles and is bewildered.  Yet there is a necessity for disposing of the corpse.  He bears it to the river, but leaves behind him the other evidences of guilt; for it is difficult, if not impossible to carry all the burthen at once, and it will be easy to return for what is left.  But in his toilsome journey to the water his fears redouble within him.  The sounds of life encompass his path.  A dozen times he hears or fancies the step of an observer.  Even the very lights from the city bewilder him.  Yet, in time and by long and frequent pauses of deep agony, he reaches the river’s brink, and disposes of his ghastly charge — perhaps through the medium of a boat.  But now what treasure does the world hold — what threat of vengeance could it hold out — which would have power to urge the return of that lonely murderer over that toilsome and perilous path, to the thicket and its blood chilling recollections?  He returns not, let the consequences be what they may.  He could not return if he would.  His sole thought is immediate escape.  He turns his back forever upon those dreadful shrubberies and flees as from the wrath to come.

“But how with a gang?  Their number would have inspired them with confidence; if, indeed confidence is ever wanting in the breast of the arrant blackguard; and of arrant blackguards alone are the supposed gangs ever constituted.  Their number, I say, would have prevented the bewildering and unreasoning terror which I have imagined to paralyze the single man.  Could we suppose an oversight in one, or two, or three, this oversight would have been remedied by a fourth.  They would have left nothing behind them; for their number would have enabled them to carry all at once.  There would have been no need of return.

“Consider now the circumstance that in the outer garment of the corpse when found, ’a slip, about a foot wide had been torn upward from the bottom hem to the waist wound three times round the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch in the back.’  This was done with the obvious design of affording a handle by which to carry the body.  But would any number of men have dreamed of resorting to such an expedient?  To three or four, the limbs of the corpse would have afforded not only a sufficient, but the best possible hold.  The device is that of a single individual; and this brings us to the fact