1

in which the captain was in about that girl."

extended to her, on her departure, was afforded, and so she was launched into the wide world of London.

Her hair was neatly and becomingly arranged about her face; her dress was quiet and pretty; and altogether she looked so young, so lovely, and at the same time, so modest and innocent, that the Governor, per force, almost excused the inconstancy (albeit attended with such fatal consequences) of Captain Jennings.

Assuredly the letter teemed with expressions of angush, remorse and hor She soon found herself penniless. ror of the suffering and apparent ruin Happily she did not linger in want, of a "dear innocent girl," the victim of pawn her clothes, (which were good) his senseless and heartless imprudence. and gradually descend to the extreme However, the baronet seemed to be privation which has assailed so many anything but touched by his friend's similarly circumstanced. She resolved rhapsodies. He talked much of "hu- to act and again went to the prison gate, man nature," and on "the weakness of well attired but deeply veiled, so as a man when a pretty girl was in the to defy recognition, and enquired for case;" but in order to satisfy his friend's the Governor. The gate porter anmind, asked to see her, that he might nounced that a "lady" desired to see write some account of her appearance him. The stranger was shown in, the and condition. Accordingly he did see veil uplifted, and to the governor's asher; in the governor's presence. After tonishment, there stood Charlotte a few inappropriate questions, he cut Mortlock. the interview short, and went away, manifestly disposed to account his gallant friend a fool for his excitement. The incident was not lost upon the governor, who attended with increased faith to the poor girl's protestations. In a few months more he received a stronger confirmation of them. Apparently unsatisfied with the baronet's services, Captain Jennings wrote to an- With many tears she acknowledged other friend of his, a public functiona- her grateful obligations for the considry, formerly a captain in the renowned erate and humane treatment she had reLight Division; and that officer placed ceived in prison. She disclosed her in the governor's hands a letter from the poverty, and her utter friendlessness; captain, expressing unbounded grief for expressed her horror of the temptation the dreadful fate of an innocent woman. to which she was exposed; and implorHe could not rest day nor night; she ed the governor's counsel and assishaunted his imagination, and yet he tance. Without a moment's hesitation, was distant and powerless to save. His she was advised to go at once to a lady second messenger was touched with of station, whose extensive charities pity, and consulted the governor as to and zealous services, rendered to the the proper steps to pursue. However, outcasts of society at that time were under the unhappy circumstances of most remarkable. She cheerfully acthe case, Captain Jennings being so far quiesced. She found the good lady at away, no formal document being at home, related her story, met with symhand, the period of the poor girl's re-pathy and active aid, and after remainlease being then almost come, it was ing for a time by her benevolent redeemed unadvisable to take any steps. commendation, in a charitable estab Charlotte Mortlock had fulfilled the lishment, was recommended to a weal judgment of the law. thy family, to whom every particular of her history was confided. In this service she acquitted herself with per fect truthfulness and fidelity, and wo the warmest regard. The incident which led to her unmerited imprisonment, broke off the engagement between Captain Jennings and Miss Newton; but whether the former had ever an

She had been carefully observed; her occupation had been of a womanly character; she had never incurred a reproof, much less a punishment in prison; and her health had been well sustained. She consequently quitted her abode in a condition suitable for active exertion. Such assistance as could be

opportunity of indemnifying the poor. girl for the sufferings she had undergone, the narrator has never been able to learn. This is, in every particular, a true case of prison experience.

AMBITION.

What is Ambition! "Tis a glorious cheat!
It seeks the chamber of the gifted boy,

And lifts his humble window and comes in,
The narrow walls expand, and spread away
Into a kingly palace, and the roof

Lifts to the sky, and unseen fingers work
The ceiling with rich blazonry, and write
His name in burning letters over all.
And ever as he shuts his wildered eyes,
The phantom comes, and lays upon his lips
A spell that murders sleep, and in his ear
Whispers a deathless word, and on his brain
Ereathes a fierce thirst no waters will allay.

He is a slave henceforth. His days are spent
In chaining down his heart, and watching where
To rise by human weakness. His nights
Bring him no rest in all their blessed hours;
His kindred are forgotten or estranged:
Unhealthful fires burn constant in his eye;
His lip grows restless, and its smile is curled
Half into scorn; till the bright, fiery boy,
That 'twas a daily blessing but to see,
His spirit was so bird-like and so pure,
Is frozen in the very flush of youth,
Into a cold, care-fretted, heartless man.

And what is its reward? At best a name! Praise-when the ear has grown too dull to hear; Gold-when the senses, it should please, are dead;

MUSIC.

Words are but the history of a bygone thought-music is its presence. All our profoundest feelings are in their nature lyrical. Whatever most deeply affects us, we do, in some way link to tune, or they are by tune awakened. The feelings sing of themselves, and make an orchestra of the brain. Persons incapable of putting the simplest combination of sounds musically together, will make melody in their hearts of the reminiscences that strongly move them. And these will commonly be sad, as is all that is connected with the past-sad, however, with various degrees of intensity-some, but calm regrets others, dirges and requiems. Therefore it is that the most affecting melodies belong to the past-to the past in the life of man-to the past in the life of a nation. Such melodies come not from prosperity or power. They come from those who have missed a history, or whose history is over. Such melodies are voices of sadnessthe yearnings over what might have been but was not-the regret for what has been but never will be again. And thus, too, it is with the most affecting eloquence. That which agitates the breast with force resistless is the world

Wreaths-when the hair, they cover, has grown gray; which is fraught with the passions of

Fame--when the heart it should have thrilled, is numb.
ALL things but LOVE-When LOVE is all we want,
And close behind comes death, and ere we know,
That even these unavailing gifts are ours,
He sends us stripped and naked to the grave.

LAUGHTER.--"A laugh is worth an hundred groans in any market," said Charles Lamb and so say we. There never was any good resulting from despondency; and when we see a man try to growl himself out of difficulties, we conclude him weak in the upper story. When you get into a tight place, first look things in the face, and then get out the best way you can-but do not

groan.

None are so invincible as your half witted people, who know just enough to excite their pride, but not so much as to cure their ignorance.

its sorrow. Life in power is actionLife in memory is elegy or eloquence. A nation, like a man, dreams its life again-and until life is gone or changed it soliloquizes or sings its dreams. The music of memory lives in every man's experience; and the excellence of it is, that it binds itself only to our better feelings. It is the excellence of our nature, also, that only such feelings have spontaneous memories. The worst man does not willingly recall his bad feelings: and if he did, he could not wed them to melody. Hatred, malice--vengeance, envy, have, to be sure, their proper expressions in the lyric drama, but of themselves they are not musical, and by themselves they could not be endured. It is not so with the kind emotions. They are in themselves a music-and memory delights in the sweetness of their intonations.

THE GUARDED HOUSE. When the year 1814 began, troops

Love, affection, friendship, patriotism, pity, grief, courage-whatever generously swells the heart or tenderly subdues it-or purely elevates it-are, of of Swedes, Cossacks, Germans and themselves, of their own attuning and accordant graciousness, of a musical inspiration. With what enchantment will a simple strain pierce the silence of the breast, and in every note break the slumber of a thousand thoughts. It is positive enchantment. Faces long in the clay, bloom as they did in youth. An inward ear is opened through the outward-and voices of other times

are speaking-and words which you had heard before come to your soul, and they are pleasant in the delusive echo. Your spirit is lost in the flight of days,

and insensible to the interval of distance; it is back in other hours, and dwells in other scenes. Such are the mysterious linkings by which music interlaces itself with our feelings-and so becomes an inseparable portion of our sympathy.

INNOCENT CONFESSION.-A lady at a confession, among other heinous crimes, accused herself of using rouge. "What is the use of it,?" asked the confessor "I do it to make myself handsomer."-"And does it produce that effect?" At least I think so, father." The confessor on this took his penitent out of the confessional, and having look ed at her attentively in the light said: "Well, madam, you may use rouge, for you are ugly enough even with it."

ROYAL EPITAPH.

Hic Jacet-Here he lies; in tranquil earth;
A sleeper never to be awakened,-till
Fate's trumpet shall blow forth his final birth,-
Heaven or Eternal Pain!-How cold, how still
The body which late held a fiery will;

In whose white cheek the raging passions glowed;
In whose now stagnant veins the red blood flowed,
Running its ceaseless round of good and ill.

O God! that this pale thing-this lump of clay
Which the ass's hoof may trample now or spurn,
Rained scorn on millions.-But his race is run.
Toss high thy rags, O Beggar!-in the sun.
Behold! how Power and Pride must pass away,
And Kings must leave their thrones and ne'er return.

Russians, were within half an hour's march of the town of Sleswick; and new and fearful reports of the behaviour of the soldiers were brought from the country every day. There had been a truce, which was to come to an end at midnight of the 5th of January, which was now drawing near.

On the outskirts of the town, on the side where the enemy lay, there was a house standing alone, and in it there was an old pious woman, who was earnestly praying in the words of an wall around them, so that the enemy cient hymn, that God would raise up a might fear to attack them.

an

In the same house dwelt her daughter, a widow, and her grandson, a youth of twenty years. He heard the prayer of his grandmother, and could not restrain himself from saying, that he did not understand how she could ask for any. thing so impossible as that a wall should be built around them, which could keep the enemy away from their house. The old woman, who was now deaf, caused what her grandson said to be explained to her, but only answered that she had but prayed in general for protection for themselves and their town people.

However," she added, "do you think that if it were the will of God to build a wall around us, it would be impossible to him?”

And now came the dreaded night of the 5th of January; and about midnight, the troops began to enter on all sides. The house we were speaking of lay close by the road, and was larger than the dwellings near it, which were only very small cottages. Its inhabitants looked out with anxious fear, as parties of the soldiers entered one after another, and even went to the neighboring houses to ask for what they wanted; but all rode past their dwelling. Throughout the whole day there had been a heavy fall of snow-the first that winter-and towards evening the storm became violent to a degree seldom known. At length came four parties of Cossacks, who had been hindered by the snow from entering

the town by another road. This part of into the cavern and the Seven Sleepers the outskirts was at some distance from were permitted to awake. Soon after the town itself, and therefore they would rising from their sleep, which they not go further; so that all the houses thought had lasted only a few hours, around that where the old woman lived, they were pressed by the calls of hunger, were filled with these soldiers, who and resolved that Jamblichus, one of quartered themselves in them; in several their number, should secretly return to houses there were fifty or sixty of these the city, to purchase bread for the use of half-savage men. It was a terrible night for those who dwelt in this part of the town, filled to overflowing with the troops of their enemies.

But not a single soldier came into the grandmother's house; and amidst the loud noises and wild sounds all around, not even a knock at this door was heard to the great wonder of the family within. The next morning, as it grew light, they saw the cause. The storm had drifted a mass of snow, to such a height, between the roadside and the house, that to approach it was impossible. "Do you not now see, my son," said the old grandmother, "that it was possible for God to raise a wall around us?"

Does not this story remind us of the words "The angel of the Lord encamp eth round about them that fear Him and delivereth them?" Does it not seem as if the snow had been gathered together as by angels' hands to form a defence for that house where one dwelt who thus feared God and trusted in him?,

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS. The story of the Seven Sleepers is the most romantic of the legends of the church. It is as follows:

himself and his companions. The youth, if we may still employ that appellation, could no longer recognize the once familiar aspect of his native country; and his surprise was increased by the appearance of a large cross triumphantly erected over the principal gate of Ephesus. His singular dress and obsolete language confounded the baker, to whom he offered an ancient medal of Decius, as the current coin of the Empire; and Jamblichus on the suspicion of a secret treasure, was dragged before the judge. Their mutual inquiries produced the amazing discovery, that two centuries had almost elapsed since Jamblichus and his friends had escaped from the rage of a pagan tyrant.-The Bishop of Ephesus, the clergy, the magistrate, the people, and, it is said, the Emperor himself, hastened to visit the cavern of the Seven Sleepers, who related their story, bestowed their benediction, and at the same instant peaceably expired.

Mrs. Jameson's Poetry of Sacred and Legendary Art.

INNATE NEATNESS OF WOMAN-Carlyle, in his quaint but rich work on the French Revolution in speaking of When the Emperor Decius persecu- the beautiful but unfortunate Maria ted the Christians, seven noble youths Antoinette, says, "there is no proof of of Ephesus concealed themselves in a evil against her character, save that spacious cavern, on the side of an she might have been a little inattentive adjacent mountain, and were doomed to to rules of etiquette. She acknow perish by the tyrant, who gave orders ledges her enemies, even Mirabeau, that the entrance should be firmly se- when she becomes acquainted with cured by a pile of stones. They im- them, to be much better men than she mediately fell into a deep slumber, had been told they were. The instant which was most miraculously prolong recognition of worth and talent, whereed, without injuring the powers of life, ever it be, is a fine trait. An incident. one hundred and eighty-seven years. that is told of her is very touching--the At the end of that time, the slaves of day before her execution she borrowed Adolus, to whom the inheritance of a needle of the jailor's wife to mend the mountain had descended, removed her clothes and die with decency, prethe stones to supply material for some serving a woman's love of neatness to edifice. The light of the sun darted the last."

GOOD NIGHT.

FROM THE GERMAN OF PAUER.

Dark is the night!

Yet stars are glimmering through the cope of heaven;
The air sighs softly through the wandering trees;
And innocence, unstained by evil leaven,

All bright within-the outward gloom can please;
With the sweet influence of the calm hour filled,
In its clear bosom carrying its own heaven!
To all who have their day's work well fulfilled-
To them good night!

Still is the night!

All day's loud noises wane!

Weary and tearful eyelids own the calm;

And sleep is lulling in her soft domain

ment of every one else in Glasgow.— N. British Review.

NECESSITY OF CHANGE OF AIR.An occasional change of air may be said to be almost necessary to the perfect well being of every man. The workman must leave his workshop, the student his library, and the lawyer his office, or sooner or later his health will pay the penalty; and this, no matter how great his temperance in eating and drinking; no matter how vigorously and regularly he uses his limbs, no matter

The throbbing heart with heaven's own soothing how open, and dry, and free from

balm;

To you for whom her shades descend in vain,

Whom care keeps watching-peace your cares
disarm!

Soothed to the couch of sorrow and of pain!
To such good night!

Rich is the night!

Can man hope, here, for more,

When the dark night of trouble veils him round,
Than in bright dreams to see heav'n ope its store,
And each warm wish by fancy crown'd!
To you for whom hope smiles by day no more,
May her soft whispers in your sleep be found!
To you-good night!

Faith springs by night;

When all the fond heart hailed

Have long beneath the lonely hillock slept-
When they-the dearly loved-the deep bewailed-
Fate's bitter flood from thy fond arms hath swept-
Think, amid all the trials that assailed,

One eye, above the stars, its watch hath kept-
And watches still-good night.

sources of impurity may be the air of the place in which he is employed. In the slightest causes of impaired health the sleeping in the suburbs of the town in which the life is chiefly spent, or even spending a few hours of detached days in some accessible rural districts at a few miles distance from the dwelling, may suffice to restore the healthy balance of the bodily functions, and maintain the bodily machine in`a fit state for its duties; or in cases of somewhat more aggravated character, a more decided change of air, for even a few days, once or twice a year, may suffice to adjust or restore the due of the system.

economy

Robertson on Diet and Regimen.

GENIUS. Our great discoveries, which are as much the bequests of genius as our inventions are the result of ONE OF THOMAS CAMPBELL'S COL- perseverance, have always followed LEGE TRICKS IN GLASGOW.-A re- from some apparently unimportant spectable apothecary, named Fife, had cause. The discovery of the law of over his door in the Trongate, painted gravitation, and the history of the in large letters, "Ears pierced by A. steam-engine, are faimilar examples. Fife," meaning the operations to which And it is not the less true of literature. young ladies submit for the purpose of To the running away of a merry scapewearing ear-rings. Fife's next door grace we owe the philosophy of Hamneighbor was a spirit dealer of the let, the truth of Timon, and the moraliname of Drum. Campbell and his ty of Lear. The dignity of scorn arisbrother Daniel, assisted by a third par- ing from an unreturned passion, at ty, who we believe is still living, got once made a lord a poet and a libertine a long, thin, deal board, and painted a hero. To a glass of Scotch whisky, on it in Capitals: "The spirit-stirring or the lips of a Highland maiden, we Drum, the ear-piercing Fife." This owe the finest ballads in the world. they nailed one night over the contig. And so of art. Surely it was no acciuous doors, to the great annoyance of dent that brought the father of the great Drum and Fife, and to the great amuse- line of painters to Giotto; and unim