No. 19.

Terms.-Published every Thursday by E. Littel! & Brother, corner of Chestnut and Seventh Streets, Philadelphia. It will contain four handsome engravings every year. Price Two Dollars and a Half a year, payable in advance.

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BEARS IN SWEDEN.

[From a Review of Mr. Lloyd's Field Sports of the North of Europe.] "WHEN a sportsman first visits Sweden, he would be led to imagine, from the nature of the country, that game might be very abundant: but he will soon find the contrary to be the case; for he may often walk for hours together in the finest shooting grounds imaginable, without finding a bird or other animal. For awhile, I was at a loss to account for this scarcity, which I knew not whether to attribute to the climate, the vermin, or other cause. But after passing some time in Sweden, my wonder ceased; and it was then no longer surprising that there should be so little game, (I here speak of the country generally,) but that there should be any at all; as, from the constant war that is carried on against it throughout the whole year, and this in spite of the laws enacted for its preservation, one would be inclined to think game would be exterminated altogether. In the summer, and often when the birds are hardly out of their shells, the slaughter is commenced both with traps and guns; and during the subsequent long winters, of some five or six months' duration, every device which the ingenuity of man can invent, is put into execution to destroy them. The spring of the year, however, during the period of incubation, is the most fatal to the feathered tribe; for at that time birds are, of course, more easy of approach, and they are then, at least such is the case in most parts of Sweden, destroyed without mercy."

Even the bears are slain in their wintersleep; and, in short, there seems to be no sort of security for fish, fowl, or flesh, feræ naturæ, in all the land or waters of Scandinavia. The race of our friend Bruin has thus been nearly extirpated, in spite of all their saving qualities of running, walking, swimming, scratching, clawing, tearing, patting, biting, hugging, and snoozing, for indeed their persecutions appear to be what no bear could bear.

"The female bear carries her young about six months, and brings forth when in her den at the end of January, or in the course of February. The cubs, when first born, are very small; not, however, mishapen lumps, as it used to be said, which the other licked into form, but bears in miniature. She has from one to four at a birth, which she suckles, according to Mr. Forsell, until the summer is well advanced. Although the mother takes no nourishment during the time she continues in her den, she nevertheless preserves her condition tolerably well, and her teats furnish milk in abundance; for this reason, the cubs are usually found to be very fat when they are taken in the den. Should she again be with young in the same year, she does not, according to Mr. Falk, suffer her former cubs to share her den the next winter, but prepares them quarters in her neighbourhood: the succeeding summer, however, she is followed by both litters, who pass the ensuing winter, all together, in the mother's den. Though I cannot from personal observation verify the latter statement, I have reason to believe it is true; indeed, one of the most celebrated chasseurs in the north of Europe, an occasional companion of mine in the forest, assured me that he himself once found two distinct litters of cubs in the same den with the mother. She-bears,'

Mr. Falk farther observes, do not breed three years in succession: when the young are of a proper growth, (which, I believe, is not until they are three years of age,) she separates from them entirely.' The bear is a fast and good swimmer, and in hot weather bathes frequently; he climbs well, but in descending trees or precipices, always comes down backwards. His sight is sharp, and senses of hearing and smelling are excellent: for these reasons, it is not often that he is to be seen. He walks with facility on his hind-legs, and in that position can bear the heaviest burdens. Indeed, Mr. Nilsson says, 'a bear has been seen walking on his hinder feet along a small tree (stock) that stretched across a river, bearing a dead horse in his fore-paws.' Though his gait is awkward, the bear can, if he pleases, as I shall by and by have occasion to show, go at a great pace. According to Mr. Falk, he grows to about his twentieth, and lives until

his fiftieth year. The Scandinavian bear, the male at least, (for the female is smaller,) occasionally attains to a very great size. Indeed, I myself killed one of these animals that weighed four hundred and sixty pounds; and as this was in the winter time, when, from his stomach being contracted, (which, as I have just now stated, is the case with those animals at that season of the year,) he was probably lighter by fifty or sixty pounds than he would have been during the autumnal months. Mr. Professor Nilsson states, that they attain to five hundred weight.' Mr. Falk, however, goes much farther; for he says, in his little pamphlet, that he once killed a bear in a skall,

so uncommonly large, that when slung on a pole, ten men could with difficulty carry him a short distance.' He adds farther, His weight could not be precisely stated; but,' according to his opinion, and he had seen numbers of large and small bears, 'he weighed unflayed at least two skippunds victualic weight, or near seven hundred and fifty pounds English.' This bear, which was killed during the autumnal months, Mr. Falk described to have had so enormous a stomach as almost to resemble a cow in calf. This animal's skull, however, which is now in my possession, is not at all remarkable in point of size. He did not die tamely; for, after receiving several balls, he dashed at the cordon of people who encom. passed him on all sides, and, according to the same author, severely wounded no less than seven of them in succession. One of the men he bit in thirty-seven different places, and so seriously in the head, that his brains were visible.' Though the people gallantly endeavoured to stop the progress of this monster, he broke through all opposition, and for the moment made his escape: very fortunately, however, a minute or two afterwards Mr. Falk succeeded in putting him hors de combat. Though this bear was of so enormous a size, one of Mr. Falk's under-keepers, the most celebrated chasseur in that part of the country, who saw it, and of whom I shall have occasion to speak much hereafter, assured me he himself had killed one still larger, the skin of which was, by his account, of such an extraordinary size, that I am really afraid to repeat its dimensions. He added farther, that its fat alone weighed one hundred weight, and that its wrists (in formation much resembling those of a human being) were of so great a thickness, that with his united hands, which were none of the smallest, he was unable to span either of them by upwards of an inch. This bear, however, he admitted, was very considerably larger than any other that he ever killed; indeed, by his account, it must have been a Daniel Lambert among his species. The powers of such animals as those of which I have just been speaking, must of course be tremendous; and it can,

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therefore, readily be imagined, that the inhabitants of Scandinavia have some little reason for the saying common among them, that the bear, together with the wit of one man, has the strength of ten. Some better idea of the prowess of a large bear may, however, be formed, when I state, on the authority of Mr. Falk, 'that several instances have occurred in Werineland, within the last few years, of their climbing on to the roofs of cow-houses: these they have then torn off'; and having thus gained admittance to the poor animals confined within, they slaughtered and actually carried them away by shoving, or lifting them through the aperture by which they themselves had entered.' I have heard of another bear, which, after being desperately wounded, ran at the man who fired at him, who took refuge behind a young tree; this the bear then embraced with his arms, thinking possibly it was his opponent he had got hold of: he was then, however, in his last agonies, and presently fell dead to the ground, tearing up the trees by the roots in his fall."

The annexed is an illustration of the instinct of these animals:

"As soon as the old bear heard the people advancing upon her, she drove her cubs, as is usually the case when they are in danger, up into the trees, or into holes and other places of concealment, for safety. This was known from the cries of the cubs; for on these occasions, the mother generally resorts to considerable violence to accomplish her purpose. She then continued her retreat."

Frederick the First, who ruled in Sweden about a hundred years ago, was a famous bearhunter, and the archives of the state retain authentic records of his exploits. The following are specimens, and written by M. Schönberg, the king's principal chasseur, the then Lord Maryborough of Sweden:

"The 15th of January, 1722, I had the honour to organise this hunt (which was only one thousand six hundred paces in circumference), likewise in the parish of Tuna in Dalecarlia, in which four bears were ringed; and although, according to orders, fires were lighted behind the nets, &c. surrounding the skallplats, yet the bears never moved out of their quarters; all the four lay quiet together in a sand-bank. Wherefore, when his majesty came to the hunt, he resolved to shoot them in the den, which was executed in the following manner: I advanced before, carrying on my arm one of his majesty's rifles; immediately after, his majesty followed in person; after him huntsman Floton with two rifles on his arm: and after him, Colonel Lars Hierta, who had also a rifle. It was farther ordered, that a huntsman should follow fifty or sixty paces behind, with a couple of the large hounds; and that the other huntsmen should stand ready, with the whole of the dogs, immediately within the nets; but that all the other attendants should remain without. When I, who went before, came so near that I could see where the bears lay, I showed them to his majesty, and presented to him his rifle, who immediately fired at one who sat himself up in the den when he saw us; which was pointed so well, that he instantly fell dead, having received the ball between the eyes. The others, notwithstanding this, never moved, but lay perfectly quiet, as if they had been dead. The huntsman, directly after the first shot, presented to his majesty one of the rifles which he carried, and I took back the one that was discharged, when the king fired a second time; and as the bears still remained quiet, the huntsman delivered to him the other rifle, and took from him the second that was discharged, when his majesty immediately fired a third shot at the bears; but even yet not one of them moved. Upon this,

the king would not fire again, but ordered that in case any bear was still alive, the dogs should be set upon it, and for that purpose they were unloosed. But as the dogs did not see the bears, or know where the den was, they ran backwards and forwards within the skall-plats, until I was ordered to go to the den to see how matters stood. The bears permitted me to approach within four or five paces, when three of them sprang out, the fourth remaining dead on the spot. Two of those that sprang out had both been shot through the body, and the third was quite untouched. The two that were wounded were taken by the dogs; but the third, which was not wounded, was driven on to his majesty's skreen, where Colonel Hierta and the other gentlemen of the suite received permission to go and shoot him, and which they accordingly did. His majesty, in the mean time, proceeded to the parsonage at Tuna, highly pleased at this extraordinary sport, and at the gratification he experienced in getting three shots at bears in their den; as it was the first time the king had had an opportunity of shooting at any bear in his winter quarters, and which also never happened again. When the hunt was over, his majesty proceeded the next day to Stockholm, and I received permission to shoot the four bears which I had reported to him were ringed in Westmanland, and which I also did three days afterwards on my journey home. In the wood called Har, near Nötbo, there lay a capital bear ringed; but as this bear, when the hunt was about half driven, ran on the people, and severely wounded four or five men, the king ordered that all the dogs which amounted to about sixty, should be let loose upon him, which was accordingly done, when he at once killed six or seven of them; but he was afterwards mastered by the others, so that I was enabled to give him a couple of thrusts through the body with my hanger, which, together with his life, put an end to all his fury and ferocity.' The dogs, in the time of King Frederick, were, to judge by the representation of those animals at Drottningholm, of a very superior kind to what one generally sees in Sweden at the present day. They appear to have been large and powerful brutes, and are represented with spiked collars about their necks, in actual conflict with the bear. These dogs, however, were said, if I remember right, to have come from Germany or Russia. Among other anecdotes relating to Frederick the First, that came to my knowledge, the following, which was obligingly furnished to me by Captain Ehrenlund, of the Swedish army, may not be altogether uninteresting: I give it in that gentleman's own words. In the year 1737, a skall was organized near the village of Hallsta, in the parish of Tierp, in the province of Upland, at which a large bear was found and driven out of his retreat, but did not advance to the king; neither had it escaped through the line of huntsmen. The king, displeased at not getting a shot, reprimanded his ranger, or royal huntsman, Schönberg, who conducted the hunt, and insisted that no bear had been roused. In vain did Schönberg al lege that several persons had seen the bear; and that he supposed the same was concealed in a hole, under a hill, which lay within the skall-plats; and he requested permission to make another attempt with his men to find him. The king, who did not accede to this proposal, set off, evidently displeased, to the residence of the clergyman in the parish of Heidunge, situated in Westmanland, about thirty miles from Tierp, in order that he might, on the following day, shoot a female bear with two young ones, which were in the neighbourhood. Schönberg, much mortified at this event, asked one of his assistants, a determined man of the name of Hillerström, how the king could be convinced that the bear was still remaining in the skall-plats? To which the latter answered, If I can get made to-night, at Ulfors forge, some iron shears (Jern-Saxar), and am furnished with money to pay some strong fellows whom I know, I shall endeavour to take

the bear (which is certainly to be found under the hill) alive, and convey him afterwards to Huddunge.' Schönberg, fully convinced of Hillerström's courage, consented to his wishes; and upon that drove on to Huddunge, where he had also to conduct a hunt. Hillerström, provided with the iron shears and strong ropes from the aforesaid forge, proceeded to the hill, kept watch on the bear during the night; and, after several vain attempts to get him out, he daringly crept into the hole, and poked him with a long stick; upon which the bear rushed past him; but in so doing, from the narrowness of the opening, he gave him a violent squeeze. The people, however, who were placed on the outside, on his bolting from his lair, instantly pressed him down with four iron shears, which they judiciously applied to his neck and loins; and they at the same time gave him a severe blow on the forehead, with the flat or back-side of an axe, which had the effect of stunning and disabling him. The bear was now bound on a sledge, and conveyed to Huddunge parsonage, where the king passed the second night, after he had shot the beforementioned three bears, and was consequently in good humour. Hillerström, before daybreak, arrived with the bear, and immediately informed Schönberg of the fortunate result of the undertaking, who requested and obtained permission to see the king as soon as he was awake. Upon which, Schönberg reported that the bear, who at the Tierp hunt had escaped into the cavern under the hill, had been taken by Hillerström, and at present lay alive, bound in the court-yard. The king, both astonished and pleased, desired Hillerström to be called in, that he might hear his account, how he had captured the bear. After which the king said to Schönberg, Here, I present you with my watch, on condition that you give Hillerström your silver one;'-and to Hillerström, 'You shall be furnished with a new huntsman's uniform, and receive from my stud at Strömsholm a good horse.' After breakfast, when the king was desirous to shoot the bear, which lay in the middle of the yard, opposite the steps leading into the house, (the German and Swedish huntsmen being formed on opposite sides,) he gave orders that the bear should be unbound, as he wished to shoot him as he ran off; but as the order was not given to any particular huntsman, all stood still, until the king, after some moments of general silence, said to Hillerström, 'You took the bear: you will, no doubt, venture to unbind him.' As the harmony between the Swedish and German huntsmen was never particularly good, Hillerström replied, as he went up to the bear, The Germans might surely be able to loosen him, when the Swedes could take him.' Hillerström leisurely cut, with his hunting-knife, the cords with which the bear was bound-all except one, which remained round the neck; but as he still lay quiet, Hillerström gave him a smart lash with his hunting-whip, on the hind quarters; upon which the bear sprang up, with a terrible growl, and was shot by the king ten or twelve paces from the sledge on which he had lain. The king then presented Schönberg with the rifle he had used. At the moment the bear sprang out of the sledge, several of the German huntsmen ran from their places to a little building in the vicinity; but all the Swedes stood immovable. To prove that the apprehension shown by the Germans was unfounded, the king ordered two pigeons to be taken from the dove-cot, the one blue, the other white, which should be thrown up by a German huntsman; at the same time naming which of them should be shot. The huntsman, who cast up both at the same instant, exclaimed, The blue, your majesty;' and immediately the king, with his rifle, shot the blue pigeon.'

'The king, of whom I have just narrated so many anecdotes, had a very large lion presented to him by one of the Barbary powers. There were at this time several bears kept by the butchers about the shambles in Stockholm,

and his majesty, being anxious to witness a rencontre between one of these animals and the lion, ordered them to be brought into contact with each other. In the lion's den there were two apartments, into one of which the bear was introduced. On the lion, however, getting access to that animal, he found him posted in a corner; when, going up to him, he gave him a slight rap with his paw, as if to see of what materials his visiter was composed. The bear, not liking this kind of salutation, growled, and endeavoured to parry it. This made the lion angry; when with one fell swoop,' with his paw, as the story goes, he laid the bear dead at his feet. It is, of course, idle to make a comparison between the powers of the lion and the bear from the anecdote I have just related. I think, however, that there are bears to be found in the Scandinavian forests, that even the lord of the African deserts would find some difficulty in annihilating at a single blow."

The following are more modern anecdotes of bear-hunting, even of the present day. In 1790, a skall (that is, the surrounding of a tract by a cordon of persons, and driving all the animals, by closing in, to a centre), conducted in the usual way, led to this incident:

"One man, an old soldier, who was attached to the hallet, or stationary division of the skall, thought proper to place himself in advance of the rest in a narrow defile, through which, from his knowledge of the country, he thought it probable the bear would pass. He was right in his conjecture, for the animal soon afterwards made his appearance, and faced directly towards him On this he levelled and attempted to discharge his piece; but, owing to the morning being wet, the priming had got damp, and the gun missed fire. The bear was now close upon him, though it is probable, that if he had stepped to the one side, he might still have escaped; but, instead of adopting this prudent course, he attempted to drive the muzzle of his gun, to which, however, no bayonet was attached, down the throat of the enraged brute. This attack the bear parried with the skill of a fencing-master; when, after wresting the gun out of the hands of the man, he quickly laid him prostrate. All might still have ended well; for the bear, after smelling at his antagonist, who was lying motionless and holding his breath, as if he had been dead, left him almost unhurt. The animal then went to the gun, which was only at two or three feet distance, and began to overhaul it with his paws. The poor soldier, however, who had brought his musket to the skall contrary to the orders of his officers, and knowing that if it was injured he should be severely punished, on seeing the apparent jeopardy in which it was placed, quietly stretched out his | hand, and laid hold of one end of it, the bear having it fast by the other. On observing this movement, and that the man in consequence was alive, the bear again attacked bim; when, seizing him with his teeth by the back of the head, as he was lying with his face to the ground, he tore off the whole of his scalp, from the nape of the neck upwards, so that it merely hung to the forehead by a strip of skin. The poor fellow, who knew that his safety depended upon his remaining motionless, kept as quiet as he was able; and the bear, without doing him much further injury, laid himself along his body. Whilst this was going forward, many of the people, and Captain Eurenius among the rest, suspecting what had happened, hastened towards the spot, and advanced within twelve or fifteen paces of the scene of action; here they found the bear still lying upon the body of the unfortunate inan: sometimes the animal was occupying himself in licking the blood from his bare skull, and at others in eyeing the people:-all, however, were afraid to fire, thinking either that they might hit the man, or that, even if they killed the bear, he might in his last agonies still farther mutilate the poor sufferer. In this po sition, Captain Eurenius asserted that the

soldier and the bear remained for a consider

"These owls, (says Mr. Lloyd,) Doctor Melable time, until at last the latter quitted his lerborg assured me, will sometimes destroy victim and slowly began to retreat, when, a dogs. Indeed, he himself once knew an intremendous fire being opened upon him, he stance of the kind. He stated another circuminstantly fell dead. On hearing the shots, the stance showing the ferocity of these birds, poor soldier jumped up, his scalp hanging over which came under his immediate notice. Two his face so as completely to blind him; when, men were in the forest for the purpose of throwing it back with his hands, he ran to gathering berries, when one of them happening wards his comrades like a madman, franticly to approach near to the nest of the owl, she exclaiming, 'The bear, the bear!' The mis-pounced upon him, whilst he was in the act of chief, however, was done, and was irreparable. stooping, and, fixing her talons in his back, The only assistance he could receive was ren- wounded him very severely. His companion, dered to him by a surgeon, who happened to however, was fortunately near at hand, when, be present, and who severed the little skin catching up a stick, he lost no time in destroywhich connected the scalp with the forehead, ing the furious bird. Mr. Nilsson states, that and then dressed the wound in the best manner these owls not unfrequently engage in combat he was able. The scalp, when separated from with the eagle himself, and that they often the head, Captain Eurenius described as ex- come off victorious. These powerful and voactly resembling a peruke. In one sense, the racious birds, that gentleman remarks, occacatastrophe was fortunate for the poor soldier.sionally kill the fawns of the stag, roebuck, and At this time every one in the army was obliged reindeer. The largest of the birds common to to wear his hair of a certain form, and he in the Scandinavian forests, such as the capercali, consequence, being now without any, immedi- often become their prey. The hooting of these ately got his discharge." owls may often be heard during the night-time in the northern forests; the sound, which is a most melancholy one, and which has given rise to many superstitions, is audible at a long distance."

At another skall, when the bear was driven to her last resources, she, being sorely beset, "kept wheeling about from side to side to defend herself against her numerous foes, several of whom she laid prostrate; and would otherwise have injured them, had not her jaw been previously fractured with a ball. Among the party was the wife of a soldier, a very powerful woman of about forty years of age, who greatly distinguished herself on this occasion. Wishing to have a share in the honours of the day, she armed herself with a stout cudgel, with which she hesitated not to give the poor bear a tremendous blow upon the head. The animal, however, did not think this treatment quite fair; and not exactly understanding the deference due to the sex, sent her heels into the place where her head ought to have been, to the no small amusement of the bystanders. Nothing daunted by what had happened, the woman caught up another stick, the former having been broken owing to the force of the blow, and again began to belabour the bear; this the beast resented, as at first, by again tumbling her over. Still, our Amazon was not satisfied, for, laying hold of a third cudgel (the second, like the first, having snapt in two), she renewed her attacks upon Bruin, and, in return, had to perform a third somerset in the air. The bear, being at last fairly exhausted from wounds and loss of blood, fell dead amid the shouts of her enemies."

The ferocity of the bear is shown by many tales:

"On a Sunday afternoon, whilst two or three children were herding cattle on a Svedge-fall in the forest, in the vicinity of Gras, a hamlet situated at sixteen or eighteen miles to the southward of my quarters, a large bear suddenly dashed in among them. The brute first despatched a sheep, which happened to come in his way, and then a well grown beifer: this last, in spite of the cries of the children, he then carried over a strong fence of four or five feet in height, which surrounded the Svedge-fall, when, together with his prey, he was soon lost sight of in the thicket. The children now collected together the remainder of their charge, and made the best of their way to Gras, where they resided. "Now that I am speaking of the bear's attacks upon cattle, I am reminded of an anecdote related to me by Jan Finne. The circumstance, he stated, occurred some years before, at only about twenty miles from Stjern: A bull was attacked in the forest by a rather small bear, when, striking his horns into his assailant, he pinned him against a tree. In this situation they were both found dead; the bull from starvation, the bear from wounds.''

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But we must now conclude; and that our review, from being all directed to one topic, may not be thought unbearable, we shall give a few lines touching another animal-the great horned owl, which abounds in the Scandinavian forests.

And here we close, trusting that our quotations will render the author as agreeable to others as he has been to us. Of the sport, such as it is, principally treated of in these pages, he seems to have been passionately fond; and we are convinced, that any young nobleman or gentleman who may wish to visit Sweden, if they had the good fortune to engage Mr. Lloyd, would have in him a most excellent and incomparable bear-leader.

STANZAS.

My heart is not as once it was

Gone are its proud and early flowers; And nought is left me but to pass

On earth a few dark weary hours: My hopes are gone, like April blooms That died and left no fruit behind; My feelings lost, like rich perfumes

Flung on the careless summer wind: Yet I have one hope still remaining

One that shall be a certaintyThat soon shall come, my soul's unchaining,

To die-to die.

When I am in the festal throng,

The gay, the young, the proud, the vile, When I think how to them belong

The hollow tear, the heartless smileWhen I behold the morning light

Stealing upon them unawares, And see how ill the mirth of night

The searching glare of sunshine bears,I think their hearts are like their facesAll false, all shrinking from truth's eyeAgain the wish my spirit traces To die-to die. When I with Nature am alone,

At the sweet birth of morning's hour, Or when the bright sun from his throne Looks hotly on my fresh green bowerWhen I reflect, though I may love

The summer shine, the summer bloom,
That there's a language in each grove,
Which says a wintry hour shall come-
And when I think these two are fading,
The flowers will fall, the birds will fly,
I feel again the wish pervading
To die-to die.

And more than all, when in my heart
I feel the longing to be free,
From earthly bondage to depart,

And know my immortality-
When I feel certain of the bliss

That waits me in those realms above-
A world that hath no stain of this,
No cruel scorn, no faithless love-
When I remember clouds of sorrow
There, there shall never dim the eye,
I feel that I could wish to-morrow
To die-to die.

M. A. BROWNE.

FEARFUL EPISODE IN A FOX CHASE.

SIR Hugh, on gaining the wood at the sum. mit of Morwel rock, dismounted, and tying his horse to one of the trees by the bridle rein, determined there to leave the animal, whilst he watched the direction of the hunters from the bold brow of the rock we have just attempted to describe. He did so, and finding himself somewhat fatigued with his morning's exercise, he threw himself upon a portion of stone covered with moss, that formed a convenient seat, and looked around him with a mind by no means insensible to the beauty of the scene, yet, at the present moment, too much engrossed with the interest he felt for the sportsmen, to give himself up to a contemplative mood.

Whilst thus he sat, he heard the distant baying of the hounds, caught now and then a view of the huntsmen, as they emerged like moving atomies, from a coppice, or wound round the brow of a hill, their diminished forms sometimes but partially seen, and at others fully visible, as they cheered on the deep-mouthed pack to the notes of the "spiritstirring" horn.

Having watched for some time the progress of the chase, Sir Hugh at length heard steps behind him. He started, and, on turning his head to see who might be the intruder, beheld a man of an athletic form, wearing a morion on his head, and a corslet of steel upon his breast, armed both with sword and pistols. The figure stood still, remained silent, but fixed an earnest and impressive look on Sir Hugh.

The worthy knight, who was by no means prepared to encounter such a formidable apparition, instantly recollected, to add to his terror, there was no means of retreat, since the stranger stood between him and that narrow and only pathway which led into the wood. On every other side lay the fearful precipice. His alarm increased, his teeth chattered, and a tremulous motion, too strong to be concealed, seized his whole frame, as he stammered forth a good morrow, in the hope to propitiate this intruder, who he instantly set down in his own mind (and true enough was the conjecture) could be no other than one of those lawless miners and villains, that lived, in part, by cheating the revenues of the crown, and, for the rest, by open violence and plunder.

Deeply did Sir Hugh now censure in his heart the folly which had caused him thus incautiously to venture on such a spot alone. And so wholly was he unnerved at the moment, that, had he stood on the verge of the precipice which was near him, the slightest breath of air might have upset his equilibrium, and have consigned him to the abyss below. For some time, the formidable stranger seemed to enjoy with a malicious triumph, the terror he had excited; till at length Sir Hugh mustered sufficient courage to rise from his seat, and made an effort to pass on toward the wood. In this he was opposed, for the stran ger intercepted his progress, and motioned with his hand that he should remain where he

was.

Sir Hugh had recourse to expostulation, and said in a mild tone, "Friend, if such you are, I would entreat you to let me pass into yonder wood. There I have tied up my horse, and my people will be here to look for me anon; my business is not with you."

"But mine is with you," replied Standwich, for it was the outlawed captain who spoke. "I have watched for you, I have traced your steps hither, and on this spot you shall hear me

listen then."

"I-I-I cannot," stammered out Sir Hugh, "I can no longer tarry. Let me pass on. This detention is contrary to law, and liable to the penalty under the proclamation of her gracious Majesty of the present reign, for it is enacted-"

"Fool!" cried the Captain, "of what avail are laws here?-Talk of thy proclamations and penal codes to the kite and the carrion bird, that shall find their prey on what is left of thee,

"Aye, and fearfully," said Sir Hugh, his terror returning in full force at this moment; yet I beseech you, for your own sake, if not for mine, do not add sin to sin. Let me pass hence, for such words are dangerous; passion leads to madness, and that may tempt you. Let me pass, and fear nothing from our strange interview this morning."

injuries you have heaped upon my head-to repeat to you the crimes that owe their birth to you, and to warn you of a consequence that may be fatal to you and yours, whilst I point out the only means to shun it."

"Holy Mary!" exclaimed Sir Hugh, who in his terror forgot that he was now of the reformed church," you would not dare-you could not do such a deed, and that to a poor old man who "You shall not pass," cried Standwich; "I has never injured you." am not mad. I came hither prepared to meet "Be not too sure of that," replied his oppo-you-prepared to read the catalogue of those nent; "I have dared do things that you may hear of before we part. They may be a warrant I could do others something fearful. And as for injuring me, there lives not the wretch on this accursed earth who has injured me as you have done; and yet I have been the butt against which every worldly villain has been a shaft. But fear not my purpose is not against thy worthless life-I have no desire to cut short by violence the nearly wasted thread of thy remaining days. It is only resistance that would make me use the power I possess. Sit there, old man-aye, on yonder stone; there lies the dark gulf-thou hast no mind to leap it; for age, dotard age, clings as fondly to this world of folly as the greenest youth. There lies the gulf behind you, and here I stand before you, George Standwich, armed, and in full remembrance of the past."

"Great God! George Standwich!" exclaimed Sir Hugh, and he turned pale as death while he spoke. Is it possible? Do I behold George Standwich, who escaped-"

"A charge of murder," said the outlaw, supplying the close of Sir Hugh's sentence, which from terror he suppressed as it was about to drop from his lips. "Yes, and more than that. In me you behold a man so miserable, that nothing but the privilege he has gained, as the right of misery, to curse, to hate, and to requite mankind, could make him endure to live, to inhale the common air that is rendered hateful, since it is poisoned by the breath of man. am most wretched."

I

"These words are dreadful," said Sir Hugh, who felt some relief to his personal fears, from the tone of deep melancholy in which Standwich spoke, since he knew well that men, when about to commit an act of violence, are seldom capable of any feeling that approaches to the softness of sorrow-"dreadful indeed. I am not your judge, George Standwich; my life is at this moment solely in your power. My purpose cannot be to irritate your feelings. Whatever counsel I give, therefore, must be honest; and thus much I am bound, in Christian charity, to give you. If a sense of (guilt, Sir Hugh was about to say, but his fears made him soften the expression, so that he only added) of past errors weighs upon your mind, there is yet a long suffering God who delights in mercy."

"Aye, but who shall dare hope to find it?" said Standwich, wildly, "not man, miserable man. All things, save man, are obedient to God's laws. The winds and seas obey him; the great globe, the heavens, and all the stars in their course, follow but one order, the law of him who made them. At His comraand, these vast and rugged rocks stand fast on their everlasting base, receiving the sullen tempest that visits their loftiest crest in living fire, in thunder, and all the contest of the elements, with the same submission as they would the lightest breath of spring. It is not thus that I obey God's laws, since one law I never can obey."

"You can think justly," said old Sir Hugh, who wondered to what this extraordinary discourse would lead, "and, in doing so, must be conscious that great is that sin to which we yield obedience against conviction."

"You say well, old man," replied Standwich, and fixing his eye upon Fitz with a peculiar expression of bitter feeling, he added, "it is to you I owe all my guilt, all my misery; and, though my soul should be the forfeit, you I can never forgive. Now is God's law broken?"

"The past is past," said Sir Hugh, greatly alarmed." Why renew old grievances? I meant you no ill when I did what I conceived to be my duty to my friend, and to the common cause of justice-of humanity."

Standwich laid his hand on his pistol, as Sir Hugh once more attempted to pass him. The knight suddenly stopped, and, as if calling up a degree of spirit that had before apparently deserted him, he said, “I will hear you, George Standwich; but I will not thus be governed by fear. I am an old man; shed my blood at your own peril. God is with us both, though the eye of man is far off. I am a sinner; but fitter, perhaps, to render up my account, on a sudden summons, than you are."

Standwich, struck by the only mark of real courage Sir Hugh had displayed during the meeting, as well as with the truth of the observation, dropped his pistol, placed his hand on the shoulder of the old man, and looking him full in the face, with an aspect in which phrenzy seemed to contend with grief, said, "But for thee, I might have been as thou art, happy, and unstained by the guilt of human blood. Have you not injured me? Who was it first discovered to Glanville my honourable affection for his daughter? Who interfered to induce him to separate us? You-you did this. Who advised her fatal marriage with Sir John Page, a wretch, sordid and miserable? You did this; and when those fiends that lie in wait to tempt men to their own perdition-those accursed spirits that stir up the soul to madness, lawless love, passion, jealousy, revenge-prompted me to seduce the wife of Page, and to bear her from him, who but you found out our retreat, and, after twelve months of guilt, tore her from my arms, to restore her, stained as she was, to those of a husband?-You, you did this, and more than this. Who accused her? By whose means was she brought to a public tribunal, and there convicted of murder? You were that accursed wretch."

"So help me God," said Fitz, "before whose tribunal I must one day stand, as well as that unhappy woman, I did nought but what seemed to me my duty. The evidence I gave in court was true. I deposed to nothing but what I saw and heard. The signal given by you, when you threw the sand against her window, was distinctly heard by me, as unseen I lurked near you. The words also that you exclaimed," For God's sake hold your hand," and the answer made by your paramour from the window above, "it is too late, the deed is done." These words I heard, and to these I deposed in open court; they were true. And if by them the criminal met her doom, it was by the judgment of heaven, of her country's laws, and from no private enmity of mine. Did she not say the deed was done?"

"She did, she did," cried Standwich, whilst a convulsive shuddering seemed to pass over his frame. "The crime was great, but oh, the penalty of it was terrible. She perished at the stake for the murder of her husband; and thou,' he added, again relapsing into fury," thou didst bring her to it. It was thy act that lighted the fatal brand, else she might have lived. It was thy accursed spirit, active for evil; thy busy, meddling, legal skill, that collected facts, brought forward evidence, and did this to make one wretched woman yield up her soul in the

midst of the horrors of the burning pile, to fill mine with endless tortures-and yet they tell me that I was the cause-the tempter-the fatal source of all. I fled to save my name the stain of perishing as a common felon. For fame is dear even to the damned; else why do so many perish with a denial of the very guilt for which they suffer? What must be life to me? what death? what an hereafter?"

6

Whilst Standwich poured forth thus wildly the language of remorse and misery, Sir Hugh, who stood before him, and in whose bosom there was a large share of the milk of human kindness, felt even for this guilty outlaw some touch of compassion. This feeling encouraged the good natured knight once more in the attempt to sooth the mind of Standwich by leading him to better thoughts; and he said mildly, "Holy writ teaches us, unhappy man, that the first steps by which the guilty return to God are, like those of the Prodigal, by the paths of humility, self-abasement, and penitence. That path lies open before you; and your own feelings seem to lead you to it. Follow the good suggestion-it is from God. Say with the penitent, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son;' do this, and may God have mercy on your soul." "That is thy creed," said Standwich; "but know that mine thinks it not enough-mine demands labours such as would startle the most zealous of thy faith, ere I can hope to obtain the merciful absolution of our church. I have visited Rome itself in the hope to find pardon; I have confessed all the horrid tale ;-even the Pope himself has heard it. And on one condition, on the doing of one only act, can I hope to receive his forgiveness. But it is not of this I would speak," continued Standwich, "my misery can never end. And one of its fatal fruits will survive to curse me, even when I am in the tomb."

"I hope not," said Sir Hugh; "and though you may hold my opinions heretical, yet this much I can truly say, in the brotherhood of common charity, that I trust thy miseries will end with thy days; that the pains you have suffered here on earth, may spare you those of an hereafter. Yet this hope can never reach you unless you renounce a guilty life. You have cause to thank God for one mercy, that you will leave no creature belonging to you to survive your shame."

"You have touched a chord," said Standwich, "with a rude hand, that awakens a dreadful note in my bosom; one creature still survives, who owes to me the sorrow of an existence that must be branded with infamy. The child of our sin, the miserable offspring of adultery and murder, is still in being.'

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Fitz, "can such a wretched creature breathe, to be marked by the finger of scorn, as the child of the guilty Lady Page and of George Standwich?"

"She lives," cried Standwich, "the child lives. And how will thy proud heart swell with indignation when I tell thee, Sir Hugh, that she is like to bear thy name, to become the cankered branch from which the honours, or say the shame, of thy house must descend to posterity! Margaret, the ward of Glanville, the betrothed of thy son, thy only son, is my daughter."

This last communication so effectually overpowered old Sir Hugh, that he could only reply to it by raising his eyes to heaven, and faintly exclaiming as he did so, "is it possible? can this be the fatal secret of her birth!"

"It is the fatal truth," said Standwich. "Aye, shudder; so will all mankind when they look on Margaret, and know her as the child of a murderess-as the child of horror-to sum up all that is dreadful in one word, as the child of Standwich. Who would wed Margaret, think you, thus disgraced, thus branded from her very birth?"

"Not my son," said Sir Hugh. "I have but one son, the prop of my age, and the hope of my name. In him, flourishing like the green

bay tree, I hoped to see his branches thicken around me in a happy posterity, whilst I might rest under them; and when, like the withered autumn leaf, I dropt away, leave others to succeed me green and vigorous. But rather than see the blood of my house mingled with such pollution as thine, rather than that, I would consent to follow John Fitz, all young and promising as he is, to the tomb; and then lay me down a desolate old man, to wait in sorrow till my glass had eked out the few remaining sands

of life."

"Yet," said Standwich, "with whatever dislike you may view this proposed union of our children (you start at the very thought of such a union), your abhorrence to it cannot equal mine. Your cause to detest such a tie cannot be so strong; for Margaret is in herself innocent. But think you I could behold my daughter wed with the son of him who was the first

cause of all my sin and misery-the man who brought her mother to the stake; when such a union would make her the bride of one who is a heretic, already numbered with the damned? -No: I love Margaret with all a father's fondness. She neither knows guilt, nor that she is the offspring of guilt. She is like the flower that flourishes on these rude rocks, but is innocent and beautiful in itself. Yet, such as she is, I would rather, did she now stand here, hurl her headlong from this rock, and give her delicate limbs as a prey to the wildest bird that ever flapped its wings at the scent of blood, than see her wedded to a living thing that claimed alliance with thee."

"Peace, peace," said Fitz, "it is awful to hear a father speak thus. Poor damsel! I, who renounce for ever the very thought of her being my son's wife, yet even I pity her; she seems of a spirit so gentle, so unfit to contend with the cold scorn of an unfeeling world. And, I fear, she loves my son. I know how dearly he loves her. I had given my consent, and now I must make him wretched."

a

"It is a just requital," said Standwich, requital of your interference, when you first poisoned the mind of Glanville against me; when I loved, and honourably, his daughter, ere she became the wife of another."

"In that matter," replied Sir Hugh, "I thought I did but a friendly part; for I must tell you, George Standwich, you bore an evil reputation, as a young man of violent passions, of doubtful principles and conduct. But my poor John, to make him miserable, to disappoint his affections! I knew something fatal would happen from the hour of his birth, I learnt that by the stars as I cast his horoscope."

died, and left Margaret to the care of Glanville, but without revealing to him, or to her, the fatal secret."

"It is enough," said Sir Hugh; "had it pleased heaven to have taken that unhappy infant to its bosom at the moment of its birth, it would have been a mercy."

"A mercy," replied Standwich, "that was not vouched to me. I looked at the miserable little wretch as it lay sleeping in my arms, after its guilty mother's death, and a horrid thought crossed my mind-I looked again, and the child, in the soft breathings of sleep, smiled like a cherub; the fiend that stood by, watching to tempt me to another crime, fled before its innocence, and a tear dropped from my eyes-yes, this hard heart was softened; and as I kissed the poor child, an angel seemed to whisper that it might be spared, one day to breathe to heaven a prayer from its innocent lips for mercy on my head-these recollections

unman me.'

Fitz looked up, and observed that the eyes of Standwich were suffused with tears.

"Farewell, old man," he continued, "Remember the fearful conference of this morning. Remember to obey my injunctions-break this fatal bond between our children-dare not to reveal my secret, and you have nothing to fear farewell."

A DUEL IN IRELAND. (By a Servant, who was an eye witness.) The Masther an' Misther Doody over, that had a difference about a horse o' the Masther's, that he knocked again' Misther Doody's chesnut mare, an faix if they had, they sthruck one another on the rights of it. Well, it was late at night, after they dinin' together over at the Priest's house, an' so after they going, they agreed to fight one another in the middle o' the village, an' they havin' no seconds, nor nobody with 'em but meself. Indeed only Misther Doody was drunk, I don't say he'd do it, for he was always very exact about discipline, an' to say the truth fonder of the discipline than he was o' the fightin' (with a knowing wink). But the Masther threatened to post him, if he wouldn't do it that minute. So they borried a pair o' blunder pushes, and loaded 'em with slugs, an' they agreed to walk up to one another, from one end o' the street to the other, an' to fire when they plazed. Well, when Doody walked away to his post, an' the night so pitch dark, that you wouldn't see a stem apast your hand; "I'll tell you what it is now, Mas"But I will tell you," said Standwich, "what ther," says I, makin' up to him an' whispering no star could ever reveal;-it is this, (and mark "walk away home with yourself me well, for life or death depend upon it,) you now, and lave him there, an' you'll have a joke must devise the means to break this engage-again Doody for ever." He made me no anment between your son and Margaret. Remem ber, it must be done without the secret of Margaret's birth being betrayed by you, either to that son, or to any living creature. Let me but once suspect you have revealed to John Fitz the truth, and vainly shall you attempt to shelter him from my vengeance. I have means, I have intelligence, I have engines constantly at work, of which you little dream. Betray to Fitz the fatal secret, and you shall speedily see your only son a corpse at your feet, and your name for ever extinguished. Promise silence on this theme, and then I leave you, perhaps

for ever."

"I do, I will promise it," replied Sir Hugh in great alarm; for these threats from a man so desperate as Standwich had awakened all a father's fears in his heart. "Tell me but this, before we part, does Glanville suspect that Margaret is the child of his deceased and guilty daughter?"

"No," said Standwich; "he who bore the name of Margaret's father was my near kinsman, my dearest friend. To save an ancient house from total ruin and disgrace, to guard the helpless child from public scorn, he consented to take her with him to France, and there to bring her up as his own daughter. He

in his ear,

swer, only ga' me a kick that tumbled me in the guther. I had no time to say more, only made a one side, an' hid behind the pump, for fear Doody would begin to fire unknownst. Well, it is'nt long till I hear the Masther crying out, "Where are you, Doody, you scoundrel, are you skulkin' anywhere in a corner? Let me know, till I blow your brains out." "Here, you rascal," cries Doody, "out frontin' you in the street." So they blazed at one another. "Did you get it that time, you scoundrel?" cries the Masther. "No, you rascal, did you?" cries Doody. "I didn't you pig," says the Masther: "Let us load again." So they stept on one side and loaded. out again, you tinker," cries the Masther, "until I riddle you." "I'm here already, you ruffian," says Doody. So they blazed again. "Well," cries Doody, "did you get it now?"”' The Masther said nothing, so I crept out afeard, an' went over an' found him sittin' upon the ground, an' the gun lying anear him. "Are you hurt, Masther?" says I. "Batt," says he, with a groan, "I believe we're a pair o' fools." "Have you much pain, Sir?" says I. "It went through the shouldther," says he, "an' lodged inside, I fear; where's Doody?" "He run off," says 1, "when he seen you down." "He was

"Stand

No tears for thee!

They that have loved an exile must not mourn
To see him parting for his native bourne.
O'er the dark sea.

All the high music of thy spirit here,
Breathed but the language of another sphere,
Unechoed round;

And strange, though sweet, as midst our weeping skies,

Some half-remembered song of Paradise
Might sadly sound.
Hast thou been answer'd? Thou that from
the night,
And from the voices of the tempest's might,
And from the past,

Wert seeking still some oracle's reply,
To pour the secrets of Man's destiny

Forth on the blast. Hast thou been answer'd?-thou that through the gloom,

And shadow, and stern silence of the tomb,
A cry didst send,
So passionate and deep, to pierce, to move,
To win back token of unburied love
From buried friend.
And hast thou found where living waters
burst?

Thou that didst pine amidst us in the thirst
Of fever-dreams!

Are the true fountains thine for evermore?
Oh! lured so long by shining mists that wore
The light of streams!
Speak! is it well with thee? We call as thou,
With thy lit eye, deep voice, and kindled brow,
Wert wont to call
On the departed! Art thou blest and free?
Alas! the lips earth covers, ev'n to thee,
Were silent all!

Yet shall our hope rise, fann'd by quenchless

faith,

As a flame foster'd by some warm wind's breath,

In light upsprings. Freed soul of song! Yes! thou hast found the sought,

Borne to thy home of beauty and of thought, On morning's wings.

And we will deem it is thy voice we hear,
When life's young music, ringing far and clear
O'erflows the sky:

No tears for thee! the lingering gloom is ours
-Thou art for converse with all glorious
powers,
Never to die!

A Noble Reply.-It is related of the eminent surgeon, Boudon, that he was one day sent for by the Cardinal Dubois, Prime Minister of France, to perform a very serious operation upon. The Cardinal, on seeing him enter the room, said to him, "You must not expect, Sir, to treat me in the same rough manner as you treat those poor miserable wretches at your hospital of the Hôtel Dieu." "My Lord," replied M. Boudon, with great dignity," every one of those miserable wretches, as your Eminence is pleased to call them, is a Prime Minister in my eyes."