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EDMUNDS rushed franticly out of the house, but the thrilling shriek of the sufferer's agony, as if in pursuit of the wretched man, reached his ears when many yards distant from the place. In vain did he rush on. The fearful sound seemed kept together in its full and terrible distinctness by the wind, and he a hundred times imagined that the scene he was endeavouring to escape from met him at every corner of the road. When his imagination rested for a moment, he was assailed with thoughts more terrifying than the visions of his heated fancy. Conscience-cold, clear, penetrating conscience-made the darkest places of his dark heart visible: the whole long train of past villanies, with all their evil origin and awful consequences, were before his eye; he could not, by all the agony with which his spirit struggled, rend one item from the damning list; and he felt his own tongue, spite of himself, framing into syllables the harrowing judgment of futurity.

The night was wild and gloomy. The moon was up, but a dense mass of vapoury clouds had been gradually obscuring her rays, and her presence was now only recognised by the faint dim line of light which marked her solitary journey. Even this at length disappeared, and, as the clouds were packed closer and closer together by the rising wind, every object in the landscape became lost in one continuous and unvaried gloom. Edmunds had now proceeded-hurrying almost unconsciously along-more than three miles. The darkness of the night, the perfect loneliness of the path, and the utter stillness of the surrounding country, favoured the horror of his mind; and the frightful idea rushed upon him, that his reason was staggering under the oppressive load of conscience. There was a sickness at his heart, he had never before felt, as this thought came across him; and he shortened his steps, as if determined to make a sterner resistance to the wracking terrors of his memory.

1830.

this was impossible. A dreadful thought seized his mind: he imagined he saw the wretched being whom he had left; ber voice seemed to sound close beside him; he rushed forward in a delirious terror, and, horror-stricken, found himself clasped in the arms of the mad and dying girl.

*

"THE FIRST FIT."*

Alas for the days of "bald John Barleycorn!" Hech, Sirs that the reeming swats and soulstirring "het-pint" should fall in all their glory, strength, and vigour, before so humble a competitor and weak-spirited a champion as "tho bree o' the coffee pea."

I can never forget the wit inspiring and mirth-creating "het-pint," nor the ready laugh at the "jests and jokes of a happy new year's morning in the Land o' Cakes: on that eventful morning, every feeling, redeeming to the faults of frail humanity, abounds in the breast of every true Scotchman; friend and foe then peacefully exchange the flowing horn of healing "het pint" with reciprocal wishes of "Good health, happiness, and prosperity," as emphatically spoken as honestly meant.

relief which his quick and long walk had before
given him, he was now entirely exposed to the
torment of his situation; and, as the clouds
shifted about in the dusk heavens, and the wind
rustled among the thin branches of the tall
trees, many were the forms and voices that
seemed to be threatening him with retribution.
Often he thought that the sounds he heard
had a distinctness which even his appalled
fancy could not have given them, and he more
than once sank down on the thick grass which
formed his seat, and grasped it as if to save
himself from approaching danger. But the
wind was rising in that strange and sudden
manner which generally preludes the tempest
storms at the end of autumn. A sudden gust
swept wildly through the thicket, and whirled
the heaps of dried leaves that lay on the
ground till they fell again like a heavy shower
of rain. Then the low heavy breeze came
moaning on till it ended in a faint shrilly
sound, and left all again in perfect silence.
For a short time it seemed as if the moon would
burst through the shattered clouds, and that
the night, after this capricious rising of the
wind, would resume its clear and tranquil bril-
liancy. But the breeze again came, and with
a deeper and longer continued murmur. Again
the clouds closed upon the struggling moon,
and complete darkness followed the hush of
the blast. Edmunds watched these changes
of the elements with an intensity of apprehen-
sion, as if he alone were the object for which
the tempest was to send forth its terrors.
With eye and ear on their utmost stretch, not
a leaf or a cloud stirred, but it was perceived
by him; and in every pause of the wind, he
turned up his anxious look to the sky, as if the
next sound he heard was to be the pealing of
his own death-watch. At length the heavens
spoke. The trees, the low underwood, and
the massy clouds, seemed to have felt the If the appointed "First fit" has been fortu-
breath of a breeze he had not perceived, and nate through life (and as they are invariably
as they moved and rustled under its secret young men just entering on a life of business,
power, the whole fury of the long gathering who are chosen for this important office, they
tempest burst like a cataract from the sky. can hardly have been otherwise,) he is consi-
The flash of the lightning, the roaring of the dered to impart a portion of "his good luck"
thunder, and the deluging fall of water which to the family, to whom he has been the first
beat down all beneath it, seemed to meet in the visitant of the year. Sundry alarming mis-
same instant, and to threaten every thing ex-haps, however, may attend the entrance of the
posed to the storm with instant destruction.
But the witness of this elemental war had no
time to look around on the present ravages of
the storm. It had but begun its ruin. Again
and again the clouds clashed together in their
furious onset, and the lightning darted through
the constant and heavy rain as if aimed each
time at some devoted thing upon the earth.
Stricken with fears which he had never before
felt, Edmunds moved not from the spot where
he stood: as if doomed beyond escape to perish
there, he made no attempt to find either safety
or shelter, and he remained insensible to all
but the supernatural terror of the tempest.

It was not the rolling of the thunder only which gave a voice to the raging storm. The wind and rain, rushing and bursting continu

The place where the agitated man was thus lingering, was at the turning of the rude country road he was traversing, and led to a small spot of rising ground, thickly covered with copse-wood and a few tall straggling fir-trees. Edmunds forced his way through the thicket, and threw himself down on the brow of the hill it skirted. For a moment he felt as if he had discovered a place of rest, and absolute solitude had calmed his perturbed mind; and he began to resort to those subterfuges of a licentious reason, by which he had often be-ally from every part of the heavens, filled the fore succeeded in silencing conscience. He compared his own conduct with that of many of his old associates: he found excuses for his first errors in his inexperience, and for his later ones, in the strength of temptation; and he began to think, that, after all, the sum of his guilt was not absolutely so great as he had imagined. But these thoughts only lasted for a moment. Again the image of Eleanor rose before him, and he felt her cold hand grasp his arm in the convulsion of phrenzy. Then again he heard that wild cry which had been his terrible farewell as he rushed from the house, and all his reasonings and calculations gave way to thoughts which had a more powerful hold upon his mind. With not even the

air with a thousand voices; and the clamours
and shrieks of raging or perishing multitudes
seemed swelling in the distance. But there
was one cry which Edmunds could not lose in
the confused murmur: it rang in his ears
above all others; and, in the gleam of the
lightning, he thought he beheld the form of
her from whom it proceeded. The storm
raged louder; the rain fell in heavier torrents,
and the night, as it waxed later, appeared to
double its terrors. But the voice, which so
held his imagination, was still upon the
breeze. He thought it approached him; but
as the wind blew from one and then another
quarter, he felt that it was but fancy, and he
strove to shake away the terrifying idea. But

*The "First fit," or First foot, is so styled, as being the first person to enter the threshold of the house early, in the first hour of the first day of the year, and always a bachelor and favoured friend of some one of the young ladies of the family: he enters with a handful of "short-breed" (buttered cake) and cheese, and a bright, shining brazen tea-kettle-" singing full of het-pint, or hot pint," a palatable beverage composed of whiskey, ale, eggs, oatmeal, burnt sugar, and divers spices; a glass or horn of which every individual of the family is compelled to swallow "for luck."

"First fit," and give rise to many forebodings of evil, in the minds of the true believers in the efficacy of "his good luck." Thus, his dropping any part of the short-breed foretells the loss of a friend during the year; if any part of the cheese should also fall, the loss of a relation is inevitable; but the most dire of all mishaps is, the spilling any portion of the "het-pint" from the kettle, which foretokens, that none of the young ladies of the family will enter into the blessed bands of matrimony during the year: and, should it befall any of the lasses to spill the liquor from the horn, or leave even but one drop in its bottom, after drinking, then is she irrevocably doomed to lead apes for ever! The first visit of the "First fit," on entering the house, is to the bed-room of the parents; the second, to that of the young female branch of the family-a visit of pure innocent mirth, when, what is wanting in wit, is more than compensated for in joyful laughter. The last visit is to the boys (few of the youths, who have grown to man's estate, are on this morning at home); the contents of the kettle are then disposed of by the servants, which is again replenished by the busy house-keeper, and a sound sleep crowns the happy orgies.

It was recently stated by the daily press, that warm coffee had been substituted for the good old-fashioned "het-pint," in the orgies of the "First fit" this year, by a new race of Scotchmen calling themselves "Temperate Societies." O tempora! O mores!

men.

Well do 1 remember, though many years a counterpane white as snow; they were cumstance by no means unfrequent, it seemed have since sped and gone, the eager palpita dressed in their daily under-clothes with soon to extend to the whole, and during the tion of my young heart, on the last night of slightly-laced boddice, enwrapped in loose continuance of their anger, all the usual cauthe old year, while anticipating each foot-fall white calico "short gowns" (bed-gowns which tion of their nature appeared to be forgotten, on the pavement, or knock at the door, to be reach to the hip joint, such as the pencil of allowing themselves at such times to be apthat of the anxiously expected" First fit." Christal will have rendered familiar to my proached closely, and regardless of men, fireRepeatedly would I leap from my bed, and, London readers,) high, and drawn tight round arms, or the fall of their companions, contifrom the upper landing of the staircase, in- the neck, deeply laced "nuches" (caps) co- nuing their wrangling with rancorous obstiquire, at the top of my voice, to the annoy-vering only the upper portion of the head, and nacy. A similar disposition may be produced ance of the whole family," Gif it was twal trimmed with narrow ribbons" of the colour among them by catching a large owl, and tying o'clock yet?" Twelve o'clock, though not their lads (for they had lads) loved best;" and, it with a cord of moderate length to the limb the least hastened by my impatience, did ar- allowing the yellow ringlets to hang in profu- of a naked tree in a neighbourhood frequented rive. Twelve 'o'clock-(the twelfth stroke of sion over the shoulders. So attired, and with by the crows. The owl is one of the few enewhich is the last mournful knell of the old, laughing lips, and playful roguery glancing mies which the crow has much reason to dread, and first merry peal of the new year,)-that from their "bonnie blue een," in the pride of as it robs the nests of their young, whenever superstitious hour, big with events attending youth and beauty, the innocent and merry trio they are left for the shortest time. Hence, the future fortunes of men and matrons, and awaited the arrival of the "First-fit." But whenever crows discover an owl in the day lads and lasses of the land of hills and heather; the "ca'"-the dreaded, yet wished for, "ca"" time, like many other birds, they commence an and with it also comes the indispensable "First of the strappin' First-fit" resounds from attack upon it, screaming most vociferously, fit," bringing with him the weal or wo of the the massy knocker through the empty hall. and bringing together all of their species within new-born year. Manifold were the prepara- Wheest! whispers attentive Tibbie, and all is hearing. Once this clamour has fairly begun, tions and arrangements for his reception; auld silent in expectation of the second and third and their passions are fully aroused, there is Duncan, "the hinger-on o' the family," was "ca'" at the knocker, followed by "blessings little danger of their being scared away, and seated at the kitchen "chumley lug," with his on ye, let's in, Tibbie lass," coming audibly the chance of destroying them by shooting is brawny legs crossed, half asleep, and leaning through the keyhole of the door, when Tibbie, continued as long as the owl remains uninon the massy poker; it was Duncan's duty to with a grave respect for the "First-fit," gives jured. But one such opportunity was presenttake care that, at least, one blazing fire was free admittance to the chosen lad and his help-ed during my residence where crows were kept up in the house during the awful change After blessing the house, and all within abundant, and this was unfortunately spoiled which was fast approaching-the death of one it, and not forgetting the sly kiss of Tibbie's by the eagerness of one of the gunners, who, year, and birth of another. On the opposite wee bit mou," the light hearted crew pro- in his eagerness to demolish one of the crows, side, sat "bare-legg'd Beckie," the lass o' the ceed to the sleeping chamber of their ancient fixed upon some that were most busy with the housin, telling, bare-legg'd and bare-footed friend, where, in a decorous and sober manner, owl, and killed it instead of its disturbers, which Wee Effie, the scullion, a tale full of horror every good wish, which friendship and esteem at once ended the sport. When the crows and diablerie, till her uncombed hair made in- can dictate, is offered to the father and no- leave the roost, at early dawn, they generally effectual attempts to disentangle itself, and ther of the family, whose smiles and tears fly to a naked or leafless tree in the nearest stand an end. Tibbie, who was at once cook, prove how dear to their hearts is the happi- field, and there plume themselves and chatter housekeeper, and major-domo, was busily em- ness of their juvenile friends. The flowing until the daylight is sufficiently clear to show ployed preparing hot ale, with other ingredi- horn of "het pint" trembles in their aged all objects with distinctness. Of this circuments, wi' a wee drap of comfort to replenish hands, and, as they slowly sip the spicy nectar, stance I have taken advantage several times the kettle o' the bonnie "First-fit." Such was they forget not to give to the "laughin' loons" to get good shots at them in this way. During the scene below stairs: now for a peep above. the "admonition due." After which a simple, the day time, having selected a spot within The aged progenitors of a happy fainily had but heart-speaking prayer, is pronounced, end- proper distance of the tree frequented by them long retired to bed, but not to sleep on such ing with the sire's impressive blessing; and in the morning, I have built with brushwood a morning their usual peaceful slumbers gave the "First-fit" and his helpmen are dismissed and pine bushes a thick close screen, behind place to reminiscences of "Auld lang syne;" to the performance of a more congenial duty which one or two persons might move securely they too had experienced the fleeting hours of in the bed-room of the fair sisters, whose sig- without being observed. Proper openings, youthful hope and gaiety; and busy memory nals, under the guise of a "short-cough," or a through which to level the guns, were also said, that on such a morning, more than one burst of laughter, had more than once reached made, as the slightest stir or noise could not link had been riveted to the chain of their mu- the delighted ears of Geordie Gordon, the be made at the time of action, without a risk of tual and long-cherished love. The ever-anx- chosen First-fit," and his helpmen, Sandy rendering all the preparations fruitless. The ions mother, while she crept closer to the bosom Wallace and Archy Hamilton; they are close- guns were all in order and loaded before going of him of her earliest affection, and still dearly attended by careful Tibbie. On their ap- to bed, and at an hour or two before daylight, est regard, gave words to her pious thoughts, we repaired quietly to the field and stationed and audibly breathed a prayer to the throne of ourselves behind the screen, where, having the Almighty for the well-being of her venermounted our guns at the loop-holes to be in able and venerated husband, and her beloved perfect readiness, we waited patiently for the children. A solemn amen! from the lips of the daybreak. Soon after the gray twilight of the husband and father, testified how devoutly he dawn began to displace the darkness, the voice accorded with the earnest supplication of her, of one of our expected visitants would be heard with whom he had long and lovingly speeled from the distant forest, and shortly after a sinthe braes o' time." A small bed-room, adjoining that of the parental pair, was occupied by their three daughters,* Chirsta, Janet, and Ruth, now "women grown," and lovely as the graces. The happy and guileless girls had placed themselves, on the occasion of a new year's morning's festivity, literally "as thick as three in a bed;" with hearts light and pure, and minds free from care, they kept up a constant tittering and giggling, while waiting the fondly expected visit of the dear "First fit," and his equally wished for companions. The continued whispering, and the occasional suppressed laugh, proved that they were putting to some purpose, woman's high prerogative, the tongue; yet scandal or malice made no part of their conversation: what was the subject of their tattle, I may leave my more inquisitive feinale readers to guess. Not entirely, however, to disappoint the many fair readers of The Athenæum, I will essay to inform them in what manner the sisters were attired, for the reception in their bed-room of male visiters at such an hour. The three laughing lasses reclined on their bed, simply covered by

*I am sorry that the names of the fair sisters are so plebeian; but in Scotland, thirty years ago, those of Wilhelmina, Rosamenta, and Lillatina, had not come in fashion.

proaching the door, dull silence reigns within;
"the braw wooers" give the three well known
"taps," in answer to which, the tremulous
voice of charming Chirsta gives the welcome
invitation to enter "Come in, Geordie, lad,
ye'r na' stranger-come in, an' walcome." An
hour of happy " laughin' an' gaffin'" is passed;
-that hour when the young hearts of the sons
and daughters of Caledonia unwittingly unbo-gle crow would slowly sail towards the solitary
som their dearest wishes to each other;-that
hour of pure and innocent delight can never
be forgotten by a Scotchman!
D. L.

KILLING CROWS.

[The following article we extract from the "Friend," where it is entitled, Rambles of a Naturalist, No. 12.]

Had I succeeded in obtaining some living crows, they were to be employed in the following manner. After having made a sort of concealment of brushwood within good gun-shot distance, the crows were to be fastened by their wings on their backs between two pegs, yet not so closely as to prevent them from fluttering or struggling. The other crows, who are always very inquisitive where their species is in any trouble, were expected to light down near the captives, and the latter would certainly seize the first that came near enough with their claws, and hold on pertinaciously. This would have produced fighting and screaming in abundance, and the whole flock might gradually be so drawn into the fray, as to allow many opportunities of discharging the guns upon them with full effect. This have often observed, that when a quarrel or fight took place in a large flock or gang of crows, a cir

tree and settle on its very summit. Presently a few more would arrive singly, and in a little while small flocks followed. Conversation among them is at first rather limited to occasional salutations; but as the flock begins to grow numerous, it becomes general and very animated, and by this time all that may be expected on this occasion have arrived. This may be known also, by observing one or more of them descend to the ground; and if the gunners do not now make the best of the occasion, it will soon be lost, as the whole gang will presently sail off, scattering as they go. However, we rarely waited till there was a danger of their departure, but as soon as the flock had fairly arrived, and were still crowded upon the upper parts of the tree, we pulled triggers together, aiming at the thickest of the throng. In this way, by killing and wounding them with two or three guns, a dozen or more would be destroyed. It was of course needless to expect to find a similar opportunity in the same place for a long time afterwards, as those which escaped, had too good memories to return to so disastrous a spot. By ascertaining other situations at considerable distances, we could every now and then obtain similar advantages over them.

About the years 1800, 1, 2, 3, 4, the crows

The

were so vastly accumulated and destructive in the State of Maryland, that the government, to hasten their diminution, received their heads in payment of taxes, at the price of three cents each. The store-keepers bought them of the boys and shooters, who had no taxes to pay, at a rather lower rate, or exchanged powder and shot for them. This measure caused a great havoc to be kept up among them, and in a few years so much diminished the grievance, that the price was withdrawn. Two modes of shooting them in considerable numbers were followed, and with great success; the one, that of killing them while on the wing towards the roost, and the other attacking them in the night when they had been for some hours asleep. I have already mentioned the regularity with which vast flocks move from va rious quarters of the country to their roosting places every afternoon, and the uniformity of the route they pursue. In cold weather, when all the small bodies of water are frozen, and they are obliged to protract their flight towards the bays or sea, their return is a work of considerable labour, especially should a strong wind blow against them; at this season also, being rather poorly fed, they are of necessity less vigorous. Should the wind be adverse, they fly as near the earth as possible, and of this the shooters, at the time I allude to, took advantage. A large number would collect on such an afternoon, and station themselves close along the foot-way of a high bank, over which the crows were in the habit of flying; and as they were in a great degree screened from sight as the flock flew over, keeping as low as possible because of the wind, their shots were generally very effectual. The stronger was the wind, the greater was their success. crows that were not injured found it very difficult to rise; and those that diverged laterally, only came nearer to gunners stationed in expectation of such movements. The flocks were several hours in passing over, and as there was generally a considerable interval between each company of considerable size, the last arrived, unsuspicious of what had been going on, and the shooters had time to recharge their arms. But the grand harvest of crow heads was derived from the invasion of their dormitories, which are well worthy a particular description, and should be visited by every one who wishes to form a proper idea of the number of these birds that may be accumulated in a single district. The roost is most commonly the densest pine thicket that can be found, generally at no great distance from some river, bay, or other sheet of water, which is the last to freeze, or rarely is altogether frozen. To such a roost, the crows which are, during the day-time, scattered over perhaps more than a hundred miles of circumference, wing their way every afternoon, and arrive shortly after sunset. Endless columns pour in from various quarters, and as they arrive pitch upon their accustomed perches, crowding closely together for the benefit of the warmth and the shelter afforded by the thick foliage of the pine. The trees are literally bent by their weight, and the ground is covered for many feet in depth by their dung, which, by its gradual fermentation, must also tend to increase the warmth of the roost. Such roosts are known to be thus occupied for years beyond the memory of individuals; and I know of one or two, which the oldest residents in the quarter state to have been known to their grandfathers, and probably had been resorted to by the crows during several ages previous. There is one of great age and magnificent extent, in the vicinity of Rock Creek, an arm of the Patapsco. They are sufficiently numerous on the rivers opening into the Chesapeake, and are every where similar in their general aspect. Wilson has signalized such a roost at no great distance from Bristol, Pa., and I know by observation, that not less than a million of crows sleep there nightly during the winter season.

To gather crow heads from the roost, a very large party was made up, proportioned to the

extent of surface occupied by the dormitory. Armed with double barrelled and duck guns, which threw a large charge of shot, the company was divided into small parties, and these took stations, selected during the day-time, so as to surround the roost as nearly as possible. A dark night was always preferred, as the crows could not when alarmed fly far, and the attack was delayed until full midnight. All being at their posts, the firing was commenced by those who were most advantageously posted, and followed up successively by the others, as the affrighted crows sought refuge in their vicinity. On every side the carnage then raged fiercely, and there can scarcely be conceived a more forcible idea of the horrors of a battle, than such a scene afforded. The crows screaming with fright and the pain of wounds, the loud deep roar produced by the raising of their whole number in the air, the incessant flashing and thundering of the guns, and the shouts of their eager destroyers, all produced an effect which can never be forgotten by any one who has witnessed it, nor can it well be adequately comprehended, by those who have not. Blinded by the blaze of the powder, and bewildered by the thicker darkness that ensues, the crows rise and settle again at a short distance, without being able to withdraw from the field of danger, and the sanguinary work is continued until the shooters are fatigued, or the approach of daylight gives the survivors a chance of escape. Then the work of collecting the heads from the dead and wounded began, and this was a task of considerable difficulty, as the

wounded used their utmost efforts to conceal and defend themselves. The bill and half the front of the skull were cut off together, and strung in sums for the tax-gatherer, and the product of the night divided according to the nature of the party formed. Sometimes the great mass of shooters were hired for the night, and received no share of scalps, having their ammunition provided by the employers; other parties were formed of friends and neighbours, who clubbed for the ammunition, and shared equally in the result.

During hard winters the crows suffer severely, and perish in considerable numbers from hunger, though they endure a wonderful degree of abstinence without much injury. When starved severely, the poor wretches will swallow bits of leather, rope, rags; in short, any thing that appears to promise the slightest relief. Multitudes belonging to the Bristol roost, perished during the winter of 1828-9 from this cause. All the water courses were solidly frozen, and it was distressing to observe these starvelings every morning winging their weary way towards the shores of the sea in hopes of food, and again to see them toiling homewards in the afternoon, apparently scarce able to fly.

In speaking of destroying crows, we have never adverted to the use of poison, which in their case is wholly inadmissible on this account; where crows are common, hogs generally run at large, and to poison the crows would equally poison them; the crows would die, and fall to the ground, where they would certainly be eaten by the hogs.

Crows, when caught young, learn to talk plainly, if pains be taken to repeat certain phrases to them, and they become exceedingly impudent and troublesome. Like all of their tribe, they will steal and hide silver or other bright objects, of which they can make no possible use. JOHN.

THE PARTHIAN CONVERT.

non, she became convinced that she had been worshipping one of the works of her Creator, instead of the Creator himself; and from that day she listened with awakened attention to the truths of revelation, in which Theron was eager to instruct her. Those who listen to truths with an unprejudiced ear seldom stumble at them. Apame heard them with singleness of heart, and those gracious promises which render the Christian religion so pecu. liarly soothing to the desolate and afflicted, were as a precious balm of healing to her broken spirit.

She had not yet passed that lovely season of life in which it is so natural to hope, and when the woes of the present are blended with the bright hues with which the smiling imagi nation of the inexperienced adorns the unknown future, and the elastic mind of youth is ready to weave fresh garlands of every flower within its reach to replace the perishing blossoms of human bliss, whose frail and fading nature has already been the cause of so many tears and unnecessary sorrows,-sorrows which we madly prepare for ourselves when we suffer ourselves to form ideal schemes of happiness, seeking our rest in things which were never meant to satisfy the longings of an immortal being, fast travelling from the vain illusions of time and sense. But Apame's regrets were too deep and poignant to admit of her receiving consolation from common sources. The happiness she had tasted had been so exquisite during its brief duration, as to leave an aching void in her bosom, which no earthly enjoyments could ever fill, and the world was to her a dreary desert; but at the time when its worthless vanities were most apparent to the heart-sick mourner, who panted to be released from her weary pilgrimage, though in dark uncertainty to what home of refuge her parting spirit was destined, after its escape from the storms and afflictions of its mortal sojourn heaven, with its bright perspective of everlasting joys and ineffable peace, was suddenly opened to her mental vision, and the drooping wings of Hope were plumed by the victorious energies of new-born Faith, and pointed to that promised haven of repose.

How beautiful is that light which, springing up from darkness, shines more and more unto the perfect day! Apame was now a believer: and a holy resignation, the precursor of that serenity which the world can neither give nor take away, had succeeded to the frantic bursts of despair which had at one time threatened to prostrate reason, or destroy life in their stormy violence.

She mourned still, in the faithful fondness of a widowed heart, for that husband from whom she had been so cruelly separated; but she recognised the hand of the Lord in all that had befallen her, and she meekly acquiesced in his dispensations, and daily besought him that he would deal with Salamenes, as he had dealt with her, by teaching him the ways of life, that they might be reunited in another and a better state of existence, where all tears should be wiped away, and sorrow should be

no more.

The heavenly frame of mind to which Apame had attained was not, however, the work of a day; for it was by slow, progressive degrees that this change had been effected; and nearly two years had elapsed since she was first carried into captivity.

Theron, who rejoiced with a holy joy in the Conversion of his fellow-captive, had long been desirous of obtaining for her an admission into the visible church of Christ at Rome, by baptism; but no opportunity occurred for both visiting the place of the Christian's secret as(Continued from p. 115.) semblies for the purpose of divine worship in APAME was at first incredulous, but when company, till Pompeia left her father's house the eclipse took place on the day and hour to pass some time at the villa of her husband's predicted by the young philosopher, and she father at Campania. The long wished moexamined the appearance of the sun, both with ment at length arrived; and Theron conducther naked eye and through a glass, which he ed Apame and his young pupil, Lucius Pomhad prepared for the purpose of taking a more peius, to a large subterranean apartment in an accurate observation of that natural phenome-obscure part of the city, where the Christians

were gathered together for the performance of the Sabbath duties of prayer and praise.

They met in the greatest secrecy; for the persecutions which, under the weak and sanguinary tyrant Domitian, had revived in fierce violence against them, had thinned their numbers, and rendered the utmost caution necessary on their parts. Yet notwithstanding the destroying rage of the heathen emperor and his barbarous emissaries, proselytes were daily

added to the church.

On entering this gloomy vault, which being impervious to the light of day was feebly illuminated by a large iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, casting broad and dusky shadows on the murky walls and the rude benches, on which the meanly attired male and close-veiled female part of the congregation were seated on opposite sides of the apartment, without respect of persons, Apame's mind involuntarily reverted for a moment to the splendour of the temple of Mithra, with its blazing altar and gigantic columns of polished marble, its gorgeously robed priests, dimly seen through clouds of incense, and the long train of haughty worshippers, clothed in scarlet and gold, who resorted thither with the sound of the sackbut, dulcimer, cornet, and flute, amidst the clash of cymbals and the shouts of assembled thousands, and she thought, meantime, how truly divine in its essence must be that truth which, in its simple, unadorned majesty, could outweigh all the vain pomp and outward magnificence, in which error had adorned the sinful shrines of idolatry.

And when the first notes of the divine strain of melody, with which the Christians commenced their worship, broke upon her ear, tears rushed to her eyes, and her very soul was overpowered with ecstasy as she listened to the following hymn, in which all assembled piously joined.

HYMN OF THE PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANS.

I.

Thou, Lord, who from thy starry throne
In highest heaven canst see
The hearts that trust in Thee alone,
Oh raise our thoughts to Thee.

II.

Our rising souls Thy glories trace, Through shades that close us round; For Thou dost sanctify the place Where'er Thy church is found.

ZII.

Our hearts Thy temples are, O Lord,
Where Thou dost ever reign;
And well we know, through Thy blest word,
Thou ask'st no other fane.

IV.

Lo! we who sat in death's dark vale,
To endless ruin nigh,

The bright, the glorious day-spring hail,
Which shineth from on high.

V.

Oh! bid that light its influence spread
To earth's remotest shore;
That all on whom its beams are shed
May waken and adore:

VI.

Till praises from each varying tongue,
A welcome sacrifice,
To Thee with loud hosannas sung,
As incense shall arise.

When the hymn was concluded, the congregation, sinking upon their knees, joined devoutly in the prayer which was offered up to the throne of grace in their behalf, by a venerable man who officiated as priest. A portion of the scriptures was then read; but when the priest should have delivered an exhortation, or sermon, to the little flock on their moral and religious duties, he was attacked with a sudden indisposition, which rendered him incapable of

proceeding, and he beckoned to a young deacon who had been lately appointed to that office, to take his place and address the congregation.

Apame, who had from the commencement of the service continued to shroud her face in the thick folds of her veil in a sort of devotional abstraction from all outward objects, observed not the person of him who obeyed the summons; but when in somewhat imperfect Latin he commenced his sermon in the words of the holy Simeon

"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people, to be a light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory of thy people Israel"

-She started, for the accent of the Parthian tongue clave to the voice of the preacher. And that voice-that dear familiar voice that thrilled so deeply to her very heart of heartsits notes were as unearthly music to her ears.

Could it be that she was mistaken? Oh! no, it was his own-the voice of Salamenes-of her husband-that she heard. Nay more, the words of truth, of inspiration, proceeded from his lips; there was no line of separation between them-for both were believers-both were Christians.

It was with difficulty that the youthful wife repressed the impulse which prompted her to spring to that long lost, that beloved husband, and sob forth her joy upon his bosom; but even in this prevailing gush of rapture, the Christian convert remembered that she was in the house of God, and restrained herself; and without so much as uncovering her face to indulge herself with one furtive glance of those dear features, she strove to compose her agitation, and to listen to the preacher, rather than to the husband.

Yet her fond heart knew not how to separate the characters; and when, towards the close of his pious discourse, Salamenes eloquently described the divine influence of the Christian religion, in humbling the pride of the mighty and highly exalted, in softening the ferocity of the warrior, in lightening the bonds of the captive, in mitigating the woes of slavery and exile, and in soothing the anguish of a bereaved heart in its widowed loneliness and fond regrets, the application came so sensitively home to their own case, that Apame wept showers of tears behind her veil, and listened with intense and trembling interest, in eager expectation of hearing some direct reference to his own history; nor was she disappointed, for Salamenes modestly, but touchingly added, "All that the preacher has described to you, my Christian brethren, he has felt-deeply felt.

every peril, and through every affliction: yea, and we will rejoice. And if I for a moment desire my bonds to be broken, it is that I might go forth to declare his name to the benighted thousands of my own people; for oh, when I think that the wife of my bosom is an alien from the church of God, and still sits in the dark valley of the shadow of death, my heart bleeds within me, and my spirit makes intercession for her with unutterable groanings." The voice of Salamenes failed-he shrouded his face in his mantle and wept, for the strong anguish of a husband could not be repressed.

Many among the congregation who were situated in a similar manner with regard to their nearest and dearest ties, were affected, even more powerfully than himself, and joined with fervent supplication of heart and soul in the prayer with which Salamenes concluded"That the Lord would be pleased to extend his kingdom on every side, till every nation should confess his name, and all flesh see the salvation of God."

The reverential silence that followed the closing petition to the throne of mercy was at length broken by Theron advancing with Apame and Lucius Pompeius to the young deacon, and demanding for them admission into the visible church of Christ, by baptism.

"Thy prayers have been heard for me, oh, my husband," said the young and lovely wife of Salamenes, unveiling herself as she knelt at his feet in preparation for the holy rite; and raising to his face eyes wet with tears of holy joy, and overflowing with tenderness..

Who shall describe the mingled transport of the husband and the Christian, at this unlooked for happiness? Surprise and rapture at the unexpected meeting prompted the husband and the lover to snatch the long lost desire of his eyes to his heart; but the holy feelings of the minister of God prevailed over the fond weakness of the flesh, and it was not till he had with his own hand administered to her the outward sign of her admission into the Christian church, that he ventured to imprint the holy kiss of spotless love on the fair brow of his beloved, his beautiful, his wedded wife. Then, and not till then, he yielded to the gush of joy that overpowered every other feeling; and folding her to his bosom, he wept over her in the fulness of heart, and with a loud voice returned thanks to God in the congregation of his saints, for the conversion of his wife, who was thus unexpectedly restored to him.

"Oh! say not restored, Salamenes, my husband," said Apame, yielding to sudden apprehension, that like a gloomy cloud interposed its shadow over the sunshine of that blissful "I am a slave-my destiny is in the hands of another-and the next hour may tear us asunder for ever."

moment.

"Apame! Sister! Christian! thou art free!" exclaimed a familiar voice from among the congregation.

It was Pompeia, who had that day entered the congregation as a catechumen, having been converted to the Christian faith by Salamenes, who was the slave of her husband's father, and with whom she had accidentally fallen into conversation during her late visit to Campania; and Salamenes, more ardent, and less cautious than Theron, had boldly addressed her on the subject of her eternal weal,

"In one day I was deprived of a warrior's fame, of princely rank, and all the fond hopes of a husband-lover; and I became a slave, and an exile from my country, my parents, and my beloved wife: yet, in the utter darkness which the reverses of that fatal day cast upon my destiny, I was not left comfortless, for it pleased the Lord to call me into a far land to make himself known unto me; and I was converted, by the teaching of a fellow bondsman, from the perilous errors of idolatry, to a knowledge of the divine truths of revelation to which you have this day heard me bear wit-in such persuasive eloquence, that he had preness; aye, and which I am ready to testify through every torture, with which the blind fury of the mistaken pagans may essay to shake my faith in my glorified Redeemer. For the Christian has to contend, not only with the frailty of his own natural corruption and the temptations of Satan, but with the wickedness of those who hate the light, because their deeds are dark. We stand, my brethren, hourly encompassed by the snares of death, yet shall we think it hard to suffer for the name of him, who for our sakes endured the cross, despising the shame thereof, that he might ransom us as a peculiar people for himself? Let us, therefore, rejoice in his name, through

vailed over every prejudice which pride and early errors of belief had interposed; and had the satisfaction of adding this noble lady to the Christian church.

The conversion of Pompeia having been thus sudden and unexpected, was unknown even to her brother Lucius, for she had not deemed it prudent to entrust a secret of so perilous a nature to the keeping of a boy of his tender years; and so dangerous in those days of heathen darkness was the profession of a Christian, that even their nearest of kin, in many instances, scrupled not to deliver them up to the malice of their barbarous persecu tors.

"Oh! my sister," said Lucius, advancing to Pompeia with open arms and a countenance beaming with pleasure, "how was it that you hid this thing from me?"

"Nay, my brother, let me rather ask wherefore it was that you made me not partaker of your joy in the Lord?" returned Pompeia, affectionately embracing the ardent boy.

The freedom of Salamenes was procured without difficulty by his noble convert, and he and his beloved Apame went forth as ambassadors of the gospel, to spread the glad tidings of salvation through their own country.

The whole house of Pompeia became converts to the Christian faith, and she was one of the nursing mothers of the church at Rome, ministering to the poorer members with her substance; and she, with Lucius and Theron, were among those who, escaping the storms of persecution to which so many of the primitive Christians fell victims, grew old in the service of the Lord.

LETTER FROM NEW YORK.
BY MR. GALT.

Concluded from page 132.

The first of my regular stages of rest, after leaving Utica, has been always Syracuse. I have already mentioned that when I first passed through it in the spring of 1825, it consisted but of a few houses, and rather a better sort of tavern than might have been expected in so small a place. It is now a large town, containing, I should think, a population of more than a thousand and a half of souls. The original tavern has been swept away, and another of great magnitude and magnificence substituted. It contains upwards of seventy bed-chambers, and is, in every respect, a superior building indeed. I did not, however, take up my abode there in last coming this way, but went to the "Mansion-house;" on account of the landlord, who happened to be at the door when the stage stopped, and whom I had somewhere before met with, and recognised as a very civil personage. By the way, it is fit and proper to be here explained, that the whole character of the hostlerie on the west side of Utica is very different indeed from what is found to the east. I am sure it is greatly better between Buffalo and Utica, than between London and Edinburgh, and that the attention is not less alert and respectful.

The Erie Canal passes through Syracuse, the situation of which is convenient and central for a wide extent of country; but I apprehend the great salt-works, at the neighbouring town of Salina, have a considerable influence on its prosperity: which of the two places is the senior I have neglected to recollect, but Mr. W- had a pair of gloves exactly of the same age as Syracuse, and which had served him in a journey to Naples,-the Naples in Italy.

The salt-works of Salina belong to the state, and are formed for the evaporation of the brine, which rises there in a very affluent stream. The proceeds, I have understood, were assigned to the commissioners of the Erie canal, as an important contribution to their great work. Whether the assignment continues, now that the canal has been some time open, I do not know, but it ought not, for the canal should support itself, and if it does, then there is some illusion in representing the revenue arising from the canal so large as it is commonly stated. The true way of estimating the production of such works, is to state exactly what arises from themselves. I have mislaid my note of the value of the salt made at Salina, but it is of little importance to us. I cannot, however, refrain from sporting a hypothetical fancy for your consideration; viz. Is not the ground on which Syracuse and Salina stand, and all about them, upon a salt bed; and has not the lake itself been once a part of that vast salt-bed? Certain friends of ours, and I am half inclined to be of their opinion, believe that

Lake Ontario, in its depths, is salt; certain it is that they lie deeper down in the earth than the Gulf of St. Lawrence. For that matter, it may be said the bottom of Loch Lomond is lower than that of the Irish Channel; but Loch Lomond is not salt, neither is Ontario; it is only supposed that it is so when it comes under the level of the ocean; and, therefore, if that be a law of Nature, it must be allowed that Loch Lomond is a great fool if it be not salt according to rule likewise. The wooden tanks for the evaporation of the brine in the neighbourhood of Syracuse cover many acres; if they are not curiosities, there is nothing of the sort about the place.

The next considerable halting-place, after leaving Syracuse, is Auburn; the distance is commonly reckoned a day's journey, but that depends on the season in which you travel. The intervening country is about the rawest in the whole route between Utica and Buffalo: perhaps it struck me as such when I passed through it the first time, and it is the only impression that I retain. The neighbourhood of Auburn is, however, prettily undulated; the town is much more considerable than Goldsmith's "loveliest village," and the principal hotel is very good indeed. The house is handsome, with a portico that would do no discredit to a town house, but the pillars are rather gawkily too far apart.

The chief object, however, for which Auburn is celebrated, is the Penitentiary, or State Prison, a large pile of buildings, pleasantly situated at a short distanee from the town. I examined this establishment with some degree of care, in consequence of the general impression which prevails amongst us that the American penitentiary system has been productive of a great deal of good. I do not think, however, that the arrangements of this state prison are very judicious. For example, the prisoners live and work together in open wards; they are enjoined silence; but this constant exposure to one another must undoubtedly harden the sense of shame. Indeed, I have since been assured that the penitentiary system has not answered the expectations of its promoters in America. Before I left England, I went through the London Penitentiary at Millbank, and I do think the system there, of keeping the prisoners apart, or in small chambers, is preferable to the general exposure of the American system. Undoubtedly, it has a tendency to prevent the prisoners, after liberation, from recognising each other, and from congregating together, upon the confidence of being previously acquainted with the delinquency of each other; whereas the American system, I should think, has directly the contrary effect. But notwithstanding the sagacity and benevolence of those by whom the penitentiary system has been advocated and established, I have some doubt if their views have been regulated by any right knowledge of the

motives of human conduct. Indeed, I am much of opinion that there is a considerable. error among jurists, both with respect to the nature of crime and the efficacy of punishment.

Without question, the conduct of men is much more under the influence of physical stimulation than the law is disposed to allow. Insanity and passionate excitement are not recognised by legal justice, unless they are found in a very high degree; but long before madness or fatuity reach the degree which justifies the interference of the law, there are many stages far from the limits of correct judgment. In fact, I have a suspicion that physical disease of some kind or other, whether of organization or of nervous construction, enters much more largely into criminal propensities than it is the practice of judicial wisdom to consider. If there be any truth in this notion, it should follow that the principal benefit of the penitentiary system is induced by the change on the habits of the delinquent, produced by the difference between what was his condition in freedom and the circumstances of his restraint;

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and, therefore, the reformation of criminals should be studied more with reference to health, temperament, and habit, than has hitherto been the usage in prison discipline. I am not aware that you are a craniologist; but if you are, I must protest against my doctrine being applied in support of Gall's theory, because it is not to be allowed that a general state of the constitution is to be supposed the result of a local and special formation. Have the craniologists any bump indicative of a penchant for forgery? because, if they have, the Americans must possess it in a very remarkable degree; for the number of convicted forgers in the Auburn State Prison amounted to no less than one-fifth of the whole. For my part, I am inclined to believe that the frequency of this offence is much more owing to the paper dollars than to any thing so philosophical as a bump of imitativeness, and that forgery is only a more ingenious and refined degree of thievishness. It is an effect, however, as much of the state of society, as either of the state of the stomach or of the head. It would seem, however, for the honour and credit of artists, that the possession of the imitative faculty does not always imply a desire to employ it criminally. Indeed, as a body, painters, engravers and sculptors, are distinguished for their honesty. I never heard of any eminent one, of either profession, having been convicted of forgery, except the unfortunate Ryland.

But it is full time to stop one's pen when it gets so far into the wilderness of theory, the uncleared forest of philosophy, in which the right way is as difficult to find as a path in the woods around the scene which has given rise to these moral nebula. I am, truly yours,

A.

HEAVEN BRIGHTER THAN EARTH. "Oh! make heaven seem brighter than this world." Dying words of Rev. M. Bruen. Those skies no night that wear,

Nor cloud nor tempest know, Those skies no blight that bear, Those streams that stainless flow, Are they not brighter far

Than all that lure us here?
Where storms may fright each lingering star
From midnight's lovely sphere?
Here hope, of sorrow drinks,

Here, beauty yields to care,
And virtue from temptation shrinks,
And folly finds despair;
But 'mid that world above

No baleful step may stray,
The white-winged seraph's glance of love
Would drive each ill away.
Friendship is there the guest

Of chilling doubt no more,
And love with thornless breast,

Whose pains and fears are o'er;
There is no farewell sigh

Throughout that heavenly clime,
No moaning voice, or severed tie,
Or change of hoary time.
Why plant the cypress near

Why dew with murmuring tear
The pillow of the just?
Their calm and holy dust?
Rear there the rose's pride,

Fit emblems of their joys who bide
Bid the young myrtle bloom,
Beyond the insatiate tomb.
'Mid that celestial place

Our thoughts would soaring glow,
E'en while we run this pilgrim race
Of weariness and wo:
For who would shrink from death

With brief and icy hand,
Or heed the pang of shortening breath
To win that glorious land?

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