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me, and then at the handle of his therefore produced the bos without sabre, that, in order to prevent mis- hesitation, and the old hussar threw chief to myself, I e'en marched before a half-gulden* into it. him, and opened the wicket. My ‘Let us share what I have remainwife, who, like another Sarah, had ing,' added he then, as he pulled out been listening behind the house-door, other two half-guldens, and forced (and who, to do her justice, though me to accept one of them; there is more timorous before danger, is al no blood on that ; take it for your ways more resolute in it than my- trouble.' On this he left the church, self,) followed us of her own accord. and we accompanied him.

« The old hussar strode hurriedly “ My wife and I were greatly afforward through the porch, without fected at the unusual scene; and looking to one side or the other-pass- when we reached the church-yard, ed the vestry and altar-cloth—and as I could not refrain from asking our cended as quickly as his age per- strange guest how he came to think mitted him the steps which led to of performing his morning devotions the Quire.


1 “ Here he seated himself on a "You shall hear all about it, good bench to recover breath, and then people,' he answered; Conly ño preuchcalled out in the same peremptorying afterwards, schoolmaster Last tone as before Open the organ- evening it was found necessary to a hymn-book here !—This unex- place, by some means or other, a pected demand operated on me like watch on a position which we had magic, and I felt all at once as if a lost, in order to observe from it the pressure had been removed from my motions of the enemy at a certain throat. I immediately complied with point. We all knew what ticklish his desire, and beckoned to my wife work this was—our captain asked to blow the instrument. The hus- for volunteers.—No one shewed any sar then looked up a particular page inclination for the service.-At last of the book, and gave out, with much I rode out, and of course my three emphasis, the line . How beauteous lads could not suffer their old father shines the morning star *?'—Play to go alone !- It is of no consequence that, said her but mind your to you, schoolmaster, to know how hand, schoolmaster !'

we managed matters ;-enough, we “ I was now in my element. Whe- got through, and remained the whole ther it was that the idea of escape night at our post.—Left and right it from impending evil animated me, blazed about us famously!—We saw and imparted to my touch more than the evening's patroles continually usual expression, I know not—but passing on all sides, and sometimes certainly I never played better in my quite close to us.--Not on my own life. After the prelude, the hussar account, (for how long will my old struck in with a deep bass voice; I, worn-out carcase be good for any and Susanna behind the organ, also thing?-) but for my sons' sake only joined, and my whole soul expanded did I once whisper in the dark night, in gratitude to the Giver of all good. Lord, deliver us !--and I had scarce

“When the hymn was finished, ly said the words, when it began to I looked boldly towards my hearer. dawn, and the morning star twinkled His hands were still devoutly clasped in the sky. How beauteous shines together, and a tear dropt on them the morning star!' the strain of my from his weather-beaten cheek. As boyish days, came into my thoughts I stept up to him, he shook me affec- at the moment, and the recollections tionately by the hand: Thank ye of the way in which my time had thank ye, comrade,' said he, drawing since been spent, weighed on my bis sleeve hastily across his eyes; breast like lead. I began to reckon • bring out the poors' box.' My for- how many years it was since I hael mer suspicion, that plunder was his been in a church, and I vowed object, had now entirely vanished ; I God, that if I escaped this once, my

first care should be to visit one with Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, a well-known hymn, said to have been A Prussian coin about the value of composed hy Luther.

an English sixpence.

out delay. So here I am, and you To lie unnumber'd 'midst the dead, may guess whether I have had reason His mute companions, earth his bed, to sing with thankfulness,

His canopy the sky.

And for himself he would have joy'd, "Thou dost uphold me by thy might, In honour's cause, so to have died; • Throughout the watches of the night.' For laurel's form'd by glory's breath,

Bloom fairest in the field of death my sons—wild, thoughtless fellows! (--and I, old fool that I am, was ashamed to tell them my

inten- The pale moon throws her ray serene, tion-) have gone to the public. Upon a peaceful lovely scene; house in the village, where I must But when that moon again shall rise, now join them, lest they begin to Shedding effulgence o'er the skies, suspect what I have been about.

"Twill be a scene far different; then Once more, then, comrade, thanks.- Carnage, and huddled heaps of slain, Zooks! how that organ of yours Shan cover all yon scarlet plain; strikes to one's heart -Now I am Yon stream, that rolls its silver flood, sure I am a good Christian at bottom, Shall see its waves distain'd with blood, and should I make my last charge And through the air, to-day or to-morrow, my parole for Groans of despair, and dying cries, heaven shall be, 'How beauteous Shall break the silence of the skies shines the morning star!!

“ With these words he rode off, and I never saw him more.”.

The hosts have met the battle's fought, T. G.

Thousands have found the death they

sought ;

What needs it to relate the strife,

The horrid game of death and life ?-
No. I.

Suffice it, then, Montalva's band,
The Spirit of the Hall.

With well-tried steel, and steadfast hand,

Fought bravely, but they fought in vain; « Art thou any thing? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil ?

They ne'er shall see their homes again. Thou mak'st my blood run cold-my hair to stand.


Where is their leader ? none can tell, 1.

What to Montalva's lord befelTHE first beams of the opening day,

They saw him in the thickest fight, Upon Montalva's turrets play,

With desperate zeal exert his might; And through the portal yawning wide

They saw him scour the fatal field, In warlike pomp the warriors ride;

And hostile ranks before him yield, Pawing the earth, the chargers prance,

This they had seen, but none could tell, Bright glitters every well-tried lance,

Or if he liv'd, or if he fell ! And clanging bugles, loud and sbrill,

6. Sound to the rocks a glad farewell.

Upon its hinges creak'd the door 2.

That oped into the lonely cell, They bid farewell, and far they go,

Where, on the damp and loathsome floor, In foreign lands to meet the foe.

Montalva lay; Alas! how few of those, who now

It was a dark and noisome place, Triumph in manhood's prime,

And on its rough walls, one might trace Shall e'er return again to view

Strange rhymes, and names of those, who Their native clime

there, The leader comes, and in his eye

Shut out from day,
The ray of valour sparkles high ;

Had linger'd out in misery
He thinks of feats of honour done-
He thinks of wreathing laurels won

Their fondest, only hope to die.
Upon the well-fought field.
But still, one softer thought his mind The twinkling lamp, that threw its light
Inclines to those he leaves behind, Around, in that perpetual night,
To that all others yield.-

Glar'd horribly upon the face His Helen, dearest to his heart,

of him, who sought that cursed place; From her by war compellid to part A son of Afric, train'd to sin, To part, perchance to meet no morc, His soul as black as was his skin, Percbancc amid the cannon's roar, A monster, who disgrac'd the eartha Ind faulchion's flash, to die.

Hc drew his pointed dagger forth

The blow is struck, the deed is done,

No. II. Montalva to his home is gone!

On Greece.

Of the three hundred, grant but three, 8.

To make a new Thermopylæ. Don Juan. But in Montalva's tow'rs was heard Slow sets the sun ; his ray serene The wild din of festivity ;

He throws upon a lovely scene; And many a song, and jesting word, Blest scene! where once, as eagle free, Were sung and spoke right merrily. The Grecian hail'd thee, Liberty ! And joyous was the pleasant lay,

Where now the Turkish despot reigns, For 'twas his sister's natal day ;

And rules with iron rod the plains And quick among the jovial band Where Greece, while Greece remain'd, Flew Bacchus' gift from hand to hand ; had fought Such revels as in time of yore,

In Freedom's holy cause, and taught When gentle peace return'd once more,

The nations round to bend with fear And bade the maids and ladies sweet,

Before her brilliant high career. With joy the long-wish'd warriors greet ;

Land of the freeman ! canst thou be Such revels then had fill'd the hall, So fallen, so low in slavery ;And such the noisy festival ;

Land of the good, the brave, the wise, E'en the young infant at the breast, Whose souls have sought their native skies, Would lisp and smile among the rest.. Oh, can thy children but look on

The ruin'd pile, the mould'ring stone, 9.

Which once were Grecia's Halls of State, But the wind round Montalva's tow'rs Where Senates held their grave debate ? Blows loud and fierce; the tempest roars;

Or can this slavish abject son, The spirit of the storm rides on the Look on thy plain, o Marathon?stream,

Or stand, with soul unmov'd, and see, And wide the red fork'd lightnings gleam: Thy well-fought pass, Thermopylæ ? Beneath their momentary flash,

Or gaze on Leuctra's hallow'd plain, The woods, the mountain forests crash ; And think on all those scenes in vain ? Loud thunders roll along the sky,

Ye sacred brave ! in vain ye diedAnd loud the echoing hills reply,

In vain has flow'd the purple tide As if the Eternal One had hurl'd

Of millions, at their country's call His vengeance on a guilty world. Vain were your efforts, vain your fall!

Your fame forgot, your valour gonem 10.

Your name, despis'd, remains alone. Sudden the wind had staid its force,

No. III. No longer were heard its threat'nings

hoarse ;

Oh beauteous as those airy forms,
Not a zephyr blew
To bend the light grass where it grew; ?

That fit around the prophet's dream,

That ride with lightning on the storms, The storm was hush'd, and the tempest

Or melt away in glory's beam; was still, And each gentle rill

Delicious as the incense sweet, Without murmur mov'd,

That from the temple's altar flies, As through its winding course it rov'd ;

And leaves behind the earth, to greet And the voice of the song was heard no

Its purer mansion in the skies. more,

In thee the charms that youth can give, The jest and the laugh were o'er,

The guileless heart, the gladsome smile, And each one gaz'd on his neighbour's In beauty, like the Phænix, live,

Just risen from its funeral pile. And trembled, he knew not why; Clad in immortal light and grace, And there came a shriek, so loud and The sculptur'd Venus, beauty's queen, dread,

Might catch new sweetness from thy face, As if the nations of the dead Had burst their marble dwelling-place.

And learn new grandeur from thy mien. Extinguish'd was the taper's blaze,

Constant as the planets run

Their course around the silver sphere, And through the hall, so long and wide,

No Persian can adore his sun
A shadowy form was seen to glide,
And the face of the revellers it gaz'd

With love or homage more sincere. upon,

Yes, like the plants, that bloom a while, But with no gentle mein;

Or shrink, as wills the solar ray ; And the lightning's fash illum'd the

The life created by thy smiles scene,

Should, at one frown, dissolve away. And the shadowy form was gonc.

Θητα VOL. IX

3 1


Intended as an imitation of the style of the authors who wrote about the 16th certary.

MYSTERIOUS passion, dearest pain,
Tell me, what wond'rous charms are these

With which thou dost torment and please?
I grieve to be thy slave, yet would not freedom gain.

No tyranny like thine we know,
That half so cruel e'er appear'd;

Yet thou art lov'd, as well as fear'd;
Perhaps the only tyrant that is so.

Thou’rt mystery, and riddle all ;
Like those thou inspir’st, thou lov'st to be

In darkness and obscurity.
Even learned Athens thee an unknown god might call.

Strange contraries in thee combine ;
Both hell and heaven in thee meet,

Thou greatest bitter, greatest sweet;
No pain is like thy pain—no pleasure too like thine.

"Tis the grave doctrine of the schools,
That contraries can never be

Consistent in the highest degree ;
But thou must stand exempt from their dull narrow rules :

And yet. 'tis said, the brightest mind
Is that which is by thee refin'd.

See here å greater mystery ;
Thou mak'st us wise, yet ruin'st our philosophy.


CLERICAL AND LAICAL ANECDOTES. It s well known to most of our P-, who had never before been at readers, that the ministers, for more D_, called at his friend Mr M-'s than a dozen miles round Edinburgh, lodgings, at the hour agreed upon are in the habit of annually levying full of the expectation that, cheered a considerable number of sermons, with pleasant conversation, he was from the probationers of our church. about to enjoy an agreeable walk, Among those country clergymen, amid the freshness of the morning, who thus willingly afford an op " in the rosy time of the year." portunity to their young friends to These delightful anticipations, howexercise of their vocation, the Rey. eyer, were nearly dissipated as soon Dr S-of 1 is particularly as he had entered Mr M—'s room. He conspicuous-not so much, as is said, found him uncombed and unshaven, from the love of ease to himself, as with only one stocking on, enveto enhance the value of his own ser loped in the folds of an old greasy vices in the estimation of his people morning-gown, sitting at a table with most of them being of opinion, that, 'several folios open before him, and in point of comparative excellence, with. his eyes earnestly fixed on his own discourses are far superior small scrap of paper which he held to those of the best of his assistants. in one of his hands. It happened, some twenty years ago, Astonishing, Mr M-!" said Mr that a lank, raw-boned preacher, had P—;“ do I find you in that state at engaged to take the Rev. Doctor's this late hour ?-Get dressed, manduty for the ensuing Sunday; and, we shall be too late !" before its arrival, he had asked an “ Oh man, Mr P-!” replied Mr acquaintance (now a most respec M-, “I don't know what to do.table clergyman) to divide the du- 1 was out at supper last night, and ties of the Sabbath with him, in staid till it was rather late, so that the church of D

It was ar when I began to make my skeleton, ranged between the friends that I fell fast asleep, slept till the candle they should leave town on Sunday burnt out in the socket, and have morning at eight o'clock, to proceed scarcely got it finished yet." to the scene of their labourg. Ac “A skeleton, MrM--!'What do you cording to previous appointment, Mr mean by a skeleton?” askel Mr P

We may


“ Of my serion for D to crous incidents that had ever fallen day, you know," was Mr M-'s re under his observation. ply, in a mournful sort of tone. “I just add, that no patron was ever so never deal in composed discourses; I kind as to bless Mr M- with a kirk, just make out a skeleton of what I and that he has long ago become a am going to say, and thereby I put it skeleton himself. quite out of the power of the people The Rev. Ebenezer Erskine, the to call me a reader of my sermons.

father of the Seceders, was, for some You know they don't like read dis- time, in the early part of his life,

minister of the parish of Portmoak, “ There is no time at present to in Fifeshire. After it had been ardiscuss that matter with you," said ranged, that he should be translateit Mr P “Get dressed, man-we to Stirling, he endeavoured to keep shall surely be too late."

his removal from Portmoak a proAfter some more parley, Mr M, found secret. Some surmises of this began to dress, taking, at intervals, event, however, got abroad, and were a side-glance at the skeleton-and eagerly circulated among the people. at length the journey was com While matters were in this state, Mr menced. When the two probation- Erskine one day met one of those ers had fairly cleared the town, Mr off-hand, forward, unceremonious M– said to his companion—"Just old women, to be found in almost go you on before, and I'll look over every parish in Scotland, who thus my skeleton.”

Mr P- complied, accosted him—"Weel, Sur, I'm tald and though he walked at a very ye'r gaen' to lea' us." “ And who slow paoe, he soon got so far a-head told you that, Margaret ?” enquired of his companion, who, as he pored the minister. “Wha tald me, Sur? over his skeleton, seemed altogether a-deed it's e’en the clash o' the kinunconscious of the slowness of his tra." “ But, Margaret," rejoined progress, -as to render it necessary Mr Erskine, “ you know that is not to stop, from time to time, and hail to be depended upon. We should him to come along. In this unsocial not lend an ear to idle rumours. manner they arrived within a mile of Have you no better evidence that I D when the church-bеll begun intend to leave you, than what you to ring; then Mr M, who had hi- call the clash o the kintra?”. “Ăye therto walked so tardily, hastily pock- have I, Sur," replied Margaret; "it eted his skeleton, and bolted forward has been a gay dry simmer this, Sur, at full speed, leaving his friend, an and

you hanna cast ony peats; that's entire stranger, to find his way as no like as if ye meant to winter wi' he best could. He did not attempt

us. “ Margaret,” replied the mito keep up with Mr M-, but walked nister," you know we are the Lord's forward with an accelerated

pace, and servants, and it behoves us to obey entered the church, after his friend his call.--If he has work for me in with the skeleton had taken posses: Stirling, you know it is my duty to sion of the pulpit. The Duke and go and perform it.”. Teugh !" Duchess of B -h, with a party exclaimed Margaret;" call here, call of friends from England, for ned a there! I've heard Stirling has a gay part of the congregation, which was muckle stipend ;-nou ain thinking numerous. Watching, running, and if the Lord had called you o'er by anxiety, had made the preacher ner to Auchterteel, you wud ne'er hae vous. His aspeet was naturally un let on ye heard him!” couth, and his voice loud and harsh. The late Mr Owen, a presbyterian On the present occasion, his appear minister at Rochdale, in Lancashire, ance was peculiarly ghastly-his ut was distinguished for the plairness terance a perfect asinine bray-and of his manners, the readiness of his his discourse, of which the skeleton retorts, and the bitterness of his sarwas the ground-work, the most in casm ; and many anecdotes of his coherent piece of nonsense which singularities and his talents are still nad ever disgraced a pulpit. Mr preserved, and frequently repeated P- used to represent the whole con- by the dissenting ininisters in the duct of Mr N -- throughout the day, north of England. One day, soon 23 a succession of the most ludi- after a new Rector-not quite so wise

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