sarily imperfect and uncertain as they confess edly are. We shall only advert to one other remedy, turpentine, which Dr. Knight reports as suc cessful in his hands beyond all other medicines. "Gratified," says Dr. Burrows, " by Dr. Knight's success in this intractable disease [maniacal epilepsy,] I requested a more explicit account of his mode of treating it; but I was sorry to learn that the experience of the medical officers of the Lancaster Asylum refuted Dr. K.'s statements." (p. 658, note.) Before we read this note, indeed, we perceived from Dr. Knight's own volume, that there had occurred some unpleasant differences between him and the official department of the Lancaster Asylum, who appear to have refused him access to his own papers and journals of cases. (Knight, Pref. p. v., also p. 89, &c.) We have no concern in these differences, farther than they may tend to affect the authenticity of the reported cures. It is but justice, however, to Dr. Knight to state, that he is not alone in his account of the effects of turpentine, his testimony being corroborated by that of Dr. E. Percival, of Dublin, who produced by its means a partial cure in twenty cases of epileptia mania. SUBORDINATION. "He died, as erring man should die, Without display-without parade!"-Byron. AMONG the many wondrous things which use and habit enable us to contemplate without surprise, none more strongly excite my admiration than the steady maintenance of social order in England, and the unswerving subordi nation of its moral world. The intemperance of a few starving frame-breakers, the perpetration of an occasional burglary,-an elopement, or a corn-riot, can scarcely be considered as arguments against the orderly regularity established among us, shaming even that of the most highly polished of continental countries. But in looking, and looking admiringly upon the existing order of things, in considering the goodly pile of civil and military organization which we have constructed to restrain the evil impulses of the land, let it not be forgotten that its "polished corners," and buttresses of strength, have been cemented with human blood; and that if "millions died that Cæsar might be great;" hundreds and thousands of lives have been also sacrificed, in order that we may sleep securely, hoard our glittering dross without dread of the midnight robber, and find protection in the well disciplined activity of our armies against foreign invasion and civil tumult. Let us not overlook the tears that have been shed, the stern self-denial that hath been exerted, when the sweet prerogative of mercy became a dangerous temptation, in order that our lives and properties might be secured from the spoiler, by the warning of public example! Few things are more admirable than the resignation and sense of justice with which the rabble are accustomed to yield up a culprit unto the offended laws of his country. I allude not to instances of gross criminality. We know that the immutable code of Christian law hath decreed that life shall be exacted for a life, that an eye shall be rendered for an eye;* and it affords no striking instance of human humility, that these decrees of holiness are suffered to remain unimpeached. But with regard to the chastisement of crimes of mere mortal, or legal creation,-crimes of conventional imagining, crimes that have neither name nor reprobation among the canons of Christianity, however fatal to the interests of social order, I confess that the patient acquiescence of that class among which the malefactors commonly arise, appears to me little less than an instance of divine influence and ordination. I have been led into this train of reflection by the remembrance of an occurrence, which, some years ago, chanced in one of our southern colonies; one which never recurs to my mind without rousing feelings of painful emotion, and which I shall not refuse myself the melancholy pleasure of detailing, as I feel that my inferences can do no mischief in the order of society to which they are addressed, and that my story may touch the minds of those in whose hands are the powers of life and death. It may soften the human heart, but it will be too feebly told to rouse the rebellious into mutiny, or the disaffected into an evil interpretation of my meaning. One sultry evening in August, an anxious group of civil and military employés was colTected in the chief square of a city of some importance among our Mediterranean possessions. The day had been oppressive, and irritating from glare and mosquitos; sufficiently so, indeed, to account for the hectic upon several cheeks among the little knot of disputants, and for the angry inflexion of their voices. During the whole morning, the chief square, which formed a sort of parade before the Government-house, had been ominously deserted; save when some lazy Padre was seen deliberately traversing its scorching sand, in order to ascend the steps of some lofty portico, the palace of one of his chartered penitents; or when, at an earlier hour, a bannered procession, with pyx and crozier, had directed itself towards the church of Santa Medoarda from a convent in the suburbs. But although a seabreeze had already sprung up, and was gushing in freshening sportiveness across the square, as if in mercy to the white stone walls which were basking under the prolonged glow of the setting sun,-although the scent of a thousand orange blooms was borne upon its wings, no idlers-none at least of British seeming-came forth to enjoy the restoration of the evening coolness, until the little party to which I have alluded, emerged from the portico of the Government-house, and gathered itself round one of the field-pieces, which, more for ornament than defence, were planted along the esplanade. They had apparently left the dinner table of Sir Ralph Stanley at this untimely hour, in or This article is selected from the Naval and Military Magazine. der to indulge in some discussion upon which his presence had been a restraint. "I knew how it would end," observed one of the younger officers: "from the moment of his arrest-nay, from the day of his enrolment in Majendie's company, I predicted some black conclusion. Frank Willis is too fine-hearted a fellow to match with the Adjutant. But you were on the Court-martial, Vernon,-how did Frank stand his ground, how did the lad get through his defence?" "He attempted none. The charge of having struck his superior officer was clearly substantiated, and was recorded with all the tedious precision of legal definition. Corporal Rutherford swore to having seen Willis disorderly on parade that very afternoon." "But there was no witness who could speak to the principal charge?" "None" exclaimed Arthur Stanley, the Governor's nephew, and youngest aid-de-camp. "And Majendie gave his evidence in such a cursed, shuffling, apologetic style, that I was in hopes the Court would have found Frank guilty only on the minor counts. But old Kedjeree, my worshipful kinsman, after a crossexamination which appeared to me, and indeed to most of our fellows vexatiously persevering, called upon the prisoner for his defence." "You have not told us how Willis bore up against the evidence. Did he seem cast down when it went hard against him?" "I never beheld a firmer demeanour. If the fellow had been carved out of the rock on which we are standing, he could not have shown a more stern and resolute countenance. There was not a variation of colour upon his cheek, nor a glance of passion in his eye, even when that red-headed Judas, our worthy adjutantwho, by the way, could not conceal his trepidation even by the deliberate drawl in which he was pleased to drone out his declarationswore to a thousand facts of general and particular insubordination in Willis's conduct.There was not so much as a start of surprise or indignation to be detected." "And when he was called upon for his defence?" "He replied that he had none to make, in a voice as clear and deep as a nightcall at sea. The General, however, appeared to consider this answer as a mere ebullition of temper, for he reiterated the demand in an angry voice." "Aye!" said young Stanley, "and then there arose such a murmur in the Court as brought all the hot blood into Kedjeree's blessed cayenne countenance. Speak your provocation, Willis!' cried one voice. Show up the ruffian!' shouted another. Be not butchered in cold blood!'-Show the General the sabre cut you got at St. Sebastian, covering his son in the breach.' Till the old gentleman, moved only to greater fury by this contempt of order, commanded the Court to be cleared, and that in no holiday tone." "The evidence was briefly recapitulated," continued Vernon; "and, after a short consultation, sentence of death was recorded." "L By Heavens!" exclaimed Arthur Stanley, "I would rather have heard the opening of an enemy's battery rattling round my ears than my uncle's grave sonorous voice, as he addressed the prisoner. I did not think so much true dignity lay hid under his every-day slouch; nor that he was capable of the deep emotion which thrilled through his words at the close of his charge. He could not fix his eye upon poor Willis's fine manly figure as he pronounced that one horrible concluding word; and while he spoke, there was not a sound stirring in the crowded Court, except the hard breathing of one or two of our youngsters. I know that my own heart swelled till it choked me." "There is not a smarter soldier than Willis in our ranks," observed one of the subalterns, after a pause. "He seems to belong, by divine right, to the regiment, for he was born in a retreat in India, in Blackshaw's time; and his father, who was serjeant-major, was left behind to scoop a grave in the sand for his wife. I remember hearing several of our old India fellows relate, when I joined, how Frank was swathed in a wallet, and tossed into a baggage waggon, with little or no care from the women, who were busy with the sick and wounded." "Frank Willis served with us through the Peninsula," observed another; "and he has the Waterloo medal." "What think you, Vernon? is there no hope for him?" inquired another of the group. "It is revolting, to see a fine fellow cut off under such circumstances; for although Willis scorned to bring forward the name of his young wife in his defence, yet not a man in the regiment doubts under what irritation the assault was committed. Majendie's character is so well known, and his admiration of Bessy Willis was apparent even to ourselves." "Most true," replied Vernon. "But old Stanley, saving Arthur's presence, is a martinet in points of discipline; and, to say the truth, I believe pardon, in such a case, would be altogether unprecedented." "Ici bas, l'on peut tout ce qu'on veut, quand on veut ce que l'on doit vouloir." "Not in a garrison, Arthur; as you will one day find to your cost. But that is not the point. If any thing can be done to save Willis, or to mitigate his punishment, his previous ties upon us, and his manly firmness, demand every effort at our hands. Sir Ralph owes me some kindness," continued Vernon, lowering his voice, "as the surviving friend of his only son-as the receiver of his last breath; and you, Arthur, who provoke your Uncle's reprimands and curses from morning till night, can little imagine with what indulgent tenderness he doated upon poor Edward." Arthur Stanley drew near to listen. "Yourself, Arthur, as his nephew and heir, can pretend to some claim upon the General's consideration. We have given him time for his hookah; let us go back together, and say what we can in furtherance of this petition, which bears the signatures of half the garrison, and all the regiment,-nay, even Majendie's, who, I believe, would give his right hand for liberty to withdraw the charge." "Go, and Heaven speed you!" exclaimed every officer present. We will wait here to learn the result." Sir Ralph Stanley listened with gentlemanly forbearance to the succinct relation, made by Major Vernon, of the services and good conduct of the condemned soldier; of his claims, by birthright, of the good will of the regiment, and, by individual service, upon that of its commandant. He entered into the affair at length, or, as Arthur thought, at great length, prefacing his remarks by a handsome acknowledgment to the friend of his deceased son, and to that beloved son's unfortunate preserver. "Most willingly," said he, "would I accede to the wishes of the corps, and the more so, as having been expressed through a medium honourable to their choice, and interesting to myself, as that of Major Vernon. But a superior duty commands me to close my feelings against such an appeal. The interests of the service, Sir, require that so gross a breach of discipline should be met by the utmost rigour of martial law; and the public mind must not be misled by the influence of private predilection. In short, Vernon, with due deference to your representations, and to Arthur Stanley's, who knows as much of the importance of what he asks, as if it were for the life of a pointer puppy, I feel that I should very seriously commit myself by any show of leniency in an affair so important to the maintenance of military discipline." Major Vernon-an old staff officer-was too well initiated into the mysteries of official re plies to be staggered by this rébut. He only seemed to consider it as a signal for a patient recommencement of his narration, and for a still more earnest declaration of the warm interest which Willis's smartness, and courage, and honourable feeling, as a man and a soldier, had roused in his favour throughout the garrison. "I know of no instance," added he, "in which an act of clemency would be more popular." But General Stanley was inflexible, and sternly, although not harshly, proof against all expostulation. My good friend," he replied, "you have to deal with an old soldier,-one with whom such qualities as you describe hold more than sufficient influence. Judge then what it must cost him to persevere in the execution of his public duty in such a case; and do not add to the vexations which harass and afflict him to-night, by unavailing solicitations. Captain Stanley will also have the grace to abstain from those shrugs of contempt and distrust; for I am perfectly sincere in speaking of my professional duty on this occasion as most unsatisfactory and painful. To be short, Vernon, the thing is impossible.-Willis must die-his last sun hath set; and I doubt whether it will ever shine upon a finer fellow!" The old soldier walked to the other side of the chamber to recover his voice; but notwithstanding his emotion, Vernon was satisfied of the ill success of his suit. He ventured, however, to glance at some circumstances of elucidation respecting the Adjutant on whose behalf and accusation Willis was sentenced to suffer, and the lovely young bride of the condemned soldier, which staggered, although they could not conquer the resolution of the staunch old Governor. Upon his ardent nephew, however, the mere recapitulation of that which he already knew, had a far more power ful influence. "You cannot hope, Sir," said he to Sir Ralph, with little ceremony, "to have one peaceful hour of rest, after persisting in your severity towards a brave man like Willis, in consideration of the rascally and unsupported testimony of that sneaking shirking dog, Majendie. If Vernon's suppositions are just, I only wonder, that Frank has not been condemned to death for cleaving the ruffian to the earth, rather than for repulsing him by a paltry thrust of his arm!" "I was not aware, Captain Stanley, of having referred the case to your sapient judgment; but when your boyish intemperance will permit you to listen,-know, Sir, that a soldier can sleep as freely after the conscientious discharge of a civil duty, as he can when the cause of his country has embrued his hands in the blood of his fellow creatures. In either case, he is but an instrument in the hands of a higher intelligence. I am myself Arthur, but the servant of the public and of the law ;-but I will not shape my doings according to your, or any other enthusiast's, vague opinion. Be they judged between myself, my country, and my Maker! And now, Vernon, good night," added he, kindly taking the hand of the Major, "forgive my apparent ungraciousness, and believe that I equally appreciate your rights upon my indulgence, and your forbearance and delicacy in using them. And if it be any pleasure to you, Arthur Stanley, assure yourself that my sympathy in poor Willis's fate is, at least, as keen as your own." The veteran retired as he spoke; but, thanks to gout and grape-shot wounds, not so actively as to escape hearing the graceless comments of his nephew. "Go thy ways, thou heart of bowstring and bend-leather! go doze in thine easy chair, thou incorrigible slave of form and prejudice, who would'st sacrifice one of the noblest of God's creatures to a mere automaton, moving only under the impulse of bad passions and evil thoughts." "What success?" exclaimed twenty voices, as they regained their expectant companions. Vernon shook his head. "Inexorable!" replied Arthur, doggedly. "Nothing now remains for Frank Willis but to die-and he will die-like a man." The roll of the evening drum warning the men to their quarters, and the closing light around them, acted as signals of dispersion to the dispirited party. Those officers whose duty compelled them to pass the gates of the citadel, observed that the challenge of the sentinel was spoken in a hoarse voice;-those who regained the barracks, noticed that the men were gathered together in groups of four or five, throughout the several quadrangles, some in silent concern, but still more engaged in anxious discourse with low and unassured voices. Not a sound of merriment could be detected in that usually mirthful and tumultuous region. No fragment of an English ditty -no whistled cadence of the songs of home burst from the half-closed casements of the soldiers' rooms.-The women called not aloud to their children in their ordinary vociferation of motherly tenderness-they "hushed as they reproved," or caught up the unoffending imps into their arms, with an affectation of chiding and remonstrance, in order to conceal the tears that quivered in their own swollen eyes. "Sit down, Frank, sit down," said Vernon, forcing him back to his straw. "You have need of rest." "Not so, sir," answered Willis, affecting a more cheerful voice. "My rest to-morrow will forestal your own; and when the dial shadow of the bastions falls upon noon, Frank's head will be lying among sleepers, as heavy as any we left at Quatre-Bras." One chamber of that many-windowed façade had been closed throughout the day; and the grassy plot it overlooked was even more sadly silent than the rest of the Barrack-yard, and many a pitying look was sent up to those desolate casements, and many an adjuration of "God help her!" directed towards them. It was that of Bessy Willis, whose numbered hours were passing rapidly away in the deathliness of utter despair. God was indeed will-ply. ing to help her-he was taking her to himself! Conscious that the feeble condition of his wife would secure him from the bitter agony of an earthly parting, since weakness bound her to a dying bed,-Willis was the better enabled to keep up the show of manly firmness which, from the first moment of his arrest, had distinguished his deportment. But he had never deceived himself with regard to his destiny. A soldier's son-almost a soldier born-he was keenly alive to the fitting strictness of military discipline; and, so little had he looked for mercy, so ill-exchanged would he have considered the doom of honourable death for one of stripes or imprisonment, that he had never striven to wake among his judges a sense of the consideration due to his services, nor the slightest degree of personal interest; nay, with a delicacy worthy a better object, he had even foreborne to connect the outrage for which he was to suffer, with some grievous personal details of insult and injury. And he was to die! The heavy irons upon his limbs-the heavier bars of his prison windows, through which the slanting red evening sunbeams had found their way to dance and quiver, as if in derision, upon the opposite wall of his cell-the straw which rustled beneath him as he threw himself down, exhausted, not despairing, on his return from condemnationall conspired to remind him that the last sands of his degraded existence were dropping, grain by grain, and that a death of shame awaited him on the morrow! He might have died in happier times-he might have perished in the struggle of a battle-field, for he had seen many such, and "honour and he filled up one monument!" But had such been his fortune, he had not returned triumphant to that beloved England, in whose most sequestered hamlet he had won the hand of Bessy from the reluctant fa*ther, unto whom he had sworn to love and to protect her a promise but too fatally fulfilled! The prisoner groaned heavily as these images called back to his mind the wife of his bosom, and the young boy which had blessed their mutual affection; and, as he sought to bury his head in the straw, a compassionate voice warned him that he was not alone. He roused himself to inquire who stood beside him, amid the gathering darkness." It is I, Willis," replied the gentle voice of Vernon. "It is your old master, who would fain exchange a few parting and friendly words with you." "Your honour is very considerate," answered Willis, attempting to gain his legs. "You have been ever so to me, Major Vernon; and things would have gone better with me if I had heeded your reproofs of my fiery spirit." Vernon did not rebuke this lightness of speech, but he damped it by the tone of his re"I am come, Frank, to inquire whether you have any commands to leave, which a friend may execute. Having never deluded you with hopes of mercy, I have the less reluctance in announcing to you that even your most sanguine friends have ceased to cherish them. Willis,-you must die to-morrow." "I have never thought otherwise, Major; and I have therefore prepared myself to seek from my Great Maker, that clemency which my fellow men withhold." "I trust you have neglected no means of reconciliation, which our Holy Church affords to such as die in hope;-that you have no malice still rankling in your heart against your ac cuser? "None!-Major Vernon;-none, as I trust in the goodness of God! I have need to be thankful-humbly thankful-that my resentment against the ruffian who has sacrificed me did not betray my hand into the sin of murder when my indignant spirit was at its height; but now, I can declare that, from the bottom of my soul, I forgive Capt. Majendie that which I fear he will scarcely learn to forgive himself. And indeed, sir, if I might presume to express a dying request to the gentlemen of the regiment who have so kindly interested themselves in my favour, it would be that they should forbear from marking by their conduct towards that self-condemned man, their sense of my injuries." Vernon, instead of granting the pledge required by the generous victim, demanded, in a very low tone, whether he had any message to send to the poor suffering creature he was about to leave to the tender mercies of a wide and selfish world. "Tell my poor girl," faltered the soldier,"the best and truest of wives,-that I should grieve more in shutting my eyes upon a world which deals, as you say, but harshly with the poor, were I not persuaded that we shall soon be united in a more equal country! And after all, sir, what avail the tears that we drop over a grave, what avail those which we shed on the brink of that which is about to cover us? Short will be the longest separation-a brief moment in the endless day of the universe;— and in a few years, all alike will mingle in the dust.-You, Major Vernon, if I may embolden myself to make the request, you will see that Bessy and the boy are decently sent home to her old father; and that he is told how truly she formed to his last hour, the blessing of an honest heart,-of the husband who died in her defence." "God of Heaven! it is then true that—" "No more, sir, on that head;-my spirit, thank God is tranquil now! Aye!-Bessy's father wavered long ere he would give his dar ling to a soldier, yet he little dreamed that | unworthy of it. Father O'Halloran will not soldier would make an ignominious end." At this moment, the entrance of the gaoler, preceding a figure wrapt in a military cloak, interrupted the course of his comfortless reflec tions. "This is a late hour for visiters,-who have we here?" said the deep voice of Sir Ralph, approaching the prisoner. "A friend, dear sir!" replied Major Vernon, anxiously referring the Governor's untimely visit to some motive of mercy. "Willis!" exclaimed Sir Ralph, addressing the fluttered soldier, who stood erect before him, as if still engaged in the execution of military duty, "I have too intimate a knowledge of the heart of a good soldier to believe that you entertain any ill will towards me for the part you have obliged ine to act in your condemnation. But since you needs must die, -part we friends! Give me your hand, Frank Willis, my son's preserver,-my brave son's, -who is with God!-Give me your hand, boy; and remember that your wife and infant from this hour become my children." "One of them will not, I trust, tarry long from the shelter of her Heavenly Father," answered the gratified Willis, pressing the venerable hand so cordially extended towards him. "And His blessing be with you, General, for your kind will towards the orphan. Make him a good soldier, sir, if it please you; unless you think that the blight of his father's name will be upon him.-But no!" exclaimed he, proudly collecting himself, "in spite of one erring act, Frank Willis's life is free from reproach!" "We know it, we acknowledge it," replied Sir Ralph and Vernon, at the same moment. "Take no thought for the boy; but tell us what we can further do to favour your comfort; and first," said the General, touching Frank's fetters with his foot, and recalling the gaoler, "first let us dispense with these; we know, and will be responsible for our man." As the sledge hammer was instantly applied for his relief, Willis appeared to shrink back in pain. "What is it?" inquired Vernon of the gaoler, who exhibited unequivocal symptoms of sympathy with his prisoner, now that he found them sanctioned by his betters. "The irons have galled an old wound," replied the man. And Vernon remembered that the bone had been shattered by a musket ball, in the affair at St. Sebastian's, during Willis's active defence of his friend Edward Stanley. The looks of all present showed their concern. "General!" said Frank, approaching his former commander with a manly plainness, inspired by the knowledge that all earthly distinctions between them were soon to end, "do not distress yourself about me, when I am gone. The good of the service required an exampleyou have given it. Your own generous nature suggested a redeeming show of mercy-you have given it, sir, and where it has not been unfelt; for I die comforted-proud, if I may say so,-knowing that my children will not be fatherless, nor my poor widow unfriended and desolate. Farewell, gentlemen!" continued Willis, perceiving that even the sternest of his auditors was deeply touched; "do not prolong your sorrow for one whom the world declares leave me to-night, nor-nor to-morrow." "Farewell, Frank, and God be with you!" said both officers, solemnly, as they left the cell; and old Stanley was fain to accept the arm of his aid-de-camp, as they wound together through the intricate stone passages. Between the prison door, and the garden postern of the Government house, there was not one syllable exchanged between them. The morning gun boomed heavily over the harbour, as the dull grey dawn broke over the waves, and many, or most of those who were awakened by the sound, turned sickening away," as if they loathed that light." But the whole garrison was soon astir for parade, for the horrible ceremony by which it was to be succeeded; and the hollow roll of a muffled drum was heard at intervals, as a sad prelude to the dark array of death. Thrice did the distinguished regiment to which Willis had belonged-assembled by the ordinary and now revolting delay of the muster-roll---march round the parade; the long, deep-drawn notes of the trumpet prolonging the funeral march by which their steps were measured. ceased; and a solitary human voice was heard reciting the service of burial for the dead; a solitary human voice, which pierced into the inmost recesses of the heart to which it was addressed, which animated as it was with the proudest instincts, and the most generous inpulses, was about to fall into the dark stagnation of the grave. The felling of a lofty tree is a subject of interest and sympathy with the standers by; but to mark the cutting off of a vigorous human frame-the death-wound of a warm human heart-is almost too trying a duty. It Uncovered and alone, in the full uniform of his corps, but with his hands bound behind him, Willis followed the minister, preceded by a detachment of the regiment in whose ranks he had so often rushed on to victory. He rushed not forwards now; his step was slow, measured, resolute; his face stern but pale, like that of one to whom the encounter of death is familiar, but appalling. Yet although many a heart beat quick among the crowds assembled to look upon, and be admonished by, a deed of death,-that of Willis kept temperate time;--although many lips were compressed in agony at the solemn spec. tacle of deliberate bloodshed, Frank's were gently parted, as if to inhale the last sweet breath of earth;-although many eyes were earnestly strained, as if to save the big drops from falling, in shame to their manhood, those of the victim were alternately bent in good will upon his former comrades, or humbly lifted towards that sky which he trusted was not unmindful of his penitence. The ceremony was nearly at an end. Major Vernon, accidentally in command of the regiment, gave contradictory orders, seemed harassed and perplexed, and for the first time, on duty, lost his self-possession. The young officer at the head of Majendie's company, whom General Stanley had considerately despatched to an outpost on the coast, turned deadly faint, and could scarcely persist in his duty. The most unearthly stillness per |