I wander as a vagabonde through the world, forsaken of my friends, poore and known only to be a broken limbe of a shipwrecked faction, yet I finde humanity and civility from those who are in the height of fortune and reputation. But I do alsoe well knowe I am in a strange land, how far those civilities do extend, and that they are too aery to feed or clothe a man. I cannot so unite my thoughts into one object, as absolutely to forbid the memory of such things as these are to enter into them, but I go as far as I can; and since I cannot forget what has passed, nor be absolutely insensible of what is present, I defend myself reasonably well from increasing or anticipating evils by foresight. The power of foreseeing is a happy quality unto those who prosper, and can ever propose to themselves something of greater felicity than they enjoy; but a most desperate mischief to them, who, by foreseeing, can discover nothing that is not worse than the evils which they do already feele. He that is naked, alone, and without help, in the open sea, is lesse unhappy in the night when he may hope the land is near, than in the day when he sees it not, and that there is no possibility of safety." PENANCE BY PROXY. In Spain and Portugal, many do penance by proxy; and formerly these proxies were prevalent in Provence, Italy, and the Netherlands. Little more than a century ago, one James Zeger exercised this charitable trade in some of the towns of Brabant. This man whipped himself, in the presence of the sinner, until the blood came, provided he gave him something to buy cordial liquors, previous to the operation, besides what he gave for the penance. He had also two daughters, who undertook to perform penances for the ladies, or wives and maids of common rank, who had money to pay for them. Zeger had regular prices for their fasts in proportion to their difficulty. For a fast without animal food, he charged only ten-pence; thirty, for one of bread and water; but for penances, wherein he was to whip himself, and endure other mortifications of that nature, there was no set price; a specific agreement was then necessary. He used to lay his register before the penitent, and show him the agreement he was in the practice of making. A penance of four usual fasts; the re peating fifty-two Are Marias a-day; a penance of twenty-five lashes on Fri day, after midnight, with a Misere mei Deus; a fast of bread and water on Wednesday, with three Magnificats repeated before sun-rising; a penance of five rosaries repeated by twelve at noon, with the seven peni. tential Psalms, and the Litanies of all the Saints, had all their set prices. Some of these penances were of a still more formidable nature, and then the reward was proportionable: the following are some of them:-The penitent to hear three successive masses, in the church of the Jesuits, bare knee'd on the marble; to stand upright, with the arms extended, before an image of the Virgin, from one to two o'clock in the morning; to pull out a hundred and fifty hairs from the head, at the door of the Carmelite's church, between two and three o'clock in the morning, and there repeat one hundred and fifty Ave Marias; to give himself twenty-five lashes, while he repeated the Domine ne in furore, and five times the Laudate Dominum, bare-knee'd, on a board strewed with sand; to lie three nights, naked, and without a shirt, in cowage, &c. &c. Such are a specimen of the performances of one man to expiate the sins of other men, and to propitiate a God of Majesty and Justice.-Picart's Religious Ceremonies, vol. i. ANECDOTE OF AN ALGONQUIN WOMAN. That nation being at war with the Iroquois, she happened to be made prisoner, and was carried to one of the villages belonging to them. Here she was stripped naked, and her hands and feet bound with ropes in one of their cabins. In this condition she remained ten days, the savages sleeping round her every night. The eleventh night, while they were asleep, she found means to disengage one of her hands, with which she immediately freed herself from the ropes, and went to the door. Though she had now an opportunity of escaping unperceived, her revengeful temper could not let slip the favourable opportunity of killing one of her enemies. The attempt was manifestly at the hazard of her own life, yet, snatching up a hatchet, she killed the savage that lay next to her, and springing out of the cabin, concealed herself in a hollow. tree, which she had observed the day before. The groans of the dying person soon alarmed the other savages, and the young ones immediately set out in pursuit of her. Perceiving from her tree, that they all directed their course one way, and that no savage was near her, she left her sanctuary, and flying by an opposite direction, ran into a forest without being perceived. The second day after this happened, her footsteps were discovered, and they pursued her with such expedition, that the third day she discovered her enemies at her heels. Upon this she threw herself into a pond of water, and diving among some weeds and bull-rushes, she could just breathe above water without being perceived. Her pursuers, after making the most diligent search, were forced to return. For thirty-five days this woman held on her course through woods and desarts, without any other sustenance than roots and wild berries. When she came to the River St. Lawrence, she made with her own hands a kind of a wicker raft, on which she crossed it. As she went by a French Fort, Trois Rivieres, without well knowing where she was, she perceived a canoe full of savages, and fearing they might be Iroquois, ran again into the woods, where she remained till sunset. Continuing her course soon after, she saw Trois Rivieres, and was then discovered by a party whom she knew to be Hurons, a nation in alliance with the Algonquins. She then squatted down behind a bush, calling out to them that she was not in a condition to be seen, because she was naked. They immediately threw her a blanket, and then conducted her to the fort, where she recounted her story. NAPOLEON'S TABLE TALK. [Continued from page 286.] FRENCH TAXES.-It was a part of my financial system to diminish the direct taxes which weigh upon the land, and to replace them by indirect charges, which fall only upon luxury and intemperance. HIS CONFIDENCE IN THE ENGLISH.I have committed many faults in my life; the greatest was of having de livered my person to the English; I believed in their honour. SURRENDER OF PARIS.-The allieshave paid dearly for their success in 1814. I kept up the war for three months in the plains Champagne with the remains of my old troops. If Paris had held out twenty-four hours longer they would have been lost; not a single German would have returned over the Rhine. BRAVERY.--Bravery is a conventional coin; some will boldly meet death in the ranks of the enemies, who would tremble before the executioner's axe. There are counterfeit brave men, as well as counterfeit coins; in a word, bravery is an innate quality; we cannot give it to ourselves. THE LAWS OF FRANCE.-I have given the French people a code of laws, which will last longer than the monuments of my power. GOVERNMENT.-It is easier to form a republic without anarchy, than a monarchy without despotism. A JUST MAN.-The just man is the image of God upon earth. THE PRINCE REGENT OF ENGLAND.When I wrote to the Prince Regent to ask for his hospitality, he suffered a fair opportunity of acquiring fame to escape. NAPOLEON'S WORKS.-I have built villages, drained marshes, built seaports, re-built cities, established manufactories, united both seas, constructed roads, and erected monuments: and yet I have been compared to Attila, the chief of the Hentswell judges. STRENGTH OF A GOVERNMENT.-The legitimate strength of a government consists in the unanimity of interests; it cannot put itself at variance with them without giving itself a deathblow. GREATNESS OF MIND.--The man of a superior order is naturally invincible : he cares very little whether he be praised or blamed, he listens to his conscience. THE INVASION OF FRANCE.When I landed at Cannes, there was neither a conspiracy nor plot. I came with the Parisian journals in my hands. This expedition, which will be represented in history as a daring one, was perfectly rational. My grumblers* were badly dressed, but they had stout hearts. [To be continued.] THE MUSES' WILD WREATH. Eyes lit by A dmiration's spell more. I lov'd, how deeply lov'd-oh, Heaven! Mine be the shame, the grief alone. The madd'ning hour when first we met, The last wild moment, haunt me yet; Thou, idle tear, no longer flow; Forgive, as I forgive her now. Too lovely-Oh, too loved, farewell; Though parting rends my bosom strings, This hour we part;-the grave shall The thought that to my spirit clings. And die thy slave and martyr-LOVE! TO THE DEPARTING YEAR. This is a festal season, dear To thousands in the city! To thousands in a rural sphere, Surround the joyous dwelling; Infuse emotions dearer, And bosoms sigh in LOVE to dwell. Are hailed in prickly berries, VOWS In sprightly hey-down-derries; And hide in kissing places. And many a glance and airy glee The rich and wealthy, nobly born, Reason must guard the temper's pass, The YEAR in age will roll away, And MEMORIES' thoughts be lighter; With prospects sweet and glorious; The past will yield its treasures, J. R. P. ERRATA. In our last No. page 275, col. 2. for Hare read Hora, and for Decamoran read Decameron. 306 ST. RONAN'S WELL. We cannot, we think, present our The scene of this highly interesting and tragical tale is laid, throughout, immediately in the vicinity of a small village in Scotland, designated by the author under the fictitious appellation of St. Ronan's Well; and situated, according to his account, on the southern side of the Forth, not above thirty miles from the English Border. The neighbourhood is described as sufficiently romantic to provoke the pencil of every passing tourist. The town, which at the period referred to in the history, was speedily sinking into decay, was built on the side of a precipitous hill. Two houses only in its irregular street were in any thing like decent repair. These were the clergyman's Manse, and the hostel or inn of one Mistress Meg Dods, an important character in the dramatis persone of the tale, to the description of whose person and eccentricities the greater part of the first chapter is devoted. The house, of which this worthy but eccentric old lady was the hostess, had formerly been the residence of the reduced, but once powerful, family of the Mowbrays of St. Ronan, who, as the friends and allies of Douglas, had on the turning of the tide in the reign of James II. become despoiled of most of their honours and possessions. middle of the seventeenth century they In the once more rose into importance, and Sir Reginald Mowbray distinguished himself greatly by his obstinate defence of his own castle of St. Ronan against the arms of Cromwell. It was on this occasion that he caused the fortress to be dismantled and blown up with gunpowder. He after this abandoned it to ruin, and built himself a habitation in the fashion of the age, which he prudently suited in size to the diminished fortunes of his family, and in which they continued to reside until within about fifty years of the date of the present history, when it was much damaged by a casual fire, and the laird of the day shifted his quarters to a more commodious dwelling, about three miles from the village. The deserted mansion was shortly tenanted by two old servants of the afterwards converted into an inn, and successful trade some years, died reaMowbrays, who, after carrying on a sonably wealthy, leaving behind them an only daughter, the last landlady of the Cleikum of St. Ronan, who, to say, nothing of her singularities of temper characteristic humour of the author, and habit, which are detailed with the appears from the following portrait to have been by no means remarkable for personal beauty: betwixt black and grey, which was "She had hair of a brindled colour, apt to escape in elf locks from under her mutch, when she was thrown into violent agitation-long skinny hands, terminated stout talons-grey eyes, thin lips, a robust person, a broad, though flat chest, capital wind, and a voice that could match a choir of fishwomen. She was accustomed to say of herself, in her more gentle moods, that her bark was worse than her bite; but what teeth could have matched tongue, which, when in full career, is vouched to have been heard from the Kirk to the Castle of St. Ronan's? no charms for the travellers of these "These notable gifts, however, had light and giddy-paced times, and Meg's inn became less and less frequented. What carried the evil to the uttermost was, that a fanciful lady of rank in the neighbourhood chanced to recover of some imaginary complaint by the use of a mineral well, about a mile and a half from the village; a fashionable doctor was found to write an analysis of the healing-stream, with a list of took land in feu, and erected lodgingsundry cures; a speculative builder houses, shops, and even streets. At length a tontine subscription was obtained to erect an inn, which, for the more grace, was called a hotel; and so the desertion of Meg Dods became general." date of which is not mentioned, |