Oh! they have concealed themselves, I wager. What nonsense! They told me that Madame Palmaroux is musical; I shall be enchanted to hear her. One of the disagreeable features of my profession is the deprivation of music. You would scarcely believe, my dear Palmaroux, how much I miss it. Your good lady"

"Certainly, sir," stammered out the receiver; "but I fear I fear my wife is indisposed".

"To see me?" interrupted the bandit in his turn. "Oh these confounded reputations! But I would soon reassure your lady." In fine, with not the best grace in the world, M. Palmaroux was necessitated to make his wife appear. Madame Palmaroux was a woman; and though she could not enter the presence of the famous brigand without fear and trembling, yet she took the precaution to appear as well dressed as possible, reasoning with herself probably in some such way as this: "Though one cannot help being frightened for a robber, it is needless making one's self a fright for all that." The supper was announced. Mandrin presented to Madame Palmaroux a very white hand, decorated with a variety of costly rings. In the supper-room, the brigand kept his two pretended lacqueys behind his chair. During the repast, the conversation was light and animating. The visiter of the receiver chatted of the court, theatres, romances, and Madame Pompadour, and dropt not a word regarding the motive of his visit. But, at the dessert, he changed the conversation so markedly, that madame foresaw what was coming. Her husband begged her to retire, but she requested to remain, imagining that the man who chatted so gaily with her would be accessible to her influence in the business about to be transacted. But she soon found that Mandrin had two characters, and that there were points on which

he made no concessions.

"Well," said Mandrin, swallowing a final glass of champagne, "let us finish our business. How much, Mr Receiver, have we in our treasury?" "Ah! very little, M. Mandrin," said Palmaroux; "the people will not pay. They lock their chests against us, and beat our collectors."

"Ah! that is very ill done, indeed," said the bandit;

"but let us not lose time. How much have we exactly?" "Perhaps from seven to eight hundred livres, more or less," answered the receiver-general. "Take care what you say, my dear M. Palmaroux," said Mandrin, "you know that accuracy is every thing in financial matters. And don't imagine that I come to you as a spoliator. By no means; I am not one of those rude sort of fellows. I intend to put into your coffer, in place of money, a good and valid receipt one much more regular, I shall be bold to say, than most of those you receive. You understand, it shall be a quittance, signed by me, and sealed with my signet, with a hundred and fifty muskets at my back to give weight to the document. It will be a sterling receipt; every bank in the world would acout more words, what sum have you on hand at cept such a tender. Come, Father Palmaroux, with

present?"

Something in the brigand's manner led Father Palmaroux to delay no longer. "Upon my conscience, six thousand livres." At these words, Mandrin took from his pocket a scrap of paper, and glancing at it, said, "Six thousand seven hundred and ninety livres that is the sum you have exactly. You see, my dear receiver, we are pretty well informed. But seven hundred and ninety livres is a small matter in the conscience of a receiver-general." The bandit then turned to one of his lacquey-attendants, and said, "Accompany Mr Receiver to his office, and get from him the sum of six thousand seven hundred and ninety livres. You know that I never touch money; it soils the fingers; and, besides, it would be ungal lant to leave the lady here alone. I have also the quittance to write. I carry stamps always about with me. Regularity in every thing that is my

motto."

when undergoing his final punishment, declared with
his dying breath that he felt no pain, the first blows
having so deadened his sensations, as to render the
rest productive of no suffering.

GLOVES.

THE origin of gloves is usually ascribed to oriental countries, though one would think that nature must have dictated the invention of them in latitudes of a less temperate order than those comprising what we usually call the East. However this may be, the first written account of the use of gloves is to be met with in the Book of Ruth, which refers to the age of the Judges in Israel. The common version of the Scriptures has the following verse, in the book in question: "Now this was the manner in former time in Israel, concerning redeeming, and concerning changing, to confirm all things; a man plucked off his shoe, and gave it to his neighbour; and this was a testimony in Israel." The word translated here into shoe is rendered into glove, or covering for the hand, in the Chaldee paraphrase on the Scriptures, and, from the fact that the glove was for ages afterwards used as a pledge of faith, the latter interpretation may be deemed the correct one. Where King David declares that he will cast his shoe over Edom, it has also been held that he means his glore. These explanations, being countenanced by Casaubon and other scholars, would lead us to the inference that the hands were fitted with coverings at a very early period among the Jews and Chaldeans.

Among the Greeks, gloves were employed at a very remote period. In describing the aged sire of Ulysses at work in his garden, Homer alludes, in the most unequivocal manner, to his use of coverings both for

feet and hands.

"His buskins old, in former service torn,

But well repair'd; and gloves against the thorn."

It would not seem, however, that the custom of using gloves was universal among the Greeks. Zenophon cites it as a proof of the effeminacy of the Persians, that they not only covered head and feet, but guarded their hands against the cold with thick gloves. Gloves seem, in truth, to have been held somewhat puppyish among the Greeks. Athenæus mentions a curious use made of such articles by a noted glutton and epicure of Athens. Forks being among the non-existences in those days, the gourmand in question put on gloves, that he might have the start of his neighbours in his attack on the good things of the table, by being able to handle them piping-hot. The early' Romans stood much in the same position with respect to gloves as the Greeks. Living in a temperate clime, they did not feel necessitated to use them; and hence, in the utilitarian days of the republic, gloves were held effeminate. They crept into general use, however, with the decay of the old stern virtue, and we find a philosopher of the first century of the Christian era inveighing the time of Pliny the Younger, an era a little later, against the prevalence of a practice so degenerate. In they appear to have been worn by most people. In alluding to his uncle's secretary, Pliny mentions, that, on the famous journey to Vesuvius, that personage wore gloves in writing, on account of the cold.

Such are the scanty accounts which we possess regarding the use of this article of wear among the eastern nations, the Greeks, and the Romans. The Teutonic inhabitants of the north of Europe appear to have been early led to the invention of gloves, by the necessities of clime and position. The word glove itself shows how early the people of Britain wore coverings for the hand, the Saxon glof, having the same meaning, being its source. In the eighth and ninth centuries, the use of gloves had become very general. Kings, nobles, and prelates, wore them, and it became customary, among these classes, to have them of a very costly kind, and to adorn them with precious stones. The most of the metrical romances of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries allude familiarly to them. WarAnd, in truth, the brigand drew from his pocket a ton gives a digest of one of these romances, in which small book, containing proper stamps, with writing a pair of gloves play as conspicuous a part as the materials. Having first carefully turned up a portion of slippers of Cinderella. A princess receives a pair the table-cloth to prevent any staining, he then wrote which would fit no hands but her own, and these, out a receipt in the following terms :-"I, the under- being lost along with her infant son, are afterwards signed Louis Mandrin, having collected from the cof- the means of producing a recognition between the fers of M. Palmaroux, receiver-general of taxes at mother and her child. As chivalry spread in the Montbrison, the sum of six thousand seven hundred civilised world, the simple covering and protection of and ninety livres, taken against their will from the the hands formed not the only use of gloves. "Gloves," people of the district; and declare the said receiver says D'Israeli, in his Curiosities of Literature," besides duly freed of the said sum, and to be exempt from all their original design, have been employed on several recourse on the part of farmers-general or their great and solemn occasions-as in the ceremony of agents in notification of which I leave him the pre-investitures, in bestowing lands, or in conferring digsent receipt to serve as an available and valid dis- nities. Giving possession by the delivery of a glove charge. Louis MANDRIN,” (a fashion borrowed, as has been hinted, from the east), prevailed in several parts of Christendom in later ages. In the year 1002, the bishops of Paderborne and Moncerco were put in possession of their sees by receiving a glove. It was thought so essential a part of the episcopal habit, that some abbots in France presuming to wear gloves, the council of Poitiers interposed in the affair, and forbade them the use, on the same principle with rings and sandals, these being peculiar to bishops, who frequently wore them richly adorned on their backs with jewels." We thus find, that, at a very early period, an article of wear, originally used simply as a protection for the hand, became an object of ornament and a test of rank. Where gloves continued to be employed for mere usefulness, they were made so as to fit the parti

After this exploit, Mandrin took a courteous leave of his host and hostess, and, soon after, of the town of Montbrison. Though Monsieur and Madame Palmaroux could not say much for the pleasure resulting from the visit paid to them, yet they ever afterwards spoke with wonder of the urbanity of the notorious

robber.

After a life in which strange affectations of breeding, and even acts of direct generosity, were mingled with acts of violence and spoliation, chiefly in the department of smuggling, Mandrin was taken, condemned, and broken on the wheel. Sir Walter Scott, in alluding to the comparative apathy which he himself felt after the first shock of his misfortunes was over, compares his case with that of Mandrin, who,

cular purposes of the wearer. Archers wore them ot
cleft in the fingers; and husbandmen had them made
of strong leather, to defend the hand against thorns
Where they were worn for ornament alone, they wer
usually formed of linen, and we first hear of them
being distinguished into pairs in the ninth century,
In the thirteenth century, writers first speak of them
being used by ladies, and they were then worn of such
length as to reach to the elbows. In the chivalrous
times, the gloves of ladies were worn as favours, and
highly esteemed, by young and gallant knights.

"Oh, pretty, pretty pledge!
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee and me; and sighs and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,
As I kiss thee!"

So says Shakspeare, mindful of the customs of chi valry. Another memorable use of gloves was in the case of duels and challenges. The mode of giving defiance to an adversary was to throw down a glove, and he who took it up thereby indicated his acceptance of the challenge. Gauntlets, or gloves of jointed or linked steel, were more commonly used, however, in such cases, than gloves of softer material. "Challenging by the glove (says D'Israeli) was continued down to the reign of Elizabeth, as appears by an aecount given by Spelman of a duel appointed to be fought in Tothill Fields, in the year 1571. The dispute was concerning some lands in the county of Kent. The plaintiffs appeared in court, and demanded single combat. One of them threw down his glove, which the other taking immediately up, carried it on the point of his sword, and the day of fighting was appointed. This affair was however adjusted by the queen's judicious interference. The ceremony is stil practised of challenging by a glove at the coronation of the kings of England, by his majesty's champion entering Westminster Hall, completely armed and mounted." In the last case of judicial challenge to combat in England, which took place in 1818, a glove was thrown down by the appellant. This was the case of Thornton and Ashford. Our readers will remember an interesting account of the challenge by throwing down the glove, given in the romance of Ivanhoe.

Gloves of strong leather, reaching far up the arm, were used in hawking, in early times. In the days of Queen Elizabeth, the nobility had become very extravagant in the matter of gloves, and the queen her self is stated to have been very fond of having these articles richly embroidered and perfumed. Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, could think of no more acceptable present for her on his return from his travels, than a pair of richly decorated gloves. These articles, indeed, were common complimentary presents to great men ; and judges were too often willing to accept of them, stuffed with gold and silver, from clients and suitors. Great men, too, would often give a glove stuffed with money to a deserving follower. in which the man behaved well, Henry V. is made by Having had a mock quarrel with a common soldier, Shakspeare to say, "Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns, and give it to this fellow."

"In the seventeenth century (says Mr Fosbroke, in his Encyclopedia of Antiquities) the custom of wearing gloves richly embroidered was very expensive, a pair of them costing 30s. At a wedding in 1604, the charge of the gloves and garters given away amounted to nearly L.1000; and bishops used to make similar presents at their consecration, after wards commuted for a benefaction." It is a curious circumstance, and one for which no distinct reason has been given, that judges were formerly prohibited from wearing gloves on the bench. Perhaps it was feared that some latitude might be given to the system of bribing alluded to. However, the prohibition has long ceased to exist, and indeed an op posite custom has crept into its place, for it is usual for sheriffs to present judges with gloves, whenever an assize proves a maiden one, as it is called-that is, where no one is condemned to capital punishment. Other instances of the customary presentation of gloves are found in old writers. Glore-money is frequently mentioned in antique records, and is understood to mean money given to servants to buy gloves.

Embroidered silk and linen gloves, gloves of dressed sheepskin and other kinds of leather, mittens or gloves of worsted, steel gauntlets, and gloves lined with fur, were the principal forms of this article of wear among

our ancestors.

They were commonly worn long, reaching to the elbows. They are not a kind of article likely to keep for a length of time, yet gloves of great age have been preserved. At the Earl of Arran's sale, in the year 1759, were sold a variety of gloves, for sums which indicate the great richness of their manufacture. A pair given by Henry VIII. to Sir Anthony Denny, were sold for L.38, 17s.; a pair given by James I. to his son, Edward Denny, for L.22, 48.; mittens given by Queen Elizabeth to Sir Edward Denny's lady, for L.25, 4s.; all these were bought by a descendant of the Denny family, and are still possessed by the same party or his heirs. These gloves are conjectured by D'Israeli to be among the oldest extant, and probably are so, always excepting the

more durable ones formed of steel.

It is scarcely necessary to say, that gloves are now an article of universal wear, and are commonly formed of leather, the skins of the kid, lamb, chamois, beaver, doe, and elk, being most frequently used for the purpose, cured or tanned by means of alum. Other

gloves are made of silk, cotton, and worsted. Woodstock and Worcester in England, Dundee in Scotland, and Limerick in Ireland, are the most celebrated sites of the leather glove manufacture in Britain; and Nottingham and Leicester have been long famous for the production of cotton gloves. Worcester alone has been calculated to produce 470,000 dozen pairs of kid and lambskin gloves annually, and 42,000 dozen pairs of oil-leather or beaver gloves; amounting in value, in all, to about L.375,000. A small quantity of gloves are imported into Britain yearly, and particularly French kid gloves; but a high duty prevents their extensive use. Most of our gloves are sewed by the hand. Machinery is also used for this purpose, but is not found greatly to lighten the expense.

ARTIFICIAL DEFORMITIES.

DEFORMITY of the person is not always congenital, nor the effect of accident: it is often the result of a deliberate attempt to alter what nature has made perfect, on the plea of making it more elegant in shape, or at least of satisfying a whim of fashion. Of three parallel cases of artificially deforming the person, we take first the mode of deforming the feet of women in China, as described by Mr Lay in a work lately published, entitled "The Chinese as they Are."

FEET OF CHINESE LADIES.

"At five, the rich man's daughter has her foot so firmly bound, that, in the native phrase, the whole is killed. The foot below the instep is pressed into a line with the leg, to add to the height of the little sufferer, while two of the toes are bent under the sole, that its breadth may be only of the least dimensions. The agony of such a process it would be hard to estimate; but it is said to last about six weeks, when I suppose the wasting of all the parts and the cessation of many of their functions, have rendered the whole insensible to pain. This insensibility to pain is perhaps confined to the outer parts, for the chief person belonging to the temple on the Island of Honam stated, that his sister suffered much anguish in the sole of the foot, or rather in its lower and more central parts. To some inquiries as to whether this practice of destroying the foot was not attended with similar evils in after-life, he said no; and as he was a man of intelligence, his verdict may be relied upon. Among the multitudes that come for health and cure to the hospitals, no one has yet been met with whose ailments could be imputed to this source. This is a curious fact, and such as might well lead us to desire a more intimate acquaintance with the anatomy of this morbid organ, that we might see how nature, under the pressure of so great a calamity, has con

I

trived to maintain the intercourse of the arterial and nervous system, and keep the limb from being materially injured by it. The development of the muscles which form the calf of the leg being checked, the limb consequently tapers from its socket down to the foot, without any risings or inflections. This is regarded as the perfection of beauty by the Chinese, who say that the knee of the female is not protuberant, like the knee of the male, and is so well covered, that she can remain kneeling a long time without inconvenience. It is perhaps less throughout its length than when the foot is allowed to retain its natural size; but whether this be from the want of exercise, which ever acts as a stimulus to muscular deformity, or from the lack of nutriment through functional disturbance, cannot take upon me to say; but I suspect the former is the real cause; otherwise the matter would grow from bad to worse, till the whole was destroyed by atrophy. A foot two inches in length is the idol of a Chinaman, on which he lavishes the most precious epithets which nature and language can supply. But its beauties are altogether ideal; for when stripped of its gay investments, it is a piteous mass of lifeless integument, which resembles the skin of a washerwoman's hand after it has undergone a long maceration in soap and water. The sight of it is well fitted to excite our compassion, not our commendation-a beautiful limb crushed into a heap of deformity! The thought of seeing a Chinawoman's foot might awaken a smile; but I think I might defy the most merryhearted to laugh, when the loosened bandages disclosed the sad reality to his eye. But fancy has played her part so well, that this piece of ruined nature, which is seldom or perhaps never seen by men, is treated as the prime essential of all feminine beauty. The foot of a native woman,' said I to a Chinese acquaintance, 'is very handsome, so that it is a great pity to spoil it.' He smiled with much satisfaction at the compliment, but would only allow that it interfered with the gait: They cannot walk so well,' was the amount of his concession in my favour. He was so blessed as not to know the real state of this organ, and therefore his admiration had no alloy. Custom rendered my eye so familiar to the small foot, that a Chinese lady would scarcely seem to be complete without it; but it was my misfortune to have seen it unmasked, and therefore I could not sympathise with him. To show that there is something like masonic secrecy about this small foot, I need only mention that the servant, when her mistress proceeded to unwind the bandages, blushed, and turned her face to the wall. It was the custom in former ages for the dames to wear long robes, which swept upon the ground, and kept the feet out of sight: it would be an ingenious

device for the ladies to restore them again to use, and
allow the instruments of progression to retain their
natural size in the asylum of a long train. Poets
might still celebrate the little 'golden lilies,' in con-
formity with hoary custom; and it would be indif-
ferent as to the morality of the thing, whether he said a
foot was only two inches long, which was thrice that
length; or called that the perfection of beauty which
is, in truth, only a mass of deformity. Should Chris-
tianity begin to shed any of her fair beams upon this
vast empire, this cruel and revolting practice will be
dropped, as unable to bear the light."

HEADS OF INDIANS.

In the extreme western parts of North America, in the district bordering on the Columbia River, there are several tribes of Indians who carefully follow the practice of flattening the heads of their children beis thus alluded to by Mr Townsend in his "Tour to fore they attain a hardened condition. The subject the Rocky Mountains" :

the crown.

support the frame: it is customary, however, for young females to lace themselves so tightly in stays or corsets, that the action of the muscles is prevented, and such a weakness is caused that few women are able to keep their body erect, unless by a continuance of the artificial supports which encase them. But this is a lesser evil than that done to the frame and constitution. The ribs are pressed into an unnatural shape, being forced in where they should expand, and this disorganises the interior of the chest; the lungs and liver are pushed out of their natural position, and considerably altered in form; the spine becomes warped, and the breast and shoulders are partially distorted a high and low shoulder being an almost invariable result; the viscera of the abdomen especially suffer, and, in short, a general embarrassment and disorganisation ensues. The illnesses arising from such a pernicious practice are well known. Notlacing, strange to say, it is persevered in to a degree withstanding the enormous evils caused by tightthat is absolutely disgraceful to common sense. The persons mainly to blame are mothers, who either do not take sufficient pains to prevent their daughters from injuring themselves in this manner, or pursue the more lamentable course of compelling them to "make themselves neat," by using tightly-drawn corsets. As the practice originates entirely in fashion, it will not begin to disappear till a decided example be set against it in high places, after which the delusion would probably work itself off among the lowest and least instructed part of the community.

A MODERN WITCH-FINDER.

"A custom prevalent and almost universal amongst these Indians, is that of flattening or mashing in the whole front of the skull, from the superciliary ridge to The appearance produced by this unnatural operation is almost hideous, and one would suppose that the intellect would be materially affected by it. This, however, does not appear to be the case, as I have never seen, with a single exception (the Kay uses), a race of people who appeared more shrewd and intelligent. I had a conversation on this subject, a few days since, with a chief who speaks the English language. He said that he had exerted himself to abolish the practice in his own tribe; but although his people would listen patiently to his talk on most subjects, their ears were firmly closed when this was mentioned: A BRIEF paragraph in the Inverness Courier records the They would leave the council fire, one by one, until death of a very celebrated fortune-teller of the north none but a few squaws and children were left to drink country, known for many years from Moray to John in the words of the chief.' It is even considered among o'Groat's as Miss Hay the spaewife. The unhappy creathem a degradation to possess a round head; and one ture died in Inverness jail, to which she had been comwhose caput has happened to be neglected in his in-mitted a short time previous for reset of theft. Scott has fancy, can never become even a subordinate chief in made every one acquainted with the last of the minhis tribe, and is treated with indifference and disdain, afraid ignorance and credulity are still too abundant in strels-Cooper with the last of the Mohicans. We are as one who is unworthy a place amongst them. the country, and the desire of looking into the future too strong, to permit us to indulge in the belief that Miss Hay may be fairly regarded as the last of the spaewives. But we can hope that her successors may be spaewives on a smaller scale. The biography of this woman, could such now be written, would form a curious supplement to the "Demonology" of Scott, and illustrate, better than whole volumes of dissertative conjecture, the dark chapter in the history of human belief appropriated to divination and witchcraft. The last real witch-panic excited in Scotland--a panic which only lacked an atmosphere a few shades darker, in order to rival in intensity, and perhaps in cruelty, the famous panics of Sweden and New England-originated chiefly through the agency of Miss

The flattening of the head is practised by at least ten or twelve distinct tribes of the lower country-the Klicatats, Kalapooahs, and Multnomahs of the Willamet and its vicinity; the Chenooks, Klatsaps, Klatstonis, Kawalitsks, Katlammets, Killemooks, ries, and probably by others both north and south. The tribe called Flatheads, or Salish, who reside near the sources of the Oregon, have long since abolished this custom.

and Chekalis of the lower Columbia and its tributa

The mode by which the flattening is effected, varies considerably with the different tribes. The Willamet Indians place the infant, soon after birth, upon a board, to the edges of which are attached little loops of hempen cord or leather, and other similar cords are passed across and back, in a zig-zag manner, through these loops, enclosing the child, and binding it firmly down. To the upper edge of this board, in which is a depression to receive the back part of the head, another smaller one is attached by hinges of leather, and made to lie obliquely upon the forehead, the force of the pressure being regulated by several strings attached to its edge, which are passed through holes in the board upon which the infant is lying, and secured

there.

The mode of the Chenooks and others near the sea, differs widely from that of the upper Indians, and appears somewhat less barbarous and cruel. A sort of cradle is formed, by excavating a pine log to the depth of eight or ten inches. The child is placed in it on a bed of little grass mats, and bound down in the manner above described. A little boss of tightly plaited and woven grass is then applied to the forehead, and secured by a cord to the loops at the side. The infant is thus suffered to remain from four to eight months, or until the sutures of the skull have in some measure united, and the bone become solid and firm. It is seldom or never taken from the cradle, except in case of severe illness, until the flattening process is completed.

Hay.

It occurred in an agricultural northern district about twelve years ago. A horse, the property of a cottar, had been seized by some unusual disorder that baffled the veterinary skill of himself and all his neighbours; and business leading him to Inverness, where the spaewife resided at the time, he was induced by a town acquaintance to visit her, and take her advice regarding the animal. Miss Hay at once discovered that it was bewitched, and prescribed a course of mingled charm and medicine, which, by one of those chances which occasionally favour the quack and the charlatan, effected a cure. The circumstance became known in the district; people began to speak about witchcraft and the spaewife; and a young man falling ill of some distemper as unusual and mysterious as the disorder of the horse, it was held prudent to ascertain from Miss Hay whether he also might not be bewitched. Miss Hay at once confirmed the suspicion. The young man, she said, was assuredly wronged by a neighbour; but as the case was a very bad one, she could do nothing for him without being brought to the spot where the charms were employed against him. She was accordingly carried to the district in a cart-an immense load, for she was at this period a woman of some sixteen or eighteen stone-and in the course of a few days she contrived to discover, within the space of some half-dozen square miles, witches enough to ruin the prosperity of a kingdom. People became afraid of their nearest neighbours, and for months together scarce a mishap occurred in the district that had not witchcraft at the I saw to-day a young child from whose head the bottom of it. Miss Hay displayed a very considerable board had just been removed. It was, without excep- amount of ingenuity in her charms and counter-enchanttion, the most frightful and disgusting-looking object ments: her method of cure consisted mostly in transthat I ever beheld. The whole front of the head was ferring the disease under which her patient was labourcompletely flattened, and the mass of brain being ing to some inferior animal, generally a cock or hen, and forced back, caused an enormous projection there. though the patient did not always recover, the animal, The poor little creature's eyes protruded to the dis- at least, was always sure to die. Like some of the protance of half an inch, and looked inflamed and disco- fessed sorceresses of the olden time, she must have posloured, as did all the surrounding parts. Although I sessed considerable skill as a poisoner. Cocks and hens felt a kind of chill creep over me from the contempla-nosticated. She had knowledge enough, too, of real toppled over at her bidding, and died on the day progtion of such dire deformity, yet there was something ailments to know when a patient was past the chance of so stark-staring and absolutely queer in the physiog- recovery, and in such cases rarely attempted a cure. nomy, that I could not repress a smile; and when the young girl of the district had been taken ill, and had mother amused the little object and made it laugh, it recovered, and immediately on her recovery, a young looked so irresistibly, so terribly ludicrous, that I and man, her neighbour, who had long been in delicate those who were with me burst into a simultaneous health, was seized by what was deemed a similar disorroar, which frightened it, and made it cry, in which der. It was held, that, on Miss Hay's principle, a transpredicament it looked much less horrible than before." ference of disease had taken place, and Miss Hay herself was called in both to verify the fact, and convey back the disorder; but she was knowing enough to perceive that the patient was in the last stage of consumption, and declined to interfere, alleging she had been sent for too late. The young man died, and the witches bore the blame. The amount of suspicion, terror, and unhappiness, produced in the district, would scarce be believed by persons unacquainted with the effects of such fancies in former times, or who hold that human nature in the

COMPRESSING THE WAIST.

The practice of deforming the waist by tight-lacing is common among females in most countries of Europe, and cannot be considered less foolish and barbarous than squeezing the feet or flattening the forehead. On the back, shoulders, and chest, there are muscles requiring constant exercise to give them strength to

A

present age has got greatly in advance of human nature as it existed a century ago.

Meanwhile, legal cases arose, wonderful for Scotland in the nineteenth century, which were tried in the justice-of-peace court of a neighbouring town. They came before the justices mostly as cases of defamation. In one instance, a slighted damsel was accused of having bribed Miss Hay to compass the death of her quondam lover, and the damsel prosecuted the individual with whom the report was said to have originated. It was found, however, that half the people of the district might be equally implicated, and that, after all, the accusation itself threatened to turn out to be not more scandalous than true. In another case, a boatman who had lost an anchor applied to Miss Hay to know where it might be found, and was assured by her that it had been stolen, and that the first person he would meet with on a certain day, and on a particular part of the shore, whose surname began with an H., was indubitably the thief. The man repaired at the proper time to the place specified, and on meeting with a person of the name of Holm, accused him straightway of stealing his anchor; but as his only evidence turned out to be that furnished by Miss Hay, the justices fined him as a defamer for the charge. The agitation continued for nearly half a year, and then gradually sunk, partly through the force of ridicule, brought to bear upon it through the columns of a provincial print, and partly in consequence of the over-boldness of Miss Hay, rendered extravagant by success. For but five pounds, she said, she would undertake to rid the district of all its witches, by kindling a fire on a wild central moor, and bringing them out some night to dance round it till they died of sheer fatigue. And much of the credulity that had overleaped every previous deception, stopped short at the fire and the five pounds.

It is curious to remark how long beliefs of a kind so monstrous and absurd linger in remote districts, and among particular classes. The less an uninformed people have to employ them, the more open do they seem to lie to the influence of the ancient superstitions. We remember seeing Miss Hay visit a busy sea-port town, some two-and-twenty years ago, during the heat of the herring-fishery. She had come to prosecute her calling; and as there was no slight amount of ignorance in the place, and a good deal of loose money, she must have anticipated a considerable amount of employment. But she had miscalculated. The bustle of the fishing trade was too much for her; immense cargoes of herrings were brought ashore every morning, and the packers were employed in curing them at a high rate of wages all day long; a light-hearted gaiety, that seemed to care little about the future, pervaded the place, and the few who went to consult Miss Hay seemed chiefly desirous to ascertain, whether a person so acute in knowing to what extent evil was intended against others, was as skilful in detecting it when it chanced to be directed against herself. There were young people of the place who went two several times to her to have their fortunes read, each time in a different character, and whom she had favoured, in consequence, with dissimilar views of the future. She was consulted, too, about goods that had never been stolen, and always gave some marks by which to find the thief; and at length, after being nearly drugged to death by some mischievous urchins, who had inferred, that if she really knew any thing of her trade, she could not be ignorant of the mischief they intended her, she deemed it wisdom hastily to leave the place. Trade has its deteriorating tendencies, but the fostering of superstition is

not one of these.

Miss Hay, for at least the last twenty years of her life, resided in Inverness, where she was known chiefly as a petty sort of Jonathan Wild in petticoats-at once witch and witch-finder-a receiver of stolen goods in her capacity as reset, and a discoverer of them in her character as spaewife. She read fortunes-restored the milk to bewitched cattle-prescribed to all sorts of animals, brute and human, for all sorts of ails-and found employment, in her vocation, at times from people sixty miles away. The history of Miss Hay has its interest in more than one point of view. The witch trials of former days introduce us chiefly to silly old women, burnt in most instances for being very wretched, and for dreaming when awake. Occasionally, however, we are introduced to witches of a different class-wretches to whom witchcraft was an art, and who mingled as hired sorcerers, and, when magic failed, as poisoners, in some of the darker conspiracies of both public and domestic history. This class often received as witches no more than the punishment which they deserved as criminals. There was a woman burnt as a witch in Fortrose towards the latter part of the sixteenth century, who had engaged to destroy, by poison, thirty of the most influential clansmen of the Munroes of Ferindonald, with the two eldest sons of the chieftain. Now, Miss Hay seems to have been, as nearly as the age allowed, a representative of this class-a class which, in descanting on the superstitions of the past, men are often apt to overlook.-Witness (Edinburgh newspaper).

THE WAITER.

He attributes all virtues to every body, provided they are civil and liberal; and of the existence of some vices he has no notion. Gluttony, for instance, with him, is not only inconceivable, but looks very like a virtue. He sees in it only so many more "beefs," and a generous scorn of the bill. As to wine, or almost any other liquor, it is out of your power to astonish him with the quantity you call for. His "Yes, sir," is as swift, indifferent, and

official at the fifth bottle as at the first. Reform and other public events he looks upon purely as things in the newspaper, and the newspaper as a thing taken in at taverns for gentlemen to read. His own reading is confined to "accidents and offences," and the advertisements for butlers, which latter he peruses with an admiring fear, not choosing to give up a certainty." When young, he was always in a hurry, and exasperated his mistress by running against the other waiters, and breaking the As he gets older he learns to unite swiftness "neguses." with caution; declines wasting his breath in immediate

answers to calls; and knows, with a slight turn of his face, and elevation of his voice, into what precise corner of the room to pitch his "Coming, sir." If you told him that, in Shakspeare's time, waiters said, “Anon, anon, sir," he would be astonished at the repetition of the same word in one answer, and at the use of three words instead of two, and he would justly infer that London could not have been so large, nor the chop-houses so busy, in those days. He would drop one of the two syllables of his "Yes, sir," if he could; but business and civility will not allow it, and therefore he does what he can by running them together in the swift sufficiency of his "Yezzir." "Thomas!" "Yezzir." "Is my steak coming ?" "Yezzir.” "And the pint of port ?" "Yezzir.” "You'll not forget the postman?" Yezzir." For, in the habit of his acquiescence, Thomas not seldom says "Yes, sir" for "No, sir," the habit itself rendering him intelligible.-Leigh Hunt.

66

THE EARLY BLUE-BIRD.

BY MISS L. H. SIGOURNEY.

Blue-bird, on yon leafless tree,
Dost thou carol thus to me,
"Spring is coming! spring is here!"
Say'st thou so, my birdling dear?
What is that in misty shroud
Stealing from the darken'd cloud?
Lo! the snow-flakes' gathering mound
Settles o'er the whiten'd ground,
Yet thou singest blithe and clear,
"Spring is coming! spring is here!"
Strik'st thou not too bold a strain ?
Winds are piping o'er the plain,
Clouds are sweeping o'er the sky,
With a black and threat'ning eye;
Urchins, by the frozen rill,
Wrap their mantles closer still;
Yon poor man, with doublet old,
Doth he shiver at the cold?
Hath he not a nose of blue?
Tell me, birdling-tell me true.
Spring's a maid of mirth and glee,
Rosy wreaths and revelry:
Hast thou woo'd some winged love
To a nest in verdant grove?
Sung to her of greenwood bower,
Sunny skies that never lower-
Lured her with thy promise fair
Of a lot that knows no care?
Prythee, bird, in coat of blue,
Though a lover-tell her true.
Ask her if, when storms are long,
She can sing a cheerful song-
When the rude winds rock the tree,
If she'll closer cling to thee?
Then the blasts that sweep the sky,
Unappall'd shall pass thee by,
Though thy curtain'd chamber show
Siftings of untimely snow,
Warm and glad thy heart shall be,
Love shall make it spring for thee.

AN INDIAN STORY.

ONE afternoon in the spring of 1829, a young Indian,
named Mickenock, of the Ottawa tribe, on the eastern
bank of Lake Michigan, having indulged too freely in the
use of fire-drink, commenced a quarrel with, and finally
stabbed to the heart, a son of one of the chiefs. Knowing
that he must suffer death by the hands of some one of
the family whose relative he had killed, he immediately
collected all his own family and fled into the woods. The
chief and his sons at once commenced search for the
murderer-no pains nor toil were spared to ferret out

whole breast. The brother spat upon his hand, clenched his knife with a deadly grasp, and drew up his arm. Mickenock, pointing to the spot nearest his heart, gave the word "Strike." Instantly the brother plunged the knife to the hilt into the bosom of the brave Mickenock, who fell dead at his feet.

The wife and children of Mickenock beheld the whole scene, apparently without moving a muscle; but the mo ment he expired, they all fell upon and embraced him, with sobs, and tears, and groans, and wailings, which cannot be described, and altogether presented a picture of such unfeigned anguish and genuine sorrow, as to overcome and melt every spectator of the scene. After the wife and children of Mickenock had thus expressed their sorrow for about half an hour, the old chief thus addressed her "Wife of Mickenock, we are satisfied your husband was a brave man; he died like a brave man; henceforth you are my daughter, and your children are my children. Go into my wigwam; you shall be well treated, and live with me as my daughter; these children shall grow up around me, and shall be taught to be brave like their father."-From the New York American.

SUN-LIMNED PORTRAITS.

The Polytechnic Institution has just made an addition to its multifarious curiosities in science and art, of one more wonderful than any, and likely to prove more attractive. It is a new photographic process for taking miniature likenesses almost instantaneously. This modi fication of the daguerreotype applied to portraiture, is the invention of an American optician named Wolcott, By substituting the speculum of a reflecting telescope for the lens of the camera obscura, the sun-limned image is formed on the silvered plate in a less number of seconds than it took minutes before: thus a resemblance of extraordinary vividness and unerring fidelity, surpass ing in minuteness the most exquisite art, is produced by the pencil of light in a few moments.

The visiter is introduced into an apartment lighted from above, having a flat roof of blue glass, which subdues the glare of the sun's rays without materially dimi nishing their luminous intensity: the livid paleness of complexion visible in the faces of the persons assembled, and the effect on the eye from the sudden change in the hue of light, cause a strange sensation, which after a while is agreeable. The individual to be limned is seated in a raised chair, the face towards the sun, the head being steadied by resting against a forceps-like framework; and opposite, on a level with the eye, is an open square box, containing a reflector which presents the image of the sitter upside down: in this box is placed the silvered plate, covered with a thin pellicle of iodine, on which the rays of light act; and the sitter is invited to "call up a look" of pleasurable animation, which has scarcely time to relapse into dullness when the operator Before the announces that the picture is completed. visiters have ceased wondering at the magical celerity of the process, the light-formed image has been fixed by chemical means, and the sitter enjoys the satisfaction of looking at his physiognomy reflected as in a darkened diminishing-glass. Neat frames of various patterns being at hand, a person may walk away within five minutes from the time of entering the blue chamber, with an effigy that no miniature-painter could rival in unflattering truth of character, or approach in force of effect and delirious skill. cacy of execution, after repeated sittings, and with labo

"The limner's occupation's gone!" exclaims some alarmed portrait-painter. Not so; for the photographie likenesses are deficient in two of the most attractive feaThey are miniatures in chiaroscuro, adumbrating the tures of a painted resemblance-colour and vivacity. forms of the face only: the expression is cold, severe, and the hiding-place of the unfortunate and guilty Micke- gloomy. The intensity of the shadows gives greater nock; but the summer passed, the leaves began to fall, massiveness to the features, and the sharpness of the and no trace of him could be found. Almost in delights more rigidity to the forms, than in the living spair, the old chief, burning to avenge the death of his reality; the markings of the face are too strongly proson, looked about for some relative of Mickenock upon nounced, while the light of the eye is deadened. The whom he could satisfy this darling desire of the Indian semi-transparent tints of the flesh, the fresh hue of the heart, but no one could be found; all the family and complexion in life, the variety of reflected lights that blood relatives of Mickenock were with him in his hid-give warmth and luminousness to the shadows in nature, ing-place. Despairing at length of either finding his and tend to soften the harsh lines and enliven the masses enemy or avenging himself on any of the blood relations, of form these are all wanting moreover, defects of the chief determined to avail himself of the privilege facial conformation appear exaggerated, instead of being allowed by Indian custom, and to avenge himself upon softened. Photographic portraits, therefore, will never pock, although effectually concealed from the old chief, painter in preserving the predominant characteristics of one of the relatives of the wife of the murderer. Micke- supersede pictures, but they will be valuable aids to the was nevertheless conversant, through some of his friends, the original, and in giving breadth of effect to his arrange with all that was transpiring in the chief's wigwam; and as ment of light and shade. They are inestimable as docusoon as he learned the chief's determination to avenge his ments to refer to, but not agreeable resemblances to contemplate: indeed, strictly speaking, the likeness is not true, for the reasons we have stated. Photographic like

son's death upon one of his wife's relatives, he immedi-
ately sent in word to the old chief's wigwam, that, upon
the day of the meeting of the great council, which was
then soon to be held, he would deliver himself up to
atone for the life of his son. The chief received the in-
formation with evident gratification.

A few weeks passed away, the great lodge was erected,
and the council at length assembled. The chief commu-
nicated the intelligence which he had received from his
son's murderer, and it was agreed that no business should
be transacted until Mickenock should appear. The coun-
cil sat in silence until about twelve o'clock, when sud-
denly the brave Mickenock bounded into the midst of
the council, calmly surveyed the assembled chiefs, and
sat down in silence in the centre of the lodge; his wife
and children immediately followed, and formed a circle
round him; then taking out his flint, he struck a spark
and lighted his pipe, and smoked it in silence. The eyes
of the council and his little family were intensely fixed
upon him. At length Mickenock arose, and addressing
himself to the chief, said, “I killed your son, he was a
young brave; he did me no wrong, he was my friend; I
drank the fire-drink-the fire-drink made me kill your
son; Mickenock is very sorry, and deserves to die." Then
turning to the oldest brother of the deceased, he drew a
knife from his bosom. "There," said Mickenock, "is
the knife that drunk the heart's blood of your brother;
take it, and like a brave man avenge your brother's
death." This said, Mickenock instantly laid bare his

nesses will now be as numerous as silhouettes once were the invention, instead of injuring the artists, will give them employment, and, what is better, tend to improve their art.-Spectator, March 20, 1841.

PRIDE SHALL HAVE A FALL.

Two ladies of distinction stopped in a carriage at a jeweller's shop near Charing Cross, where one of them got out, leaving the coach standing across the pathway. Some gentlemen, wanting to pass over to the other side, desired the coachman to move on a little. The fellow but in vain. During the altercation, the lady came to the was surly, and refused. The gentlemen remonstrated, shop door, and foolishly ordered her coachman not to stir from his place. On this, one of the gentlemen opened the coach door, and, with boots and spurs, stepped through the carriage. He was followed by his companion, to the extreme discomposure of the lady within, as of the lady without. To complete the jest, a party of sailors coming up, observed that, "if it was a thoroughfare, they had as much right as the gemmen," and accordingly scrambled through the carriage.-Newspaper paragraph.

as well

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I

of accuracy in examination, and of clearness in conception, as renders them almost utterly unfit to be the reporters of a matter of any nicety or complexity. They are struck with some single circumstance at the commencement, which dazzles and throws them off their guard, and confounds their perception of all the concomitants. It is upon this foible, which all men have in some degree when their curiosity is excited, that the exhibitors of juggling tricks and deceptions greatly depend for their success, in seeming to do what is impossible to human skill. I have known persons, not deficient in sense, but wanting in presence of mind, who have come from such exhibitions with the full persuasion that things have been effected which would have been absolutely supernatural; when, upon putting them to a distinct recital, it was evident that they had made no use of their senses from the beginning to the end of the process, except as they were directed.

For they in gaping wonderment abound,' will apply to many children six feet high, as well as to the urchins of a dame school. There is such a thing as an appetite for wonders, which makes a person meet an imposture at least half-way, and yield up his understanding almost without a struggle. * * I believe I need not inculcate upon you, that, where superstition has established its empire, all credibility is at an end respecting objects connected with that weakness."

other, there is clearness of conception, and the repose
of an instructed faith in that which is the Last and
Greatest Object of wonder.

AN OLD STORY OF FLANDERS. THE small towns of Couvin and Chimay, situated on the borders of Belgium and France, were under the dominion, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, of two baronial families, who habitually viewed each other with feelings of jealousy and dislike. The people of Chimay shared in the sentiments of their count in this respect, as did those of Couvin in the prejudices of their marquis; and hence originated many a scene of bloody dissension and strife, continued with little intermission for a long period of years.

At a time when the towns of Couvin and Chimay were both under the dominion of youthful and highspirited lords, a new incident occurred to widen the hereditary breach between the two families, and increase an animosity which was already excessive. The Marquis de Couvin and the Count de Chimay chanced to be both present at an assembly, where the nobility of the province had met for festive purposes. The daughter of a neighbouring baron was presented on the occasion for the first time to society. She was a and face, and an air of languor, almost of melancholy, creature of surpassing beauty, both as regarded form was apparent in her large dark eyes, which made her charms more touching and resistless. So felt, at least, the young barons of Couvin and Chimay. Love for the first time dawned on the souls of both-love, ardent and strong, as the morning sun of midsummer; but with it came also its too frequent attendant, jealousy, like the cloud which often dims the brightness of the orb of nature, even amidst its July splendours. The count and marquis had their eyes reand each was conscious of the other's state of mind spectively sharpened by the strength of their feelings, and heart. Though, as may be imagined, their feudal enmity was by no means diminished by these circumstances, no visible results ensued, until the fate of their passion was determined by its common object. The barons again met the lady at a provincial festival, and the fair one had to fix upon one of the two as her partner for the evening. Indeed, the choice was for life; and so it was felt to be by all parties. The Lord of Chimay was the fortunate man.

Not long afterwards, the Count and Countess of Chimay were spending the first weeks of their wedded life at the castle of the bridegroom. These weeks were in all respects happy, though the count was obliged to keep a guard on his movements; for the marquis and his vassals evinced and avowed a burning thirst for revenge. In enjoying the pleasures of the chase, the cincts of his castle, and to have a guard of huntsmen count was compelled to confine himself to the preconstantly about him. However, as a month or two rolled away, he grew less cautious; and one day, when his dogs had started a large wild boar, he allowed himself to become so hot in the pursuit, that he lost latter took the alarm, and searched for him every sight of all his huntsmen. It was not long ere the where, but in vain. They then repaired to the customary place of gathering, and waited for their master there. Hour after hour flew past, however, and the count reappeared not. Again they sent out scouts in every direction, but with the same want of success. Finally, after a great part of the night had been spent in these fruitless searches, the huntsmen returned to the castle, clinging to the slight hope that the count might have reached home by a circuitous route. He had not been heard of, and they were then under the necessity of communicating the tidings of their master's loss to the countess. Already much alarmed by his delayed return, the lady was thrown into a state of inexpressible anguish. For a time she was incapable of any exertion, but at length, arousing herself, she insisted upon recommencing in person the search for her husband. The most faithful and experienced vassals of the count accompanied her. They searched every hill and plain, every glade and thicket; inquired of all persons in the neighbourhood; but every effort was unavailing. The count could not be

After thus explaining what we consider as the abuses of this sentiment, it becomes our duty to show its legitimate uses. "One final cause of wonder," says Lord Kames, "is that this emotion is intended to stimulate our curiosity. Another, somewhat different, is to prepare the mind for receiving deep impressions of new objects. An acquaintance with the various things that may affect us, and with their properties, is essential to our well-being: nor will a slight and superficial acquaintance be sufficient; they ought to be so deeply engraved on the mind, as to be ready for use on every occasion. Now, in order to make a deep impression, it is wisely contrived that things should be introduced to our acquaintance with a certain pomp and solemnity productive of a vivid emotion."* This seems to us nearly correct. Wonder sets the mind a-working about unknown things, and prompts it to acquire knowledge of such things, for the sake of the gratification which is to attend the first ascertainment of them. Further, the mind, prepared by wonder, takes on its knowledge with a deep stamp, as Kames has explained. Thus wonder truly is, as Dr Brown has said, “the first step in philosophy." The tendency of wonder, then, in a right application of it, is to cause a mind to go on from one step to another, fusing the unknown into the known, and ever still on the outlook for new truths. This is a very different thing, evidently, from resting satisfied with the exercise of wonder, delighting in not knowing too clearly, denying and rejecting truth because it dispels the charming obscurity, and believing all the more greedily and the more tenaciously that which is unlikely or even impossible. There lie the abuses of the sentiment, the modes in which an ignorant and narrow mind naturally employs it. We are not to suppose, because every advance of knowledge takes away something from the domains of wonder, that these domains are necessarily reduced in amount, and must ultimately be entirely overrun. The outward bounds of that territory fly, like the Rhætian mountains, before us as we advance. All knowledge is only a step in the great endless paths of the unknown. We ascertain, for instance, that gravitation spherifies the planets; but still the question remains, whence and how gravitation? In the consideration of this question, wonder has still a delighted exercise. The clown wonders at a comet, and thinks it a dire omen: the sage becomes satisfied from investigation as to some particulars in its physical character, and sees nothing alarming in it. But the wonder of the latter may be as much excited, after all his investigations, by reflection on the admirable regularity of its periodic returns, and the amazing skill which has so planned that it crosses the planetary maze innocuous, as that of the clown is by considerations of its portentous appearance. The only difference is, that there is in the one case an enlightened, and in the other an unenlightened wonder in the one case, all is bewilder ment, with possibly the addition of terror; in the

* Elements of Criticism, i. 269.

heard of.

Eight days passed away, and found the countess still in a state of widowed suffering and sorrow. At last, as an extreme step, she resolved to address her formidable neighbour of Couvin. To him all thoughts turned, as the party most likely to know the truth, of violence; but there was not a vestige of proof if the count's disappearance had been the result against the marquis. The poor countess knew what her influence over him had once been, and she hoped not to invoke his aid, at least, in vain. She believed

him to be honourable.

Dressed in deep mourning, and all in tears, she presented herself, with a numerous suite attired in the same way, before the Marquis of Couvin, and called upon him to say, "on his word as a knight," if he knew aught of the lost Count of Chimay. The marquis of her husband's fate. "Oh, my lord!" said the swore to her, upon his honour, that he knew nought countess, "show then to the world, in these melancholy circumstances, the magnanimity of your heart. Grant me your generous assistance in discovering the fate of my husband, who, though once your rival, will become, if found, your friend for ever! Order search to be made over your domains; be the protector of

the unfortunate! Honour commands it, and a lady entreats it!"

The Lord of Couvin, with great apparent sympathy and compassion, promised to do every thing in his power to aid the countess, and pressed her to stay at Couvin till a new search had been made. But perceiving the anxious looks of her old vassals, and herself feeling little confidence in the professions of the mar quis, the countess returned directly to her own castle. There she awaited the result of the new inquiry. It was the same as the last; the Lord of Chimay remained undiscovered.

Several years elapsed without changing the position of affairs. The mateless countess lived in her castle, lonely and sorrowful, wearing ever her mournings, and praying that the truth might yet be revealed. She could not believe her lord to be dead. It may be conceived, therefore, what her answer was, when she ultimately received a proposal of marriage from the Marquis de Couvin, upon the plea of uniting the longdivided vassals of Couvin and Chimay. Her reply was brief. "I have no hand to dispose of. Had I thought myself free, I should long ago have ceased to live."

In the seventh year after the disappearance of the Lord of Chimay, it chanced that a young shepherd lad, a vassal of the demesne, saw a rabbit in the bow and arrows, and shot at it, but missed. Still he grounds bordering the estate of Couvin. He had his pursued it, and, getting heated in the chase, lost all thought of time or distance. His last arrow was fired at the animal as it sprung up a steep rock, and again the rabbit escaped, for the lad saw his arrow sticking in a crevice of the cliff. Young Basler, as he was named, now looked about him, and saw, to his dismay, that he had approached to the very rock on which stood the hostile castle of Couvin. However, he thought he might as well try to recover his arrow, as accordingly clambered up the rock, and got at the his chance of a supper depended much upon it. He arrow; but when he attempted to pull it out, he felt a strong resistance. Plunging in his arm to loosen the point, to his horror he felt a damp hand grasp his own, and place between his fingers the head of his arrow, along with a soft substance! The lad, terror-struck, pulled out his hand with its contents, and found that he had got a piece of linen, marked with bloody characters. For a moment he sat motionless, but at length starting up, he fled home, as fast as his feet could carry him, to tell his adventure to his parents, and show them the rag. Fortunately, the boy's father was so far a scholar as to make out the words, "To the Countess of Chimay." The recollection of his lord burst on old Basler's mind at once, and he set off with all speed to the castle. The countess was ever accessible to her vassals, and virtue was in this case its own reward. She got the piece of linen, and no sooner saw it than she screamed aloud. But she composed herself, and read these words-" If thou art still true and faithful to me, arm thy vassals, and release me from the dungeons of Couvin."

"It is my husband's writing and signature !" cried Without a moment's delay, she summoned all her the delighted, yet agitated and anxious countess. vassals around her, and would have led them on the instant to the rescue of her lord; but the wiser of them advised her to make success secure by calling in the assistance of her neighbours, who would necessarily be indignant at the conduct of Couvin. The countess saw the propriety of acceding to this sug gestion, and as many friends as could be summoned were assembled during the night. Beyond the morning, the noble lady would not delay her adventure. Fortunately, a force was by that time gathered, sufficient for the accomplishment of the enterprise.

The castle of Couvin was attacked by surprise, and taken. Its villanous lord was brought on his knees before the countess, but he sullenly denied all knowledge of the fate of the Lord of Chimay. Nevertheless, his servants, afraid for their lives, were less obstinate under question. One of them offered to lead the way to the cell in which the captive was kept, and thither he went, followed by the anxious countess. The poor prisoner was found in a melancholy state of weakness. His life, spared but to lengthen out his torments, would soon have come to an end, but for the timely relief afforded. Indeed, when the count found himself in the arms of his beloved wife, whom he had long lost all hope of seeing again, the excess of his joy had nearly overpowered his weak frame. But he was now in the hands of a turned round. kind nurse. Before he left his dungeon, he suddenly "I had nearly forgotten my only friend-my deliverer," said he ; and he pointed out to his friends a little rabbit, the same which young Basler had shot at. The creature was taken up by Basler himself, and carried away from the dungeon.

triumph, accompanied by his numerous attendants. The Count de Chimay was conveyed homewards in He told his friends his simple story. On the day of the hunt, he had been seized by Couvin and a party lying in watch for him, and cast into the dungeon. had never seen living thing for seven years, with the A morsel of food was daily thrown to him, and he exception of the young rabbit which crept in through the crevice that yielded the cell its only light, and had become the tame companion of the captive. The scrap of writing which had been given to young Basler, had been long prepared for such a purpose, though with little hope that it would ever be put to use.