employed about the Ferry saw him go into the water; and, a long time after, observed his clothes to be still lying upon the bank. Inquiry was made. The anxiety was but too well-founded. The poor hermit had indeed taken his last bath. Still the body was not found, the depth and force of the current just below being exceedingly great. In the course of their search they passed onward to the Whirlpool. There, amid those boiling eddies, was the pallid corpse, making fearful and rapid gyrations upon the face of the black waters. At some point of suction it suddenly plunged and disappeared. Again emerging, it was fearful to see it leap half its length above the flood, and, with a face so deadly pale, play among the tossing billows; then float motionless, as if exhausted; and anon, returning to the encounter, spring, struggle, and contend like a maniac battling with mortal foes. It was strangely painful to think that he was not permitted to find a grave even beneath the waters he had loved; that all the gentleness and charity of his nature should be changed by death to the fury of a madman; and that the "King of terrors," who brings repose to the despot and the man of blood, should teach warfare to him who had ever worn the meekness of the lamb. For days and nights this terrible purgatory was prolonged.

It was on the 21st of June that, after many efforts, they were enabled to bear the weary dead back to his desolate cottage. There they found his faithful dog guarding the door. Heavily must the long period have worn away, while he watched for his only friend, and wondered why he delayed his coming. He scrutinized the approaching group suspiciously, and would not willingly have given them admittance, save that a low, stifled wail at length announced his intuitive knowledge of the master, whom the work of death had effectually disguised from the eyes of men. They laid him on his bed; the thick, dripping masses of his beautiful hair clinging to, and veiling, the features so late expressive and comely. On the pillow was his pet kitten to her, also, the watch for the master had been long and wearisome. In his chair lay the guitar, whose melody was probably the last that his ear heard on earth. There were also his flute and violin, his portfolio and books scattered and open, as if recently used. On the spread table was the untasted meal for noon, which he had prepared against his return from that bath which had proved so fatal. It was a touching sight: the dead hermit mourned by his humble retainers, the poor animals who loved him, and ready to be laid by stranger hands in a foreign grave.

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So fell this singular and accomplished being, at the early age of twentyeight. Learned in the languages, in the arts and sciences, improved by extensive travel, gifted with personal beauty and a feeling heart, the motives for this estrangement from his kind are still enveloped in mystery. It was, however, known that he was a native of England, where his father was a Clergyman; that he received from thence ample remittances for his comfort; and that his name was Francis Abbot. These facts had been previously ascertained; but no written papers were found in his cell, to throw additional light upon the obscurity in which he had so effectually wrapped the history of his pilgrimage.-From "Scenes in my Native Land," by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney.

VOL. III.FOURTH SERIES.

E

A YOUNG SEAMAN'S FIRST GALE.

NIGHT closed upon us with rough and cloudy weather. By morning we had a heavy, chopping sea, and began to experience all the horrors of seasickness. The Mate, a stout, bluff-looking Englishman, with a bull-neck, kept us in continual motion, and gave us plenty of hard work to do, clearing up the decks, bracing the yards, stowing down the loose rubbish, and otherwise making the vessel tidy and ship-shape. He bellowed forth his orders to the men in the rigging like a roaring lion, yelled and swore at the "green hands" in the most alarming manner, and pulled at the ropes as if determined to tear the whole vessel to pieces. The loungers, or sogers," had no chance at all with him he actually made them jump, as if suddenly galvanized. For the sea-sick he had no sympathy whatever.

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"Stir yourselves; jump about; pull, haul; work like vengeance!" he would say, in the bluff, hearty voice of a man who appeared to think sickness all folly : "that's the way to cure it. You'll never get well, if you give up to it. Tumble about, there! Work it off, as I do!" To the haggard, woe-begone landsmen, who staggered about, groaning under their afflictions, this sounded very much like mockery. After a day of horrors, such as I had never spent before, we were permitted to go below for the night.........

Sea-sick and harassed after a hard day's work, we had gladly availed ourselves of a few hours' respite from duties so laborious. The Mate came to the scuttle; and, with half-a-dozen tremendous raps, roared at us to bear a hand: "Tumble up, every mother's son of you, and take in sail. Out with you, green hands and all. We won't have any sick aboard here. You didn't come to sea to lay up. No groaning there, or I'll be down after you. D'ye hear the news down below? Tumble up, tumble up, my lively hearties!"

There was no refusing so peremptory a command as this, little as we liked it. Without exactly tumbling up, we contrived, with some difficulty, to gain the deck; for the vessel pitched so violently, that few of the green hands could keep their feet under them. I shall never forget the bewilderment with which I looked around me. We were in the Gulfstream, enshrouded in darkness and spray. The sea broke over our bows, and swept the decks, with a tremendous roar. Momentary flashes of lightning added to the sublimity of the scene. When I looked over the bulwarks, it seemed to me that the horizon was flying up in the clouds, and whirling round the vessel, by turns; and the clouds, as if astonished at such wild pranks, appeared to be shaking their dark heads backwards and forward over the horizon. I looked aloft, and there the sky was sweeping to and fro in a most unaccountable manner. The vessel went staggering along, creaking, groaning, and thumping its way through the heavy seas.

I grasped the first rope I could get hold of, and held on with the tenacity of a drowning man. For a few moments I could do nothing but gasp for breath, and wipe the salt water out of my eyes with one hand while I held on with the other. The confusion of voices and objects around me, the tremendous seas sweeping over the decks, and the flapping of the sails, impressed me with the belief that we were all about to be lost. I kept my grasp on the rope, thinking it must be fast to something, and, if the ship foundered, I should at least be sure of a piece of the wreck. As for my comrade W—, I supposed he was still on board, and called for

him with all my might; but the wind drove my voice back in my throat. While standing in this unpleasant predicament, the Mate came rushing by, shouting to the green hands to "tumble up aloft, and lay out on the yards!" Aloft such a night, and for the first time! Was the man mad? The very idea seemed preposterous. Presently he came dashing back, thundering forth his orders with the ferocity of a Bengal tiger: "Up with you! Every man tumble up! Don't stand gaping like a parcel of boobies! Aloft, there, before the sails are blown to Halifax!" Knowing how useless it would be to remonstrate, and believing I might as well die one way as another, I sprang up on the weather-bulwark, and commenced the terrible ascent. The darkness was so dense that I could scarcely see the ratlins, and it was only by groping my way in the wake of those before me that I could at all make out where I was going. A few accidental kicks in the face from an awkward fellow who was above me, and a punch or two from another below me, convinced me that I was in company, at all events. How I contrived to drag myself over the foretop I do not well remember. By a desperate exertion, however, I succeeded; and, holding on to every rope I could get hold of with extraordinary tenacity, I at length found myself on the foot-rope, leaning over the yard, and clinging to one of the reef-points, fully determined not to part company with that, in spite of the Captain, Mate, or whole ship's company. "Haul out to leeward!" roared somebody to my right: "knot away!" Greek to me. A sailor close by good-naturedly showed me what I was to do; and having knotted my reef-point, I looked down to see what was the prospect of getting on deck again. The barque was heeled over at an angle of forty-five degrees, plunging madly through the foam, and I could form no idea of the bearings of the deck. All I could see was a long, dark object below, half hidden in the raging brine. My right-hand neighbour gave me a hint to get in out of the way, which required no repetition; but I found my situation anything but pleasant. By the time I reached the foretop, my head was pretty well battered, and my hands were wofully skinned and bruised, the sailors having made free use of me to accelerate their downward progress.-Etchings of a Whaling Cruise.

This was all

THE ROMAN ANTICHRIST A "LYING SPIRIT."

THAT the Church of Rome has for centuries supported her claims to ecclesiastical supremacy by false miracles and "lying wonders," is the first evidence I shall adduce in proof that she is actuated by the "lying spirit." Not that it is possible, within any reasonable limits, to enumerate the hundredth part of the impostures which she has palmed upon the world through succeeding centuries,-frauds of which she has not repented, but in which she continues unto this day. From the pretended discovery of the true cross by Queen Helena, until now, legends the most absurd, miracles the most incredible, "lying wonders" of every shape and form, have been multiplied without end. These, as a whole, may fairly be laid at the door of the Church of Rome, a vast number of them being distinctly authenticated and accredited by her, and all of them bearing this internal

"The Roman Antichrist a Lying Spirit :' being the Substance of a Sermon preached in the Parish Church, Cheltenham, November 5th, 1846. By Rev. F. Close, A.M., Perpetual Curate." 8vo. Hatchard and Son.

evidence of her privity and consent, that they all tended to the support of her ecclesiastical supremacy and priestcraft.

To notice only some which are either more modern, or are still used and sanctioned by Rome: Who has not heard of the scapular,-worn by many Romanists, at this moment, even in England,—and its wonderful deeds? or of "the cord of St. Francis ;" or the Society of "the heart of Jesus;" or of the newest falsehood, the wonder-working medal of the Virgin Mary,*

This tract is entitled, "History of the Miraculous Medal stamped in 1833, in honour of the holy Virgin." And among many ridiculous fables, and impious ascriptions of power to the "mother of Jesus," the following are recorded :—

“In the beginning of March, 1835, M. Barére, Curé of Castéra-les-Bains, visited an old man, dangerously ill, and who had long neglected his religious duties. Hardened in infidelity, he refused to listen to the Curé; and finished by wishing sooner to lose the power of speech, than to be obliged to answer to his questions. The Curé, in despair, was about to leave him, when he remembered the miraculous medal of the Virgin. He requested an attendant to put it into the sick man's bed; when O, merveille!' some time after, the dying man awoke as from a profound lethargy, called earnestly for the Curé, and protested that he repented, and wished to confess. All around wept for joy; and, in the middle of this general interest, the sick man received the good God with the deepest sentiments of humility and compunction. This conversion was followed by a perfect cure; and the good old man blessed that providence that, by the protection of Mary, had withdrawn him from such an abyss of infidelity. The undersigned, who received the details from the mouth of the Curé of Castéra, guarantees the authenticity of this miracle. He neither augments nor diminishes the facts, knowing well that the holy Virgin has no occasion for lies to prove her power and goodness. It is, therefore, upon his conscience that he attests these facts, which the inhabitants of Castéra and its neighbourhood will not dispute.

"Auch, this 16th of March, 1835.

BELLOC,

"Le Receveur de l'enregistrement."

Again: M. Gaëtan, a young man of vicious and abandoned habits, was seized with a very serious pulmonary complaint, which resisted all the talents of Dr. Jean Palioli, a very good Physician, at Boulogne, and left him no hopes of recovery. Though his disease made rapid progress, the wretched young man still refused to see any Priest. Notwithstanding which order, however, the Chaplain succeeded in penetrating to his bed-side, and earnestly exhorted him to repair the scandal of his life. All his efforts were useless, and were received with the most fatal indifference. Still, before leaving him, he again implored him to fly for succour to the holy Virgin; and, without the sick man perceiving it, succeeded in placing under his pillow her miraculous medal. The Chaplain adds: "I had no occasion to go to him again to renew my exhortations. M. Gaëtan almost immediately sent for me by his mother, with whom he had been reconciled, to assist him in repairing the consequences of his former irregularities; and when I showed him the medal to which he owed his salvation, he kissed it with sentiments of the liveliest gratitude. He now enjoyed the most perfect repose of spirit; which, however, was not the only blessing which he attributed to the holy Virgin: from that moment he began to revive; and, after being reduced to the last extremity from an incurable disease, was restored to perfect health. M. de Gaëtan perseveres in his good feelings, and is full of the most tender affection for his powerful benefactress, whose medal he carefully preserves. I write this account not only with the permission, but at the request, of the new conHere follows the Doctor's formal certificate of this miraculous cure, signed by "J. Palioli, Docteur en Médecine."

vert.

Another instance, from the same work, is that of a sick soldier in the hospital of Alençon, who, from being the most blasphemous and brutal of men, was converted, in a few days, by a Sister of Charity, who fastened the precious medal to the foot of his bed. He died shortly after, giving evidence of the deepest religious feeling, on the 27th of June, 1833. The fact is attested by M. Iver, Bordeaux, Chaplain of the hospital of Alençon; by the Sisters of Charity; by a sick woman, Bidon ;

largely distributed among the credulous and the deluded? All these palpable falsehoods are circulated in tracts, in a cheap form, through France, Ireland, and indeed in all Popish countries, for the purpose of knowingly and deliberately imposing on the dupes of a fanatical superstition. Is the holy garment at Treves, worshipped by millions of deceived dupes, forgotten? or has the imposture not made enough of German infidels? Did the Archbishop of Paris, when not three years since he announced to the "faithful" in that unbelieving city, that he would exhibit the disgusting and impious fiction, "one drop of the Saviour's blood, and one drop of the Virgin Mary's milk,”—did he believe the enormous imposition? or, knowing it to be a falsehood, did he accredit it in the name of the "lying spirit" by which his Church is actuated? Was he a pitiable dupe, or a deliberate deceiver?

Some of you may have seen, among the many stone images and idols in the city of Rome, one of the Virgin Mary, at the foot of which is recorded, on the authority of the Pope and Cardinals, that this stone figure of the Virgin winked its eyes in approbation of the incense offered to it on the occasion of the threatened invasion of Napoleon! But the stone goddess could not deliver her devotees out of the hands of the remorseless Frenchman, nor rescue the Pope himself from his iron grasp. But this task is odious, it is loathsome; it is so insulting to common sense, so degrading to human nature, so palpably and obviously fulfilling the inspired predictions, that I need not enlarge on this head. "Strong," indeed, must be the "delusion" that can believe such "lies" as these; and deep the criminality of those, before God and man, who uphold and profit by them.*

But I proceed to allege against this Church of Rome another, and, if possible, more grievous, charge. I affirm that she has for centuries, for more than seven hundred years, upheld her unrighteous and unscriptural

Julian Prevel, Infirmier; Jean François Royer, of the 7th Cuirassiers; and Marie Favrie, Infirmière ;-all ocular witnesses, besides many others.

The next conversion is that of a Turk of Antoura, who was persuaded to accept a medal of the immaculate conception. Two days afterwards he came to the Missionary who gives the account, and acknowledged his conversion to the Christian religion. His wife, with whom he conversed on the subject, then asked for a medal also, and in a short time was converted like her husband. Many other Arabs and Turks, who wore the precious medal to protect them from the plague, were converted in the same way to Christianity under its influence. This is extracted from a letter of M. Leroy, Apostolical Missionary to the congregation of St. Lazare, at the Mission of Antoura.

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* In addition to these accredited miracles of the medal of the Virgin, one of the authenticated miracles of St. Alphonsus Liguori may be presented to the reader: he is a modern saint, on whose deeds and writings the Roman Church has stamped the latest impress of her authority. The following disgusting fable is told of one Magdalen de Nunzio, who, in 1790, suffered from an abscess in her breast. She was pronounced incurable, and the Surgeon ordered that the last rites of the Church should be administered. "In the evening of that day," says the Catholic Calendar, one of her neighbours coming to see her, brought with her a picture of the saint, [Alphonsus,] with a small piece of his garment. By her advice, the sick woman recommended herself to Alphonsus, and placed the picture on the wound, and swallowed a few threads of the relic in some water! She then fell into a quiet sleep; and, when she arose in the morning, discovered, to her great surprise, that she was perfectly cured, and the whole of her breast restored, even that part which had been cut off; nor did she afterwards suffer any pain or inconvenience from it." May we not be permitted, even by the timid and time-serving of our day, to call this accredited and authenticated miracle of the Popish Calendar, "a blasphemous fable, and dangerous deceit ?"