GLASGOW GOSSIP.

In a house in this city, celebrated for metaphysics being duly discussed with their wine and walnuts, the grave question of " What shall we believe?" came above board, when a gentleman, in order to stop the subject for some other lighter tittle-tattle, told the following anecdote:-" A Debating Society," said he, "which I occasionally attend, has occasionally a President who has a great obliquity of vision, or in other words a tremendous squint. T'other night, when this gentleman happened to occupy the chair, an orator waxing warm triumphantly exclaimed-Sir, the fact I have asserted must be true, I saw it,-and, if we do not believe our senses, what are we to believe?' I shall prove that is no safeguard for truth,' said his oponent; for look to the President, Sir. You know he is at this moment observing my countenance attentively, and yet, to our sense of sight, he is apparently beholding the gentlemen on the opposite side of the room'.

It is at present a moot question, among all the matrons who have joined the Temperance Society, whether it be or be not proper to dole out as usual a glass of spirits to their servants on washing-day. We suspect that parsimony, not morality, lies at the bottom of this difficult case of conscience.

LONDON THEATRICALS. From our London Correspondent.

I MENTIONED to you, in one of my former letters, the vast preparations that were making at the various theatres for the representation of the usual annual Harlequinades. Since, then, I have seen both. That, at Drury-Lane, is certainly the best. The opening of it is a little tedious, but the tedium is fully compensated for by the subsequent scenes of the Harlequinade. The most fortunate ones are, "A Quack Doctor's Shop turned into a Burial-ground," (which is generally the case,) "The Whale Exhibition," "The Grocer's Shop," and " Highgate Turnpike.”The main feature of the scenic department is the Diorama, by Stanfield, of the execution of which it is impossible to speak too highly. As a work of art, it would puzzle hyper-criticism itself to find the least fault with it; and, if I might condescend for once to use the sublime language of the playbills, I would certainly agree with them, and say that it is the finest scenic representation ever exhibited on the English stage." BARTLETT, in abHOWELL bustled sence of BLANCHARD, played Pantaloon.

through Harlequin in a business-like manner, and what he wanted in grace, he made up for in activity. SOUTHEY was not deficient as Clown; he is not so good as PAULO, only because he is not as humorous. Of Miss BASEKE, as Columbine, I may safely speak in high terms: she is graceful, lady-like, well-made, and extremely active, with one of the prettiest dresses I ever saw adorn that character's person. To these may be added the able exertions of Miss MARY ANN MARSHALL, in Little Thumb, who is no bigger, and quite as full of talent as she ought to be.

The

In the Covent Garden Pantomime, there are two or three One espepretty smart hits at the prevalent follies of the day. cially seemed to take the fancy of the audience. A box is brought on the stage, marked, "Vender of the dead languages.' Clown asks the bearer what a dead language is, and is told that it was what men know nothing about. The box is then suddenly transformed into a stall for the sale of tongues: and its owner produces one which, he says, is better than all the rest-it is an "unknown tongue." The Clown and Pantaloon seat themselves by it, and it gives forth a sort of song in imitation of the sounds of that unknown tongue heard at another theatre in this metropolis, but stopping in the midst of a verse, the Clown supplies the hiatus with "GAMMON and spinach, oh!" and the first of these words was adopted in a very marked manner by the audience, who laughed loudly at the concert. Paganini was exhibited as the eighth wonder of the world. The jokes against Cockney sportsmen were revived, and the moon was alternately snuffed out and re-lighted with a rushlight, that Pantaloon might read a paper by it. Several of the scenes were in Wales, and a painter was exhibited painting the sign of thee Prynce of Wales," in order that the Clown might have the opportunity of going to the parish schoolmaster to decide on the correctness of the spelling, and to be informed that the schoolmaster was abroad. Another joke arose out of this, and that was the exhibition of the Whale at Charing- Cross, which was immediately called the Prince of Whales. ELLAR as Harlequin, BARNES as Pantaloon, PAULO as Clown, and Miss DAVIS as Columbine, went through their usual parts with great address and agility. The Pantomime was highly successful, and announced for repetition till further notice.

Have you heard that Lord GLENGALL has been employed upon a new original Comedy? It is expected that he will offer it to Old Drury. The contest between the Major and Minor Theatres occupies a good deal of attention at present, but there can be but one opinion among lawyers as to the illegality of the representations lately made at the smaller houses. The first question is, ought the law to remain as it is? and we apprehend that the public voice will answer "No."

The possibility of Madame UNGHER being present at the opening of the Opera House, has partially disconcerted Mr. MONCK MASON's arrangements. He has already started for Paris to find a substitute for his Prima Donna.

BRUGNOLI is engaged as a first Danseuse along with TAGLIONI. Report speaks of the former being lighter than the latter, but, I may merely add, that though she may be so in one sense, she cannot possibly be so in another.

FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

THE important M. S. work on the History of France during the 18th century, left by the late M. Lemontey, which the late Government prevented from appearing, will be immediately printed. A very powerful interest attaches itself to this publication, as the author, by means of Ministerial authorizations, was permitted to draw his materials from different depots of the national archives, as well as the foreign ones, to which the French victories afforded him access.

The "Atlas of Europe" now publishing by Herder, of Friburg, is to consist of 220 maps. It is a chief d'œuvre of the lithographic art. Each number contains four maps, and is published at 12 francs, so that the price of the whole work will cost 660 francs. The plates are worked in two colours, black and red, all the physical features being indicated by the former, and the towns, roads, political boundaries, &c. by the latter. This is, truly, a valuable and splendid undertaking.

On the 27th of May, Christian Adam Gaspari, Professor of Geography and Statistics in the University of Konigsberg, died at Berlin. He was born in 1752, and was the author of many works on Geography, and, among others, of Manuals, which have frequently been re-printed in Germany, and have greatly contributed to diffuse a taste for that science.

LITERARY NOVELTIES.

THE Rev. W. LIDDIARD, author of The Legend of Einsidlin, has a "Six Weeks' Tour in France and Switzerland" in the Press. "Saturday Evening," by the author of The Natural History of Enthusiasm, will shortly appear.

Mr. WILLIAM CHAMBERS, author of the Book of Scotland, is preparing for publication a new Work, under the title of "Traditionary Legends and Popular Antiquities of Scotland."

GENTLEMEN'S FASHIONS FOR JANUARY.

RIDING DRESS.

A SNUFF-COLOURED rolling collar frock coat, single-breasted, fastened with two hooks and eyes at the waist; the front turning down to the very bottom of the waist; sleeves full at the top and narrow at the wrist, with a small cuff. Waistcoat of a diamond

pattern, Thibet of Cashmere, single breasted, and buttoned up to the neck, with short stand-up collar. Trousers of corbeau kerseymere, cut twelve inches in width, tight at knee, and nine and ahalf at bottom, and finished with a whole all-down, and two seams at side, and full seam.

CONFESSIONS OF A BURKER. No. I. [Communicated by a Medical Practitioner.]

Oh, Conscience! into what abyss of fears
And horrors hast thou driven me; out of which
I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.

MILTON.

THE preamble which accompanied the present communication we, from the following considerations, have resolved to omit. In the first place, our limits will not allow of its insertion; in the next, the reasons assigned for the horrible details being so long withheld from the public are not, in our estimation, of sufficient importance to amount to a justification of the fact; and, in the last place, as our correspondent has neither given the name of the parties, nor condescended on the places connected with the appalling record he transmits, we do not see the propriety of our inserting any thing in our columns that might appear like an extenuation of the conduct of men, whose characters and localities are so effectually veiled from the eye of the public. We shall, therefore, lop off all extraneous matter, and proceed at once to the narrative of those particulars with which our readers may be supposed more immediately concerned:

"One morning in the month of

last," says

our correspondent, "I was called upon by an old woman of a very peculiar and by no means prepossessing appearance, who urged me with the greatest importunity, to visit a 'poor delirious wretch,' who,' she said, ' had lodged with her for some time, and who wished to make certain important disclosures to me regarding matters connected with the profession. Having ascertained that I had been individually referred to, my curiosity became so much excited, that I wrote down the address, and promised to call in the course of my rounds.

"It was late in the day before I reached the dreary abode to which I had been directed. On opening the door, I was received into a sort of outer apartment by the old beldame I have already mentioned, who stated that the object of my visit was at present in one of his quiet moods. I inquired the nature of his disease, but could learn nothing from her, except that he was dreadfully afflicted with phantoms of the imagination, which haunted him night and day, with little intermission; and, during these fearful visitations, the howls he emitted were so distressing to the neighbours, that nothing but his great debility prevented them from applying for his removal. With this scanty information, I was ushered into a miserable little dark chamber, where, on a sort of truckle bed, I found the squalid wretch who had craved my attendance. On hearing my approach he had raised himself on his elbow; and, when I came close up to him, he motioned to the old woman to put down the candle and retire; he then fixed his eyes steadfastly on my face, and asked me to try if I could not discover, among his altered features, any thing to remind me of one who had once been my class-fellow at the University of

"After attentively examining the countenance thus

presented to my inspection, and taxing my memory for some time, the appearance of a person, whom I had frequently seen attending the anatomical course of lectures at a certain College, gradually unfolded itself to my recollection, and, on mentioning the name, I found I had hit upon the right individual. The character he bore, among his fellow students was one of a very suspicious description, so much so that none who had the slightest pretensions to reputation would admit him to any degree of companionship. Still, though thus generally despised by his class-fellows he was an uncommon favourite with the professor and his assistant. This was attributed to his readiness and dexterity in training and heading parties of the poorer students, who, from their inability to pay their fees, were necessitated to make themselves useful, by supplying subjects for the dissecting board; and, for this purpose, the church-yards, for many miles aronnd, were put under contribution. Of all the youths who went out on such occasions, none seemed so completely cut out by nature, for the nocturnal and vampire-like occupation, than the miserable creature that now lay before me. Full of all descriptions of artifice, and possessing a dexterity in the execution of the stratagems he formed for the accomplishment of his object, he was considered not only in the University to which he belonged, but likewise in all the private dissecting rooms in the city, as the most expert nightman belonging to the profession; even the regular body snatchers became jealous of his abilities, and they had reason to be so; for he not unfrequently outwitted them in their unhallowed pursuits, and carried off the prey which they conceived they had effectually secured, On one occasion, he gave an instance of adroitness, which threw all his competitors in the shade: a young person had died of a complaint of so complicated a nature, that the interest it excited among the profession became so intense that considerable sums were offered for the possession of the body; all parties were as usual on the alert, all their tackle in proper order, and fully provided with weapons in case of a conflict; the hour for the commencement of their operations was fixed for twelve, but by seven o'clock, this singular character had the subject on the table before his astonished classfellows, and their more astonished teacher, who had engaged several regular bred snatchers in the affair. This achievement and several others of a similar nature procured for the quick-scented youth, the nickname of the vulture.'

"Having satisfied the miserable creature that I sufficiently remembered him and his nocturnal exploits, he thus addressed me, I sent for you Dr.

to

MAN-A RELIGIOUS ANIMAL.

"The fear of man bringeth a snare; but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe." PROVERBS, xxix, 25.

RESOLVED as we are that our humble labours should conduce, not only to the improvement of the taste and general tone of mental feeling of our fellow-countrymen, but also that the morals inculcated in our journal should rest upon a sure, indeed the only sure foundation, the Projectors of the "DAY" need hardly make any apology to their readers, for adorning the commencement of their first Saturday number, with an extract from a book, old, and old fashioned in a very high degree, they admit, as well as too much neglected, but one, which they nevertheless believe, next to life itself, to be the greatest blessing, ever bestowed, by the bountiful Creator, upon mortal and immortal man. In so doing, they calculate on the fullest approbation of the wise and the good, and if unfortunately among the readers of the "DAY" there should any objection be found, the "COUNCIL OF TEN" can only plead, (and they hope they will obtain a verdict) in extenuation of their offence, that, while gratifying their own taste, they have been actuated by the most sincere and earnest desire to promote the welfare and happiness of others.

Many ingenious authors-men delighting in an appearance of wisdom, and affecting oracular and sententious description, have indulged themselves, in giving graphic definitions of the nature of man. Of these authors, one has called him an "Eating," and another a "Cooking," while a third has dignified him with the title of a " Fighting Animal." The defect of all such general descriptions is, that they take but a very limited and partial view of the curiously complex being, whose character they pretend to describe, and confine that view exclusively to his inferior and corporeal qualities. What they assert of him, may, with equal justice, be predicated of "the beasts that perish." Such authors, short-sighted and superficial as they are, allowing his spiritual essence entirely to escape their observation, make no allusion whatever to those higher and more noble qualities which exalt man above "every creature under heaven,"-Nay which entitle him, while on earth, to an absolute and unlimited sovereignty over all other creatures; for, whatever ambiguity may attend the legislation of man, the Divine decree admits of neither doubt, "And God said let us make man in our difficulty nor dispute. image, after our likeness, and let him have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.”

But, although, for the reason already stated, these definitions, fail in their verisimilitude, and consequently in their avowed object, that of pourtraying the human character, still there is one of a similar formula, which we think, in the highest degree, descriptive, namely, that which declares man to be a "religious animal," including necessarily, in the term religious, a capacity not only for every moral sentiment but also for the active discharge of every moral duty. We say necessarily, because convinced as we are that religion and morals can never exist asunder, we implicitly subscribe to the doctrine of the good old Apostle, James, that "faith without works is dead, being alone," a doctrine to which, had its establishment depended in any degree upon human testimony, the annals of fanaticism in every age, and in almost every christian country, would have borne witness by facts as numerous as they are melancholy and conclusive.

If, then, man be really a "religious animal," why, it may be ask. ed, should he be afraid to make a bold, an open, and an uncompromising profession of his principles? or why should he be ashamed to embody those principles in a corresponding course of practice?These are questions of the highest importance, not to one man here and another there, but to every individual of the human race; and not only so, but they are questions, upon a right view of which mainly depends the welfare of every society. To enter at present upon any attempt at their solution, is equally beyond the limits of our time and space. We shall not, however, fail, in the course of our future lucubrations, to bring the enquiry, from time to time, before our readers, whose indulgence, we trust, we shall secure, if

But,

not by our ability or success, at least by the straight-forwardness and honesty of our endeavours to do justice to the subject. although we must forego the present occasion of grappling with a subject so deeply important to us all, we can by no means close our first week's labours, or make so near an approach to the "Day of Rest," without a distinct reference to that Great Being who, as he is the beginning, so certainly is he the end of all religion, and from the contemplation of the glory of whose character and works we ourselves have often drawn (as, we doubt not, many of our readers have likewise drawn) the richest comfort aud consolation, in our journey (none now of the shortest) through life. Cold, indeed, and utterly destitute of every right and generous feeling, must that heart be, which can think, without the most lively emotions of veneration, and love, and gratitude, on Him who, independent as he is, and ever must be, of us and of our services, delights to confer upon us every blessing and every benefit which can conduce either to our present or our future weal; by whose providential care we are protected and preserved from day to day-by whose bounty we are fed and clothed—whose ear is ever open to our cry-who, when earthly friends faint and fall away, is a "friend that sticketh closer than any brother”—who makes even those events which, to the short-sighted conceptions of man appear the most dark and dismal, work together for the final good of such as love Him, and who has pledged Himself never to leave nor forsake those who believe in His Word, till he has put them in possession of a perpetual state of peace and happiness, to which the present life affords no parallel. We say, and we do so from experience. that these are views which, as they afforded us an effectual solace under every earthly care, we shall not fail, ever and anon, to bring before our readers, conscious that in so doing, we afford them the best of all proofs that we not only wish and labour for their instruction and improvement here, but are very earnest in our desire for their unchangeable happiness bereafter.

RELIGIOUS NOVELTIES.

THE REV. L. COLTON of New York, now residing in London, has a work in the Press on the important subject of American Revivals.

ELIZA RUTHERFORD has nearly ready for publication "Maternal Sketches" with Minor Poems.

MR. THOMAS TIMPSON is preparing for the Press "Church History through all ages," from the first promise of a Saviour to the year 1830, with Biographical Notices of the principal promoters of Religion. This work is designed principally for young persons, families and schools.

COUP D'OEIL UPON THE LATE RELIGIOUS PUBLICATIONS.

"A SERMON, preached at Hull, on the Unknown Tongues, by R. M. BEVERLY," and "The Church Revived without the aid of Unknown Tongues, preached in London by Dr. BURNS, Paisley." The former contains many pungent remarks on the utter and inconceivable folly of the new pretensions. The latter, a most pious and judicious defence of the truth, worthy of the Church of Scotland, to which the Rev. Gentlemen belongs, and which has been so mournfully caricatured in London ever since the arrival of Mr. Irving in the British metropolis.

"Discourses on the Sabbath," by RALPH WARDLAW, D.D.— Our author is among that class of divines who wisely hold the distinct moral obligation of the Sabbath; and, from his calm, patient, inductive and Scriptural mode of handling every branch of theology, he has been enabled to discuss this momentous topic in a manner at once able and convincing.

"The Offices of the Holy Spirit," Four Sermons, preached before the University of Cambridge in the month of November, 1831, by the REV. C. SIMEON, M. A. The author of these sermons has been long known as one of the most eloquent and dis tinguished advocates of evangelical truth. In the work before us he shews the necessity of Divine influence to originate, carry on, and perfect what God requires of us. As all solid and scriptural works on the character and offices of the Holy Spirit are peculiarly valuable, at this moment, when the doctrine of Divine influence is so lamentably perverted in certain quarters, we rejoice to be able strongly to recommend this brief but excellent treatise to all sincere christians and devout enquirers.

PRINTER'S Devils are sad fellows for putting Authors to the blush, for they will make mistakes in spite of every precaution to the contrary. We have but too frequently experienced their unkindness towards ourselves, and, more than once, when cheated out of our propriety, by their indomitable stupidity, have uncharitably wished them with their horned and baboon-tailed parent !• Think not, however, fastidious reader! that the imp of the Long Primer has, on this occasion, cheated the title of the volume before us of an initial letter, that he has, out of ignorance or design, robbed Night of its K, when found in such company. There is here, in fact, no mistake, for the volume has, except in sound, nothing at all to do with the brave King Arthur and his celebrated Knights of the Round Table, that it breathes not a single allusion to his minstrel-sung Ginevra-to his fierce conflicts with the Saxons, Scots and Picts, or to the mortal wound which he received from his revolted nephew Mordred. The plain matter of fact is, that the authoress appears to have been in want of a sounding title for her book, and she has fixed upon the conceit of the "Nights of the Round Table," as the masque under which she gives the public a string of stories from her aunt Jane and her friends. The work is a species of Juvenile Decameron, where a set of amusing story tellers are seated round a table who attempt to beguile a winter's night with tales, which convey not only historical facts, but useful moral lessons, in the same manner that the more lively groupe of Italian dames and their lovers were supposed by Boccaccio to have occupied themselves in a summer bower to forget the plague that raged in Florence. As the book only reached us yesterday, we have only dipped into one or two of the stories, but they appear to be written in a very easy and agreeable style, and have the peculiar advantage of being, in a great measure, founded on fact. The authoress is well known to the novel reader as the writer of Clan Albin and Elizabeth De Bruce, and to many of the rising generation from the amusement and instruction which they obtained from the perusal of the "Diversions of Hollycot." The tales and conversations in this volume are intended, in fact, as a developement of the latter, and, as such, are fitted for readers of a more advanced age,

⚫ (Aside)-More than one half of the errors alluded to is solely owing to the unreadable manuscript furnished by our employers.— Printer's Devil.

FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

THE Russian chamberlain, DEMIDOV, in order to promote the interest of literature and science in his native country, has resolved to set aside every year till his death, the sum of 2,000 rubles, to be awarded in sums of 5,000 rubles to such writers as shall have enriched Russian literature, during the preceding year, with some work of distinguished merit. M. Demidov has also, by a subsequent act, conferred the 20,000 rubles for the same purpose, for 25 years after his death, and added a further sum of 5,000 rubles for the printing of the MSS. that may be judged worthy of the prize. The Academy of Science will decide on the merits of the proposed works.

"A Dictionary of Marine Terms" has lately appeared at Madrid, with translations in French, English and Italian, of all the Spanish expressions.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

MR. ANDREW HENDERSON, our resident Artist, has at present a volume of Scottish Proverbs in the press. From Mr. H.'s intimate knowledge of the manners and customs of the Peasantry of Scotland, we look forward to its publication with a considerable degree of interest. The classification of the work we have heard spoke of in terms of high commendation nous verrons.

TO OUR READERS.

We have to-day completed our first week's labours, and we now beg leave to return our best thanks to the public here and elsewhere, for the patronage which has been bestowed on our undertaking. From a variety of causes, incident to the establishment of every Journal, many little mistakes have occurred, which, it is hoped, will be avoided in future. During the week several important hints have been given us by valuable correspondents, of which we mean to avail ourselves, and we doubt not that each succeeding number will still more strikingly prove the claim we have to public favour and support. We have also received several highly complimentary epistles upon what we have already done; but these, instead of making us vain, or satisfied with our labours, will, we trust, rather tend to make us redouble our exertions.

In order to insure this Publication being on the Breakfast Table every morning, it is requested that intending Subscribers will leave their names and addresses at the Publisher's,

SIGNAL PRESERVATION OF LIFE.

THE following account of the Signal Preservation of an Officer's Lady, at the Mutiny at Vellore, has just appeared in a little volume entitled "Excitement," and as it is of rather a sober hue, we present it to our readers as a Saturday's contribution :—

With my beloved husband I spent nearly four years of uninterrupted felicity. Our dear Charles grew up a lovely scion from the parent stem, and his infantile prattle often drew from his father expressions of tenderness, which suffused my eyes with tears of joy. Our affections flowed and mingled towards this object of mutual endearment. I was too happy.

The last evening we ever spent together was one of peculiar satisfaction. We conversed of England-happy England; and by a natural transition, our minds were carried upwards to that better country-the Chistian's heaven-the Christian's home. The Bible lay before us, and I read the last chapter of the Revelations. We then knelt down, and my husband offered up a prayer, remarkable for its calm solemnity and fervour. With pathe

tic earnestness he prayed for me and our little boy. It was love, conjugal paternal love, heightened and hallowed by a sublime and exquisite devotion. As we rose, I pressed his hand to my heart with a rapture which I never felt before; nor shall I feel it again 'till I behold his welcoming smile on the shores of immortality.

About nine o'clock we retired. At two in the morning we were awakened at the same instant by a loud firing. The Colonel hastened to the window, which was open, and demanded from the crowds of sepoys that were assembling at the main-guard, the cause of the disturbance. No answer was returned; but the rapid continuance of the firing left us in no doubt of the perils which threatened us. I had not power to articulate, and I dreaded, even by a look, to agitate my husband, whose countenance I perceived was already pale and troubled. With his characteristic coolness and self-command, he wrote a note to be forwarded to Arcott for reinforcements, and gently urging me to seek safety in my chamber, he rushed into the thickest of the danger; hoping by his presence to reclaim the less desperate to a sense of duty, and either to vanquish the others, or to bring them to terms.

Instinctive terror induced me to close the doors of my apartment, and to seek for my child and attendants the best retreat in my power. I endured two hours of excessive alarm. The thunder of the cannon, and the loud volleys of the musketry, which, with slight intervals, continued till four o'clock, shook my nerves, and I almost died with apprehension. Once, when the firing ceased at the main-guard, I imagined that I heard the footstep of my husband. I ran to the door, but before I could open it, he was gone. New dangers awaited him at the European barracks, where the conflict was renewed, and where the disaffected were making their last desperate struggle. It was too successful, and in a few moments a scene of dreadful carnage and plunder ensued. I had ventured twice from my apartments down to the hall, to ascertain, if possible, the fate of my husband. The last time, as I stood in a situation open to the veranda, a figure approached

- me.

A flash from a distant musket discovered to me a military uniform. I trembled for my safety, and that of my dear infaut. I had courage, however, to ask, who was there? The reply was"I am an officer of the main-guard-my brave comrades have all been murdered-the rebels are advancing-fly for your life." I rushed back to my chamber, but, before I could reach it, this unfortunate man experienced the doom of his companions. He was cruelly butchered in Colonel Wilmington's dressing-room. Every moment increased the horror of my situation. Day-light revealed a shocking spectacle. The parade was covered with soldiers of the sixty-ninth regiment lying dead. Sepoys were running in all directions, shouting and yelling with the ferocity of demons.Some with savage brutality were insulting the remains of their hapless victims, while others, intoxicated with success, were ransacking the houses, intent only on rapine and murder. At this moment I gave up all for lost. My husband's miniature was in the drawer of my dressing-table. I took it with convulsive agony and placed it in my bosom. It was an involuntary act of tenderness. I was resolved to retain his dear image even in death. Scarcely had I indulged this pardonable weakness, ere a loud noise in the hall adjoining my bed-room announced the crisis of our fate. I moved softly, and looking through the door, discovered At the suggestion of two sepoys beating our furniture to pieces. my ayah, we concealed ourselves beneath the bed. Scarcely had we taken this precaution ere the door was forced, and shots poured into the apartment. I have now in my possession a ball which fell close to me, and had nearly proved fatal to my child.

With the energy of despair, I resolved to make a desperate effort to save our lives. With my Charles in my arms, and the women following me, I presented myself from the back staircase to the sepoys who were on guard. It was a mother's appealthe appeal of holy nature in its last extremity, and, though made to the hearts of barbarians, it was not in vain. We were permitted to seek refuge in the stables. Here we had not been five minutes, when we were visited by the sepoy, whom I instantly recognized as a man to whom the Colonel had shown many little acts of kindness, and who had manifested an unusual attachment to our darling son. He looked fearfully round, as if apprehensive of being discovered, and whispered to me in hurried accents to escape, pointing at the same time to a fowl-house, which had a

bamboo front, as the only asylum. I objected that there we should be exposed to the view of our enemies. However, I deemed it prudent to follow his suggestion, and he kindly covered our hiding-place with a large mat, and furnished my little Charles with half a loaf of bread, which he greatly needed. Here, famished with thirst, and full of the most dreadful apprehensions, I continued another three hours, every successive moment of which augmented my terror, lest the screaming of my poor boy, who was alarmed at the firing, should reach the ears of our blood-thirsty foes, and allure them to the spot. Through an ap erture, I distinctly saw my house plundered, and frequently was chilled with horror when I heard the enraged murderers repeat my name, and threaten me with death!

But amidst all these horrors, fears for myself were absorbed in anxiety for my husband. I dreaded to hear of his assassination, and I really believe I should have braved death, and searched for him on the parade, had not the situation of my babe withheld me from the rash attempt.

Exhausted by fatigue and terror, nature was just sinking under the accumulating pressure, when the tremendous roar of cannon at the gates roused my attention, and inspired me with hope. What I conjectured proved to be true: the 19th dragoons, from Arcott, had arrived. My heart beat violently, and I almost fainted with the sudden emotion, as I heard the trampling of their horses on the draw-bridge, and the welcoming huzzas of the garrison. Still I was afraid to leave my place of concealment. My name was repeatedly called, but I knew not whether it was by a friendly or a hostile voice; till, perceiving several British officers, I imagined that one of them was my husband, and instantly sprang forward to meet him. But, alas! it was a sad illusion. In an agony of suspense, I looked round on all the group, but he was not there. They first told me he was wounded. they would have deceived me, but my prophetic soul too surely foreboded the heart-appalling fact-I was a widow, and my babe an orphan! so soon passed away my dream of happiness!

In mercy

Inconsolable at my loss, I could not pray. Even the resources of piety seemed to fail. I felt as if utterly forsaken. I was a stranger in a strange land. My hopes were crushed, and my poor weak heart was crushed with them. Grief is scarcely grief that is relieved by the luxury of tears. I could not weep. I have

no doubt there was impiety in this sorrow. It was a virtual arraignment of the wisdom and mercy of Providence. I was charging God foolishly; and in this consisted its bitterness. But God was merciful. The chastising rod dropt from his hands, and he said unto me, "Live!" In the extremity of my auguish his compassion visited me.

All the relief which sympathy and kindness could afford, I experienced from my friends. My sex-my loss-the delicacy of my situatian-conspired to insure to me the tenderest offices of humanity, even from strangers. But it was the sacred page, the promise of strength, according to my day-the light of salvation irradiating the gloomy path of ad versity-it was this which supported and cheered my heart. Now, indeed, I learned to appreciate the value of Christian principles, and the incomparable excellence of the Holy Scriptures. Under this, the heaviest calamity of my life, I experienced their mighty efficacy. When at ease, and enjoying all the comforts of life, I could only speculate on this efficacy, or believe it on the testimony of others. Now, I knew it for myself-speculation became confirmed persuasion, and faith arose to assured certainty. Thus, the advantages of my affliction greatly counterbalanced its suffering, and I was taught, in the sad school of experience, the uses of adversity.