estly besought the stern judge to spare Doys, but in vain; the unbending baron nued firm and inexorable in the perance of his duty. The mother, having usted all her entreaties, in an agony of air tore the covering from her bosom, uttered these memorable words :rd-hearted wolf! these yellow breasts reared children who shall yet wash hands in thy heart's blood!'-and this ngeful prediction was actually fulfilled, long after, to the very letter.

:

The baron, having to pass through that ict on the ensuing spring circuit, was laid on the road and murdered. The ers had ascertained all the necessary iculars as to the strength of his escort, ch they found to consist only of five or horsemen. The baron had arrived at a ow part of the road, which he found umbered with some trees, newly felled, thrown across from the thick wood ough which the road passed. As his atlants rode forward to remove the obstaan arrow, from an unseen hand, ick the baron through the heart, and he mortally wounded. A general scuffle ensued, and the attendants were ckly routed. The baron being slain, the ailants returned to their haunts; but a ther of the boys who had been executed, 1 for whom their mother had interceded vain, remained behind, and, cutting open bosom of his victim, literally washed hands in his heart's blood. The baron, this fatal occasion, was accompanied by <insman of his, called Lloyd of Ceiswyn, man of property in the district where the ebooters resided. He had, by some eans or other, engaged the protection of e band; and, at the commencement of e fray, he received a hint not to interfere the affair, but to escape while the coast as clear, for fear some random thrust ight reach his heart also. This flagrant utrage called forth all the vigilance of the overnment, and the whole gang was hunted om hill to hill, and rock to rock, till its members were either taken or destroyed; ut not till they had bequeathed to the wanering peasantry a name and title which an never be forgotten."

PUBLIC EXECUTIONERS.

In Spain, Italy, Germany, and sometimes n France, when many criminals have been condemned to suffer the extreme of punishment, the only means of accomplishing the Sentence has been by granting life to one who would undertake the execution of the remainder. In one of the public squares

742

of Ghent, there were formerly two bronze statues, representing a father and son convicted of the same crime, and the son putting the father to death. When justice is reduced to this dishonourable extremity of permitting a parricide, that a minor crime might be punished, it is a proof that the infliction of death as a penalty is contrary to morals. Withold, a Prince of Lithuania, was compelled, for want of an executioner, to ordain that the criminal should put himself to death. This might be effected in some cases where life is burdensome. In Moldavia, the Cynganis, or gypsies, are selected, to perform the office of finisher of the law. The first gipsy met with is compelled to execute the horrid duty. In this country, where crimes but rarely occur, it happened that no one had suffered the penalty of death for a period of ten years, when a robbery and murder were committed on the person of a young woman. The criminal was a gipsy; he was condemned to be hung; his hour having arrived, he was conducted to the place of execution between two prêvóts armed with axes; ten or twelve persons, led by curiosity, formed the cortège; and all eyes were on the alert to meet with a gipsy to execute the sentence. They could only find on the road a wretched little old man, the more unfit to execute the office exacted of him, from the assassin being youthful, vigorous, and robust; it was no matter, the old man is summoned to perform the duty imposed upon his sect. He obeys; they approach the tree which is destined to serve the purpose of a gallows; one of the prevôts places a table before it, to act as a scaffold; the old man gets upon it; drawing towards him the sufferer, he wishes to fix the rope which is already round the culprit's neck, to a branch of the tree; to reach it, he raises himself on his feet, and after several trials he succeeds. The little old man now uses every exertion to pull up his stout brother gipsy; to effect this, he twists and turns himself a thousand ways, but all are useless. At length the criminal, quite impatient, gives him a blow on the face, and throws him upon the ground. Frightened at the occurrence, the prévôts, the spectators, and the little old man, take to their heels. The assassin alone remains, though at liberty to do the same; but he is condemned, and resigned to his fate. Without taking the slightest notice of the fugitives, or of the axes they have left behind them, which might serve him for weapons of defence, he coolly examines if the rope is properly tied, secures it by a firmer knot to a higher branch, kicks down the table with

743

74!

tioner.

DUELS OF BEES.

In fine spring days, when the sun is beautiful and warm, duels may often be seen to have taken place between two inhabitants of the same hive. In some cases the quarrel appears to have begun within, and the combatants may be seen coming out of the gates eager "for blows." Sometimes a bee peaceably on the outside of the hive, or walking about, is rudely jostled by another, and then the attack commences, each endeavouring to obtain the most advantageous position. They turn, piroutte, throttle each other; and such is their bitter earnestness, that Reaumur has been enabled to come near enough to observe them with a lens, without causing a separation. After rolling about in the dust, the victor, watching the time when his enemy uncovers his body, by elongating it, in the attempt to sting, thrusts its weapon between scales, and the next instant its antagonist stretches out his quivering wings, and expires. A bee cannot be killed so suddenly, except by crushing, as by the sting of another bee. Sometimes the strongest insect produces the death of the vanquished by squeezing its chest. Afier this feat has been done, the victorious bee constantly remains, says Reaumur, near his victim, standing on his four front legs, and rubbing the two posterior ones together. Sometimes the enemy is killed in the hive; then the victor always carries the corpse out of the city, and leaves it. These combats are strictly duels, not more than two being concerned in them; and this is even the case when armies of bees meet in combat.History of Insects.

HUNTING-SPIDERS.

the

THERE is a tribe of hunting-spiders that leap like tigers on their prey, and, what is more extraordinary, have the faculty of doing so sideways. One of these jumped two feet on a humble-bee. They approach the object of their intended attack with the noiseless and imperceptible motion of the shadow of a sun-dial. If the fly move, the spider moves also, backwards, forwards, or sideways, and that with so much precision as to time and distance, that the two insects appear as if bound together by some invisible chain, or actuated by the same spirit. If the fly take wing, and pitch behind the spider, the head of the latter is turned round to meet it so quickly, that the human eye

motionless. When all these manœuvres bring the fly within its spring, the leap is made with fearful rapidity, and the prey struck down like lightning. The redeeming trait in these cruel creatures is their affection for their young.-Family Library.

A WATERLOO SCENE.

THE following melancholy tale was communicated by an old soldier, who had resided in the family of Colonel Granby for many years, and who had followed him to the field of Waterloo, but was accidentally separated from his youthful master at the awful moment of his death :

"Thank God, 'tis over;" exclaimed a young officer, as he galloped along the road from Brussels to Waterloo; "my Lucy! we are separated, and, perhaps,for ever! Should I not survive this, my first effort for glory, oh! Thou Almighty Father, protect my wife."

*

"The battle rages in all its fury-the enemy press on and surround one part of the English army-when a young officer, with a tremendous shout of "Death or Victory," urged his impetuous steed for. ward, and followed by his gallant troop, made a desperate attack on his assailants, and compelled them to retreat. The fiery Edward was borne along by the tide of conflict into the very midst of his foes. His noble mien attracted the notice of a French officer, who, calling on him to defend himself, galloped forward with ungovernable fury. Dreadful was the conflict that ensued. For some time victory seemed doubtful-at length the French officer made a desperate lounge at the gallant Edward, which the latter parried with the greatest address; and, returning it with more skill, and better success, pierced his adversary's left side, who, uttering a heart-rending groan, immediately fell from his horse. Edward instantly dismounted to assist his fallen foe, and unfastening the clasps of his helmet, discovered a face pale through loss of blood, and fixed in the agonies of death; he raised his heavy eyes to his generous conqueror, and, with a frenzied shriek, exclaimed, "Can this be Edward Granby? my long forsaken brother !"

"The blood forsook Edward's cheeks as he replied, Charles, is it thus we meet? The dying hero faintly articulated, 'Indeed we meet-but only to part.' The life blood gushed fast from his mortal wound

his brother gazed intently on his marble features-his breath had ceased! At this

745

.00.

"On the evening of the ever memorable 18th of June, I visited the plains of WaterWhat an awful sight! So many of my countrymen lying exposed to the inclemencies of the weather, and extended on the bare ground, without one friend to soothe or relieve their sufferings. A slight rustling made me turn my head, and I beheld a fair but fragile form stooping and examining the features of the surrounding dead. At last she knelt down by the body of a young officer, and lifting the raven curls that clouded his alabaster forehead, uttered one dreadful shriek, and fell lifeless to the ground. I approached, but all animation was gone-the angelic sp rit of the beautiful Lucy had fled to be united to that of her Edward."--The old soldier here paused, torrents of fears streaming down his sun-burnt visage.

GIVING TO THE POOR:-RICHARD
BAXTER'S Rule.

"I NEVER prospered more in my small estate, than when I gave most, and needed least. My own rule hath been-first to contrive to need myself as little as may be, and lay out none on need-nots, but to live frugally on a little. Second, to serve God in my place upon that competency which he allowed me to myself, that what I had myself, might be as good a work for common good, as that which I gave to others; and third, to do all the good I could with all the rest, preferring the most public and durable object, and nearest. And the more I have practised this, the more I have had to do it with; and when I gave almost all, more came in (without any's gift) I scarce knew how, at least unexpected: but when, by improvidence, I have cast myself into necessities of using more upon myself, or upon things in themselves of less importance, I have prospered much less than when I did otherwise. And when I had contented myself to devote that stock which I had gotten to charitable uses after my death, instead of laying out at present, that so I might secure somewhat for myself while I lived, in probability all that is like to be lost; whereas, when I took that present opportunity, and trusted God for the

746

time to come, I wanted nothing, and lost nothing."

SAINT SWITHIN'S DAY, JULY 15.

ST. SWITHIN, descended from a Saxon family, was learned and virtuous; he put on the monastic habit in the monastery of Winchester, founded by king Thyneglis. Egbert, king of the West Saxons, afterwards of all England, made him his chaplain, committed to his care the education of his son Ethelwold, and made use of his counsels in the government of the kingdom. St. Swithin continued to direct Ethelwold in ecclesiastical affairs, and was by him promoted to the see of Winchester, where he displayed the genuine virtues of a bishop, particularly humility, and charity to the poor; while to himself he was most austere and abstemious. St. Swithin departed this life July 2, 868. With respect to the popular belief, that if it rain on St. Swithin's day, it will rain during forty days following,

it

appears to be a tradition adopted under papal superstition, and transmitted to our times. It is said that Bishop Swithin was by his own desire buried in the churchyard instead of the chancel of the minster; and that, when he was canonized, the monks, not approving of this public cemetery for a saint, determined on removing the body on the 15th of July, but it rained so violently on that, and for forty days afterwards, that the design was abandoned; and these days have since been called the forty days of St. Swithin.

CELESTIAL PHENOMENA.

In our Number for May last, we stated that the planet Saturn would be in conjunction with the Sun on the 15th of this month; he is consequently too near that luminary to be observed during any part of it; but early in September he may probably be detected by the attentive observer in the eastern hemisphere, a little before sun-rise, forming a small triangle with and 23 Leonis. He passes very rapidly, and his approach to and passage by Regulus is an interesting and important feature in his course. He passes 45 minutes to the north of this star on the 30th of September. During October and November he is noticed to recede from it, and on the 12th of December he is stationary a little to the west of 43 Leonis, a star of the sixth magnitude.

The planet Mars is now rapidly approaching his nearest distance from the

earth, and will again present an interesting appearance to the observer, as he attains his greatest brilliancy in the course of the following month. His configurations with

the fixed stars are not so attractive as at the last opposition in 1828, the path of the planet being in a barren space under ß, y, and Piscium. He is stationary on the 18th, when he forms an equilateral triangle with and w Piscinni. After this day his motion is very slow, and he is observed to approach a star of the fourth magnitude, which we shall term A Piscium. On the 17th of September he is about 24 minutes north of this star, and between it and w Piscium. He also forms the summit of an isosceles triangle, y and Piscium being the base. On the following day he is seen between A and @ Piscium, and on the 19th is in opposition to the Sun in the 26th degree of Pisces. Being now at his nearest distance from the earth, his appearance, both to the naked eye and to the telescope, is highly interesting. He may now easily be distinguished by his red aspect and superior brilliancy; and, having a more considerable elevation than at his last opposition, he consequently makes a longer stay above the horizon, which will afford the attentive observer a better opportunity of becoming acquainted with the stars among which he passes. On the day of his opposition he is noticed between a and B, and the former star and Piscium. His recess from the former star is the only interesting feature in his course, until the 6th of October, when he is the apex of an isosceles triangle, and forming the base. He is stationary on the 19th in the 58th minute of the 20th degree of Pisces, having retrograded 11 degrees and 4 minutes.

POETRY.

Y

WHAT IS FRIENDSHIP.

Is it but as a morning dream,
A floating vapour, gaudy flower,
Which now all gay and pleasing seem,
But fade and vanish in an hour?
Rather 'tis like yon stately oak,

By storms or ruder winds beset,
Firm rooted stands 'midst nature's stroke,
The forest's pride and glory yet.
Or like the glittering orb of day-
A course diurnal he maintains;
Nor aught obstructs his dazzling way,
But true and constant e'er remains:
Tho' oft the intervening clouds

His splendours veil, his beams conceal, And night obscure his glory shrouds : In ceaseless, grandeur shines he still.

Where nature with luxuriant hand

Displays her beauties, oft we findIn converse sweet-a youthful band, Each heart by friendship firm entwined: Link'd arm in arm, o'er the gay mead And daizied field they wind their way: The shady lane and copse they tread, Or on the river's margin stray:

748

From tongue to tongue, from breast to breast,
The glow of joy each word revives;
By nature's charms each soul impressed
Some pure instructions hence derives.
When rude adversity prevails,

And fortune mutable, appears
The scale to turn-when grief assails
The mind, and sorrow sheds her tears;
Then friendship kind, her heavenly form

Presents, to soothe the drooping heart;
On wings of love she braves the storm,
Sweet consolation to impart.

When stern disease invades the breast,
Writhing with agonizing pain;
By death's vindictive hand oppressed,
Exhausted seems frail nature's frame :
She comes-and while her tend'rest hand
Softly the throbbing temples lave-
Reminds the soul of that blest land

The saint may claim beyond the grave.
Nor death itself dissolves those ties

Of friendship, here the Christian wove; A full fruition in the skies

Shall be enjoyed in perfect love. Deptford.

B. H. C.

THE FASHION OF THIS WORLD
PASSETH AWAY.

WHY beats my fond heart with delight,
While tracing the splendours of time;
Why dazzle my eyes at the sight

Of a perishing world in her prime,
Since its pleasures and honours unitedly say,
That the fashion of this world is, passing away?

Ye circles where gaiety dwells,

What beauteous forms ye disclose; But sure there is something foretells, Your beauty will fade like the rose, You are mortal, when deck'd in your brightest

array;

And the fashion of this world is passing away.

Ye towering palaces too,

Ye thrones of imperial kings;

Your grandeur must soon be brought low,
And mingle with far meaner things;

For the emblems of royalty haste to decay,
And the kingdoms of this world are passing away.

O tell me, ye withering wreaths,

Which encircled the conqueror's brow;
And tell me, ye rust-eaten sheaths,

Where's the palm of his victory now;
His laurels thus faded impressively say,
That the conqueror's glory has passed away.

Though earthly distinctions thus fade,
His beauty and fashion decline,
Though its honours are cast in the shade,

And the monarch his crown must resign;
The Christian shall reign in ineffable day,
When all that's created has passed away.

His pleasures to change are unknown,
His honours no time can destroy,-
He too is an heir to a crown,

And a kingdom of glory on high,
Though the fashion of this world is passing away,
Yet the splendours of heaven will never decay.

J. V.

49

THE RUINED WELL.

Oh Time! thou beautifier of the Dead.")-Byron, WHERE are the lights that shone of yore, A round this haunted spring?To many a lonely heart no more Immortal thoughts they bring! It was not thus when pilgrims came To hymn beneath the night : And dimly gleam'd the censer's fame,

When stars and streams were bright.
What art thou since five hundred years
Have o'er thy waters roll'd,

Since clouds have wept their crystal tears,
From skies of beaming gold?-
Thy rills receive the tint of heav'n,

Which erst illum'd thy shrine;
And sweetest birds their songs have giv’n
For music more divine.

Beside thee hath the maiden kept

Her vigils pale and lone,

While darkly have her ringlets swept
The chapel's sculptur'd stone:
And when the vesper-hymn was sung
For the warrior's spirit fled,

With the cross and sword above thee hung,-
What splendour crown'd the dead!

But a cloud hath fall'n upon thy fame :-
The woodman laves his brow

Where shrouded monks and vestals came
With many a sacred vow;

And bluely gleams thy sainted spring,
Beneath the sunny tree;

Then let no heart its sadness bring,
While nature is with thee.
Deal.

REGINALD AUGUSTINE.

LINES ON MAY.

DELIGHTFUL season of the year,
Now all is smiling, blithe, and gay,
In loose and flowing robes appears
The roseate goddess, blooming May,
Her mild approach I hail, and sing
A welcome to the queen of spring.
Jocund the scene, while all around
The life-inspiring spirit floats,
Bright gems enamel all the ground,
Mirth warbles from a thousand throats,
From nature's shrine my praise shall rise,
Mixt with the incense of the skies.

How sweet to climb the heath-clad hill,
Or wander through the verdant bowers,
To listen to the chiming rill,

Or cull the wreathe of blooming flowers,
With her whose converse, soft and gay,
Still sweeter makes the sweetest way."
Or when the zephyr fans the grove,
Or winter rules the icy scene,
When all is melody and love,"
Or lost in snow the wide terrene;
Still, still be mine some feeling breast,
On which my soul may safely rest.
O friendship, love, whate'er we call
The pleasing something kindly given,
The bliss of this terrestrial ball,
Beam from the fount of light in heaven,
Around my steps thy radiance throw,
And cheer the toils I meet below.

THE VILLAGE FUNERAL.

J. W.

SAY who are yon lovely female train,
That wind up the narrow village lane,
Bedeck'd in white robes with graceful ease,
That flutter and stream in the fitful breeze;
Say are they the mirth-loving jocund throng,
Who court the lond laugh and the bridal song?
Not so, not so, my child.

The festive hours do they seek to spend,
And grace the abode of some joyous friend,
To chase dull care, and distance woe,
And trip on the light fantastic toe,"
In social glee to beguile the day,
And banish the serious thought away?
Not so, not so, my child.

No, yon are the sorrowing virgin band,
Who bear to death's shadowy silent land
A duteous daughter whose hour is past,
A fair blossom nipt by the wintry blast;
A rose-bud that droop'd in the dewy morn,
Ere its crimson tolds could the stem adorn;

750

"Tis the scene of death, my child.

But there is a land where no storm shall lower,
Where no blight shall whither the blooming flower,
Where the roses without a thorn shall grow,
Where streams of perennial joy shall flow,
Where no billow shall break on the peaceful shore
And sickness decay, and death be o'er;
That land is heaven, my child.

Securely lodg'd in the silent tomb,

Our sister's remov'd from the evil to come,
EARLY hath past to that high abode,

To behold the glorious vision of God;

Through the wilds of time, though LONG we roam,
Heaven ONLY is the Christian's HOME;
May we enter there, iny child.

J. W.

REVIEW.-The Christian Student, designed to assist Christians in general in acquiring Religious Knowledge, &c. By the Rev. E. Bickersteth. Second edition. 12mo. pp. 671. Seeley. London. 1829. AMONG the numerous excellencies which this volume contains, the candid and liberal spirit of its author is not the least conspicuous. As a clergyman of the episcopal church, he avows his partiality towards her articles and homilies; but it is pleasing to observe, that this attachment has not led him to withdraw his brotherly affection from those who view our venerable establishment with a less favourable eye. To their writings and talents he pays many tributes of respect; he is not armed with thunderbolts, nor has he any unholy curses to pour on their heads. His avowal of these truly christian principles may be gathered from the following paragraph :

"The author desires thankfully and joyfully to acknowledge what is good in other communions that differ from his own. Unhappily divided as is the present state of the church of Christ, it will yet be generally admitted that no particular body of Christians has the main truths exclusively. Much, even as he fears and dislikes the system of the Romanist, against which he would ever protest, there are admirable writers in the Roman church, as well as among Protestants. And in the different denominations of Protestants there are holy and excellent authors, among Churchmen and Dissenters, among Presbyterians and Independents, among Baptists and Quakers, among Wesleyans and Moravians, among Lutherans and Reformed. Let none be rejected that have the spirit of the Bible, because the writers differ in external communion. Though necessarily more acquainted with writers in the established church, as far as his knowledge has extended, he has not been biassed, in the lists given, by the denomination of the writer. His object has been to men. tion the best works with which he was acquaint ed. He has inserted with equal pleasure, Owen