by means (it is supposed) of a suffocating wind. The pesti lence in Israel, when David numbered the people, was the work of an Angel. The earth quake at the Resurrection was the work of an Angel. And in the Apocalypse the earth is smitten in various ways by Angels of vengeance. Thus, as far as the Scripture communications go, we learn that the course of nature which is so wonderful, so beautiful and so fearful, is effected by the ministry of these unseen beings. Nature is not inanimate; its daily toil is intelligent; its works are duties. Accordingly the Psalmist says: "The Heavens declare the glory of GoD, and the firmament showeth His handy-work;" "Oh Lord, thy word endureth for ever in Heaven-Thy truth also remaineth from one generation to another; Thou hast laid the foundations of the earth, and it abideth. They continue this day according to Thine ordinance, for all things serve Thee." I do not pretend to say that we are told in Scripture what matter is; but I affirm that as our souls move our bodies, be our bodies what they may, so there are spiritual intelligences which move those wonderful and vast portions of the natural world, which seem to be inanimate; and as the gestures speech and expressive countenance of our friends around us enable us to hold intercourse with them, so in the motions of universal nature, in the interchange of day and night, summer and winter, wind and storm, fulfilling His Word, we are reminded of the blessed and dutiful Angels. Well, then, on this day's Festival, may we sing the hymn of these Three Holy Children whom Nebuchadnezzar cast into the fiery furnace. The Angels were bid change the nature of the flame, and make it harmless to them; and they in turn called on all the creatures of GOD, on the Angels especially, to glorify Him. Though many hundreds of years have passed since that time, and the world now vainly thinks it knows more than it did, and that it has found the real causes of the things it sees, still we may say with grateful and simple hearts, "O all ye works of the Lord, O ye Angels of the Lord, O ye sun and moon, stars of Heaven, showers and dew, winds of GOD, light and darkness, mountains and hills, green things upon the earth! bless ye the Lord, praise him and magnify him for ever. Thus, whenever we look abroad, we are reminded of these most gracious and Holy Beings, the servants of the Holiest, who deign to minister to the heirs of salvation. Every breath of air and ray of light and heat, every beautiful prospect is, as it were, the skirts of their garments, the waving of the robes of those whose faces see GOD in Heaven. And I put it to any one whether it is not as philosophical, and as full of intellectual enjoyment, to refer the movements of the natural world to them, as to attempt to explain them by certain theories of science; useful as these theories certainly are for particular purposes, and capable (in subordination to that higher view) of a religious application? 2. And thus I am led to another use of the doctrine under consideration. While it raises the mind, and gives it matter of thought, it is also profitable as an humbling doctrine, as indeed I have already shown. Vain man would be wise, and he curiously examines the works of nature, as if they were lifeless and senseless; as if he alone had intelligence, and they were base, inert matter, however curiously contrived at the first. So he goes on tracing the order of things, seeking for causes in that order, giving names to the wonders he meets with, and thinking he understands what he has given a name to. At length he forms a theory, and recommends it in writing and calls himself a philosopher. Now all these theories of science which I speak of, are useful, as classifying, and so assisting us to recollect the works and ways of GOD, and of his Ministering Angels. And again, they are ever most useful, in enabling us to apply the course of His providence, and the ordinances of His will to the benefit of man. Thus we are enabled to enjoy God's gifts; and let us thank Him for the knowledge which enables us to do so, and honor those who are His instruments in communicating it. But if such a one proceeds to imagine that, because he knows something of this world's order, he therefore knows how things really go on-if he treats the miracles of nature (so to call them) as mere mechanical processes, continuing their course by themselves, as works of man's contriving (a clock, for instance,) are set in motion, and go on, as it were, of themselves-if in consequence he is, what may be called irreverent in his conduct toward nature, thinking (if I may so speak) that it does not hear him, and see how he is bearing himself toward it; and if, moreover, he conceives that the order of nature which he perfectly discerns, will stand in the place of the GoD who made it, and that all things continue and move on, not by His will and power, and the agency of the thousands and ten thousands of His unseen Servants, but by fixed laws, self-caused and selfsustained, what a poor weak worm, and miserable sinner he becomes! Yet such, I fear, is the condition of many men, now-a-days, who talk loudly, and appear to themselves and others to be oracles of science, and as far as the detail of facts goes, do know much more about the operations of Nature than any of us. Now let us consider what the real state of the case is. Suppostng the inquirer I have been describing, when examining a flower, or an herb, or a pebble, or a ray of light, which he treats as something so beneath him in the scale of existence, suddenly discovered that he was in the presence of some powerful being who was hidden behind the visible things he was inspecting, who, though concealing his wise hand, was giving them their beauty, grace and perfection, as being God's instrument for the purpose, nay, whose robe and ornaments those wondrous objects were, which he was so eager to analyze, what would be his thoughts? Should we but accidentally show a rudeness of manner toward our fellow man, tread on the hem of his garment, or brush roughly against him, are we not vexed, not as if we had hurt him, but from the fear we may have been disrespectful? David had watched the awful pestilence three days, not with curious eyes, but doubtless with indescribable terror and remorse; but, when at length he "lifted up his eyes and saw the Angel of the Lord," (who caused the pestilence) "stand between the earth and Heaven, having a drawn sword in his hand, stretched out over Jerusalem, then David and the elders, who were clothed in sackcloth, fell upon their faces." The mysterious, irresistible pestilence became still more fearful when the cause was known; and what is true of the painful, is true on the other hand of the pleasant and attractive operations of Nature. When we walk abroad and "meditate in the field at the even-tide," how much has every herb and flower in it to surprise and overwhelm us! For, even did we know as much about them as the wisest of men, yet there are those around us, though unseen, to whom our greatest knowledge is as ignorance; and, when we converse on subjects of Nature scientifically, repeating the names of plants and earths, and describing their properties, we should do so religiously, as in the hearing of the great Servants of GOD, with the sort of diffidence which we always feel when speaking before the learned and wise of our own mortal race, as poor beginners in intellectual knowledge, as well as in moral attainments. not: Now I can conceive persons saying all this is fanciful; but if it appears so, it is only because we are not accustomed to such thoughts. Surely we are not told in Scripture about the Angels for nothing, but for practical purposes; nor can 1 conceive a use of our knowledge more practical than to make it connect the sight of this world with the thought of another: nor one more consoling; for surely it is a great comfort to reflect that, wherever we go, we have these about us, who are ministering to all the heirs of salvation, though we see them nor one more easily to be understood and felt by all men; for we know that at one time the doctrine of Angels was received even too readily. And if every one would argue hence against it as dangerous, let him recollect the great principle of our Church, that the abuse of a thing does not supersede the use of it; and let him explain if he can St. Paul's exhorting Timothy not only as before "GOD and CHRIST," but before the elect Angels" also. Hence in the Communion Service our Church teaches us to join our praises with that of "Angels and Archangels and all the Company of Heaven;" and the early Christians even hoped that they waited on the Church's seasons of worship, and glorified GOD with her. Nor are these thoughts without their direct influence on our faith in God and His SON; for the more we can enlarge our view of the next world, the better When we survey ALMIGHTY GOD surrounded by His holy Angels, His thousand thousands of ministering Spirits, and ten thousand times ten thousand standing before Him, the idea of His awful Majesty rises before us more powerfully and impressively.— We begin to see how little we are, how altogether mean and worthless in ourselves, and how high He is, and fearful. The very lowest of His Angels is indefinitely above us in this our present state; how high then must be the Lord of Angels! The very Seraphim hide their faces before His glory, while they praise Him; how shamefaced then should sinners be, when they come into His presence! Lastly, it is a motive to our exertions in doing the will of GOD, to think that if we attain to Heaven, we shall become the fellows of the blessed Angels. Indeed what do we know of the courts of Heaven, but as peopled by them? and therefore, doubtless, they are revealed to us, that we may have something to fix our thoughts on, when we look heavenward. Heaven is indeed the Palace of ALMIGHTY GOD, and of Him doubtless we must think in the first place; and again of His SON our Saviour, who died for us, and who is manifested in the Gospels, in order that we may have something definite to look forward to: for the same cause, surely, the Angels also are revealed to us, that Heaven may be as little as possible an unknown place in our imaginations. Let us then entertain such thoughts as these of the Angels of GOD; and while we try to think of them worthily, let us beware lest we make the contemplation of them a mere feeling, and a sort of luxury of the imagination. This world is to be a world of practice and labor; GOD reveals to us glimpses of the Third Heaven for our comfort; but if we indulge in these as the end of our present being, not trying day by day to purify ourselves for the future enjoyment of the realities, they become but a snare of our enemy. The services of religion, day by day, obedience to GOD in our calling and in ordinary matters, endeavors to imitate our Saviour CHRIST in word and deed, constant prayer to Him, and dependence on Him, these are the due preparations for receiving and profiting by His revelations; whereas many a man can talk and write beautifully about them, who is not at all better or nearer heaven for all his excellent words MORN AT SEA. BY JAMES ALDRICH. Clearly with mental eye, Where the first slanted ray of sunlight springs, In youth's divinest glow, She stands upon a wandering cloud of dew, The child of light and air! O'er land or wave, where'er her pinions move, Athwart this wide abyss On homeward way impatiently I drift; Oh, might she bear me now where sweet flowers lift Their eyelids to her kiss! Her smile hath overspread The heaven-reflecting sea, that evermore Is tolling solemn knells from shore to shore Most like an angel friend, With noiseless footsteps which no impress leave, JOSEPHINE. BY WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. We did not meet in courtly hall, And Wit awakes the song; And hides his titled name; My pretty Josephine. We did not part beneath the sky, Where we first had laughed at love; And the lamps were bright above ;"The heaven is very dark, Love, The blast is very keen; As of the hand that gave; "Go gaily o'er the sea, Love, And find your own heart's queen; That garland breathes and blooms no more, I would not, could I choose, restore Alas your lips are rosier, Your eyes of softer blue, And I have never felt for her As I have felt for you; Our love was like the bright snow-flakes, Which melt before you pass Or the bubble on the wine, which breaks You saw these eyelids wet, Love, WHEN TO FALL IN LOVE.-The celebrated Cobbett fell in love with the Lady who afterward became his devoted and most faithful wife, at the wash tub when she was engaged in wringing clothes. "That's the girl for me," said he; and after the proper preliminaries she became his betrothed. If our likely bachelors would find real ladies for wives, let them go out into the country, and take a peep over the fences toward the close of day; they may be sure that the first unmarried damsels whom they see seated on a three legged stool beside the gentle cow, mildly and affectionate y saying-"so-mully -so," are the very ones, above all others, to make deserving men proud and happy in their choice of a companion.[Maine Cultivator. THE EVERLASTING ROSE. BY JOHN ANSTER, ESQ. Hail to thy hues! thou lovely flower; And boast, e'en now, a spring-tide bloom. Lone ling❜rer in the icy vale, Of smiles that hailed the morning beam, Low sounds to Fancy's ear, that tell Shook dewdrops from thy sparkling cell! As summer breezes waved her head, And in the hermit's cell she glows; A STORY OF THE ORLEANS REGENCY. In the early part of the reign of Louis XV., when the government of France was entrusted to the Regent Orleans, a young Breton gentleman named Montlouis, the descendant of an ancient but decayed family, came to Paris on receiving a commission in the guards of the young king. For some time he performed his duties without anything occurring to render his career of marked interest. One evening, however, in the month of November, 1725, while he was walking along one of the streets leading to the Louvre, wrapped closely up in his cloak to defend him from the severity of the weather, and with his hand upon his sword hilt by way of precaution, he felt his arm grasped suddenly by a passing stranger, and heard the whispered salutation—“You are here, George, punctual to the hour. Follow me." place, that many persons were breathing in it. In a few moments, moreover, his presence seemed to have been announced, for many individuals came up and grasped his hand, uttering friendly salutations at the same time in low and indistinct tones. It may be imagined that the guardsman, who well knew the dangers of the times, was by no means satisfied with the result, as far as it had appeared, of his adventure. His first impression was, that he was in the presence of a band of robbers. But this suspicion was speedily removed. Some individuals of the party began noiselessly to light a number of candles, at the completion of which operation M. Montlouis was enabled distinctly to see the whole scene before him. The apartment was indeed a cave, a long cave, at one end of which a black curtain hung, concealing from view a small portion of the space. From behind this place, Montlouis heard the sobs and moanings of one or more female voices. In the open lighted space about thirty persons were assembled, all of them wrapt in long cloaks, similar to that worn by the young guardsman, and to which the mistake was doubtless owing which had brought him there. The party were all individuals of grave and sombre aspect. Montlouis covered his face as much as possible, and kept back from view, in the hope that no one would observe the error which had been committed. After a time a man of about fifty years of age, reverend in appearance, and having long hair falling upon his shoulders, came forward, and stood beside a dark object in the centre of the assemblage, which was covered with a dark cloth, being evidently a bier or coffin. "My friends," said the person, "I think we are all present. Peace be with you." As these words were uttered, one of the party an attendant seemingly, went to the door by which Montlouis had entered, and locked it. "Now," thought the officer, who began to see clearly the nature of the meeting upon which he had intruded himself so rashly, " now I cannot retreat if discovered, and may pay dearly for my folly." He had not much time to indulge in these meditations. The former speaker continued his address. My Brethren," said he, let us now offer up our prayers for our friend Bertrand de Brunen, who has quitted this vale of tears, and whose virtuous daughter, our beloved sister, entreats" At this point, one of the attendants advanced to the clergyman, for such he evidently was, and whispered a few words in his ear. Instantly he turned his eyes upon Montlouis, with a degree of evident surprise and alarm. He attempted indeed to continue his address, but his voice faltered, and his thoughts were obviously occupied with another snbject. The confusion of the pastor soon extended to the whole assembly. They separated from Montlouis, and stared on him with an expression at once of menace and dismay. Seeing this, the officer resolved to disclose the truth. "Gentlemen," said he, "I am no spy. I give my word of honor, I am not." But there was no change in the looks of the party. "I am Monsieur de Montlouis," continued the guardsman, who, himself trained to respect his family name, believed that to others also it must convey an assurance of unblemished honor in the bearer. What would have been the issue of this matter it is hard to say. But just as Montlouis was repeating his assertion, a noise was heard, and from behind the black veil already mentioned, a young female hastily issued. "Extinguish the lights," cried she in tones of alarm; "we are in danger!" Montlouis was much struck by the face and figure of this lady. Before her request could be obeyed by those present, the noise increased, loud knocks resounded on the outer door of the cave, and a voice exclaimed from without, "Open, in the name of the King!" On hearing this summons, a general exclamation of "We are betrayed! came from the lips of the persons present, and, snatching up the bier, most of them disappeared by a low passage which had been previously unnoticed by Montlouis. Scarcely had they effected their escape when the outer door gave way before the strokes of its assailants, and the room or cave was instantly filled with men wearing the dress of the civil force. The Christian name of Montlouis was Pierre, and he therefore saw at once that the stranger had made a mistake; but the natural thoughtlessness and adventurous spirit of youth led him to form an instantaneous resolution of following the stranger at his invitation. Accordingly, without another word passing between them, the pair moved onwards along the street Saint-Honore, and after a walk of about five minutes, At this moment, Montlouis and the young female spoken of came to an open alley, where the stranger stopped for an in- were almost the only parties present. One of the intruders, a stant, and merely remarking, "This is the place," turned person who seemed to be their leader, advanced with his sword down the passage. A sort of dark avenue was then crossed, in his hand to the female, and, touching her on the shoulder, and finally M. Montlouis was led by his guide down several exclaimed, "I arrest you in the king's name!" Then, turnsteps, which conducted them into a dark apartment, or rathering to those who accompanied him, he said, "This is Madea cave, as the young officer thought. Though he could see moiselle de Brunen; take her in charge. Fear nothing," he no one, Montlouis was not long in discovering that he was in continued, addressing her, "no outrage will be permitted; we the midst of a pretty large assemblage of persons. He heard have an order from the king to conduct you to the convent their whispers, and felt, from the heated atmosphere of the of.” 266 Story of the Orleans Regency-Lady Hester Stanhope—Abd-el-Kader. Mademoiselle de Brunen took a close and agitated survey of the man who addressed her, and then, starting back as from a noxious reptile, she exclaimed, "Begone! touch me not! I know you, wretch," she continued; "you are no servant of the king. Help, friends! leave me not; let me not fall into this man's hands!" The person of whom she spoke laid hands upon her, nevertheless, to drag her away, and no one would probably have interfered, had not her imploring looks, her youth and her beauty stirred up the pity of Mountlouis. "Let go the lady," cried he, unsheathing his sword, "or, whoever you may be, you shall have to answer to me." No reply was made by the other, who continued his attempts to carry off the lady, until forcibly thrown aside by Montlouis. Before any one could interfere, an active combat had commenced between the pair. Rapid passes were exchanged, and at length Montlouis laid his antagonist at his feet. In an instant afterward, the lights were extinguished, and the young guardsman found himself drawn backward by unseen arms into the private passage by which the party had previously disappeared. A gentle voice whispered in his ear, "Follow me," and he felt the hand of Mademoiselle Brunen grasp his own, and lead him onward through the darkness. When they stopped, Montlouis looked around him, and found that they had issued into one of the streets of Paris. Several coaches stood at the spot. Mademoiselle de Brunen left him, and entered one of the vehicles, but immediately afterwards a person came up to the officer and said, "If Monsieur de Montlouis will do Mademoiselle de Branen the honor of assisting in the completion of the sad ceremony which has been disturbed, she will feel gratified." He at once assented, and was conducted to one of the vehicles. "Forward!" cried a voice, and the whole of the carriages started at a rapid pace along the streets. After passing the barriers of the city, the travellers continued their route for a considerable distance, until they reached a lonely house surrounded by lofty walls. Here the carriages stopped, and the whole party left them.The bier was conveyed silently through the house into a garden, where a grave was found ready prepared. Rapidly and silently the ceremony of interment was gone through, and then, with mournful farewell signs, the whole assemblage separated, each apparently taking his own way. "of our "M. de Montlouis stood in the meantime a little apart. At the close of the funeral rite he was left alone with Mademoiselle Brunen. She came up to him, her eyes filled with tears. "You have saved my life and honor, sir," said she, at length, "but, I fear, at the cost, or at least the imminent risk, of your own." "Speak not of it, lady," said Montlouis. "You have been witness to an assemblage," continued she, persecuted Protestant brethren, who, at great peril to themselves, have dared to perform the last rites to my father, though he was a victim marked out by Cardinal Dubois and his creatures. I know not how you came among us; but you have saved me from the power of one who, under the pretext of converting me, had previously endeavored to tempt me to ruin. Whether he had the regent's authority for his late attempt, I cannot say, but I know well that he is one whose death will not be left unavenged by Dubois. You are lost, utterly lost, and I have been the unhappy cause!" Montlouis endeavored to assure her of the causeless nature of her fears, but he failed to make his argument good. "There is one way," said the lady, hesitatingly," there is-there appears to me but one way in which you may be saved." The young officer conjectured the cause of her hesitation. "Dear lady," said he, "fortune appears to have thrown us strangely together, and to have united our fates at one decisive blow.But, believe me, if, to relieve us from this extremity, it be necessary to take steps which might appear improper at another moment, believe me, I will not presume upon them." "You partly comprehend me," said Mademoiselle de Brunen, "but I will speak plainly. It would be folly, as well as base ingratitude, to permit the indulgence of childish feelings at the cost of your life. I have passports for myself and servants to go to Holland. I have friends there. You must fly with me; it is our duty to recompense you for all you have lost by me. You will find an asylum there." After a pause, she added, with a tremulous voice, "You must fly! If not, I too will remain, for I could not live after having destroyed you!' Need we tell the reader the issue? M. Montlouis fled to Holland. A short time after these events, he was hung in effigy by the Cardinal Dubois's orders, in Paris, but he was consoled for it by the attentions of a lovely wife and kind friends in a foreign land. THE LAST MOMENTS OF LADY HESTER STANHOPE. It was midnight. I was aroused from sleep by a loud knocking at my door. On opening it I found a gigantic negro, with his bridle in his hand, and large big tears coursing each "For God's sake come, sir, other down his ebony cheeks. and save Lady Hester-come quick, or you will be too late!" Within a few minutes I was galloping on the road to Djouni; and on entering Lady Hester's chamber I found her lying on her couch, at the head of which sat her faithful negress, weeping bitterly. "Zaira," exclaimed the lady, "let my big mare be saddled, let my guards be ready, and tell the brave fellows that I will be ready to lead them on to Jerusalem." "Alas, my Lady! these are not fitting thoughts for a death-bed." "Insensate Zaira! I on my death-bed! I, whose brow is encircled with a golden halo, which will last as long as the world! I who shortly am going to mount the throne of Je rusalem! Avaunt! I banish you my presence." I then advanced, and my patient immediately began enumerating to me her myriads of combatants who were to follow her to the throne of Jerusalem. I suggested that her present state of health would not allow her to take so long a journey. She attempted a reply, but sank exhausted on the couch. An old man covered with rags entered-here is his history. In 1800 Pierre Louis Lustanos left France for the East Indies. Penniless and friendless, but possessing some slight military knowledge, he arrived at Lahore, and served with great credit under Runjeet Singh. In 1820, feared and be loved by all, he had amassed an immense wealth in gold and diamonds. A considerable portion of this he left with his wife, the Princess Cachucca. Loaded with riches, he left Lahore for Europe; but just as the ship had arrived off Gib raltar she was wrecked, and his wealth was swallowed up by the waves. Nothing was left except a diamond worth 600!., on which he lived until 1825, when Runjeet Singh recalled him to Lahore. One day he fancied that the Almighty bad commanded him to adopt the life of a hermit, and since that reriod he lived as a rigid anchorite. At length he left his cell to share the palace of Lady Hester, whose affections be had gained, but they soon quarrelled, as both of them were aspirants for the throne of Jerusalem. Since that period he has wandered about, subsisting on the bounty of Lady Hester, who carefully concealed the hand that administered to his want. It was this old man, Lustanos, who now entered the chamber of death. The lady's countenance was lit up with a smile for a few seconds; she then sank down upon her couch, and all was over. ABD-EL-KADER. The Hadji Abd-el-Kader Oulid Mahiddin, who figures in the accounts of the wars of the French in Africa, belongs to a most ancient family of Marabouts, and descends, like his kins man, the Emperor of Morocco, from the Fatimite Caliphs.He was born at Guetna, a sort of seminary near Mascara, on the Hachem territory, where the Marabouts, his ancestors, assembled a number of young men to instruct them in letters, theology, and jurisprudence. Abd-el-Kader was educated as well as an Arab can be by his father, Sidi Madiddin, who turned to the best account his intelligence and energy. As yet but a boy, not a passage of the Koran perplexed him, and his explanations were readier than those of the ablest commen tators. He likewise diligently applied himself to oratory and history, and so successfully, that he is now the most eloquent speaker in his country, (an immense advantage among the Arabs,) and perfectly acquainted with the annals of his nation. Nor did he neglect the exercises of the body, in which he excels, he being generally reckoned the best horseman in the Barbary states. In short, at the early age of twenty he was distinguished for all the qualities which men like to behold in those whom they place at their head. Abd-el-Kader is now about thirty-one years old; he is of middling hight, somewhat corpulent; his countenance is mild, expressive, and distinguished; his eyes are very fine, his beard thin and dark, and his teeth, which are ill set, are blue spotted; his hands, of which he takes particular care, are extremely iterranean to the Sa Lara, and from the frontier of Morocco fine and delicate; his head is generally somewhat inclined to that of Tunis. Whilst pursuing the object of their ambitoward the left shoulder; his manners are affable, and most tion at an enormous expense of men and money, and by the polite, and dignified; he seldom is betrayed into anger, but al- alternate employment of force, treachery, extortion and cruways keeps a command over himself; in short, to quote the elty, Abd-el-Kader, undaunted by the strides of his powerful words of an intelligent and impartial French officer of rank, neighbors, has gradually risen, by dint of bravery, sagacity, who has been employed upon negociations with the natives al- and perseverance, to the possession of no small share of the most ever since the occupation of Algiers, "the whole person empire which they would exclusively secure to themselves. of the Emir is fascinating, and it is difficult to know and not Whilst their policy has fluctuated under the influence of systo like him." tems as various as the administrations formed at Paris, or the Abd-el-Kader is a man of great bravery, yet his mind is many governors-general sent out to Africa, the young emir has perhaps better adapted to government than to mititary affairs. steadily pursued his object, and become unto the Arabs a Though gifted with great fortitude and perseverance, he has leader and a centre of action-a leader whose talents and galoccasionally betrayed some dejection in the arduous circum-lantry in the field his Gallic enemies have already tried. stances he has had to contend with. His manners are pure, even rigidly so; he has but one wife, whom he most tenderly loves. Three years ago his family consisted of a daughter, then four or five years old, and of a son, born a few days before the French entered and destroyed Mascara. When in his capital, he dwelt with his family in a rather fine house, but which was not the palace. He lived there without any guards, and as a private individual. Every day, at an early hour, he repaired to the palace or beylick to transact public business and give audience. In the evening he returned to his house, and again became a private individual. Abd-el-Kader is equally unpresuming in his dress, his costume being that of a mere Arab, without any sort of ornament or badge of distinction. If he displays any splendor, it is about his arms and horses. At one time he wore a burnous, the tassels of which were of gold; but one of his brothers inlaw, whom he had appointed Kaid of a powerful tribe, having indulged in that station in a pomp which had excited some discontent, he sent for him, and after censuring his conduct, added, "Follow my example; I am richer and more powerful than you, yet see how I am dressed; I will not even retain those paltry tassels that you see hanging to my burnous." He immediately cut them off, and from that moment has never worn the slightest bit of gold or silver about his person. Abd-el Kader is very fond of study, to which he devotes the few hours he can spare from his active life. A little library accompanies him in all his movements. When on an expedition he displays much more royalty than when in town; he then lives under a superb and convenient tent, in a nook of which elegantly fitted up, he gives private audiences and attends to state affairs. In the camp he employs his time as follows, when the day is not taken up with military operations: -On reaching his tent, after a days march, he keeps by him but one servant, and after some minutes devoted to dressing and cleanliness, summons his secretaries and principal officers in succession, works with them till four o'clock; he then presents himself at the entrance of his tent, and himself says the public prayers; he next preaches for half an hour, taking care to select a religious text that may naturally inculcate the notions it suits him to propagate upon war and politics; nobody however is obliged to attend his sermons. Some moments after, he sits down to table with his chief secretary and a confidential friend, Miloud-Ben-Brach, his brothers, when they are not with the army, and the oftener one of his agas. The dishes served up to him are few in number, but good and carefully prepared. Abd-el-Kader appears to have religious feelings and due notions of Providence, but he is no fanatic. He does not dread discussing religious matters with Christians, and he argues with politeness and without asperity. He is an honest man, and has well-established moral principles; though subtle and canning, in a diplomatic point of view, he is a faithful observer of his word. Nothing is more foreign to his nature than cruelty; he governs the Arabs with justice and mildness, thereby confuting those who maintain that they can be governed only by terror. Whenever it has been in his power, he has acted with clemency and generosity toward his enemies. Two only have suffered death under his government, and that after due trial-the Cadi of Arzew, and Sidi-el-Gomarez, Sheik of Angad, who was hanged at Mascara, in August, 1835. The conversation of Abd-el-Kader is very animated, and at times witty. In private life he is considered parsimonious, but as a prince he knows full well how and when to be liberal. In financial and commercial matters his notions are most of them erroneous. The remarkable man whose portrait we have just derived from authentic data, is the most formidable foe that the French have to contend with in their efforts to assert their pretended rights over the vast territory extending from the Med THE DYING ONE. From my own land I Oh! let me then resign my life at home, Italia's skies are bright-her land is fair- When I walk forth at eve, Kind friends are near me now to cheer me on; My tears would fall unheeded-and mine eye, My father's tomb was made In our own village churchyard-o'er his grave Of early friends, by Death's stern hand bereft, Here my fair sister died Within these arms my brothers breathed their last- In their own native spot my kindred lie; And thou, too, my Beloved! Whose love is the sole link that binds to earth- Aye, here my lot is cast; Should I not feel 'midst strangers, sad and lone? My greatest trial will be to resign A love so fervent, deep, and pure as thine! And now, Our pastor comes, and speaks to me of heaven, In that far land, beside my dying bed, Life's race will soon be run I know it, and repine not-I but pray |