fell to me by the death of all my relations. I at least accomplished a graet duty, by inducing the guardian of this treasure to reduce it to ashes, rather than let it fall into hands that would have made an execrable use of it. Yet when I think of the magnificent projects of my ancestor for the welfare of humanity; when I remember that it was the intention of my relations to carry them into effect, on coming into possession of their inheritance-my horror and hatred of that infamous Society, whose dark intrigues have caused the failure of these great and glorious plans, know no bounds. Of all these splendid projects, what now remains? seven tombs....for mine is also made in the mausoleum, which Samuel has caused to be erected on the site of the house in the rue St. Francis, and of which, ever faithful, he has constituted himself the guardian.

*

"I have just received your letter. Your bishop then has forbid you to correspond with me. I am too much incensed to say more in this letter, which, since it is necessary, will be the last. My heart is sad; I now bid you a final adieu.

"GABRIEL DE RENNEPONT."

CHAPTER XXI.-REDEMPTION.

It was near the dawn. A faint red streak appeared in the east, but the sparkling stars still shone in the blue zenith. The birds, waking amid the fresh foliage of the large forests in the valley, preluded their morning concert by a few isolated warblings. A thin light vapour rose from the herbage, which was saturated with nightdew, whilst the approaching dawn was reflected in the clear, tranquil bosom of a large blue lake. Everything announced one of those warm and joyous days in the commencement of summer. About the middle of the valley, on the side facing the east, a thicket of old willows, covered almost with moss and ivy, formed a sort of natural arbour, in which were seated a man and woman, whose white hair, wrinkled visages, and stooping forms, announced extreme age. And yet the woman was, only lately, young and beautiful, with her long black hair waving over her pale brow; and the man, too, was, but a short time ago, in the vigour of life. From the spot on which they were reposing could be seen the valley, the lake, the forest, and crowning all, the summit of a high mountain, behind which the sun was about to rise. This picture, partly veiled by the clear twilight, was at once cheerful, melancholy, and solemn.

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'Oh, sister!" said the old man, "how many times, since the hand of the Lord, centuries ago, launched us on our journey,

apart from each other, we have wandered from pole to pole; how often we have witnessed the awakening of nature with incurable sorrow!"

"But oh, what happiness, my brother, the Lord, in his mercy, has at length permitted-glory be to him!—each day that we now live, to bring us nearer to the tomb!"

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Yes, glory be to him, sister; for ever since he, by his will, brought us together yesterday, I have felt that languor which must be the forerunner of death."

"And I feel like you, brother; no doubt our lives are drawing to a close; the anger of the Lord is appeased."

"Alas, sister! the last of my doomed race is, by his approaching death, about to purchase my redemption; for the will of the Lord has at length manifested itself. I shall be pardoned when the last of my descendants have disappeared from the face of the earth; for him-holy amongst the most holy-is reserved the favour of procuring my pardon; he who has done so much for the salvation of his brethren."

"Yes, brother, he who has suffered so much, who has drained the bitter cup without complaint, he, a minister of the Lord, Christ's image on earth, he is to be the instrument of this redemption."

"Yes, for I feel at this moment that he, the victim of persecution, is on the point of delivering up his angelic soul to his Maker. Thus, even to the end, I prove fatal to my doomed race. Lord, Lord, if thy clemency is great, so is also thy anger."

"Courage and hope, brother; remember that after expiation comes_pardon, after pardon recompense. The Lord has punished, in you and your posterity, the artisan rendered wicked by misfortune and injustice; he said to you, 'On! on! without intermission or repose. journey shall be in vain; in the evening, you will be no nearer the end than you were in the morning, on recommencing your eternal course!

Your

"And thus, for centuries, merciless men have said to the artisan, Work! work without intermission or repose, and your labour, fruitful to others, shall be sterile to yourself; each evening you will be no nearer happiness and repose than you were in the morning, on returning to your daily toil; and your wages shall be just sufficient to support this life of sorrow, privation, and misery!' Alas! will it be always thus?"

"No, no, brother, instead of weeping over your race, rejoice over them. If their extinction was necessary to your redemption, the Lord, in redeeming you the artisan accursed of heaven-will redeem also the artisan accursed and feared by those who have placed him under a yoke of iron. At length, my brother, the time

approaches. Yes, I tell you, in us the modern slave shall be redeemed. The trial has been painful-it has lasted eighteen centuries; but it has lasted long enough. Look, brother, at the rosy light in the east, which is gradually rising above the horizon. So will soon rise a grand, peaceful, salutary, holy emancipation, which will shed light and heat over the world, like the orb that will presently be shining in the heavens!"

"Yes, yes, sister, I feel your words are prophetic; yes, we shall close our heavy eyes in looking on the dawn of this happy day of deliverance. My tears are tears of pride and joy, for those of my race, who have perhaps died to procure this redemption! holy martyrs, who have been sacrificed by the eternal enemies of mankind; for the wretches who blasphemously call their society by the blessed name of Jesus are the Pharisees -the false and worthless priests whom Christ has denounced. Yes, glory to the descendants of my race, who have been immolated by the abettors of slavery and despotism, and the enemies of all enfranchisement of those who suffer and who wish to enjoy a share of that bounty which the Creator intended for the whole human family. Yes, yes, the time is coming-the downfall is near of the Pharisees and false priests, who lend their aid to the merciless selfishness of the strong against the weak, in daring to maintain, in face of the inexhaustible treasures of creation, that God made man for tears, misery, and wretchedness. No, no; he was not made for these; God intended him to be upright, intellectual, free, and happy."

"Oh! your words are also prophetic, brother; see the dawn of this beautiful day approaches, like the happy moment which will end our earthly career."

"Sister, I feel as if my frame was dissolving; and my soul seems as if it would ascend to heaven."

"Brother, my eyes grow dim-I can scarcely see the rosy light, which lately appeared in the east. God be praised! the commencement of our eternal repose draws near."

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'Yes, it approaches, sister; my eyes are closing-we are pardoned!

"Oh, brother, this redemption will extend to all who suffer on earth." "Die in peace, sister-see, the sun is rising."

"God be praised! "God be praised!'

*

*

*

And at the moment these two voices ceased for ever. The dazzling sun shone out, and inundated the valley with his rays!

To A. M. C. P.

My Friend---I have dedicated this work to you. To do this, was to engage to accomplish a work, which, if wanting in talent, should at least be sincere and conscientious, and which, though limited in its influence, might prove salutary. My object is attained. A few noble hearts, like yours, my friend, have brought into practical operation the legitimate association of labour, capital, and intelligence, and have already given to their workmen a fair proportion of the profits; others have laid the foundations of buildings for the reception of their workmen; and a gentleman of Ĥamburg has done me the honour to acquaint me with his projects respecting the erection of an immense establishment of this kind.

As to the dispersion of the Jesuits, I have assisted in bringing it about like many others of the enemies of the detestable doctrines of Loyola.

Adieu, my friend. I would that this work had been worthy of you, but you are indulgent, and will at least give me credit for my intentions.

Paris, August 25, 1845.

FINIS.

EUGENE SUE.

THE DYING RUFFIAN.

Mr. Leigh Hunt has just published a work of fiction, in three volumes, under the title of "The Foster Brother, a tale of the war of the Chiozza." He has applied himself to paint Venetian life, and the story is one of powerful interest, from the skill with which good and bad feelings in the same bosom, are brought into startling conflict.

The situation of Teresa, at once the admired of father and son, is peculiarly striking. Within our narrow limits we cannot trace the course of the incidents, but hasten to give the dying scene of a brutal ruffian, who, acquainted with the place of Teresa's detention, though aware that his own end is approaching, will not reveal the secret which would save her, as he believes, from being starved to death. To render him communicative, the brother of Teresa attends him in his dungeon, and endeavours to work on him by proposing an escape, and tempts his avarice by offering him money. He helps the wretched being to some water, as he lies on his bed, and at length induces him to rise, and succeeds in drawing him from the place of his confinement. To trace Nadale to his hiding place, to avail himself of what remained of life in the sinking ruffian, and obtain that information from his movements which his lips could not be prevailed upon to utter, was the object in view. This in the sequel

is gained, and the unfortunate lady relieved:

"See you here,' said Ranieri with a whisper, drawing forth his purse, well filled by Zeno's generous bounty, 'this is what my master has left with me; for we will not escape empty handed.' Nadale took the purse, and weighed it with an absent air in his hand. Is it gold?' he asked. Of the best,' answered Ranieri. Two ducats,' muttered Nadale, 'for killing a woman, and two ducats for telling her lover of it. That is not much. But you, stripling, make a better trade; and yet you have no more wit, truly, than to pay a man for escaping! Starting, he added with a fierce cunning-And for what else?' He threw the purse upon the ground. Ranieri picked it up, and put it back into his hand. The man took it mechanically; and when Ranieri moved to take it back from him again, he clutched it with a perverse anger. 'Put it in your pocket, good man, or you may chance to lose it; for your hands totter. But I will have half; for it shall not be all yours.' 'Half!-half?-be it so. We can talk about that outside; for you are master here, you know;' and he moved towards the door again. He walked steadier now, and Ranieri sought to give him no more help than he needed. He laid his hand upon the lock, but could not turn it well. Hush! hush!' cried the youth; what a noise you make. Leave it to me, who am at home here.' The door stood open, and the fresh air pouring into the room seemed to revive the feeble prisoner. 'Aye, that is cooler,' he cried; but I must have another drink of water before we go.' It was in his hands almost as soon as asked for. Ranieri set down the jug silently by the door, and they went forth. They crossed the wall. Edward had already set the outer door open, and they issued forth into the cold night. They walked on. Presently Nadale stopped, and said fiercely to his companion,-Well, now I have escaped; will that suffice you? I am not to be watched home. Do you think, stripling, I have lost my wits? Stand you back here.' Farewell, then,' answered Ranieri; but how shall I get half of the gold?' 'Why you shall fetch it to-morrow.' 'But how, if I know not where you live?' Nadale laughed, and wringing Ranieri's hand, cried,- Farewell;' and he tottered onwards. Ranieri watched him as he went; letting him get as far in advance as he could keep him in sight, and then he walked forward too. He had not gone a great way before his two friends joined him, creeping close to the houses. But the wandering dreamer cast little regard backwards; and as he went, his pace grew faster; so they were fain to draw nearer, lest they should lose sight of him. And

so he staggered on; now jostling against the walls of some narrow calle, now ba lancing upon the edge of a canal. The luck that waits on drunkards and madmen seemed to keep his footing safe, and still he staggered onward. His pace holds out well,' said Edward. 'To my seeming,' answered Ranieri, 'it grows fainter. He could scarcely stand when he was dressing, and I fear that, with that heated running, he will scarcely last out. Look how he stumbles!' And as he spoke the man did stumble, but recovered himself. He stumbled again and again, and then he vanished, flat upon the ground. With quickened pace the friends drew near him. He was motionless. Ranieri turned him upon his back, and placed his hand upon his heart. One moment he held it there, and there was a faint beat. 'There is some life left,' he whispered, 'if we could but rouse it. Sebastian, run back, and fetch me some wine.' • Wine!' exclaimed Edward; it will kill the man.' Aye, it will kill him, but the fuel will make the flame flare up at first: and we want but a little more of his life to serve our turn.' Without further question, Sebastian flew to do his bidding. Kneel you here behind him,' said Ranieri, and let him rest against you, while I stand to speak to him if he rouse.' But the wretch's head dropped back, as if in death, upon Edward's shoulder, and he spoke not a word while he waited. This is frightful,' whispered Ranieri, for if he die, who shall say where this hidden murderer was wont to lurk; and yet in his den is there all that Venice holds most precious to some of us.' Edward did not answer; he felt the weight heavier, and truly feared that the man was dying. There was a sound of footsteps in the dark, quick and quicker, and Sebastian came to them. Have you brought a cup too?' asked Ranieri. is here,' answered Sebastian. 'Well thought of; fill it full.' He held it to the sick man's lips, and instinct still prevailing, the lips sucked up the draught. So deftly did the youth tilt the cup, that not a drop was spilled. The glassy eyes unclosed, the faint gleams of a clouded moon flashing coldly upon them. Why, how is this?' said Ranieri, presently; you need something stronger than water now.' Again the full cup was held to the fevered lips.

6

It

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nieri could tell, from the fierce tottering of his hands, how the fever had grown upon him. After he had gulped down the draught, he panted and coughed for breath. The flame had, indeed, begun to flare; but his legs, if wilder in their movement, were stronger now, and again he staggered onward. He stopped. It was not our bargain, giovinotto mio, that you should go home with me. You know each man has his home, and yours lies behind there.' And so it does; but can you stand alone?" Aye, bravely.' Farewell, then; and if you fall I will be by to help you.' Why, then you must follow me,' said Nadale, with a bewildered laugh. Why, then I will follow you if you need it; but now I shall leave you.' And he drew back, suffering his companion to stagger onward alone. And so he went, down this street and that lane, till they found they were reaching a poorer quarter of the city. Once or twice the pursuers feared that footsteps would cross the drunken man's path; but they turned aside, and still he went forward, like one that made no doubt of his way. Onward, onward, more and more closely followed, as he grew more regardless and headlong in his course, until his pace abated. He had drawn nigh to his lodging, and now took the more leisurely step of a man who feels he has arrived at home. He stopped, and placing his hand upon a door he looked back, to see whether he was still unwatched, as he hoped. It was too late; the wretch's game of hiding was up; and running forward, closely followed by his friends, Ranieri helped the tottering hand of the dying man to open the door. Nadale turned fiercely to them as they pressed upon them. Keep back!' he cried, seizing Edward with desperate violence. Short was the struggle. Clutching the miserable wretch by both arms, Edward forced them together, and shaking the spent ruffian, he threw him upon his back into the open house. A short hoarse cry burst from Nadale as he fell, there was a stifled sound of choking in the dark, and his limbs struggled-it ceased. The silence was as intense as the blackness of the night within the house."

The Eatherer.

Perils of Pearl Fishing.-The Yaquis are expert divers for pearls in the gulf of California. Every season, eight or ten small vessels, from fifteen to forty tons, manned by about two hundred divers, repair to different parts of the gulf. The pearls, as is well known, are contained in the shells of oysters, and of some smaller fish; and these do not lie on sand banks at a moderate depth, but are often fastened

to rocks, or in the clefts of rocks, from nine to eighteen feet below the surface. To descend eighteen, or even twelve feet in the water, requires no slight muscular strength; nor is it easy to remain underneath time enough to snatch the shells from the rocks, when they happen (as is often the case) to cling tenaciously. Sometimes the hands and feet of the divers are much lacerated; but this is a slight evil, compared with the dread of the sharks and mantarayas (a monstrous kind of ray), which in every season make some their victims.

pre

died

Politeness of a Widow." Mrs. sents her kind compliments to Mr. and much regrets that she cannot show the pictures to-day, as Major yesterday evening of apoplexy; which Mrs. the more regrets, as it will prevent her having the honour to see Sir Walter Scott and Miss Edgeworth."— Lockhart's Life of Scott.

Indians have a method of committing suiSelf-Destruction.-The North American cide by turning their own tongues down their throats. The practice has not yet but here men frequently destroy thembeen successfully introduced into England; selves by eating their own words.

The Wreck of the Missouri.-In getting up the remains of the Missouri, a fine American frigate which was burnt to the water's edge near Gibraltar by accident a year or two back, a fine assortment of shackles have been found by the divers, fitted for man, woman, or child. Such a cargo in a government ship from the land of liberty, excites no small surprise among the admirers of the model republic.

Australian Account of the Creation.According to the natives of the Murray, there are four individuals living up among the clouds, called Nooreele, a father and his three male children, but there is no mother. The father is all-powerful, and of benevolent character. He made the earth, trees, waters, &c., gave names to every thing and place, placed the natives in their different districts, telling each tribe that they were to inhabit such and such localities, and were to speak such and such a language. It is said that he brought the natives originally from some place over the eastward. The Nooreele never die, and the souls (ludko, literally a shadow) of dead natives will go up and join them in the skies, and will never die again. Other tribes of natives give an account of a serpent of immense size, and inhabiting high rocky mountains, which, they say, produced creation by a blow of his tail.

H. A. Burstall, Printer, 2, Tavistock-street,Strand.

GOLDSMITH AND HIS "VICAR." We avail ourselves of the embellishments of a superior edition of the "Vicar of Wakefield," recently reissued by Willoughby and Co., not only to show what cheap literature can accomplish in thus illustrating that admirable and justly popular work, but because it has especial interest at this moment, when the clever painting brought before the public by the Art Union has made every one acquainted with its history and the necessities of its author.

Benevolent but improvident Goldsmith deserved well of mankind for what he wrote, rather than for what he did. His great talents could not keep him out of difficulties, his solemn meditations could not snatch him from dissipation. When

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kindness flew to his relief, the first use he made of the aid afforded was to procure a bottle of wine!

Yet this was the man who, in his delightful fiction, could so finely school the thoughtless, and show how even depravity might be abated, and a prison rendered endurable. It is thus that the good Dr. Primrose was employed in the cut given above. Careful habits the author thought were to be acquired, and he held it to be the business of the ruling powers, to reform by admonition, not to destroy by punishment. "Then," said he, "instead of our present prisons, which find or make men guilty, which enclose wretches for the commission of one crime and return them, if returned alive, fitted for the perpetration of thousands, we should see, as in other

VOL. XLVI.