ous pin which vibrates daily at the toilette under the contending influence of vanity and delicacy-the pin, in short, which, on our females, acts as the infallible barometer of devotion, had risen to the highest point of dryness, without, alas! checking the progress of the disease.

Our two divines, fearful of being swept away with the guilty, were, at this time, perfectly outrageous in their zeal to bring the bakers' wives at Alcala to a due sense of the evil influence of their glaring, bushy top-knots and short petticoats. Having, therefore, with little ceremony to the vicar, taken possession of the parish church, they began a course of preaching for nine days, known by the name of Novena, a definite number which, with many other superstitions, has been applied to religious rites among the Catholics since the times of Roman paganism.

Most of the Spanish villages possess some miraculous image-generally of the Virgin Mary-which is the palladium of the inhabitants. These tutelar deities are of a very rude and ancient workmanship, as it seems to have been the case with their heathen prototypes. The "Great Diana" of the Alcalaians is a small, ugly, wooden figure, nearly black with age and the smoke of the lamp which burns incessantly before it, dressed up in a tunic and mantle of silver or gold tissue, and bearing a silver crown. It is distinguished from the innumerable host of wooden virgins by the title of Virgen del Aguila-the Virgin of the Eagle, and is worshiped on a high, romantic spot, where stood a strong fortress of the Moors, of which large ruins are still visible. A church was erected, probably soon after the conquest of Andalusia, on the area of the citadel. A spring-well of the most delicious water is seen within the precincts of the temple, to which the natives resort for relief in all sorts of distempers. The extreme purity of both air and water, on that elevated spot, may indeed greatly contribute to the recovery of invalids, for which the Virgin gets all the credit.

The Novena, which was to avert the infection from the village, would have been inefficient without the presence of the Eagle patroness, to whom it was dedicated. The image was, accordingly, brought down to the parish church in a solemn procession. The eldest Missionary-for such priests as preach, not for a display of eloquence, but the conversion of sinners, assume that title among ushaving a shrill, disagreeable voice, and being apt, when he addressed the people, to work himself into a feverish excitement approaching to madness, generally devolved that duty on his brother, while he devoted himself to the confessional. The brother was, indeed, cast in the true mould of a popular preacher, such as can make a powerful impression on the lower classes of Spain. His make was strong, his countenance almost handsome, his voice more loud than pleasing. He had, in fact, all the characteristics of an Andalusian Majo: jet black passionate eyes, a shining bluish beard darkening his cheeks from within an inch of his long eye-lashes, and a swaggering gait which, in the expressive idiom of the country, gives such as move with it the name of Perdonavidas-Life-sparers as if other people

owed their lives to the mercy, or contempt of these heroes. The effects of his preaching were just what people expect on similar occasions. A Missionary feels baffled and disappointed when he is not interrupted by groans, and some part of the female audience will not go into hysterics. If he has a grain of spirit about him, such a perverse indifference nettles, him into a furious passion, and he turns the insensibility of his hearers into a visible proof of their reprobate state. Thus it often happens, that the people measuring their spiritual danger by the original dulness or incomprehensibility of the sermon, the final triumph of the missionary is in exact proportion to his absurdity. To make these wild discourses more impressive, as well as to suit the convenience of the labouring classes, they are commonly delivered after sunset. Our orator, it is true, omitted the exhibition of a soul in hell-flames, which a few years ago was regularly made from the pulpit in a transparent picture; but he worked up the feelings of the audience by contrivances less disgusting and shocking to common sense. Among others he fixed a day for collecting all the children of the town under seven years of age, before the image of the Virgin. The parents, as well as all others who had attained the age of moral responsibility, were declared to be unworthy of addressing themselves in supplication, and therefore excluded from the centre of the church, which was reserved for the throng of innocent suppliants. But I shall probably find a fitter place to enter at length on the tricks of our popular preachers.

When the first period of nine days had been spent in this mockery of common sense and religion, the fertile minds of our missionaries were not at a loss to find a second course of the same pious mummery, and so on till the infection had ceased at Seville. The preservation of the village from the fever which, more or less, had existed for three or four months in the neighbouring towns, you will easily believe was attributed by the preachers to their own exertions. The only good effect, however, which I observed in consequence of their sermons, was the increased attendance of the male part of the population at the Rosario de Madrugada-the Dawn Rosary-one of the few useful and pleasing customs which religion has introduced in Spain.

It is an established practice in our country-towns to awake the labouring population before the break of day, that they may be early in readiness to begin their work, especially in the corn-fields, which are often at the distance of six or eight miles from the labourers' dwellings. Nothing but religion, however, could give a permanency to this practice. Consequently a rosary, or procession, to sing praises to the Virgin Mary before the dawn, has been established among us from time immemorial. A man with a good voice, active, sober, and fond of early rising, is either paid, or volunteers his services, to perambulate the streets an hour before day-break, knocking at the doors of such as wish to attend the procession, and inviting all to quit their beds and join in the worship of the Mother of God. This invitation is made in short couplets, set to a very simple melody, and accompanied by the pretty and varied tinkling of a hand-bell,

beating time to the tune. The effect of the bell and voice, especially after a long winter-night, has always been very pleasing to me. Nor is the fuller chorus of the subsequent procession less so. The chant, by being somewhat monotonous, harmonizes with the stillness of the hour; and without chasing away the soft slumbers of the morning, relieves the mind from the ideas of solitude and silence, and whispers life and activity returning with the approaching day.

The fever having stopped its ravages about the end of autumn, and nearly disappeared a few weeks before Christmas, my friend and myself prepared to return home. I shall never forget our melancholy arrival in this town on the last evening of December. Besides the still existing danger of infection to those who had been absent, there was a visible change in the aspect of the town, no less than in the looks and manner of the inhabitants, which could not but strike the most thoughtless on the first approach to that recent scene of woe and misery. An unusual stillness reigned in every street; and the few pale faces which moved in them, conjured up in the mind a vivid representation of the late distress. The heart seemed to recoil from the meeting of old acquaintances, and the signs of mourning were every where ready to check the first risings of joy at the approach of friends that had been spared.

The Sunday after our arrival, we went, according to custom, to the public walk on the banks of the river. But the thousands who made it their resort before the late calamity had now absolutely deserted it. At the end of the walk was the burying-ground, which, during the great mortality, had been appointed for that quarter of the city. The prevalent custom of burying in vaults within the churches kept the town unprovided with an appropriate place for interment outside the walls; and a portion of waste land, or common, now contained the remains of ten thousand inhabitants, who in their holiday rambles had, not long before, been sporting unconsciously over their graves. As we approached the large mounds, which, with the lofty cross erected on the turf, were yet the only marks which distinguished the consecrated from the common ground, we saw one of the Rosarios, or processions in honour of the Virgin, slowly advancing along the avenue of the public walk. Many who formerly frequented that place for recreation had, under the impression of grief and superstitious terror, renounced every species of amusement, and marshalling themselves in two files, preceded by a cross, and closed by the picture of the Virgin on a standard, repaired every Sunday to the principal place of burial, where they said prayers for the dead. Four or five of these processions, consisting either of males or females, passed towards the cemetery as we were returning. The melancholy tone in which they incessantly sang the Ave Maria and the Lord's Prayer, introducing the last after every ten successive repetitions of the first -as they glided along a former scene of life and animation-and the studied plainness of the dresses, contrasted with the gay apparel which the same persons used to display on that very spot, left us no wish to continue our walk. Among the ladies, whose penitent dress

was most striking, we observed many who, not satisfied with mere plainness of attire, had, probably under a private vow, clothed themselves in a stuff peculiar to some of the religious orders. The grey mixture used by the Franciscans was most prevalent. Such vows are indeed very common in cases of danger from illness; but the number and class of the females whom we found submitting to this species of penance, shewed the extent and pressure of past affliction.

So transient, however, are the impressions of superstitious fear when unsupported by the presence of its object, that a few months have sufficed nearly to obliterate the signs of the past terror. The term of the vows having expired with most, our females have recovered their wonted spirits, and put aside the dull weeds of their holy patrons. Many, it is probable, have obtained from their confessors a commutation of the rash engagement, by means of a few pence paid towards the expenses of any war that may arise between his Catholic Majesty and Turks or infidels-a Crusade in petto, for which government collects a vast yearly sum, in exchange for various ghostly privileges and indulgences, which the King buys from the Pope at a much cheaper rate than he retails them to his loving subjects.

One loss alone will, I fear, be permanent, or of long duration to the gay part of this town. The theatrical representations, which, on the first appearance of the epidemic fever, were stopped, more by the clamour of the preachers than the apprehensions of the inhabitants, will not be resumed for years. The opinion formerly entertained by a comparatively small number, that the opening of the theatre at Seville had never failed to draw the vengeance of heaven sometimes on its chief supporters, sometimes on the whole town, has been wonderfully spread under the influence of the last visitation; and government itself, arbitrary and despotic as it is among us, would have to pause before any attempt to involve this most religious city in the unpardonable guilt of allowing a company of comedians within its

walls.

L. D.

TO LELIA.

FROM the rude summit of an Alpine height,

I view'd the bosom of the vale below,

Clad in its wintry robe of stainless white,
A virgin vest of deep and dazzling snow.
And o'er its surface shone morn's crimson rays,
Shedding soft rose-tints on its purity,

Like beauty's fair cheek blushing in man's gaze,
Seeming as lovely, that I thought on thee.
But when a wild-roe, bounding in its lightness,

Essay'd with silvery feet to traverse o'er

The smooth expanse, not deeming such calm brightness
Could e'er deceive, yet sunk to rise no more-

A quench'd sigh chill'd my heart, for, Lelia! then

I turn'd from the false snow, and thought on thee again!

C. L.

MILK AND HONEY, OR THE LAND OF PROMISE.

In a Series of Letters from America.

LETTER I.

SIR BALAAM BARROW TO MR. JEREMIAH DAWSON.

CONTENTS.

The Wasp, Captain Waters-Yankee Porter at New York-Reasons for quitting England-Decline and Fall of the Mammonian Empire at Lloyd's-Gradation from private Carriage to public Stage "irksome"-Calamity at KenningtonHerne Hill and Madame Storace-Diogenes in his Tub-Tirade against Assessed Taxes, Tithes, and Parsons-Fox without a Tail.

DEAR Sir, the American Brig, Captain Waters,

Having landed me safe with my son and two daughters
On the Pier at New York; and a porter, half drunk,
Having trotted off" slick right away" with my trunk,
In trowsers, black cravat, and yellow straw hat awry,
To one Mrs. Bradish's, fronting the Battery;
(I paid half a dollar, for which the gaunt Yankee
Return'd me the devil the ghost of a Thankye);
I dip a bad pen in an inkstand of pewter,

To con o'er the past, and descant on the future.

You know-who does not? what commercial voids
The Peace has produced in the squadron at Lloyd's;

Time was, when my own coach (with biscuits the boot in)
Convey'd me, at three, from the 'Change-gate to Tooting,
And when Tooting clock had toll'd half-after ten,
Convey'd me, next morning, to London again,
Where brokers pronounced me, in special committee,
The most well-to-do sort of man in the City.

Well! finding trade shy, and the taxes encroach,
I sold off my horses and laid down my coach:
My girls, for their parts, preferr'd walking; and Dick
Could never ride backward without being sick.
So I now, with a visage as sour as Judge Page's,
Took a sinall house at Clapham, and rode in the stages.
Descending "a grade," I ascended to ride

As one of the six who were licensed inside;
And met the mishaps that occur, in wet weather
When a jury of legs are impannell'd together.
I wanted to let down the glass, but a youth
On the opposite side had a pain in his tooth:
I wanted to pull up the glass, but was chid
By a widow, whose brat would be sick if I did:
I wanted to sleep, but a girl in a shawl
Kept asking how far we were off from Vauxhall;
And, nine times in ten, some tremendous fat woman,
Who wanted to get out at Kennington Common,
With a kick, on alighting, that set the coach rocking,
Left the mud of her clog on my white cotton stocking!
Why, Sir," even you must admit that a Nation

That tolerates this must expect emigration.