"I one day received the commission to repair to the hospital, to prepare an old galley-slave for death. The physicans had given up all hope of his recovery, as well as the attendant clergyman of the hospital. The latter discovered in the aged sinner a heretic whom he had in vain endeavoured to convert with all his powers of rhetoric. I was at that time regarded as a man of some learning. M. Delaubin, captain of the galley, appeared to esteem the slave; and as he personally knew me, likewise urged me to use every argument for the welfare of the obdurate sinner's soul. However little inclination I had of being the means of inducing a backslider to embrace a faith in which I had no confidence, I still acceded to the request. I went-singular enough, thought I to myself— and I could not suppress the smile of derision; a freethinker is to convert a heretic! Had the pious captain of the galley known me better he would not have been quite so pressing in his request. How much is it to be lamented that through life this disgraceful deceit is practised; and that there is no individual, even the wisest and best, who has courage enough to pass through the world without some disguise.

"I was conducted into the room of the sick galley-slave. He sat enveloped in an old mantle, with his face turned towards an open window under the beams of a meridian sun, as if enjoying the warmth, as well as the serene and open prospect before him. Upon my entrance he turned his head towards me, and never while I exist will the pale, saint-like countenance be erased from my remembrance. Here was not the dark savage look of a common delinquent, or the boldness of hardened vice, or the sullen repentance of chastened but not amended wickedness. No, it was the placidity of a mind at peace with itself the purity of innocence which beamed from the expressive eyes which now met my gaze. Although the face of the unfortunate had suffered by constant exposure to all weathers, and was now tinged with the pallid hue of sickness; yet it had something noble and prepossessing in every lineament, though the traces of suffering were visible in each line of his expressive countenance. His head was closely shaved; yet round the lower part a few grey hairs were still perceptible, which gave a reverend appearance even to the head of a malefactor. Enough; I was singularly struck with his aspect, for such a man as this I had not pictured to my imagination.

6

"As I approached him- Excuse me, 'said he, that I cannot rise to evince my respect, for observe my feet stretched upon the straw cushion; the swelling has already mounted to the knee."

"I asked him his name; he called himself Alamontade,' told me the place of his birth, and that he had been sentenced to the galley in the bloom of youth; that in half a year the term of his slavery would be expired, for he had been nearly twenty-nine years a galley-slave.

"Take comfort, then,' said I to him; as you will soon be released you will return to your native country, and may pass the remainder of your life a reformed character.'

"I shall never see my native country again,' said he, with a faltering voice, I have no home in this world; man has robbed me of it; I long, ardently long, for the peacefulness of the grave; death has more charms for me than life; I feel its approach; I have long impatiently waited for its summons.'

66

The mild dignity with which he spoke, the chosen language, the impressive tones of his voice touched, and at the same time embarrassed me. All tended to convince me that this outcast from society was superior to the common stamp of men in his situation; that he had formerly received a good education, the traces of which he had faithfully preserved amidst the abandoned company in which had passed almost the half of his life.

"Do you not then expect to survive your release, Alamontade?' "I hope, at least,' replied he, death will relieve me of the burden of life before the law loosens my fetters.'

"And can you really with such serenity wait the approach of death? Has your repentance been so sincere during your time of punishment as to expiate your fault, and inspire you with hopes of pardon from the Judge of the living and the dead? Observe, Alamontade, the clemency of Captain Delaubin, he thinks you have not many days to live; I come, therefore, at his earnest desire

to

"Alamontade interrupted me

"I deeply feel the goodness of the captain, and equally appreciate your philanthropy, sir; but I humbly request you to use your influence to prevent the visits of any other clergyman, that my last hours may be spent in the comfort of solitude; but if I must also forego this consolation, permit me once more to declare that I have, since three-and-twenty fearful years, been prepared for the joyful moment of my dissolution.'

"There was so much pathos and entreaty in the tone of his voice and manner that I unhesitatingly promised to intercede for him, and said involuntarily

"It is an incumbent duty as far as possible to fulfil the requests of the dying; and even should they deny the being of a God, we have no authority to conduct them into the road to heaven contrary to their inclinations."

"Are you a clergyman?' said he. If so, you have spoken more consolation in these few words than was contained in all the tedious exhortations of your predecessors. You have again restored me to peace, in the hope that I may be permitted to devote the last few precious hours of my existence to my God; to such a man as you, endowed with patience, mercy, and penetration, even the gratitude of a slave cannot be unwelcome.'

"I gave him to understand that I was not destitute of the inclination to do still more to contribute to his comfort; and that it did not deserve thanks because I refrained troubling him with theological discussions, as I observed it was contrary to his wishes.

"I uttered this opinion by way of searching and drawing out this singular man. He looked at me with the expression of astonishment, and exclaimed after a pause,

"Sir, you are an extraordinary man !'

"Extraordinary?' I repeated; 'I find nothing extraordinary in fulfilling one of the first duties of man.'

"In this consists the singularity,' answered he.

"I requested him to explain his meaning more particularly. "After a moment's hesitation he timidly asked me if I would permit him to speak freely, without the fear of exciting my anger. I assured him it would be extremely agreeable to me; upon which he said

"An ordinary character in the fulfilment of his duties certainly does not deserve praise; but the man whose station and dignity elevate him above his colleagues, harden his heart and prejudice his judgment; if such a man remain true to nature he deserves both our praise and admiration. In kings we ought to extol every virtue; in soldiers, tenderness for the unfortunate; in lawyers, justice; in priests, liberality of opinion.'

"Though I did not believe these to be the genuine sentiments of an old galley-slave, yet I continued to view him with increasing interest, and questioned him still more closely. I was fortunate in inspiring him with confidence. I learnt, that in his youth he had applied himself to study, and that he had been torn from this employ to be made a galley-slave! Whatever might have been his crime, I could not help thinking the punishment must have been adequate to it. And although my curiosity was greatly excited to know the nature of it, I felt it would be the height of cruelty to remind him of his offence in the last hours of his cheerless existence. My conversation seemed to afford him pleasure, and he begged me with much humility to repeat my visit.

"I am unworthy this favour,' said he, but I see you can feel for the unfortunate; and though a slave, as a fellow-mortal I am a claimant on your compassion. I am a being dishonoured, and without possessions, and yet I have still something! Before my arm was shot off, I was sometimes privileged with the use of pens and ink; bedewed with thousands of tears, I have written my story, and poured out my complaints. These papers I offer to you, as the only bequest I have to bestow when I shall be numbered with the dead.'

"I complied with his desire and visited him daily. Our conversations soon turned upon the most elevated ideas of humanity. And ere long, my beloved friends, this despised slave, by the sub

lime truths he uttered, convinced me of my errors, and proved himself worthy of being ranked with the most estimable and revered of mankind. I, who was designated to convert him, how superior had he shown himself, and pointed out the fallacy of all my former sophistry. His wisdom was the guiding star of my life, and his virtue restored me again to peace and happiness. I never left this excellent man without feeling myself benefited, and in the solitude of my room seldom failed to commit to paper the substance of our discourse. One afternoon when I went I found him in bed. An unusual serenity beamed over his countenance; he smiled as I approached him; never before had I seen him smile.

"You appear to find yourself well to-day?' said I to him. "Oh, perfectly! the swelling has mounted to the hip, and the physician seriously shakes his head. He can no longer contend with the enemy, as he calls death, but I life.'

"Are you then so impatient for death, Alamontade?'

"On putting this question to him, he looked at me with inexpressible serenity-the fervour of his feelings shone in his glance while he said,

"What! when the happy moment is arrived which relieves my weary limbs of these heavy chains, emancipates me from a damp prison, and conducts me from a land of strangers to a paternal home, have I then cause to tremble? Who upon earth loves the forgotten Alamontade? No compassionate eye will shed tears over my corpse. I have nothing beloved to leave behind which can embitter my last moments.'

"And your paternal home, Alamontade, where is that?'

"It is there, where I shall be restored to those who loved me upon earth; where I shall be acknowledged as a child of the Almighty, and shall be equally judged with beings subject to the like imperfections and frailties. Much have I endured, but religion quickly matured strength sufficient to bear it. I have been vilified-yet in the midst of misery felt an inexpressible happiness; despised and avoided by mankind, I possessed an inward dignity which no human sentence could annihilate; when languishing upon the burning coasts of Africa, a treasure was mine of which no one could deprive me. Oh! how blessed am I at the conclusion of a sorrowful course to be enabled to look back with thankfulness, for now all the thorns of my past life appear blooming around me. And thou,' continued he, "oh, thou sublime, mysterious, and Holy Being, through whom I have been, and am, and whose I remain to all eternity! though my thanks are as the imperfect lisping of a little child, yet I know they will not be rejected at the throne of the Most High! Through thee I am upheld-through thee-oh ineffable Being

"Here his voice became low and his articulation indistinct. It

seemed as if his spirit was impatient to shake off the bonds of mortality, and wing its flight to that home for which he had so long and ardently panted. An expression of felicity stole over his features; now and then his lips moved, as if the exhausted body would still continue to evince the fervent devotion of the now glorified spirit which had inhabited it."

We had been so interested in the relation of the Abbé Dillon, that midnight had stolen imperceptibly upon us ere he reminded us it was time to retire. We neither of us felt fatigued, but were silent, and the tears trembled in our eyes. I threw myself weeping upon Dillon's breast. Roderick likewise embraced our veneWe felt as if we pressed the noble Alamontade to

rable friend.

our hearts.

"This action reminds me," said the Abbé, "of once, when overcome by my feelings, wringing the hand of Alamontade, I exclaimed, 'Oh, man, how could it be possible that your fellowbeings banished you their society? Could you, with your superior mind become a criminal? How long have the virtuous been condemned to the galleys? Were you really such a depraved character that your fellow-citizens stood in fear of you?

"It is not possible, Alamontade; you are innocent, condemned to the most horrible punishment. Speak; I will undertake your vindication : : you shall, you must, return to the world again, honoured and esteemed; disgrace dare not rest upon your grave.' "He was greatly affected, and melting into tears clasped me with ardour to his breast.

“Oh,' said he, yet once more I press a brother to this lonely heart, which has in three-and-twenty years not forgotten its old affections; yes, once more before it breaks this blessing is granted me.'

"His tears choked his utterance. After a long pause he raised his face to mine, saying—

"Sir, dear sir, how have I merited so much love and goodness?" "Could I prolong your life, beloved Alamontade, by the sacrifice of my own, how willingly would I offer it! Do you not know you have been my benefactor, my protecting angel? You have rescued me from the abyss of despair.'

"As he did not seem to undestand me, I continued

" Alamontade, when I first saw you I was an unhappy being; I knew not God, and looked forward to the future as to a lifeless chaos; but through you my mind is enlightened; through you I again embrace happiness; the gloomy prospect is cleared around me, and what formerly appeared waste and desolate now blooms with life, hope, and immortality.'

"It was after this conversation that I obtained his unlimited confidence. He gave me the torn leaves of his diary; and at my earnest request informed me more minutely respecting many events