parlour, when he was in the sixth form-and who now was crowding to the front rank for a smile of majesty, having heard that the Bishop of Chester was seriously indisposed. The Prime Minister waited quietly amidst the crush, till the royal party should descend from their dining-room-smiling at, if not unheeding, the anxious inquiries of the stock broker from Change Alley, who wondered if Mr. Pitt would carry a gold stick before the king. The only time I saw that minister was under these circumstances. It was the year before he died. He stood firmly and proudly amongst the crowd for some halfhour till the king should arrive. The monarch, of course, immediately recognised him; the contrast in the demeanour of the two personages made a remarkable impres sion upon me-and that of the minister first showed me an example of the perfect selfpossession of men of great abilities.

After a year or two of this sort of excite ment the king became blind;--and painful was the exhibition of the led horse of the good old man, as he took his accustomed ride. In a few more years a still heavier calamity fell upon him-and from that time Windsor Castle became, comparatively, a mournful place. The terrace was shut up; --the ancient path-way through the park, and under the castle walls, was diverted ;and a somewhat Asiatic state and stillness seemed to usurp the reign of the old free and familiar intercourse of the sovereign with the people.

LORD LLANBERRIS.

THEY tell me that I am better (said Lord Llanberris, as I approached his sick bed to administer spiritual consolation), but my own feelings assure me I shall be gone before midnight. I cannot bring myself to leave the world without disclosing what has long hung insupportably heavy on my conscience. Consent then to be the depositary of my secret; and, if after hearing the sad recital, you do not disdain such an office, my friend, my comforter!

You have heard, perhaps, my mother's history; the degradation to which, after her husband's death, his family would fain have reduced her; their efforts to blast her character, and leave her to beggary; how she met their machinations, and baffled them.

My mother! oh, my mother! thou shouldest have survived thy son! The guilt and wretchedness which now overwhelm me would then, perhaps, have been averted! I should then have had no cause but to reverence and love thy memory; for how faulty, soever, thy conduct to others, to me

thou wast ever the kindest, the tenderest, the most affectionate of parents!

It was not perhaps extraordinary, under the circumstances, that from my earliest youth the deepest and most undying hatred was instilled into my bosom towards all the Llanberris family. "Thou art not my son, boy," was my mother's oft-repeated exclamation, "if thou hast not an impla cable aversion to all who bear the name Des Vismes." I well remember (it was the only instance of anger towards me exhibited in her whole life), when I ventured to urge in reply that they were all, without exception, in misfortune, had suffered, and were still suffering, deeply from their unprincipled line of conduct; she exclaimed-" Leave me, boy, or thy mother will curse the pangs. which brought thee into the world!"

By none was this unchristian feeling more. carefully cherished than by him who, from my earliest years, was entrusted with the care of my education-the Rev. Silas Satterthwaite. He professed what are termed high principles. They appeared to me to be the maximum of religious profession with the minimum of religious conduct. He styled himself an Independent; others called him an Antinomian; but, be his creed what it might, his practice inspired me with the most unqualified abhorrence.

It was often matter to me of the most painful surprise to observe the ascendancy he had acquired over my mother. She, whose. impetuous spirit would from others brook no opposition, quailed under the glance of his eye. Nor can words do justice to my amaze-: ment when, on completing my education, she requested I would offer him a home at Ashbrook for the remainder of his days. I hesitated, and told her frankly there were. parts of his conduct I could neither approve nor sanction.

"The late Lord Llanberris, Horace, died in his arms."

"True, mother, but I dislike the manhis maxims-his conduct altogether."

Am:

"I ask it of you, Horace, I ask it. I to receive a refusal to my first request ?"

I acquiesced. The proposition was reluctantly made; but, as I foresaw, instantly accepted.

Years rolled on unmarked by any unusual event, till, after a long and severe struggle for existence, my mother was told that the resources of art were exhausted, and that a few hours would terminate her sufferings.

I was with her when this announcement was made. She received it without the slightest change of feature. "How many hours of intellect may I safely calculate on ?" "Barely twenty."

"Leave me, then, for I have much to do."

In about an hour and a half, she sent for me. I shall never forget the pang I felt at observing the rapid alteration which that short interval had produced. There was something unearthly in her appearance. Her eyes were fearfully bright. Her cheek was flushed with the deepest crimson. Beauty, it is true, still lingered; but it was the beauty of the grave.

"Horace, you see me on my death-bed; and in these awful circumstances I have one request to make to you. Promise me that you will be faithful to your mother's memory; that you will never ally yourself with, admit to your confidence, nor succour any of that detested race; that you will avoid, as you would the wiles of the arch enemy himself, any overtures which Des Vismes may make to you after the grave has closed upon me; and that but one feeling will actuate you through life towards the whole of his designing family-deep and implacable

hatred."

My heart recoiled from this horrible request, and my countenance expressed it.

"Horace," she continued in a voice hollow from approaching dissolution, "you hesitate! Refuse, and my dying curse shall track your footsteps;-refuse, and the blessings an expiring mother would invoke on her only child, shall be turned into maledictions which shall blast"

"Mother, mother, I promise!"-was the assent her frenzy and her circumstances wrung from me.

"Swear it!" she added, with increasing vehemence.

"I do."

"And now, Horace, one word more-Mr. Satterthwaite. I am unable, as you are aware, to make any provision for him. Promise me that you will do so-liberally speedily. Pledge your word to me on this point; assure me, likewise, that his claim on Ashbrook as a home shall at all times be recognised, and I die content."

My horror at the idea of having this man for a companion overcame every other consideration, and dictated a gentle but firm refusal. Again did my mother repeat her request, and again did I entreat her to abandon it.

"Don't exasperate me, Horace, don't exasperate me. From you I merit nothing but tenderness. You little know through what an ocean of guilt I have waded to place you where you are."

I scarcely knew whether I heard aright. I fixed my eyes steadfastly on her flushed and agitated countenance, and endeavoured to persuade myself these were the ravings of delirium. My purpose, however, remained unchanged. I told my mother she herself should name the sum she wished to be settled on Mr. Satterthwaite, but entreated

her to dispense with my consent to have him as my companion.

"Hear me, then, boy, YOU ARE NOT LORD LLANBERRIS. Your obstinacy has wrung from me this horrid secret, which I intended should have gone with me to the grave. I have loved you but too fondly. I have provided for your interests at the hazard of my soul. I repeat it, as a dying woman, you are not-raise me-raise me."

She became convulsed; and before I could ring for assistance expired. I do not attempt to pourtray the misery It is this closing interview occasioned me. It embittered every moment indescribable. whom my mother had always pictured as of my life. I was then an impostor. Those the offending, were in reality the injured party. Or was her declaration altogether the effect of delirium? I endeavoured to think so, but was wretched.

Meanwhile, other sources of uneasiness were opened to me. Since the death of his patroness, Mr. Satterthwaite's conduct had been profligate in the extreme. He had always had a taste for low company, and a tendency towards intemperance. These my mother's presence and censures had repressed. Now he indulged both without restraint. I remonstrated. His refuge and support were his Antinomian principles.

You

A little sin won't hurt me," he began. "I'm secure. I'm in a covenant state;" and the fluctuation of frames and feelings, of sins and frailties, however great, cannot counteract decrees which were settled from all eternity! It is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, if they should fall away, to renew themselves unto repentance.' have no insight into these matters at present. I much doubt whether you ever will. The doctrine of election is my comfort. Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.' Sins! I rather rejoice in them. The sinner is a sacred character! These are the right sentiments. Those who do not hold them, belong to the children of Esau, against whom the Almighty hath said, 'I will have indignation for ever!""

I turned away from the blasphemer with disgust.

Meanwhile, complaints of him poured in from all quarters. To the servants he was at one time a tyrant, at another a spy. There was no end to the disagreeable interviews which his immoral and unregulated conduct entailed upon me. I was ruminating one evening upon the melancholy depravation of his principles, and the proper methods to be pursued for getting rid of him, when he was brought home from the village in a state of the most disgusting intoxication.

I could not forbear expressing my distress at seeing a man of his religious professions

so situated; and my surprise that he, who avowed he maintained principles far stricter and more scriptural than those held by the establishment, should thus shame them by his private life.

"We cannot fall from grace :”—it was extraordinary that he always spoke on religious topics with the greatest fluency, and quoted scripture with the most singular perversion when thus unhappily situated :-"cataracts of sin cannot wash away my certainty of heaven. I will mention a text which shall tingle in your ears- In thy book are all my members written.' This clearly proves the choice which God has made of his church from all eternity. You still cling to the rubbish of ordinances. Listen to the truths of Calvinism."

"I will not discuss with you now, or at any future time, Calvinism. I have long been persuaded that its tenets are hostile to morality; and I have a melancholy proof before me, how completely the highest professions can be reconciled with a most depraved course of life. But to-morrow, when you are able to talk rationally, I shall lay before you reasons which will require an entire reformation in your conduct, or an immediate change of residence."

"When they persecute you in one city," I heard him mutter as I left the room, "flee to another."

Before, however, I had an opportunity of seeing him the next morning-for he generally rose late, and after one of these excesses always after twelve-Bradley, my land-steward, desired an audience; at which he told me that Mr. Satterthwaite, under pretence of converting his wife to "better principles," had been endeavouring to corrupt his daughter; that her lover had heard of it, and vowed vengeance against him; that he felt it his duty to apprise me of all the circumstances, and to beg I would recommend Mr. Satterthwaite for the present at all events-to quit Ashbrook. My resolution was taken. He was walking, I understood, in the park. I sought him; repeated the facts alleged against him, and inquired if they were true.

"Even so. Satan had the advantage of me. But what of that? David, you know"

I interrupted him at once. "Under these circumstances, the hall can no longer be an asylum for you. I beg you will quit it without delay."

"Never. I have as great a right as you have to reside here; and I leave it not. Lord Llanberris, beware: you are at my mercy. I have nothing to fear from your resentment: you have every thing to dread from mine. Think you my paltry annuity of five hundred a year will impose on me perpetual silence? By no means. The moment I choose to open my mouth, I can prove your mother

I could contain myself no longer. Passion obtained the mastery. I struck him fiercely. He fell. These were his dying words"Monster, you have murdered your FATHER!"

I rushed from the spot in an agony of feeling which defies description. Hours I wandered I know not whither. All was true, then? My very worst fears were confirmed. My mother was an adulteressmyself an impostor: nay more, a parricide. O what would I have given to recal that one short hour! Labour-poverty-privationall would have been warmly welcomed, could I have freed myself from that load of guilt and wretchedness which seemed to weigh down my soul. I prayed earnestly, fervently, that the boon of life might be at once withdrawn; or that I might have help and strength given me to face the future.

me.

It was nearly sunset when I heard my name called. My faithful Bradley accosted He came up calmly and slowly-his very manner seemed to inspire me with selfpossession-and said, "My Lord, I beg to prepare you for a very painful occurrence: Mr. Satterthwaite has been found dead in the park of apoplexy." My conscience suggested to me he laid peculiar emphasis on the last two words; and I have often thought he rightly guessed how the deceased had met his end. But his manner then and always was that of an attached and affectionate servant towards a master whom he had nursed in infancy; and I owe him much. He continued, "I have undertaken, my lord, the whole management of the matter. The coroner has been sent for, and an inquest will be held to-morrow. Your lordship looks much shocked and distressed. I supposed you would. Perhaps, you will prefer returning to the house by the private path, and retiring to your own room.”

I followed his directions mechanically. His words had roused me to a sense of my danger. Yet I thought, but the reflection brought me no comfort, Satterthwaite and myself were alone. No one had witnessed the encounter, or seen the blow. But the agony, the wretchedness, the duration of that night, I thought it would never end!

Morning came-bright sunny morningthe birds carolled sweetly; every breeze seemed fraught with perfume. I looked to heaven, it was calm and unclouded; on the sea, it lay still as the repose of infancy before me; all seemed at peace without; 'twas only the tempest of remorse that raged impetuously within. I fell into an uneasy and feverish slumber; was awakened by the preparations for the inquest.

Bradley was as good as his word. The coroner came, and the jury sat. Their deliberations were short: for dinner awaited

their decision. The habits of the deceased were detailed; his state on the preceding evening was minutely described: a surgeon was present, who gave it as his opinion that the deceased's death was caused by apoplexy; and the jury returned a verdict, Died by the visitation of God.

Bradley communicated the result to me in the fewest words: "I will not intrude farther on your lordship's privacy. You do not yet seem to have recovered the shock, and will do well to retire early to rest."

Rest! I never knew it from that moment. Rest! it seemed to have fled my couch for ever. Rest! none ever came either to body or mind. The consciousness of secret guilt crushed me to the dust and in the perpetual goadings of remorse, from which no effort could free me, I seemed to feel the first gnawings of that worm that never dies.

I have envied the meanest hind on my estate. As I watched the villager in my walks, returning worn and weary after his hard day's toil to his rugged pallet and scanty fare, and witnessed the welcome which affection gave him, and saw the glow of honest satisfaction lighting up his sunburnt face, I would have given worlds to exchange my lot for his. And at times, when the recollection of my childhood rose before me when I thought of those bygone days when mirth bubbled up free and joyous from the heart, and melody flowed unbidden from the voice-when the one was never fevered, and the other never sad-the contrast would almost deprive me of intellect. With a cry I would rush into the woods, and endeavour to escape from myself.

Nor was this my only punishment. My my fa, the word will choke me, I cannot utter it, incessantly followed me. At home or abroad, go where I would, my victim stood beside me! That leaden eye, that lowering visage, that discoloured temple, I could never divest myself of his presence. My every action was marked by a witness from the grave. He, into whose presence another hour will bring me, knows with what bitter contrition I have bewailed the past! He knows what days of inexpressible agony and heartfelt humiliation that single act of my life has cost me! Again and again have I meditated to avow the infamy of my birth to Des Vismes, and then to resign myself to punishment. But my mother's fame, the disgrace, the dishonour that such a proceeding would entail upon our name, deterred me. The suffering it would occasion influenced me not. I have again and again endured in one hour torture, to which the mere agony of dying would be transport! Oh!"there is no killing like that which kills the heart!"

One resolution I made and kept-I would never marry. My inheritance would then

bear ?"

Over

(I turned but no, no, it was the excitement of the moment-it was the horrid story I had been hearing-it was the stillness of the hour, and the peculiarity of my situation -it was the sight of the dying man's despair, and the responsibility which I felt attached to the interview-it was not, it could not be real; but I saw, or seemed to see, a figure standing close to the bed, and gazing intently upon its writhing occupant. its features brooded that deep, mysterious, awful calm, which marks the aspect of the dead; a small, but discoloured spot appeared on the left temple, while from the lip there seemed to trickle a few drops of blood. I passed my hands hurriedly over my eyes, as if to exclude this horrid vision. A faint cry escaped the parricide's lips. I glanced for one instant at his countenancethe seal of death was upon it.)—The Living and the Dead, by a Country Curate.

SONG.

LADY! by yon silver star,
By the crescent moon afar,
By the silence of the night,
By its deep and pensive light,
By the sea's eternal flow,
Fiora bella, te amo!

By the lustre of thine eye,
By thy liquid minstrelsy,
By the rapture of thy kiss,
By each name of love or bliss,
And by feelings which o'erflow→→→
Fiora bella, te amo!

THE HUMAN SKELETON.

(From the Library of Religious Knowledge.

-Part I.)

In every structure raised by mankind, the first indispensable requisite is, a properlyadapted frame-work on which it is to rest. The skeleton serves precisely this purpose among others, not only in the human species, but in those other large classes of animated beings, quadrupeds, and birds.

We find, however, this general use attained under such variations in the construction as are required by particular cases.

For instance, the bones of land animals, on which the whole weight of the body rests, are found to have a greater quantity of earth (phosphate of lime) in them, which gives to them the requisite firmness.

But in the bones of fishes, in which, owing to the properties of their element and their habits of life, lightness and elasticity, rather than strength and firmness, are the desirable qualities, we find not only a much less quantity of earth, and a greater proportion of animal glue, but that spermaceti, a peculiarly light substance, is deposited in

them.

In the spermaceti whale, the head is kept buoyant, and the blow-holes above the water, by a large quantity of spermaceti lodged in the head.

Hence the animal floats in order to breathe without effort, and the only exertion demanded of it is that which may be required to pursue any particular direction.

When we turn our attention to the skeletons of birds, a new variation presents itself, but one which is precisely adapted to the circumstances of the case.

Strength and lightness are qualities obviously desirable in the construction of an animal that is to fly.

And observe how peculiarly these proper ties are provided for in the bones of birds. 1st. The cavities are much larger in proportion to the weight of the bone than in those of quadrupeds. 2dly. The cavities are empty. 3dly. The shell is of firmer texture than is the substance of other bones.

Now, supposing the weight to be the same, the diameter, it is plain, will be greater in a hollow bone than in a solid one; and with the diameter, it may be proved, the strength of the bone, or its resistance to breaking, is increased. In any other form a bone of the same weight would not have been so strong, and to have made it heavier would have incommoded the flight of the animal.

In order to form a competent idea of the curious and wonderful mechanism exhibited by the chain of bones forming the spine, it 4 G

VOL. I.

cult, and some of them apparently inconsistent uses, which it serves.

1st. It is so flexible, as to admit of the body bending in almost all degrees of cur

vature..

A

2dly. It is, at the same time, firm, and thus answers the end of a pillar to support the erect position of the body, consisting of the trunk, head, and arms.

3dly. It also serves as a pipe or tube to convey the most irritable and precious substance next to the brain which is to be found in the human body, in fact, a continuation of the brain itself, the spinal marrow : a substance of the first necessity to action, if not to life; for, if it undergoes any unusual pressure, or suffers any material obstruction, either paralysis or death almost immediately

ensues.

4thly. It serves to give out, in the course of its progress, branches of the spinal marrow, which proceed in the shape of nerves to supply every part of the body.

5thly. The same spine furnishes another use, scarcely less valuable than any of those already named, which is to afford a founda. tion or stay for the muscles which are spread over the trunk of the body, and even a further use also, which, however, somewhat resembles the last, namely, a support for the ribs to rest on.

Let us next observe how these various offices are provided for.

First, the numerous joints of the spine, consisting in the human subject of twentyfour, provide, in a great measure, like the links of a chain, for its flexibility.

But the flexibility is still further assisted by the introduction of a substance which resembles gristle between each of the vertebræ or joints. It is a soft, pliant, yet perfectly elastic substance, to which there is nothing entirely similar in any other part of the hu man frame.

It adheres to the surface of each adjacent vertebra, and is confined by a strong elastic ligament all round.

This material, though it still keeps its hold of the two vertebræ to which it is attached, yet admits of motion by the twisting of its substance; it yields also easily on every side to which we incline, and rises again on the moment that we take off the weight, by changing our position.

This flexibility, it should also be observed, differs in different parts of the spine; but in each case the differences have a clear relation to utility.

It is least of all in the back; it is greater in the loins, and greatest of all in the neck.

In the back, strength, rather than flexure, is desirable. Accordingly we find that the twelve vertebræ belonging to the back, although large and strong, are smaller than those of the loins. The cartilage also be