man. "Here's a gentleman from London present," Mr. Bounderby made a back-handed point at Mr. James Harthouse with his thumb, "a Parliament gentleI should like him to hear a short bit of dialogue between you and me, instead of taking the substance of it—for I know precious well, beforehand, what it will be; nobody knows better than I do, take notice!—instead of receiving it on trust, from my mouth." Stephen bent his head to the gentleman from London, and showed a rather more troubled mind than usual. He turned his eyes involuntarily to his former refuge, but at a look from that quarter (expressive though instantaneous) he settled them on Mr. Bounderby's face. number ten times towd-an was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile; "when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by them the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' them 't commences. I ha no favor for 'em-I ha no reason to favor 'em but 'tis hopeless an useless to dream o' takin them fro their trade, 'stead o' takın their trade fro them! Aw that's now about me in this room were heer afore I com, an will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an pack it off to Norfolk Island, an the time will go on just the same. "Now, what do you complain of?" asked Mr. 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit.” Bounderby. "I ha' not coom heer, sir," Stephen reminded him, "to complain. I coom for that I were sent for." "What," repeated Mr. Bounderby, folding his arms, "do you people, in a general way, complain of?" “Nay, ma'am,” said Stephen Blackpool, staunchly protesting against the words that had been used, and instinctively addressing himself to Louisa, after glancing at her face. "Not rebels, nor yet rascals. Nowt o' th' kind, ma'am, nowt o' th' kind. They've not doon me a kindness, ma'am, as I know and feel. Stephen looked at him with some little irresoluBut there's not a dozen men among 'ein, ma'am-ation for a moment, and then seemed to make up his dozen? Not six-but what believes as he has doon mind. his duty by the rest, and by himseln. God forbid as I, that ha known an had'n experience o' these men aw my life—I, that ha' ett'n an droonken wi' em, an seet'n wi' em, an toil'n wi' em, an lov'n 'em, should fail fur to stan by 'em wi' the truth, let 'em ha doon to me what they may." He spoke with the rugged earnestness of his place and character-deepened perhaps by a proud consciousness that he was faithful to his class under all their mistrust; but he fully remembered where he was, and did not even raise his voice. "Sir, I were never good at showin o't, though I So Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment, to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, w' my little learning an my common way, tell the gentleman what will better aw this though some working-men o' this town could, above my powers-but I can tell him what I know will never do't. The strong hand will never do't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do't. Agreein fur to mak one side unnat rally awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'rally awlus and for ever wrong, will never, never do't. Nor yet lettin alone I will never do't. ha had'n my share in feeling o't, 'Deed we are in a muddle, sir. Look round town-so rich as 'tis and see th' numbers o' people as has been broughten into bein heer, fur to weave, an to card, an to piece out a livin, aw the same one way, somehows, twixt their cradles an their graves. Look how we live, an wheer we live, an in what numbers, and by what chances, an wi' what sameness; and look how the alone, aw leadin the like lives and aw faw'en into Let thousands upon thousands mills is awlus a goin, an how they never works us no the like muddle, and they will be as one, an yo will nigher to onny dis'ant object-ceptin awlus, Death. be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt “No, ma'am, no. They're true to one another, Look how you considers of us, an writes of us, an faithfo' to one another, fectionate to one another, talks of us, an goes up wi' yor deputations to Secre-yo, just as long or short a time as sitch like misery e'en to death. Be poor amoong 'em, be sick amoong taries o' State 'bout us, an how yo are awlus right, 'em, grieve amoong 'em for onny o' th' monny an how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no causes that carries grief to the poor man's door, an reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this they'll be tender wi' yo, gentle wi' yo, comfortable ha growen an growen, sir, bigger an bigger, wi' yo, Chrisen wi' yo. Be sure o' that, ma'am. broader an broader, harder an harder, fro year to They'd be riven to bits, ere ever they'd be difyear, fro generation unto generation. Who can ferent." look on't, sir, and faily tell a man 'tis not a muddle ?" "In short," said Mr. Bounderby, "it's because they are so full of virtues that they have turned you adrift. Go through with it while you are about it. Out with it." "How 'tis, ma'am," resumed Stephen, appearing still to find his natural refuge in Louisa's face, "that what is best in us fok, seems to turn us most to trouble an misfort'n an mistake, I dunno. But 'tis so. I know 'tis, as I know the heavens is over me ahint the smoke. We're patient too, an wants in general to do right. An' I canna think the fawt is aw wi' us." "Now, my friend," said Mr. Bounderby, whom he could not have exasperated more, quite unconscious of it though he was, than by seeming to appeal to any one else, "if you will favor me with your attention for half a minute, I should like to have a word or two with you. You said just now, that you had nothing to tell us about this business. You are quite sure of that, before we go any further?" “Of course,” said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." 66 'Tis "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to't. "I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate," Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Boun derby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" can last. Not drawing nigh to fox, wi' kindness an patience an cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubies, and so cherishes themseln-like, I humbly believe, as no people the one another in their distresses wi' what they need gentleman ha seen in aw his travels can beat-will never do't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Last o' aw, ratin 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likeins, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary an souls to hope—when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, an when aw goes onquiet, reproaching 'em fur their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo-this will never do't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to't myseln, sir; I do assure "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confi-yo." dence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges-aw as there is, an aw the "Now, it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and A CHAPTER OF MODERN ROMANCE. Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that WITH only one exception, namely, that of the indeed he had other businesss to do for his life. 66 the French embassage to Turkey, collated with the English newspapers of 1807 and 1808. Turn we now to the history of Josephine Tascher de la Pegerie, who was born in that same island of Martinique-we say, also, in the same year as the You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned now claiming the principal share of the world's at- Sultana; but of this anon. chap, you see," said Mr. Bourderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that I'll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. tention are Abdul Medjid, Sultan of Turkey, and Napoleon III., Emperor of the French. Our readers She married a nobleman, the Viscount de Beauharnais, who was also a native of Martinique, but who, shortly after his marriage, migrated to France, and at an early period of the revolution, lost his life in the streets of Paris. After his death, his wife allied herself to Napoleon Louis, Napoleon's brother. Of this latter union Bonaparte, and her daughter Hortense espoused was born the present Emperor of the French, whose mother was thus sister-in-law as well as daughterthat although these may perhaps be somewhat dis-in-law to his uncle, Napoleon I. tant-even affinities of blood exist between them. We believe we shall be thus enabled to add a new “You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. they are in reality bound by ties of another class, and Bounderby, with a meaning nod," and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it interest to the romantic history of the Buonaparte This of itself would have been sufficiently singular; Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, “Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. (To be continued.) WHAT I LIVE FOR. BY G. LINNES BANKS. I LIVE for those who love me, Whose hearts are kind and true; For all human ties that bind me; I live to learn their story And follow in their wake: I live to hold communion With all that is divine; To feel there is a union "Twixt Nature's heart and mine: To profit by affliction, Reap truths from fields of fiction, And fulfil each grand design. I live to hail that season By gifted minds foretold, As Eden was of old. I live for those who love me, For those who know me true; For the Heaven that smiles above me And awaits my spirit too: And the good that I can do. The personage who is to play the part of principal Mademoiselle de Rivery was purchased by the Dey. and the Dey was at the moment somewhat out of It thus appears that, to some extent, both Abdul Medjid and Napoleon III are of West Indian origin. but the singularity of the case is greatly augmented by the consideration that in both instances this part and, what is still more remarkable, in the same deorigin is upon the same side, namely, the mother's; ladies born in the West Indies, and born there—we gree, both monarchs being the grandchildren of think we may be justified in saying-in the same year. The birth of the Empress Josephene is usually said, it is true, to have taken place in 1763, but the exact date was never clearly established, and was obliged to be admitted in the documents made use of at her marriage to be not certainly known. But we spoke, in our opening paragraph, not so much of remarkable parallelisms between the family history of Napoleon III and that of the sultan, as of affinities of blood existing between them; and that these, although distant, are not altogether imaginary, is evident from the circumstance, recorded by M. Danez in his "Histoire de Martinique," that previously to 1774 the families of Tascher and Dubue never married excepting amongst themselves, and now and then with members of the Beauharnais family. There is, moreover, at this moment lying before us an attested copy of a letter written at Fontainebleau, on the 27th of January, 1787, by who had married a sister of the creole sultana, in the future Empress Josephine to one M. Marlet, which Josephine testifies to the existence of very intimate relationships between the Dubue family and her own, and speaks of a member of the former as being her aunt. Who would have dreamed that the emperor and the sultan were so nearly of the same race and the same blood? or have imagined that in the ruler of the most important Mahomme. dan empire in the world, and that of the second Christian state in Europe, were to be seen the grandchildren of two sugar planters' daughters, each born in a little island in the Indian Archipel ago, within the memory of some still living? Yet such is apparently the case-a fact which may be added to the thousand and one others going to prove that the age of the romantic has not yet de parted. Remarkable as is the story they embody, these particulars appear to the writer in every respect authentic. They are gathered from documents SAM SLICK says:-The littler folks be, the bigger which were called into existence in 1820, by the they talk. You never seed a small man that didn't inquiries into the family history of his mother, which | wear high-heeled boots and a high-crowned hat, and were instituted by the Sultan Mahmoud himself, that warn't ready to fight most any one, to show and which are still existing amongst the archives of that he was a man every inch of him. WE CRONSTADT E give our readers, on this occasion, an engraved representation of that celebrated place, Cronstadt, that they may form an idea of the strength and magnitude of the defences of the capital of St. Petersburg. Owing to the secrecy with which the Russians, during the past half century, have carried on their operations for guarding their vaunted capital, it is most impossible to describe Cronstadt accurately. Cor.cct drawings of the fortifications could only have been obtained surreptitiously, or through treachery; and those who know anything of the jealous vigilance of the Russian government, may judge how [CRONSTADT.] Engraved for this Journal by Mr. J. W. Orr. policy of Russia to exaggerate everything she does or has in her possession; but when we look at the situation of Cronstadt, and glance over its bristling tiers of guns, as depicted by our artist, we can readily see that it has some pretensions to the character of impregnability. But the shallowness of water in its neighborhood is considered its strongest feature. far this was possible. The Swedes, through officers however, is the only passage by which ships of large burthen can approach the capital-and this is commanded on one side by Cronstadt and on the other by Cronschlott, which stands on another island. Cronstadt, we should mention, stands on the south extremity of the island of Kotline, in the Gulf of Finland, about twenty-five miles west of St. Petersburg so that Cronstadt, Cronschlott, and the other forts constitute a group of fortified islands which lie in the centre, and at the mouth of the arm of the Gulf of Finland which leads to the mouth of the Neva. "DE THE WAGER. ECIDEDLY you are mad, my dear de Marsan," said the Count de Tévilly to a young officer of light cavalry, who, holding a glass of vin d'Espagne in his hand, seemed to challenge a dozen of young companions, whom a table splendidly served excited at once to appetite and gaiety. "Mad as much as you please," answered de Mar"but I still renew my proposal: I defy you to take from me this snuff-box, either by force or stratagem. Do you take it?" san, 'Done, then!" cried de Tévilly, "and the stake?" "A supper as luxurious as this, if possible,-in eight days at my house." “Agreed!” cried all the company. My dear sir, listen my question is commonplace, I allow it, but here is what I would come to. You have a watch, ah! how happy you are! I have not, and I take medicine to-night at two o'clock,not a minute more, not a minute less; you can understand that for the exactitude of the thing I must have your watch "Think that it is a gift from the Duchess of Band that to-morrow I will have all the police of M. d'Argenson on your track.' "I authorise you, sir." "There, then! may the devil take you!" "Heaven be with you! I am happy, sir, to have made your acquaintance in such a very agreeable manner." Freed at length from his tormentor, M. de Marsan made semblance to return home, but, instead, con"Ah! ah!" cried de Marsan, who began to believe cealed himself in the angle of the street; from thence he had encountered a mad man, and hoped to get he saw his thief stop before a porte-cochère of sumpaway by frightening him. It is then an ambush ! tuous appearance, enter mysteriously into the house Just waitHe was about to draw his sword,—then, nothing more, silence complete. -the man with the beard made a sign,---in an in- An instant after, De Marson thunders at this door stant four pistols were pointed at the young man, in a manner to wake the dead. They open; a serwho, seeing this unanswerable argument, trembling vant shows his face only half-awake. with rage, drew out his watch. "There, sir," said "What do you want?” "Your master?" he abruptly. "Is in bed." "A thousand thanks, dear sir, said the unknown; "I feel much indebted to you for your generous haste," added he, laughing. "Now let me go." "Tell him I must see him." "Impossible." "I must, his life is menaced," said De Marsan, in : "This to-morrow I have a duel, I require a sword, and have taken a fancy to yours; therefore, bo so polite as not to refuse me, if not Three days afterwards, de Marsan met de Tévilly pointed to the armed domestics. in the Place Royale. "Well! you feel no ill effects from our joyous 6. You think so?" "Word of honor!" "he De Marsan flung his sword at the feet of this mysterious personage. "And now ?" "Hush!" said De Marsan. yourself, and give me arms." "What does that signify?" "Hush, sir! dress "It signifies that there are assassins hidden in the house; the wretches have just robbed me of everything." "Oh, heaven!" cried the old man; "and when?" "This instant, even; the thief and assassin, for I suppose that his intention is to murder you to-night, had on a dressing-gown, brown with red stars." "A dressing-gown," stammered the old man, hor Your way is direct; first to the right, second to ror-struck. "In that case give me a pinch of your admirable the left, then third door to the rightsnuff." "With pleasure." De Marsan did not observe the slight smile that passed over his friend's countenance. They alluded in no way to the foolish wager made by the blaze of lights and over the fumes of wine, which had suggested it; perhaps it was forgotten; however it was, the two young men separated. That night, towards eleven o'clock, not far from his house, de Marsan was accosted by two servants, who begged him respectfully to be good enough to stop a moment. At the same time, a man, enveloped in a long dressing gown, brown with red stars, and preceded by two torch-bearers, appeared in the middle of the street,-an enormous beard flowed nearly to the waist of the singular personage, who, approaching de Marsan, bowed, and, in a strongly-pronounced nasal tone, said, "How do you do, sir?" "That is a very extraordinary question," said de Marsan, after a moment's silence, caused by his astonishment. "It is not the less a question," observed the man with the long beard. "But, sir, this hour, that dress, these servants—” "This hour pleases me, this dress suits my position, and these servants are mine. For the second time, sir, how do you do." "Yes, sir, with red stars." "Merciful heaven!" groaned the old man, striking his forehead in despair. "My son, a robber! like that infamous d'Aubuisson.* Oh, my friend! come up with me, and confound this miserable Etienne!" "Etienne!" thought De Marsan. "Oh! the infamous There is then where his passion for play has led him. Come." They reach his room; they enter. De Marsan nearly falls over a long black beard lying on the carpet, while from behind an alcove they hear loud peals of laughter. "Do you dare," cried the old man, in a voice of thunder "Ah! my father, let me laugh," said a voice from the alcove; at the same time the owner of the voice made himself visible, a young man advanced. It was de Tévilly. "Here, take back your snuff box," said he to De Marsan, who stood stupefied, and a little ashamed. The supper gained by the Count de Teville took place; and the adventure was long talked of in the gay circles of Paris. * M. d'Aubuisson, a nobleman of ancient family, waylaid travellers with the armed hand, and carried to the gamingtable the proceeds of this dangerous mode of gaining money. BOB!"-Uncle Bob looked over the top of his book towards the opposite end of the table, where the questioner was seated. of the “Uncle Bob," repeated the soft, low voice old gentleman's companion, but this time in a more musing manner. The venerable gentleman laid down his book upon the table, and looked deliberately at the fire in the grate, as though he was wondering if that had asked the question, or the glowing anthracite, blazing and snapping down in among the iron bars of the grate, was the member addressed as Uncle Bob. But as the coals burned on without the least attempt to repeat the question, and didn't seem to regard it in any way relevant to their destiny, Uncle Bob at last ventured to reply : "Uncle, I want to know how it is that you never came to marry." Had the aforesaid mass of anthracite, blazing and snapping down in among the iron bars of the oldfashioned grate, suddenly exploded and scattered its embers all over the elegant rug spread before it, to the imminent danger of the pet hound that snored before the genial heat; or had the vast quantities of Macassar Uncle Bob had so assiduously applied to his bald pate suddenly proved efficacious, and a luxuriant growth of the native article sprung from the heretofore barren soil, to his own delight and the dismay of his wig; or had the very large swallow of scalding Souchong which Uncle Bob, in his excitement, had hastily gulped down, proved to have been so much hot lead-which, under the circumstances, he couldn't have taken his oath it was not-Uncle Bob couldn't have been more astounded. After the wheezing and puffing consequent upon the sudden and rather too warm friend, introduced into his bosom, Uncle Bob settled himself once more down in his ample and comfortable chair, and turned towards his Kate, who had been quietly enjoying herself at the effect of the shell she had thrown into the equanimity of the old gentleman. "Madcap! what do you mean?" "Nothing, uncle, only that you are rich, was handsome, and are remarkably good-natured and generous; so I don't see any earthly reason why you should have renounced the sex, and always lived as you do now, with nothing but your paper, your dog, and a madcap niece to keep off ennui, old age, and the gout!" unbosoming long-forgotten secrets, and revealing my father, who looked upon me as little better than them by their ruddy glow; and as he gazed still far- a murderer, and one who had no kind of right to be ther down, where all was a molten mass, but slowly | living whatever. That the exchange of a fair, bloomfalling and crumbling beneath to cold, gray ashes, ing young woman, for a little snarling, squalling albeit he was no philosopher, he marvelled much, brat, was in any way even, I don't pretend to claim; and thought on those hopes that glowed once, and and before I was old enough to know the full value fell, even as they should have ripened, into ashes, all of that which I had lost, in common with my father strangely typified in that burning anthracite. And though he didn't seem to think so I heartily out of the flickering flames grew the castle of his wished the exchange had never been made. When fancy, and through the far portals he saw the solem- I first learned the cause of my father's want of love nity of his age, but wreathed out of the flames, down for me, I strove to win his affection by such means where his youth shone forth, was a face that needed as my childish ingenuity suggested; but as these no dreams to picture, but which now seemed to glow efforts proved unavailing, I gradually grew indifferand glow into life, and to rise and float above the ent, then indignant, and at last perverse, obstinate, mass, until every wreath of smoke and every reful- scornful and so on, until I was imbittered by every gent part seemed to shine forth those lineaments. passion. When I was about fifteen years of age, And as memory busied with her work, the fabric she he married again, and as I looked upon it as no was rearing grew more and more perfect, and part manner of consequence to me, I expressed myself on part was added, but all glowing with life and indifferent to the fact and to the lady. But he enreality down among the labyrinths of that burning deavored to compel my obedience to her, and as I anthracite. had grown up with no constraint and with full license "Why, what do you see in the fire, uncle?" sud- to unbridled passions, I positively refused to yield denly broke upon his reverie; and lo! the fabric was then. He attempted to enforce it, and I left his vanished. house, fled to a remote city, and there carved and 'Nothing, nothing!" rejoined Mr. Robert Win-sculptured out my own unassisted fortunes. throp, looking hastily up; "nothing, Kate, but I 66 have been-"” "What?" "Married!" "Why, uncle !" exclaimed Miss Kate Winthrop, opening her eyes very wide; "positively?" Yes, positively." 66 “At the age of thirty, I returned, found my father dead, and my step-mother, an amiable and sensible woman, in possession of his estates, and with one son, a lad of twelve years, to bless her widowhood. For some reason I cannot altogether explain, for I was not given to kindnesses, my half-brother conceived a deep and earnest affection for me, and I rapidly learned to return it. He was indeed a noble boy; handsome, wel! formed, intelligent, with a heart glowing with generosity, and a soul as pure and innocent as an angel's. It was true I could not "Not at all. Nothing could persuade me to help sometimes comparing my own wild, ungoverned sleep." "Do tell me all about it. I am dying to hear." You shall know, that is, if you promise not to fall asleep in the midst of my story. Call for another cup of Souchong." “Well, then,” began Mr. Winthrop, after casting a deprecating glance at the elegant furniture and costly luxuries that surrounded him, “I was born on an inauspicious day, and under inauspicious circumstances." 'Lor, uncle, I don't want your history," rejoined Miss Kate, duplicating his deprecating glance, "but the how you came to be married." "Have patience, niece of mine! I must begin in my own way. It was on a Friday—" "Ha! ha ha!" burst from the merry-hearted girl; "why, uncle, you don't mean to say, now, really, that you believe Friday to be an unlucky day?" Mr. Robert Winthrop fidgeted nervously in his chair. "To be sure I do, silly girl! I was born on a Friday, I proposed on a Friday, I was married on a Friday, and-hang it, girl, how can I tell my story, if you keep tormenting me in this way? Do be quiet!" and Uncle Bob stamped his foot upon the floor in very testy manner. a Uncle Bob took a cup of tea, but, alarmed at the proximity of that danger, hastily pushed it from him, snuffed the candles, and then began to thrust the poker down among the coals, and turning up the redhot embers till his face was all of a glow; but pre"It was on a Friday; and at almost the same mosently the poker dropped listlessly by his side, and ment that I drew breath, my mother's spirit took his gaze was fixed upon the anthracite, and wander-flight to another world. As if the untoward circuming down through the labyrinths of coals, till from them issued forms and faces, and remembrances, as if memory sculptured them out of the fiery element. And more steadfast grew his gaze, as far down, where the embers glowed the hottest, memory was stance connected with my birth was mainly attributed to the perversity of my nature, who would be born just at the very moment a sudden fright deprived my mother of the necessary strength to support the labor, I grew up under the marked displeasure of youth, that at his age had tasted the bitter dregs of passion, to the warm-hearted, artless, and glowing boy, who seemed to love and revere me. So much, Kate, for a preamble. Now for my story. "It was about three years after my return to my native home, that, while travelling in the northern part of New York, on horseback and alone, that I found myself on one afternoon in the midst of a wide heath, with no human habitation in sight, and night rapidly approaching. The day had been overcast with dull, gray clouds, a sharp wind was blowing directly in my teeth, with the cold barrenness of the scene, conduced to no pleasant sensations. I put my horse to its utmost speed, and after a quarter of an hour's riding, I discovered through the thick gloom a distant light. The darkness now was gradually growing thicker, and in a few moments more, the most impenetrable pall it is possible to conceive shrouded the whole plain. My horse stumbled continually over the rough road, but still kept up a good speed, and after about two miles farther riding, I at last neared the spot whence emanated the light which had so attracted my attention. It was a broad, ruddy glow, that flashed through the narrow windows of a building, the dimensions or situation of which I could not perceive. The light of course cast everything removed from its direct rays in a still blacker hue, and I had to grope my way over stones, logs, &c., before I could reach the door. Once there, I knocked loudly. It was opened by a wretched, decrepid hag, who, as she stood as the |