was made, to avoid the down-coming ruin; but with only partial success, for in an instant after the uttered response which called their attention, the ponderous mass, which hung for a moment like a cloud above them, upheaved from its bed of ages, and now freed from all stays, with a sudden, hurricane-like, and whirling impetus, making the solid rock tremble over which it rushed, came thundering down, swinging over one half of the narrow trace, bounding from one side to the other along the gorge, and with the headlong fury of a cataract sweeping everything from before its path, until it reached the dead level of the plain below. The instinctive shriek from those who beheld the mass (when, for an instant impended above them, it seemed to hesitate in its progress down) was more full of human terror and trial than any utterance which followed the event. With the exception of a groan, wrung forth here and there from the half-crushed victim in nature's agony, the deep silence which ensued, was painful and appalling; and even when the dust had dissipated, and the eye was enabled to take in the entire amount of the evil deed, the prospect failed in impressing the senses of the survivors with so distinct a sentiment of horror, as when the doubt and death, suspended in air, were yet only threatening and impending. Though prepared for the event, in one sense of the word, the great body of the squatters were not prepared for the unusual emotions which succeeded it in their bosoms. The arms dropped from the hands of many of thema speechless horror was the prevailing feature of all, and all fight was over, while the scene of bloody execution was now one of indiscriminate examination and remark with friend and foe. Ralph was the first to rush up the fatal pass, and to survey the horrible prospect. One half of the brave little corps had been swept to instant death by the unpitying rock, without having afforded the slightest obstacle to its fearful progress. In one place lay a disembowelled steed panting its last; mangled in a confused and unintelligible mass, lay beside him another, the limbs of his rider undistinguishable from his own. One poor wretch, whom he assisted to extricate from beneath the body of his dying and struggling horse, cried to him for water, and died in the prayer. Fortunately for the few who survived the catastrophe, among whom was their gallant but unfortunate young

leader, they had, at the first glimpse of the danger, urged on their horses with redoubled effort and animation, and by a close approach to the surface of the rock, and taking an oblique direction wide of its probable course, had, at the time of its precipitation, reached a line almost parallel with the place upon which it stood, and in this way achieved their escape, without serious injury. Their number was few, however, and not one half of the fifteen who commenced the ascent, ever reached or survived its attainment.

NOTES OF A READER.

TAKING THE VEIL.

How many strange, wild, and romantic associations are connected with "taking the veil !" The romances of our earlier days-the tales, that professed to reveal the mysteries of the cloister, crowd upon our memory: we see standing before us the creatures of our imagination-the inflexible lady abbess - the trembling nun-we hear the authoritative question, and the timid reply-we see the midnight procession, and hear the anthem of sweet and holy voices-and a crowd of mysterious and half-forgotten dreams and visions float before us. Of some of these early visions I had learned to doubt the reality. I had already caught occasional glimpses of those mysterious creatures who inhabit convent-walls, without finding any realization of my vision of charms more than mortal. I had learned to know that nuns grow old, and that the veil does not always shadow loveliness; but, having understood that the victim about to sacrifice herself was scarcely seventeen, I dismissed from my mind all the realities that warred with my romantic illusions, and recurred to the dream of my earlier days.

At the hour appointed, the abbess entered the room on the other side of the grating, accompanied by all the nuns, and by several ladies, friends, and relatives of the novice. She entered a moment after; and immediately knelt down, with her face toward the grating, so that I had a near and distinct view of her. She was attired in the novice's robe of pure white, and wore a crown of flowers upon her head. She seemed scarcely more than sixteen. Her countenance was gentle, sweet, and interesting; there was an expression of seriousness, but not of sadness, in her face; and a skin, fairer than usually falls to the lot of Spanish women,

was sensibly coloured with a fine carnation-the glow of youth, and health, and happiness, yet lingering on her cheek; and connecting her with the world of light and life and freedom, about to close upon her for ever.

The administrator now entered by the chapel, and placed himself in a chair close to where I was stationed, and at the side of an opening in the grating of about a foot square. The novice then rose, and walking forward to the grating, presented him with a paper, which he read aloud: this was the act of renunciation of all property, then and for ever; and during this ceremony the novice retired and knelt as before, holding in her hand a long lighted taper, with which the abbess presented her. The preparatory service then commenced by reading and chanting; and this, although monotonous, was pleasing and impressing, according well with the solemnity of the scene that had introduced it; and in this service the novice joined, with a clear, sweet voice, in which nothing of emotion could be distinguished. When this was concluded, the novice again rose, advanced to the grating, and pronounced slowly and distinctly the three vows that separate her from the world—of chastity, poverty and obedience. Her voice never faltered; nor could I perceive the slightest change of countenance; the colour only, seemed gradually to forsake her. The lady abbess, who stood close by her side, wept all the while. Ah! if each tear could have told why it flowed, what a history might have been unfolded. Indignation was the feeling produced in my mind. I wished for the cannon of the constitutionalists, to throw down these most odious of prisons; and even to the priest, who stood by me in his crimson and gilded surplice, I could not restrain myself from saying, half audibly, "Que infamia!"

When the vows that could never be recalled, had been pronounced by this misguided child, she stepped back, and threw herself prostrate upon the groundthis is the act confirmatory of her vowssymbolical of death, and signifying that she is dead to the world. The service was then resumed, a bell continued slowly to toll, and the priest read; while the nuns who stood around their new-made sister responded, "dead to the worldseparated from kindred-bride of heaven!" and the nun who lay prostrate being supposed, at the same time, to repeat to heaven in secret, vows she had already pronounced aloud. When this

concluded, a slow, organ peal, and a solemn swell of voices rose and died away; and the abbess then raised the nun from the ground, and embraced her; and all the other nuns and her relations, also embraced her. I saw no tear upon any cheek, excepting upon the cheek of the abbess, whose face was so full of benignity, that it half reconciled me to the fate of the young initiated who had vowed obedience to her. When she had embraced every one, she again knelt for a few moments, and then approached the grating along with the abbess; and the priest handed to the abbess, through the opening, the vestments of a nun. Then came the last act of the drama: the crown was lifted from her head, the black vestment was put on, and the girdle and the rosary, and the black hood was drawn over her head-she was now a nun, and she again embraced the abbess and all the sisters. Still I could not discover a single tear, excepting on the cheek of the abbess, who continued to weep almost without ceasing to the very end; the countenance of the young nun remained unmoved. The crown was again replaced upon her head, to be worn all that day: the sacrament was administered, and one last embrace by friends and relations terminated the scene.

I had thus seen what I had long felt so much anxiety to see "taking the veil;" and I found it, at the same time, a stirring and a melancholy spectacle: stirring, because it filled the mind with indignation against those whose cruel and insidious counsel had misled an innocent girl; and melancholy, because it pointed to a life uncheered by life's sweetest charities, unblest by its holiest ties; life without interest, without change, without hope; its sources of enjoyment dried up, and its wells of affection frozen over.

"Am I to be everlasting kept waiting for this doctor?" said Ischorski. "Troschka go and inform him that for these two hours he has put my patience to the test-Ah, I perceive him. Now, in the name of heaven, my dear Sergei Iwanowitsch, am I never to have an opportunity of conversing with you?"

"I beg ten thousand pardons for keeping you waiting," said the doctor, bowing to Rosslawlew and Surski. "I have just been visiting the hospital."

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Ah, that is exactly what I wanted you for. Well, is all in order?"

Every thing is as usual, Nicholas Stepanowitsch."

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Every thing as usual! Ah, there it is! Did I not say it would be thus? And yet my friend, did I not express myself with sufficient clearness? It is this very day his excellency the governor arrives, and we must-now do you understand me, my dear doctor-we must shew off every thing to the best advantage."

"I have already said, sir, that every thing is in order,'

"But in the hospital?"

"The windows and the floors are cleaned; the linen is all washed."

"Has care also been taken to suspend over each bed, a description of the nature of the disease?"

Why, that is not exactly requisite, as the hospital contains but ten beds. have, however, affixed tickets to three of them, as you desired it."

"Are they in Latin?"

"Yes, in Latin and in Russian." "Very well, doctor. And how many sick have we?"

"At the present moment we have not a single one.'

"What! not even one!" exclaimed Ischorski in the greatest consternation.

"No, my lord; I sent away the last the day before yesterday: it was Elias the coachman."

"And why did you send him away?" "Because he was cured." "And who told you he was cured? How did you know it? Is it possible! Not a single invalid! Why, gentlemen, what is the use of building hospitals? Not a single invalid!” "Why find fault with that, my friend?" said Surski.

"How can you speak thus? Do you not understand there is not a single invalid! How can I shew empty rooms to the governor? May heaven bless you, my dear Sergei Iwanowitsch! You give me great joy-Not one invalid!"

"But in the name of all that is sacred, what would you have me do?"

"What would I have you do? Allow me to ask you one question: why do you receive your salary? You receive a thousand roubles per annum, besides the expenses of your establishment?"

"And not a single invalid! Is it thus you manage ? What do you mean by it? I agree now, that my sister was in the right--this is what comes of having a Russian physician. Not a single invalid! Alas, alas! - Indeed, my dear friend, I am exceedingly grateful to you for your agreeable announcement. Not a single invalid!-Bravo! thou Russian doctor, bravo! Cost what it will, I'll take a German physician! Then we shall not want patients. O heavens! not a single invalid! Yes, gentlemen, you may laugh; it is nothing to you. You have no hospital to shew his excellency !"

"What think you, Rosslawlew?" said Surski: "ought we not to feign sick to get him out of trouble ?"

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Really, brother, that is a very illtimed jest.'

"

"No, I am speaking seriously. The governor will not surely feel the pulses of the patients. The grand point is, not to let the beds be empty."

"It is not a bad idea. Troschka, tell my steward to come to me immediately." What do you propose ?" demanded Rosslawlew.

"Gently, brother; perhaps we can devise the means of avoiding this dilemma. It does not require much thought. It is no great hardship to remain one day in bed."

"What! you are serious then?" "Hear me, brother, I have it. I am decided. Now, for heaven's sake, Sergei Iwanowitsch retire, but never let this happen again. We shall be able to find invalids without him. Listen, Parfen," continued Ischorski, addressing the steward, who had just entered; "the hospital is without inmates!"

Thanks be to heaven, my lord, there is not a single one."

"Thou art an egregious fool! Thanks to heaven, indeed! What, then, must I shew the governor the bare walls? I will absolutely have some invalids." "That's all very well, my lord; but where am I to obtain them ?"

"You fill me with dismay, what has occurred."

"A mere trifle, I tell you-all my cares, all my trouble, all my expenses are gone to the devil! but I shall recover them; oh, that learned doctor, he to call himself a doctor indeed! he is nothing but a vile barber! he shall leave my house this instant."

"Oh, then it is your hospital you are speaking of?"

My hospital! What hospital? I'll have no more hospital. To-morrow I will have the cursed hospital demolished, I will not leave one stone on another."

"But at least tell me the cause of so much anger."

"The cause brother, oh, it's only that it grieves me exceedingly, that's all. Just figure to yourself, me shewing my establishment to my guests, the hospital in its turn; first of all we entered the dispensary, the company exclaimed about the beautiful order that reigned there. The boxes, the jugs, all were arranged like soldiers at parade. It was a pleasure to look at them. The marshal overwhelmed me with compliments; he told me I was the benefactor of the province, an enlightened proprietor, that this establishment was the greatest ornament of the province, &c. &c. I bowed, I thanked him, and said to myself-Wait a moment, and you will see something a little different to this when you are in the sick room. We entered, the passage was clear and light; that was all right. First Class. "Chronical disorders!" exclaimed the doctor; Room No. 1, the dropsical! I opened the door-I cast my eyes on the bed—and I saw, my flesh crept at the thought I saw the dry, the consumptive Andrew. I hurried away, I arrived at the other door. The marshal himself read the inscription: Room No. 2, Consumption! I entered, every one followed me and I thought really the earth would have opened beneath me! Good God! There lay the fat sexton! Is it long since you have been consumptive? asked the marshal smiling. About two years ago, my lord: answered the sexton. One can easily see, said that stupid buskin, that you have suffered much, poor devil! Suffered! his stomach is like a butt. The marshal could hold out no longer, all the guests burst into a loud laugh; and as for me, I don't know how I escaped, for I have no remembrance of what happened to me till I met you just now.'

LONG before this rhapsody was concluded, our friend had betaken himself to another part of the ship, and did not appreciate the eloquence and enthusiasm of the classical chaplain of the Bloodsucker. It is not to be supposed that Sam was a willing encounterer, all this time, of the perils of the deep. Frequent and anxious were his inquiries as to the possibility of his return. He was assured that at Gibraltar there was no doubt of his getting a homeward vessel, but till then, he had better accommodate himself to circumstances. Aecordingly, with right good-will, he set himself to enjoy as many comforts as his position would afford. The purser, being luckily a stout individual, furnished him with a wardrobe; and the wine being good, the mess pleasant, and the sea calm, Sam's only drawback from his felicity, was his absence from Bastock Lodge. On casting anchor off St. Rosier, they ascertained from the pratique boat that the yellow fever was so virulent on shore, that the deaths averaged nine a day; so, without the delay of a moment, all sail was hoisted again, and with a favourable breeze the Bloodsucker pursued her way to Malta.

Here, at last, Sam was lucky enough to get information of the sailing of a Sicilian sparonara bound for Catania, from which he was assured he could not fail to catch the regular passage-boat home. With many adieus, and cordial invitations to the officers to beat up his

himself to the St. Agata, with every