"That is enough; we shall find him out, if your story is true." From this day, a new course of life was begun by Catherine and her father. On the morrow they went to Vienna together; they visited all the chapels frequented by the great lords of the court, all the reviews, the resorts of fashion, in short, wherever a hope existed of finding him whom they sought. Day after day was consumed in patient, but fruitless search; each day only served to enhance their grief, to add strength to their despair. At last they were forced to abandon their efforts; the state of Catherine's health began to forbid these long and wearisome walks, and for some days they remained at home, silent, languid, and wretched. One night the father went forth alone into the forest, wandering there for hours, scarcely knowing his own motive or purpose, but led on, perhaps, by that vague feeling, which, in the absence of all rational hope, clings to a random chance, a remote possibility. On his return he ascended to Catherine's room, where she lay on her bed, too much indisposed in body to keep her feet, but too sick at heart to enjoy the blessing of sleep. "Catherine," said the old man, "there is one chance remaining-the last, the only one-for which I require a single effort of courage and strength. Vienna beholds to-morrow a grand but mournful solemnity; every nobleman in the empire, every offieer in the service, of whatever rank, will surely be there. You too, my child, must be present." break of day, at the capital, they presented themselves at the vestibule of a palace, before which crowds had already assembled, waiting, like them, for admission. The gates were thrown open, and multitudes poured, slowly however, and with profound silence, into a vast court, and thence into rich and lofty saloons; but Catherine and her father beheld only the gorgeously dressed soldiers who kept their guard at the doors. They arrived at length at a room, the windows of which were closed, and the walls hung with black, while the only light that pervaded its ample space, was that of numberless torches. Catherine looked into the room, almost unconscious of all around, and beheld, without understanding the scene, a number of officers passing in turn by the side of a platform covered with sable cloth; each bared his head as he slowly marched by, and bowed with an air of deep and solemn respect. The sight affected not her; she had griefs of her own more mighty than theirs. A few moments after the archduke appeared, and the sudden reflection that he whom she sought would be found, if at all, among the officers of his train, aroused her perception to full and anxious acuteness. She saw the old man, illustrious by his rank, walk slowly and feebly toward the platform, tears coursing each other over his wrinkled cheeks; and, spite of her own desolation, she sympathized with the grief that weighed so heavily on the head of the aged. When he reached the foot of the platform, and stooped to pick up a branch of cypress, with which he sprinkled the holy water over the couch that rested upon it, her eyes followed his movement, and suddenly, with a supernatural strength, she thrust aside two men who were standing before her, and straining herself to her utmost height, with her eyes fixed, her lips extended and pale, without either exclamation or tear, she pointed with one hand to some object of fearful interest, at the same time pressing her father's arm with the other. He too fixed his eyes on the spot, and beheld the wan but beautiful face of the corpse, to which all these honours were paid. "He?" was the old man's wondering cry. "He!" she replied; and, like an overstrained cord that snaps, she fell as one dead at her father's feet. "I will go," replied Catherine, without asking where. Places were nothing Assistance was instantly rendered, the to her, for whom the whole world con- poor girl was borne into one of the neartained but one single object. est apartments, and a physician was They went. Arriving, soon after the summoned; the same who has already been more than once mentioned in this is still sufficiently ferocious to terrify his narrative. He recognised Tillman with visitors. Sometimes he allows it to worry horror, and would have withdrawn, but his slaves, calling it off, perhaps, just as benevolence triumphed over his indig- it is about to kill the wretches. Similar nation, and he remained with Catherine. habits are attributed to Tippoo Sultan. As soon as the room was cleared of all This savage, at present, governor of the but the girl, her father, and the phy- Delta, piques himself on the simplicity sician, this latter poured out upon Till- and primitiveness of his manners, and his man the full measure of his contempt entire freedom from European habits and and his detestation, accusing him of being notions. During the period of his coma spy, the pander of his own daughter's mand in the Upper Country, a soldier shame, the murderer of the noble youth robbed a poor woman of a little milk. whose corse was then lying in state, and The woman, not foreseeing the result, last, and most monstrous of all, of com- laid her complaint before the bey, who ing, with fiend-like malice, to gaze on demanded her to point out the culprit. the ruin himself had contributed to effect. This being done, the soldier was ordered To all these reproaches, Tillman replied to be laid upon the ground, and have his with the simple truth, and the truth body ripped open. The milk being prevailed. Catherine had, indeed, re- found in his stomach, the bey paid the vealed all she knew to the priest, but it complainant, and dismissing her, cbwas in confession; and if there had been served: "The robber has been punished; treachery, it was not she, but the priest but had he been discovered to be innowho had betrayed. Catherine did not cent, the same punishment would have know even the name of her lover. It awaited you." It is the custom of this was true that he had once spoken with barbarian, who always moves surrounded that monk, in crossing the court of the by the terror of arms, to ride abroad archduke's palace; but the monk was accompanied by a number of Mamalukes the almoner of the abbey, and it was (or domestic slaves), each of whom carfrom him that the veteran had received ries a thousand sequins in his girdle; the medicines which restored him to that should he be compelled to fly, which, health. The whole plot of this terrible considering his decided hostility to the drama was now disclosed; and nothing pacha, is by no means improbable, he remained save tears and the bitterness of might still be provided with money for regret, for a noble spirit thus early and his immediate use, During the Syrian fatally crushed, for the doom of that campaign, six of these young men, dreadyoung heart, whose hard fate it was to ing the effects of his ferocity, examples reap only anguish and death, from its of which they daily beheld, made their single attempt to escape the sorrows by eseape, and took refuge in Ibrahim's which every other hope of its existence camp. Being discovered, however, they had long been withered. were immediately apprehended, and conveyed back to Cairo. Here they were commanded to appear before their inexorable lord, in the great hall of the palace, where they found him encircled by a number of blacks, armed with drawn swords. They were not long in learning their fate. He commanded them to take every man a sabre, and attack each other in his presence, until five of their number should fall; promising life, and a thousand sequins to the victor. The Mamalukes obeyed; ranged themselves three and three; and, having been trained to the use of arms, and uniting skill with courage, fought desperately, shedding their blood like water, while the Defterday sat calmly on his divan, enjoying the spectacle. At length, after a long and sanguinary struggle, one only remained the victor over his unhappy companions. Exhausted and bleeding in every limb, he raised his eyes towards his master, to receive the promised pardon; but, at Catherine awoke, at length, from her swoon, and beheld in the eyes of her father, which were fixed upon her, tears and the tenderest aspect of pity and love; he stooped over her prostrate form, kissed her pale lips, and said, " My daughter, thy child shall find a father in me, and he shall bear the name of his own. "Do you know it, then?" she exclaimed. "Yes," the old man replied: "he shall bear the name of NAPOLEON!" NOTES OF A READER. ANECDOTES OF THE DEFTERDAY BEY. Or the cruelty of this Turkish grandee, who has married a daughter of Mohammed Ali, numerous anecdotes are related in Egypt. He has, it is said, a tame lion, usually lying at the foot of his divan, which, although mild towards its master, this moment, the bey gave the nod to one of the black slaves, who stood behind him, and the head of the Mamaluke immediately rolled along the floor. On another occasion, two of his military slaves, quarrelling, drew their swords in his presence; at which, his anger being kindled, he commanded their heads to be struck off. The Mamalukes, however, mindful of the recent fate of their companions, resolved to sell their lives dearly, drew their pistols, and aiming at the head of the tyrant, were about to rid the world of such a monster, when the interposition of other of his slaves enabled him to escape into the harem. Reckless and desperate, as knowing escape impossible, the Mamalukes, now joined by several others, who all had wrongs and insults to revenge, pursued and besieged him in his private apartments, where, but for the speedy arrival of a party of soldiers from the citadel, he would then have paid the forfeit of his innumerable barbarities and crimes. With this assistance he succeeded in repelling the assailants, who, in their turn, were shut up and besieged in one of the turrets of the palace, forming the powder magazine. Here they held out during several days, fighting desperately; but, at length, finding their numbers decrease, and being entirely destitute of provisions, they set fire to the powder, and blew themselves up, with the tower in which they had taken refuge. NOTHING LIKE LEATHER. By heaven!" cried my father, "I have not one appointment belonging to me which I set so much store by as I do by these boots." Tristram Shandy. I never knew but one man who was really attached to hessian boots. It was my friend S, and his attachment amounted almost to reverence. He always wore them, summer or winter. Although a martyr to the gout, his respect for hessians overcame all desire for an easy shoe, when his fit was at the highest. I have seen him writhe with pain under the infliction, and yet smile complacently at the polished calf of his favourite leather. When night came, a stranger might observe his ruffled temper, as he encountered the boot-jack and slippers; they were to him the heralds of departing bliss. He sighed as he drew them off; and woe to the person whose business it was, if the boots were not in readiness in the morning at the moment he required them! Yet he was not punctilious in dress; he wore not hessian boots for their smart ness; he cared little whether they were clean or dirty; his love had a deeper root-it sprung from gratitude. It is extraordinary how chance or mishap may suddenly bring to light the most inestimable qualities in very common, and, to all appearance, very trifling things. Hood has immortalized a wig as "a life-preserver," a property few could have guessed at. The wearer, falling into the clutches of some wild Indians in the back-woods of America, was sentenced to be scalped; and the operation was quickly performed-but the knife passing fortunately between the skull and the frizzled top-knot, the artificial scalp came off in the Mohawk's grasp, thus leaving the proprietor minus only of his wig! To pass from the head to the heels, it would be difficult to conceive how a pair of hessian boots could have rendered so important a service to my friend S———; yet they did. They were a life-preserver to him, and he treasured them accordingly-but let him tell his own story. "I dare say," said he to me one day, after an affectionate glance downwards, "I dare say you wonder at my fondness for hessian boots, but I am bound to them from respect to myself and family. But for these bits of leather, sir, I should not be standing before you at this moment: they saved my life, sir. Thirty years ago, (it was the winter of 18-), I was riding a little crossgrained chestnut cob over my own farm, when the beast making a sudden start, I was thrown off my guard and off the horse at the same moment. Well! instead of standing still, (the horse I mean), as he should have done, he scampered away, as fast as his legs could carry him, across a forty-acre field; and what is worse, sir, my right foot hanging in the stirrup, he dragged me along with him. Luckily for me, there had been a heavy fall of snow, which doubtless saved me many broken bones; but, what was a hundred times more fortunate, I was wearing hessian boots, sir. Well-when he had got to the opposite hedge, what with rolling and tumbling over and over, I had become a perfect snow-ball; and luckily for me again, there was a ditch, which as I slid in, my foot slid out-out of my boot I mean; and away went the cob, boot, and all. Well there I laid, a senseless lump of snow; and, heaven knows, but for one circumstanee, might have laid there till the thaw came. It so happened that my eldest boy was out, wan dering about with a gun shooting rooks and crows, and such like, and passing near the spot where I laid, he up with his gun at what he thought was a crow on the edge of the bank. Now what do you think it was? it was nothing more nor less than my left hessian boot, the only visible part about me: rather a critical moment, you'll say, if I could have known the rights of it; but luckily for me, I was insensible. If I had moved my foot the least in the world, he'd ha' shot me as sure as a gun; but the boot was quiet; so he was doubtful about wasting a charge of powder and shot, and crept up towards it, holding his gun ready all the while. Well! in course he knew his father's boot, when he came close; and wondered how it came there. Well, he tugged and pulled, but all to no purpose-there it stuck; he little knew at the moment, that his father's leg was inside. However, by this time assistance was at hand; my horse, it appeared, had excited some surprise at home, where he had found his way, with my boot hanging at the stirrup; so one and all set out in search of their master; but my belief is, they'd never have found me, if my hessian boot had not shewn itself above the snow. Well, sir! I was carried home, and thawed inside and out, and, luckily for me, very little damage was done. Now, sir, I conceive my life was saved, in the first place, by my right boot coming off; and, secondly, by my left boot keeping on; and I'll only appeal to you as a man of feeling, whether, after such a warning as this, it does not become me to wear hessian boots for the rest of my life!" M. N. since William the Conqueror; and yet his avarice allowed many to escape. Those who had nothing to give, were condemned without mercy; the only possible mitigation for which they could hope, was perpetual slavery in the plantations of America. As to the monster Kirk, it would seem that human blood was more coveted by him than gold. The horrible stories related of him, are scarcely credible: with one (his treatment of a young woman who petitioned for her brother's life), the reader must be well acquainted. It is said, that at Taunton, he ordered nineteen wounded men to be hung, without permitting their relations to speak to them, and commanded military music to be played while they struggled in the agonies of death. In another town, he invited his officers to dinner, near the place where some of the condemned rebels had been ordered to be executed. Ten of the unfortunate creatures were turned off, while Kirk and his fellows drank a health to the king. Ten more followed, with a health to the queen; and ten, while they drank to the health of the ferocious Jefferies! A man was hanged up three times at Taunton, and was as often asked if he would confess that he had done amiss; but he refused, and finally suffered. "Jervaise, a hatter," says Echard, "was offered his life if he would say God save King James;' but this he refused, and was accordingly executed. A Captain Ansley also met his death with great fortitude. It is probable that the resignation with which many who had taken part in the rebellion, submitted to their fate, tended much to inflame Kirk, and urge him to fresh cruelties. E. M. A. LITERATURE OF THE DAY. THE greatest objection urged against the popular literature of the present age, is its lightness; or as some harsh critical censors will call it, flimsiness. That such is, to a certain extent, the character of most new books that come from the press, is certainly not to be questioned; but there is room for a doubt, whether the fact is one to be censured or changed. Modern literature is something like modern architecture; books and houses are both constructed with an especial reference to the short term of their leases, and with very good reason. The ancient folios, like the old Gothic edifices, were intended for long duration ; and both have, in many instances, out lived their original purpose, and been suffered to fall into neglect and ruin. But the lath-and-plaster volumes of our time are not proof against the elements, and have little more than an ephemeral existence. This, however, is any thing but an evil; for so prolific has the press become, that if one book in a hundred outlived a year, libraries would be too small to contain them, and human existence altogether too short to acquire even the rudiments of learning. Besides, new books, like new buildings, receive all the progressive improvements of the age; and novelty contributes, in the one case, to the health and cleanliness of the mind, as in the other, to those of the body. There are no lumber-holes in either, for dust, rubbish and cobwebs; and prejudices, like rats and mice, get a notice to quit on each new re-edification. The older structures, both literary and architectural, may have possessed more grandeur, magnificence, and minuteness of detail; but the modern are lighter, more commodious, and better adapted to the wants and habits of the people for whom they are designed. M. N. MEDICAL SCIENCE IN PERSIA. SIR Harford Jones, in his narrative of the British mission to Persia in 1807, gives the following whimsical anecdote, as serving to shew the extent to which Persian physicians may be confided in as restorers of health. A great khan of the royal tribe was afflicted with leprosy. The king took much interest in his welfare, and consulted the hakim bashi, or court physician, as to what could be done for his relief. This learned person recommended that the patient should swallow, daily, a certain quantity of chinaware, ground to powder. The disease, however, was obstinate, and did not yield to the remedy, whereupon the king took it into his head that the fault lay in the quantity, and so ordered the patient to swallow a double dose of the same. This, too, produced no amend ment. The hakim bashi was consulted again, and ascribed the want of success to the china not being old enough, and the consequence was that some of the oldest and finest pieces of china in the palace were ground to powder in quantities, and administered to the khan; of course, with exactly the same result as before. The hakim bashi now gave his opinion that the disease was caused by impurity of the blood; the only sure method to remedy which was, to draw blood from the patient and then put it back again; that is, cause him to drink it. This prescription was followed, and, aided perhaps by the old china, soon cured the the poor khan of his leprosy, and all his others troubles besides, by sending him post-haste to his grave. CURE FOR THE DROPSY. THE same writer says that the caliph Al Wauthek, being afflicted with dropsy, brought on by intemperance, was placed with great ceremony by his physicians in a large oven, constructed on purpose, and heated as highly as he could possibly bear it. The caliph found, or imagined he found, much relief from the first experiment, and therefore concluded to try it a second time, ordering the oven to be made several degrees hotter than before. In this he was obeyed, but perceiving that the heat was beyond his endurance, he called to the attendants to take him out; but, before this could be done, the unfortunate caliph was baked to death. ERRORS AND ANACHRONISMS. No. IV. BY A CANTAB. To particularize a few literary errors and anachronisms in conclusion. Marville informs us, that one George Vicelius has given as a book of Plutarch, the Life of Charlemagne, written by Donatus Acciaroli, because it is sometimes joined to the Life of Plutarch by that author. Palavacini, in his History of the Council of Trent, to confer an honour on M. Lansac, ambassador of Charles IX. to that council, bestows on him a collar of the order of the Saint Esprit; but which order was not instituted till several years afterwards by Henry III. Quintus Curtius, though a polished historian, has committed many gross geographical blunders. He takes Arabia Felix for the deserts of Arabia, and conveys the rivers Tigris and Euphrates through Media, where they never yet ran. D'Aquin, the French king's physician, in his Memoir on the Preparation of Bark, there takes Mantissa, (which is the title of the appendix to the History of Plants, by Johnstone,) for the name of an author, and who, he observes, is so |