"For God's sake, speak no further of it! I would not have seen that sight for"

"No!" cried Philippot: "then what makes you out to-day, if you're so squeamish?"

66

66

Nay, we're not such heathens, as to use such torments," said Paul. "The wheel is well enough-is necessary for the protection of honest folks; but to use pincers, and such devil's inventions, is unseemly among Christian men. But tell me, did the poor creature confess?" Why, that was the ugly part of it," answered Philippot; "for after he had been racked, and served, as I never saw flesh served before or since, why what do you think? the poor wretch was found to be nnocent. The true murderer couldn't rest with the blood upon himconfessed all-and I saw him racked, too. A plague upon your gossip! What a mob !" cried the dissatisfied old man, as abruptly turning a corner they came upon the place of execution, already thronged with thousands. "There's no getting a place near Jacques, and my eyes ar'n't what they used to be," said Philippot, disappointed; and vainly trying to espy an opening in the crowd, through which he might be able to get nearer to the scaffold.

"They'll never rack him," said one of the mob, "not they; that wheel's only to gull us; he's one of the gentry. You'll see how, at the last minute, a message will come with royal mercy, to chop off his head, and so cheat us of half-nay, of the best part of the sight."

"If I'd ha' thought as much, I'd never have lost a morning's work to come here," said a second.

"No-nor would I have stayed here to get a place, all the night; and then, at the last minute, too, when I'd fixed myself so nicely, to be driven away by the soldiers! You really think," asked the speaker, with an air of much anxiety, "you really think they won't put him to the wheel?"

"I'll bet a crown they won't," replied the man appealed to. "I'll take that bet," exclaimed another.

"Agreed-it's good! it's-hush-ha! here they come." And the sudden silence of the mob-a silence, succeeded by a slight murmur gave notice of the appearance of the procession.

"Where did he come from?" exclaimed one of the crowd, as Jacques Tenebræ suddenly appeared upon the scaffold.

"He wasn't dropt from the sky, depend upon it," answered another.

"Peace-silence-hush!" and again the crowd stood almost breathless as one man.

Rupert, preceded and followed by guards, with his arms bound, his feet naked, and his head uncovered, walked slowly, yet firmly, to the scaffold; his eyes upon the earth; his lips moving; and Father George, the Capuchin, whispering at his ear.

"A fine fellow," said Paul,

a noble-looking fellow." "Humph! my life for it, man," said Philippot, the gray-haired critic of the performances of the scaffold, "my life for it, he'll yell at the first pinch, I can see it by his lip."

Rupert mounted the scaffold; and though Jacques Tenebræ seemed as he would fain avoid the gaze of the culprit, yet Rupert looked upon

him, sighed "Poor Narcisse! thou art avenged," and then faintly smiled.

"Ha! I've known them laugh before, who screamed the hardest afterwards," muttered Philippot, unwilling to lose faith in his own discrimination; we shall see.'

Jacques approached Rupert, and the buzz that began to rise among the crowd at the motion of the executioner immediately subsided: not a breath was heard.

"He doesn't quiver yet," whispered Philippot, incapable of suppressing his disappointment.

At this moment Jacques laid his hand upon the culprit, and motioned one of the assistants towards him: as the fellow approached the criminal, Rupert started back, and trembled from head to foot.

"I knew it! now he winces-now he shakes!" and Philippot rubbed his hands.

"You- you here!" shouted the culprit; for, in his agony, he saw in the hangman's assistant the malicious face of De la Jonquille; who, with his customary smile, nodded; then stretched his finger towards the crowd. The eye of Rupert unconsciously followed its motion, when he beheld but a few yards from the scaffold, the forms of old Aaron Ezra and young Antoine Laval. They, his victims, seemed risen from the dead to witness his last agonies, making them more hor rible by the satisfaction, the triumph that glistened in their corpse. white faces.

"Quick-quick!" cried Rupert, "for the love of mercy!"

"Be patient," whispered Father George.

"Now-now, Jacques,-now!" exclaimed the culprit; and the crowd screamed and shouted, wrought upon by the intense passion of the criminal.

"Now, Jacques-now!" bellowed the multitude, sympathizing with the sufferer.

"Now-now!" exclaimed two voices.

"You hear them-you see them, father!" shrieked Rupert to the monk, and he pointed where, in his imagination, stood the Jew and the youth, but, daring not again to look, fell into the arms of the monk.

"Heaven receive ye!" said Father George, and blessing the criminal for the last time, he delivered him into the hands of the executioner, and his assistants gathered about him, to receive him.

"Ha! ha! I win my wager! no pardon-the wheel-the wheel !" Such was the shout of triumph from one of the mob, as Rupert received the first blow.

"He doesn't shrink yet," said Philippot.

"Nor yet," said a near companion, as the blow was repeated.

"Nor yet," remarked a third.

"Eh? Yes-no!-firm as a rock still!" cried another; and thus did numbers of the crowd, habituated to scenes of lingering death, coldly gaze upon, and calculate the sufferings of a fellow-creaure. "Is he dead?" asked one.

"He must be," was the answer.

"Dead! Nonsense!" observed Philippot : we shall hear him yet -though, to give him his due, he has put a stouter face upon it than I— eh?-he can't be dead!" cried the old man, impatiently.

“Dead enough—another crown upon it!"

"Be it so. He-he moves!"

At this moment the wretched malefactor uttered an awful shriek. "Not dead-I win!" cried Philippot. "See! now for the coup-degrace."

Jacques Tenebræ lifted the weapon, which descending on the chest of the miserable Rupert

"Ernest-ho!-Mercy!"-cried their master, waking as from a hi

deous dream.

"My lord!" answered the youth.

"It was a vision! Thank God!" cried the domestic tyrant, and falling upon his knees, he prayed, an altered man. "Where's Rupert, the woodman ?"

"Below, my lord, come here to beg your mercy."

"He has not been driven from the forest? I dreamt my orders were obeyed-that I myself was made that houseless, hopeless wretch, the victim of my own sentence-that I had fallen step by step, until at length upon the murderer's wheel-Oh, God !—that vision! Yet has it profited me has taught me that to deal mercifully with our fellow-men, and thereby, in their day of destitution, to preserve them from the temptations of evil, is to fulfil the prime duty of our existence-to carry out the first and the greatest Lesson of Life!"

FARMING IMPROVED.

BY LOUISA H. SHERIDAN.

G. says, "the Prize-sheep, having wool smooth as flax,
Made him long for a rubber of Whist on their backs !"
What a hint for the new Agricultural School,

As a quick, easy method, of "Carding" the wool!
Yet the chance of fair dealing is greatly decreased,
Who cuts in at such tables,-can't help being " Fleeced !"

"A CLOUD OF CANVASS;" OR, "THE OLD ADMIRAL IS RIGHT."

BY EDWARD HOWARD, ESQ.

99 66

AUTHOR OF RATTLIN THE REEFER,' OUTWARD BOUND," &c.

SIR HOMINY BLOODYER commanded his Majesty's ship, "The Oaktub," one of the oldest and roundest ninety-eights in the service. Who was Sir Hominy? That, indeed, is the very important question, so often asked, and never philosophically or satisfactorily answered.

The herald and the navy-list told you what he was officially, and it was a pompous telling. At the levee and the drawing-room no man's breast glittered with more stars, or was gorgeous with more ribbons. These he had plucked from the whirlpool of actual conflict, and every decoration had the wound of an enemy inflicted by his own hand for its source. Yet speaking morally and physichologically, who he was, formed the mystery.

What he was, physically, is soon described. Ye, who love to contemplate our naval heroes, and ye ought to be many, figure to yourselves a tall and well-made man, of a shape more rotund than graceful, possessing a head perfectly orbicular, with the exception of the trifling inequalities of his exceedingly minute features. His nose, mouth, chin, and ears, were all delicately small. His huge gray eyes were nothing but two copies of his head done in chalk. He had a marvellous voice; he could roar you gently, like any sucking dove." Indeed, when much excited, and he exerted himself to the utmost, he could be heard across his own dining-table.

However, he was a riddle. He had become a naval hero in spite of himself. Happiest of happy men was Sir Hominy. He was continually in a blissful abstraction, seeking for his qualities of heroism. He found himself pre-eminent among skilful and eminent men, their astonishment and his own. Wrapt up in the pleasing contemplation that he was actually and substantially the very great personage that the world and his destiny had made him; it is not to be supposed that he had an idea to throw away. Ideas were too precious for his own private use, to be expended in conversation. He had fought like a Paladin during the best part of his life, and he believed himself now privileged to talk like an idiot for the remainder.

I, as his midshipman aide-de-camp, have observed him in action, and his demeanour puzzled me much more than the very odd and sinuous courses that the enemies' shot would sometimes take. There sat he, Sir Hominy, on the hammock-nettings, his whole person rashly and needlessly exposed, with something as nearly approaching contentment on his rotund face, as that face could express any thing, His fine ruddy colour was neither heightened nor paled. His round eyes were, perhaps, a little more opened than usual, and, being so conspicuous a mark, whilst the musket-balls whizzed by him in showers, and tingled in his ears, not a muscle of that jolly round visage quivered.

I then began to conjecture in what manner this hero was contributing towards the great victory we were fast gaining. He did nothing except gloating with his eyes on the enemy's ship nearly alongside of

him, and when he caught a distinct view of any particular person, he would clutch the hilt of his heavy service-sword, as if he longed to give him a composing stroke on the skull. It is true, that from time to time he would exclaim to the master who was conning the ship, "A little closer, if possible, Mr. Snikes." But to every demand for orders or instructions, his answer was only "Do what is necessary and proper, Mr." whoever it might be, varied by "Do what is proper and necessary;" but which pithy, lucid, and comprehensive speech was always concluded with, "But mind, sir, I head the boarders!"

The only real service that I could discover that he rendered during the engagement, was causing the enemy uselessly to direct much of their musketry upon him, which might have been fatally employed elsewhere. Iron seemed to dread a contact with his cranium, and lead to have a fellow-feeling for his head. In all his multiplied engagements, he never was hurt, and he went peacefully to his grave, an old unwounded admiral.

be

I have been, perhaps, a little diffuse upon the character of this hero, but it was necessary, in order that the ridicule of what follows may better understood. It must be easily supposed, that a person who, like Sir Hominy Bloodyer, was continually in a sublime ecstasy of sweet selfcontemplation, was not often visible on deck, and that he took most of his exercise in his solitary stern walk. Of course, on deck he sometimes came; but though, when there, he could conceive the existence of midshipmen, he could hardly conceive it possible that he should notice them.

We must do him justice. At his own table he remembered that one requisite of a British naval officer was to be a gentleman. There he could be more than condescending; he could be, nay, he always was, cordial. But, upon deck!

Now, by all the laws that govern the moral world--and those laws are as fixed as the principles that govern the physical one-it must follow that Sir Hominy, snubbed as it was, must be led by the nose, and, as his eyes were always turned inwards upon himself, he could never discover it. It was a great marvel in the fleet that such a quiet, placid man as Sir Hominy, was always changing his first lieutenants. He wanted a sycophant, though he did not himself know it. At length, he got beautifully suited. Never did I before conceive that a creature on two legs could creep so abjectly, and, at the same time, wear such high stilts.

This first lieutenant was named-ah! how shall I name him, when there are so many names on the navy-list, seeing that any honest man would take offence if it bore any similarity to his own. We will therefore invent one for him-one that may be a little typical of his nature. This first lieutenant we will name Slaverlick. Mr. Slaverlick was tolerably wise in his generation. He had not many resources, but the few that he possessed he worked energetically. One of his means of power over Sir Hominy, was treating him with the most obsequious respect-the other, attending to his personal convenience and comfort.

The service of H.M.S. Oaktub was carried on between these two high dignitaries much in this manner: Mr. Slaverlick having ascertained the exact moment that his captain will tread beneath him the planks of the quarterdeck, he takes care that every thing immediately around