though a crowd of admirers hovered around her, he saw that she still regarded him with the fondness of departed years; and that he had only to ask in order to receive. But Allan had no heart for this. His love was unlike that of other men's.

He loved her as an angel. His feelings towards her were perfectly pure, holy, and intellectual. It was the soul that beamed through her beautiful body that he adored, and he could not bear the thought that the sanctuary should be less pure and undefiled than the spirit which lodged within it. He neither wished her to be his, nor another's; for that would destroy the purity with which he invested her; but he wished her to live as a light in his path, and as a star of blissful love, to which his eyes might perpetually turn. But Margaret knew nothing of this. It was contrary to all the usual actions of human nature. It was the feeling of an angel, not of a man. She thought Allan loved her, and she loved him in return, and would have wed him---and lived for him---and died for him, if he desired it. But the silence that enchained his tongue, on this mysterious subject, he could not break. When he saw her about to be bestowed upon, the arms of another, he tried to speak, but it was impossible. What could Margaret do? Allan, she thought, did not love her. strange being: there was something fearful amidst all his amiableness. His spirit, like the elements, seemed perpetually struggling with its prison; it was ever aspiring to the sky. His mortal tenement lived upon earth, but the brightest portion of the spirit which animated it was almost ever absent. What then could Margaret do? She tried to forget him, and she wed another. Allan saw her led to the altar---he sighed over the destruction of all his hopes---his mind became more darkened than ever. The worm that never dies preyed upon his heart and consumed it. He perished ---the victim of high genius, sensibility, and love---but Margaret knew not that he died for her, and never may she

know it.

He was a

THE ELEPHANT.—A gentleman from India assures us that he has seen elephants employed to pile wood, and which have, adding heap to heap, drawn back and placed themselves in a situation to see if they kept a perpendicular line, and preserved a just level in their work, and have then corrected any perceptible defect in one or the other. The same person has seen two elephants employed to roll barrels to a distance; one has kept them in motion, while the other has been prepared with a stone in his trunk to stop their progress at the required spot.

THE OLD WRECKER. Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name.

TOWARDS the close of the 16th century, a horrid custom still prevailed in some parts of the coast of Cornwall, of luring vessels to destruction in stormy weather, by fastening a lantern to a horse's head, and leading it about on the top of the cliffs, that the bewildered mariner, mistaking it for the light of a vessel, and consequently not apprehending land could be in that direction, might be induced to shape his course thither; till the foaming breakers gave too late warning of his fate, and the vessel became the prey of a set of ruthless barbarians called 'wreckers;' who, to legalise their plunder, frequently murdered those who had escaped drowning, and then call the wreck a 'God send.’

In a hovel, on the craggy shore of a deep and dangerous bay, dwelt one of these wretches an old and hardened desperado, who united in himself the fisherman, smuggler, and wrecker; but to his depraved mind the two latter were the favourite professions, and such was the confidence of his companions in his experience on these occasions, that he was usually leader, nor did he ever fail in his office. His wife, too, encouraged him in his deeds of iniquity, and sometimes aided in his exploits. Shocked at the wickedness of his parents, their only son had long since fled his home, and driven away by their cruelty, had sought a more honourable course of life on board a West India trader.

It was at a period when a long and profitless summer and autumn had nearly passed away, that Terloggan, like the vulture ever watchful for his prey, was more than usually observant of the signs of the heavens; nor was any one more capable than himself of tracing the most distant indications of tempest. Nature had for several months were a placid, and to honest minds, a delightful aspect: the soft and azure sky had beautifully tinted the transparent sea, and the expanding waves swept with low murmurings along the shining sands of the deep bay, in mild and stately majesty playfully casting up their white foaming margins, and gently splashing the feet of the craggy rocks. Not more hateful were the beams of the orb of day to Satan, as described by our poet, than was this quiescent state of nature to Terloggan's dark mind: in his impatience he cursed the protracted summer, and hailed the approaching dreary season as more congenial to his interest. length he saw, with savage delight, the

At

sun sink in angry red beneath the cloudy horizon; he heard with exulting feelings, the hollow murmuring of the wind, and beheld the blackening waves rising in angry roar, lashing the lofty rocks with the ascending spray. As the night advanced in chaotic darkness, the horrors of the tempest increased; and the long and loud blast of the contending elements seemed enough to overawe any mind but Terloggan's. 'Now's thee time, boy,' said the old hag his wife; 'go th' ways out 'pon the cleaves there's death in the wind.' Terloggan speedily equipped himself, and ascended the steep promontory at the entrance of the bay; the lantern was displayed in the usual manner, and he soon observed a light at sea, as if an answer to his own signal: which caused the old demon to rejoice in anticipation of speedy success. The light evidently approached nearer, and ere an hour had elapsed, the white closereefed sails of the vessel could be discerned through the darkness, and the uproarious cry on board, at the discovery of their danger, could be distinctly heard. Signal guns of distress were fired-the loud commands, ‘all hands on deck,' and about ship,' were uttered in a wild despairing tone; every exertion was made to carry into effect the salutary orders; but, alas! the redeeming moment was passed, the vessel was completely embayed, nor strength nor skill could avert her impending fate. In a few moments the tremendous crash, the heart-rending but fruitless cries for help, announced the horrid catastrophe; and the last flashing signal gun gave a momentary view too shocking to be described. Alas! it was indeed a piteous scene that followed: the stranded vessel, thrown with reiterated blows against the rugged rocks, soon parted; the broken waves were dashing over the shattered hull in relentless fury, bearing to the shore the shattered cargo,broken pieces of the wreck, and the tattered rigging; while the mingled cries of the drowning and the despairing, with the terrific roar of the striving elements, seemed like Nature's last expiring hour.

There was one, however, in whose eyes such a scene was joyous-in whose ears such sounds were melody-and that was Terloggan. He impatiently waited till the storm had somewhat moderated, and when silence indicated that death had done its work, he descended the well-known cliffs to grasp his prey. Unmoved by the horrible spectacle, he stood awhile and gazed with fiend-like pleasure on the rich booty that lay around him, for the rising moon shot forth her light,

as if at a loss where to begin his work 3 but to his surprise and dismay, there was yet one living soul on board, who, should he survive, would bar the wrecker's claim. To dispatch this poor unfortu nate, was his immediate object; then scrambling over the rocks, as if to save him from destruction, he becomes his murderer. He rifled the pockets of his victim, took a ring from his finger, and then, laden with the most portable articles of plunder, bent his footsteps homeward. "Well, fayther, what luck?' exclaimed the old woman as he entered. 'Never better'-replied Terloggan: 'look, zee, mauther, pointing to his plunder. He then described the success that attended his stratagem; not even withholding the particulars of the murder: after which he displayed several pieces of foreign gold coin, and the ring belonging to the murdered man. As he held the ring near the light, he recognized its form and certain marks on it:-he started back, his countenance fell, and he quickly passed it to his wife. She too well knew from whose hand it must have been taken, and no sooner examined it, than she exclaimed, 'Plaise God thee'st murdered our son Tom!O, my son-my poor dear son!' and sunk on the floor, rolling about in frantic ravings. Terloggan endeavoured to master his feelings, and chid the old woman's, hasty conclusion; although he was himself secretly stung to the heart, and too apprehensive of the dreadful deed he had committed. He lay on his bed, however, and tossed to and fro till morning, when, with the dawn of day, he walked forth to ascertain if he had really been the destroyer of his child. He reached the spot where he had left the body, and soon as his eyes lighted on the countenance he beheld his only son. Who can describe the deep remorse that now stung his soul--who can paint the horror that now pervaded even Terloggan's hitherto callous heart? He returned to his hovel, and having related the doleful news, fled the face of man for ever. several days and nights he was known to wander among the rocks--many who accidentally passed near him, shuddered to behold his horror-struck countenance, and to hear his wild ravings of despair. There was, indeed, a tempest in his soul, black and horrible, the transcript of what he had so lately witnessed; and the dreadful forebodings of his conscience, as to futurity, forbade him to call the grave a hiding place. Thus overwhelmed by despair, and hurried to self-destruction, his mangled body was found dashed to pieces among the rocks, and was

For

buried in the sands, not far from the spot where he had perpetrated his last deed of blood. For a considerable period, the fishermen and smugglers---some of whom had been his companions in iniquity--would feel a chill of horror in passing near the spot, and observed a melancholy silence; while their superstitious fears often traced in the hollow murmurings of the winds and waves, the doleful cries of the murdered son, and the despairing groans of the remorse-stung father. * * *

The par

glen for many roods around. ricide trembled, while the spirit, in a voice of thunder, demanded who he was. I am Eric, the murderer,' replied the criminal, starting up and bending before the awful form. At these words a shriek was heard throughout Glencoe, and a clap of thunder burst from Cruachen. The lightning flashed around the murderer, who, thinking the day of retribution was at hand, trembled in despair, and cried upon the rocks to fall down and bury him for ever. His body was burned to ashes, which were scattered, like mist, by the feeblest breeze; nor did he know that he was not utterly annihilated, till his soul awoke with tenfold horror in the regions of darkness; and felt the torments of eternity seize upon it.

ERIC THE MURDERER. WEALTH was the only deity Eric worshipped, and to come at it he slew his father. But scarcely was the blood cooled upon the fatal knife, when torments, new and unheard of, assailed him. Remorse pursued his terror-stricken conscience wherever he went. He lived in the very shadow of iniquity, till, detested and shunned by his fellow men, and abhorred by himself, he fled to the wilderness of Glencoe, to hide his guilt and despair. He lay down at midnight near the mouth of a hideous cavern, and there, in a mood not to be envied by the spirits of darkness, gave way to the tide of feeling which oppressed him. cast his eyes upon heaven, but all was gloomy; there was neither star nor moon to illumine the mighty expanse. He looked to the west, where the sun in his decline had tinged the peaks of the mountains; but that luminary, and all his attendant livery, were gone, and the mountains were invisible. He then turned his eyes upon Cona, whose solitary murmurings were wont to fill with music the romantic glen; but the stream was muddy and its waters rushed onward with an angry impetuous noise. Moanings and dismal sounds, like the sighs of expiring agony, floated among the caves ---voices as from the valley of the shadow of death, saluted the ears of the murderer, and nature seemed to mourn that her sanctuary was polluted by his presence. The parricide heard these things--he gazed wildly around---he grasped his knees in his hands---his teeth were set, and his long disbevelled hair hung wildly over his shoulders. He beheld a dim figure glancing up the glen, but he regarded it only as a phantom of imagination. Still it approached nearer and nearer, and stood before him. He looked again, but could discern nothing save a column of mist rising up among the darkness. He looked a third time, and saw distinctly a gigantic figure which gazed stedfastly upon him, and by the light shot from his eyes, illumined the

them.

They are sent to these nunneries when very young, and have no hopes of getting free but by death.-At the age of seventeen they take a vow of chastity, of obedience to the mother abbess, and of retirement from the world. To enforce the first part of their vow, they have no access to see any of the male sex, holy priests excepted, but through an iron grate; and there they have the liberty of conversing with them.

Two officers of Offarrel's regiment, happening to go out of curiosity to see and converse with the nuns of St. Clare, saw two whom they admired very much; and, in short, fell desperately in love with them. They declared their passion to the girls; whose heads being stuffed with nothing but romances, which they read in the convent, looked upon them as two adventurous knights come to deliver them from their inchanted prison, and gave them all the encouragement they could wish for. The gentlemen declared themselves upon honour, and that they would marry them whenever they got them out. Many were the schemes they formed to evade the vigilance of the old maids, their keepers, to pick the locks, and get over the walls; and as love surmounts all difficulties, they got a false key made to the garden