Imatges de pàgina
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that I threw up my right arm, and caught her by the ear: she quitted her hold and seized my wrist. I inwardly prayed for death to relieve me.

Apparently exhausted, she now crouched at full length, one leg resting on my right thigh, the other a little drawn back between my legs; her tongue out, panting like a tired hound, glaring on me full in the face. I had some indistinct feeling at the time that my eye might awe her; and thus, with my head a little raised, (for she had thrown me on a bank,) we lay looking on each other.

My native servant, a sewar, who had been in my service ten years, had now approached to within twelve paces of me; I heard him exclaim, “Oh, God ! oh, God! Sahib, what shall I do, the horse will not approach nearer ?" "Turn it loose and assist me," but he came not; I dared not move my head, or turn my eye. "Great God! Chard Cawn! you will not let your master die this dog's death, and not help him ?" but still he came not. I reproached him with every term I could call to mind, but could only hear in reply his exclamations of horror and fear. At length, when sight began to fail, and death appeared inevitable, the monster sprang from me-ran about twenty paces-and fell dead.

The whole party now crowded round, then placed me in a cummerbund, and bore me to the nearest village. I was almost naked, my clothes were torn to ribands. I fainted two or three times before I arrived there; they washed my wounds with warm water, bound them with linen rag, put me on a bed, and carried me to my tent.-Chard Cawn went off express on one of my camels, to a brother officer, Lieutenant Green, who was on a march with a detachment for Deesa: he travelled forty miles before he found him. Green quitted his detachment, and was with me by seven that evening; to his unremitting kindness and care, of which I can never show myself sufficiently grateful, I am indebted for my life. I was a hundred miles from medical assistance; it was three days before my wounds were dressed, the rags being merely moistened to prevent them from sticking. During that time he constantly rode by my bed, which was born by natives, never quitting me night or day. It was the middle of the fourth day before I arrived in camp, and seven weeks before I quitted my bed.

I retain the skull of my formidable opponent, the trophy of my hard-earned victory. My general health is so much impaired, that you may soon expect me in England to recruit.

(From the United Service Journal.)

ERAS.

That of Nabonasar was 747 years before Christ; philipic, or death of Alexander, 324 years before Christ; of contracts, or Seleucidæ, 312 years before Christ. The christians made their era the birth of Christ, which was A. M. 3962, but did not use this reckoning till the year 690, using in the mean time, the civil account of the empire, The Mahometans began their hegira (for so they term their computation) from the flight of their prophet from Mecca, when he was driven thence by the Philarchæ, in A. D. 617. The Grecians computed by Olympiads, the first of which is placed in the year of the world, 3187; but this account perishing under the Constantinopolitan Emperors, they reckoned by indictions, every indiction containing fifteen years, and the first beginning 313, which, among chronologers, are still used. The Romans computed from the first building of their city, which happened A. M. 3113, and afterwards from the sixteenth year of the Emperor Augustus, A. M. 3936, which computation was used by the Spaniards, till the reign of Ferdinand, the catholic. The Jews had divers Epochs, -first, from the creation of the world, in the beginning of time; second, from the universal deluge, Anno 2656; third, from the confusion of tongues, Anno 2786; fourth, from Abraham's journey out of Chaldea unto Canaan, Anno 2021; fifth, from the departure of the children of Israel out of Egypt, Anno 1451; sixth, from the year of the Jubilee, Anno 2499; seventh, from the building of Solomon's temple, Anno 2932; and eighth from the captivity of Babylon, Anno 3357; but in historical computation of time, are used only the most ordinary Epochs,-the world's creation, and Christ's appearance in the flesh.

(SELECTED.)

THOUGHTS ON LIFE.

'Tis not the future dread, that makes me shun
The end of all the living; nor the fear

Of that which thunders in the cowards ear,
And drives him to his fancied hell-not one
Of these, the Hypocrite can work upon.

Who plays with childish, female weakness-no-
There is no darker world where I can go,
And all that justice can inflict is done.

But life will linger even when hope has flown,

And we will cling to all that once had power

To charm us, soothe us, bless us ; and the hour
Of early virtuous passion, that alone

Comes like a flash of light across the heart,

From whose imagined heaven we cannot, will not, part.

We think of what we might have been; the stream

Was crystal at its fountain, though it flow'd
Without that strong deep current, still it glow'd
Beneath a brighter sky, and gay the beam
Play'd on its dancing waters, as we dream
In sunny climes of Fairy-land, where blows,
In never-fading hues, the living rose;

Where myrtles shed their fragrance, and we seem,—
Such is the luxury of feeling there,

The kindling energy our souls inhale,—

Ourselves a portion of the balmy air ;

So flow'd the stream of life, as through the vale

It threw its unstain'd waters from the spring,

And with its freshness wet the zephyr's silent wing.

But there are some more silent, calm, and slow,
Through temperate climes they take their steady way,
Their waves scarce ruffled by the ripples play;
Enlarging through the wide rich plain they flow,
While brooks on brooks uniting swell it so,-
At length it rolls a river broad and deep,
In calmest life the tranquil waters sleep,
And there in gallant turn proud vessels go,
And moving like a swan along the tide,
With cleaving prow and wide extended wing,
And oary arms, the bounding wave they ride,
And, as their canvass to the gale they fling,

In stately march they walk the liquid plain,

And down the widening stream plough to the deep blue main.

The boundless hall of ocean-life the shore,

The only shore,—it spreads and spreads for ever;
And though the bark sails onward, it can never
Traverse the unlimited expanse ;-its floor
Inlaid with blue, and green, and gold, as rise
Its lifted waves,-its canopy, the skies;-
The ever-glowing sun, its lamp,-the roar

Of sears, its music,-and the sun-lit sparkle

Of curling foam, phospherescent glow

That flashes, when at night the waters darken,—

The pearls, and gems, and sands, and oars that strew

Its pavement:-'Tis the home of majesty,

The palace and shrine where dwells eternity.

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Once upon a time, several of the Virtues, weary of living together with the Bishop of Norwich, resolved to make a little excursion; accordingly, though they knew every thing on earth was very ill prepared to receive them, they thought they might safely venture on a tour, from Westminster Bridge to Richmond; the day was fine, the wind in their favour, and as to entertainment,-why, there seemed, according to Gertrude, to be no possibility of any disagreement among the Virtues.

They took a boat at Westminster stairs, and just as they were about to push off, a poor woman, all in rags, with a child in her arms, implored their compassion. Charity put her hand into her reticule, and took out a shilling. Justice, turning round to look after the baggage, saw the folly Charity was about to commit. "Heavens !" cried Justice, seizing poor Charity by the arm, "what are you doing? Have you never read Political Economy? Don't you know that indiscriminate alms-giving is only the encouragement to idleness, the mother of vice? You a Virtue, indeed! I'm ashamed of you. Get along with you, good woman, yet stay, there is a ticket for soup at the Mendicity Society, they'll see if you are a proper object of compassion." But Charity is quicker than Justice, and slipping her hand behind her, the poor woman got the shilling, and the ticket for soup too. Economy and Generosity saw the double gift. "What waste!"' cried Economy, frowning; "what a ticket and a shilling! either would have sufficed.”

"Either," said Generosity; "fie! Charity should have given the poor creature half-a-crown, and justice a dozen tickets!" So the next ten minutes were consumed in a quarrel between the four Virtues, which would have lasted all the way to. Richmond, if Courage had not advised them to get on shore and fight it out. Upon this, the Virtues suddenly perceived they had a little forgotten themselves, and Generosity offering the first apology, they made it up, and went on very agreeably for the next mile

or two.

The day now grew a little overcast, and a shower seemed at hand. Prudence, who had a new bonnet on, suggested the propriety of putting to shore for half an hour; Courage was for braving the rain; but, as most of the Virtues are ladies, Prudence carried it. Just as they were about to land, another boat cut in before them very uncivilly, and gave theirs such a shake, that Charity was all but overboard. The company on board the uncivil boat, who evidently thought the Virtues extremely low persons,

* From Bulwar's "Pilgrims of the Rhine," a work which we can, with confidence, recommend to the perusal of our readers: it is a perfect gem in literature, and entitled to the highest commendation.

for they had nothing very fashionable about their exterior, burst out laughing at Charity's discomposure, especially as a large basket-full of buns, which Charity carried with her for any hungry-looking children she might encounter at Richmond, fell pounce into the water. Courage was all on fire: he twisted his moustache, and would have made an onset on the enemy, if, to his great indignation, Meekness had not forestalled him, by stepping mildly into the hostile boat, and offering both cheeks to the foe; this was too much even for the incivility of the boatmen; they made their excuses to the Virtues, and Courage, who is no bully, thought himself bound discontentedly to accept them. But, oh, if you had seen how Courage used Meekness afterwards, you could not have believed it possible, that one Virtue could be so enraged with another! This quarrel between the two threw a damp on the party, and they proceeded on their voyage, when the shower was over, with anything but cordiality. I spare you the little squabbles that took place in the general conversation-how Economy found fault with all the villas by the way; and Temperance expressed becoming indignation at the luxuries of the city barge. They arrived at Richmond, and Temperance was appointed to order the dinner; meanwhile Hospitality, walking in the garden, fell in with a large party of Irishmen, and asked them to join the repast.

Imagine the long faces of Economy and Prudence, when they saw the addition to the company. Hospitality was all spirits, he rubbed his hands and called for champagne, with the tone of a younger brother. Temperance soon grew scandalized, and Modesty herself coloured at some of the jokes; but Hospitality, who was now half seas over, called the one a milk-sop, and swore at the other as a prude. Away went the hours; it was time to return, and they made down to the water-side thoroughly out of temper with one another, Economy and Generosity quarrelling all the way about the bill and the waiters. To make up the sum of their mortification, they passed a boat where all the company were in the best possible spirits, laughing and whooping like mad; and discovered these jolly companions to be two or three agreeable Vices, who had put themselves under the management of Good Temper. So you see, Gertrude, that even the Virtues may fall at loggerheads with each other, and pass a very sad time of it, if they happen to be of opposite dispositions, and have forgotten to take Good Temper along with them.

"Ah! said Gertrude, "but you have overloaded your boat; too many Virtues might contradict one another, but not a few.”

"Voila ce que je veux dire," said Vane, "but listen to the sequel of my tale, which now takes a new moral."

At the end of the voyage, and after a long sulky silence, Prudence said, with a thoughtful air," My dear friends, I have been thinking, that as long as we keep so entirely together, never mixing with the rest of the world, we shall waste our lives in quarrelling amongst ourselves, and run the risk of being still less liked and sought after than we already are. You know that we are none of us popular; every one is quite contented to see us represented in a vaudeville, or described in an essay. Charity, indeed, has her name often taken in vain at a bazaar, or a subscription, and the miser as often talks of the duty he owes to me, when he sends the stranger from his door, or his grandson to gaol; but still we only resemble so many wild beasts, whom everybody likes to see, but nobody cares to possess. Now, I propose, that we should all separate, and take up our abode with some mortal or other for a year, with the power of changing at the end of that time, should we not feel ourselves comfortable, that is, should we not find that we do all the good that we intend; let us try the experiment, and on this day twelve months let us all meet, under the largest oak in Windsor Forest, and recount what has befallen us." Prudence ceased, as she always does when she has said enough, and, delighted at the project, the Virtues agreed to adopt it on the spot. They were enchanted at the idea of setting up for themselves, and each not doubting his or her success; for Economy in her heart thought Generosity not virtue at all, and Meekness looked on Courage little better than a heathen.

Generosity being the most eager and active of all the Virtues, set off first on his journey; Justice followed, and kept up with him, though at a more even pace. Charity never heard a sigh, or saw a squalid face, but she stayed to cheer and console the sufferer; a kindness which somewhat retarded her progress.

Courage espied a travelling carriage, with a man and his wife in it, quarrelling most conjugally, and he civilly begged he might be permitted to occupy the vacant seat opposite the lady. Economy still lingered, enquiring for the cheapest inns. Poor Modesty looked round and sighed, on finding herself so near to London, where she was almost wholly unknown: but resolved to bend her course thither, for two reasons; first, for the novelty of the thing; and secondly, not liking to expose herself to any risks by a journey on the Continent. Prudence though the first to project, was the last to execute, and therefore resolved to remain where she was for that night, and take daylight for her travels.

The year rolled on, and the Virtues, punctual to their appointment, met under the oak tree: they all came nearly at the same time, excepting Economy, who had got into a return post-chaise, the horses of which having been forty miles in the course of the morning had foundered by the way, and retarded her journey till night set in. The Virtues looked sad and sorrowful, as people are wont to do after a long and fruitless journey, and somehow or other, such was the wearing effect of their intercourse with the world, that they appeared wonderfully diminished in size.

"Ah my, dear Generosity," said Prudence with a sigh, "as you were the first to set out on your travels, pray let us hear your adventures first."

"You must know, my dear Sisters," said Generosity, "that I had not gone many miles from you before I came to a small country town, in which a marching regiment was quartered, and at an open window I beheld, leaning over a gentleman's chair, the most beautiful creature imagination ever pictured; her eyes shone out like two suns of perfect happiness, and she was almost cheerful enough to have passed for Good Temper herself. The gentleman, over whose chair she leant, was her husband; they had been married six weeks; he was a lieutenant with a hundred pounds a year besides his pay. Greatly affected by their poverty, I instantly determined, without a second thought, to ensconce myself in the heart of this charming girl. During the first hour in my new residence, I made many wise reflections, such as-t -that Love never was so perfect as when accompanied by poverty; what a vulgar error it was to call the unmarried state, Single Blessedness;' how wrong it was of us Virtues never to have held the marriage bond, and what a falsehood it was to say that husbands neglected their wives, for never was there anything in nature so devoted as the love of a husband-six weeks married!

"The next morning, before breakfast, as the charming Fanny was waiting for her husband, who had not yet finished his toilet, a poor wretched-looking object appeared at the window, tearing her hair and wringing her hands; her husband had that morning been dragged to prison, and her seven children had fought for the last mouldy crust.Prompted by me, Fanny, without inquiring further into the matter, drew from her silken purse a five pound note, and gave it to the beggar, who departed more amazed than grateful. Soon after the lieutenant appeared, What the d-1, another bill !' muttered he, as he tore the yellow wafer from a large, square-folded, bluish piece of paper. 'Oh, ah! confound the fellow, he must be paid. I must trouble you, Fanny, for fifteen pounds to pay this saddler's bill.'

"Fifteen pounds, love?' stammered Fanny, blushing.

"Yes, dearest, that fifteen pounds I gave you yesterday.'

"I have only ten pounds,' said Fanny, hesitatingly, 'for such a poor wretched looking creature was here just now, that I was obliged to give her five pounds.'

"Five pounds? good God!" exclaimed the astonished husband, "I shall have no more money these three weeks." He frowned, he bit his lips, nay, he even wrung his hands, and walked up and down the room; worse still, he broke forth with- Surely, Madam, you did not suppose, when you married a lieutenant in a marching regiment, that he could afford to indulge you in the whim of giving five pounds to every mendicant who held out her hand to you? You did not, I say, Madam, imagine- -but the bridegroom was interrupted by the convulsive sobs of his wife; it was their first quarrel, they were but six weeks married; he looked at her for one moment sternly, the next he was at her feet. Forgive me, dearest Fanny, forgive me, for I cannot forgive myself. I was too great a wretch to say what I did; and do believe, my own Fanny, VOL. 4-No. 1-C.

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