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Sir John Germain. I shall tell you a very foolish but a true story. Sir John Germain, ancestor of Lady Betty Germain, was a Dutch adventurer, who came over here in the reign of Charles II. He had an intrigue with a Countess, who was divorced, and married him. This man was so ignorant, that being told that Sir Matthew Decker wrote St. Matthew's Gospel he firmly believed it. I doubted this tale very much till I asked a lady of quality, his descendant, about it, who told me it was most true. She added, that Sir John Germain was in consequence so much persuaded of Sir Matthew's piety, that, by his will, he left two hundred pounds to Sir Matthew, to be by him distributed among the Dutch paupers in London.
The Archbishop of Lyons.-The Archbishop of Lyons had his hands completely distorted and disfigured by the gout. He was once engaged in play at cards, and had gained a thonsand pistoles. I should not mind it." said the losing party, "if my money had not got into the ugliest hand in the kingdom." "That is false," said the Archbishop; "I know one that is still uglier." "I'll wager thirty pistoles you don't" said the other. The Archbishop immediately drew off the glove which covered his left hand, and the gamester acknowledged he had lost his wager,
CONTENTMENT without the world, is better than the world without contentment.
THE human animal is the only one which is naked, and the only one which can clothe itself. This is one of the properties which renders him an animal of all climates, and of all seasons. He can adapt the warmth or lightness of his covering, to the temperature of his habitation. Had he been born with a fleece upon his back, although he might have been comforted by its warmth in high latitudes, it would have oppressed him by its weight and heat, as the species spreads towards the equator. -Paley.
THE caterpillar, on being converted into an inert scaly mass does not appear to be fitting itself for an inhabitant in the air, and can have no consciouseess of the brilliancy of its future being. We are masters of the earth, but perhaps we are the slaves of some great and unknown beings. The fly that we crush with our finger, or feed with our viands, has no nowledge of man, and no consciousness of his superiority. We suppose that we are acquainted with matter and all its ele ments, yet we cannot even guess at the cause of electricity, or explain the laws of the formation of the stones that fall from meteors. There may be beings, thinking beings, nearer airrounding us, which we do not perceive, which we cannot imagine. We know very little, but in my opinion, we know enough to hope for the immortality the individual immortality of the better part of man.-Sir Humphry Davy.
Watch Making-The origin of watch-making in Switzerland as related by Mr. Osterwald, ancient banneret of Nelichatel, is extremely curious; and the truth of his account was confirmed to me by several artists, both of Locle and La Cheaux de Fond,
In 1679, one of the inhabitants brought with him, from London, a watch, the first that had been seen in these parts; which, happening to be out of order, he ventured to trust in the hands of one Daniel John Richard, of La Sagne. Richard. after examining the mechanism with great attention, conceived himself capable, and was determined to attempt to make a watch from the model before him; but to this end, he was destitute of every other assistance than the powers of his own native genius. Accordingly, he employed a whole year in inventing, and in finishing the several instruments previously necessary for executing his purpose; and in six months from that period, by the sole force of his own penetrating and persevering talents, he produced a complete watch.
His ambition and industry did not stop here: besides applying himself successfully to the invention of several new instruments for the perfection of his work, he took a journey to Geneva, where he gained considerable information in the art. He continued, for some time, the only man in these parts who could make a watch; but business increasing he took in and instructed several associates, by whose assistance he was enabled to supply, from his single shop all the demands. of his neighbouring country. Towards the beginning of the
eighteenth century, he removed to Locle, where he died in 1741, leaving five sons, who all of them followed their father's occupation. From these, the knowledge and practice of the art gradually spread itself, till, at length, it became almost the universal business of the inhabitants, and the principal cause of the populousness of these mountains -Coxe's letters from Switzerland.
Early Inhabitants of Britain.-In times past, men were contented to dwell in houses builded of sallow, willow, &c., 80 that the use of the oak was in a manner wholly dedicated unto churches, religious houses, princes' palaces, navigation, &c.; but now sallow &c., are rejected and nothing but oak any where regarded and yet see the change: for when our houses were builded of willow, then had we oaken men: but now our houses are come to be made of oak, our men are not only become willow, but a great many altogether of straw, which is a sore alteration. In them the courage of the owner was a sufficient defence to keep the house in safety, but now the assurance of the timber must defend the men from robbing. Now have we many chimnies; and yet our tender lines complain of rheums, catarrhs, and poses, then had we none but reredoses, and our heads did never ache. For as hardening for the timber of the house, so it was reputed a far better medicine to keep the good man and his family from the quack or pose, wherewith, as then, very few were acquainted---Hollingshed.
The Tea-leaf. The tea-leaf is plucked from the plant by the manufacturers at three periods during the spring, which crops they call, in their technical phrase, the head, or first spring, the second spring, and the third spring. The quality of the tea varies according to the time of plucking. The young and tender leaves of course make finer tea than the tough old ones.
Public Singers.-The applause that a singer gets for going through a song in a state of indisposition, often induces those who are sound, both wind and limb, to feign themselves ill. The comic actor who has fought with his wife after dinner is in bad case to amuse the public at seven o'clock, yet he must put on his best face. Authors must be in perpetual health. Why then should extra sympathy be extended to singers, who cost us more money? We will tell the reader what is generally the singer's object in prefacing her performance with an apology for illness-either that she may get more applanse than she otherwise expects, or that she may sing softly, because she does not know two bars of her song. We actually once heard the first air in Guy Mannering softly sung by a celebrated Lucy Bertram, who waited for the chord in the band before she knew what was to come next.
Twilight Music.-To ensure the full effects of music, twilight is, perhaps, indispensable, because, in the balance of nervous affection, the optic and auditory nerve cannot stand simultaneous excitement. The brain cannot bear two enjoyments at once We must also be at some distance (at least a foot) from any other body, insulated in and surrounded by a musical atmosphere. The animal heat of other persons des. troys musical delight-Cottugno.
Beds in Germany.-Reader, have you ever known the inconveniencies of having bed-clothing too narrow to be tucked under, or at least, to fall down and cover the edges of the mattresses? Unless you can resign yourselves to such beds, beware of visiting Germany. Oh, ye housewives of England! what would ye say, to behold these bedsteads, three feet and a half broad, on the mattresses of which lies one sheet of the usnal breadth, while the only covering_prepared for the astonished traveller consists in what the French call a piqué-a quilt lined with wool, enclosed in a moveable bag, like a pillow case, which, scarcely ever as long as the bed, leaves an opening at the bottom for the feet to protrude beyond-this the Germans thinks conducive to health: moreover, its breadth being exactly the same as that of the upper mattress, it is unavoidably shaken off by him who has not practised in his bed the stillness that awaits him in the grave! Such is the covering used in Germany during the summer. In winter it is exchanged for a sheet and "the feather-bed," which, from the smallnes of its dimensions, is equally ill calculated to afford warmth to him beneath it-wishing that he had the same power with which Italian polichinels are endowed-that of drawing in his legs, and, in some measure, jumping down his own throat.
THE BEAU MONDE;
Monthly Journal of Fashion.
FRANCIS BARTON and Edward Randolph were sons of two of the wealthiest merchants of London. They were intimate friends and had lived familiarly from childhood. The former of them had weak health, and was of a meditative mind; but Edward was vigorous, bold, and active. When they were nearly grown up, Francis was sent by his father to Italy. He returned after a residence of three years. But his health was worse than before, and his spirits were crushed and shattered to a degree which totally altered his character from its previous habit of serene contemplation and equable study. He seemed to Randolph as if broken down by some overpowering catastrophe, and burthened with some terrible secret; but, though he appeared often to attempt disclosing to his friend the cause of his affliction, he never had resolution sufficient to proceed.
After a few weeks, Edward was obliged to depart for Amsterdam on some commercial arrangements of his father's. These affairs compelled him to frequent
the Exchange. One day, after having transacted the business of the morning, he loitered for a moment, and looked round him. After carelessly surveying many of the groups of shrewd but heavy faces which encircled him, he remarked one in which there was a countenance so peculiar as instantly to arrest his attention; it bore the marks of age, but was, to no small degree, expressive and intellectual. The paleness and delicacy of the features harmonized well with the dark gray of the hair and of a long beard. The eyes were deep set, and sunk with years, but black, sparkling, and restless. The dress was not otherwise remarkable than for its richness, and for a slightly oriental disposition and colour. Edward looked at him several times; and at last his gaze turned to the young Englishman, and, after wandering across him and beyond him, fixed itself strongly upon his face, and met his glances. When he had thus marked Randolph, he disengaged himself from those to whom he had been speaking, and, coming up to him, bent his eyes fixedly towards him, and said slowly and in excellent English, "You look as if you could wield a sword; I can furnish you with a better than ever was handled by man." He waited for no answer, but turned and left the Exchange. Edward followed, while the old man walked steadily through several streets, till he reached a large and handsome house. He opened the door with a key, and, after passing through several silent and solitary apartments, reached a small inner chamber, surrounded by ebony cabinets.
He unlocked one of these, and took from it a scymetar of eastern workmanship and splendour. Edward proceeded to examine it, and laid on a table a bag of coin which he had just received. The weapon was
NO. LI. VOL. V.
short, narrow, and extremely curved; its surface was covered with a myriad of dull blue lines interlacing each other over the whole blade, except where an inscription in some character unknown to the Englishman was traced upon it in letters of gold; and it carried with it an intense fragrance. The youth made a motion or two with the sabre to ascertain its poise, and then said it felt and looked well. "The like of it no man could have forged who has lived these thousand years," answered the ancient. "I would I could try it," said Edward. "You shall" replied the merchant; but, in the mean time, you must taste some of my wine, which is almost as old as my weapon, "Here, Seid," he elevated his voice a little, "a flask." A moment afterwards, a tall Nubian entered the room, bearing on a small golden salver a narrow flask of purple glass, and two cups of precious materials adorned with jewels.
Randolph laid down the sword and drew off his gloves, while the old man filled the cups with the rich and brilliant liquor; and his guest was about to put one of them to his lips, when he saw his entertainer raise the sword, and cut off with a slight blow the right hand of the black. The sufferer did not wince. old man stooped, lifted the bloody member, and held it up to Edward, as if to show him the smoothness of the cut; when he recovered from his first astonishment, and, springing upon the merchant, grasped the hilt of the scymetar. He then held it over the head of the criminal, and was exclaiming, "Miscreant," when his antagonist smote the blade out of his hand with a blow of his staff, and, while he turned to recover it, disappeared.
The youth pursued him through the door, by which he thought he had escaped, but, after traversing several rooms, found himself in a vestibule opening to the air. The door had closed behind him, and he could not unfasten it. He therefore departed at the opposite entrance, determining to obtain assistance, and punish the outrage he had witnessed. He had now gained a road running between two walls, and it was not until he had wandered for a long time, that he found himself in a part of Amsterdam which he knew. He described the singular person in whose company he had been, and was told that he commonly went by the name of the merchant Ezra, but nobody knew where he lived; and, on endeavouring to retrace his footsteps, he found that he only lost himself. Nor, after several days' search through all Amsterdam and its suburbs, could he discover any thing like the street or the house to which he had been so unexpectedly taken.
He had left his bag of gold upon the table, and had of course no means of regaining it; but the scymetar still remained to him, stained with the blood he had seen shed, and preserving all its strange yet delicious odour. He endeavoured to turn his attention to other subjects; but the form and eyes of the merchant haunted
him; and he sometimes sat for hours looking at the curious and valuable weapon, so extraordinarily procured, and the dark crimson stain upon its blade.
Ezra was not again seen in Amsterdam during the residence of Edward in that city. The youth did not remain there, however, more than a few weeks after the adventure with the merchant. When he returned to London, he found his friend reduced to greater weakness of body, and misery of mind, than before; but he still seemed too feeble and irresolute to explain the nature of that tremendous sorrow which was evidently dragging him into the grave. They went together in a boat upon the Thames, in the calm and lingering loveliness of sunset. The great city, with all its spires. and lines of beauty, and masses of dusky wealth, lay serene and majestic in the yellow glow; and the sails that bore the boats along the water were reflected amid the sparkle. While they swept beneath the halls and towers of Westminster, Edward recounted to his friend the singular occurrence which took place in Holland. The languid and indifferent patient, looking earnestly at his companion while the tale was told, at last whispered, "You shall soon know all," and in the moment was seized with strong convulsions. He was quickly calmed and restored, but still seemed too much agitated to enter upon any painful disclosure, The next day it was judged necessary to send him to a village a few miles from London, as the only chance of recovery.
After this occurrence, Edward had occasion to visit one of the oldest portions of the city. He had entered a long and winding street, the houses of which were generally out of repair, tall, grotesque, and squalid. Several of the fronts were adorned with old and dirty carvings, and various draperies of second-hand clothes, and household linen, were suspended at the doors and windows. The lowest parts of the houses were shops for miscellaneous and nauseous looking eatables, for bones, rags, old iron, broken and worm-eaten furniture, ancient psalm-books, and new ballads. The male proprietors were generally in the interior of their dens; but unwashed children rolled and quarrelled in the kennels, and half-dressed, slip-shod women conversed and swore on the pavement, or showed themselves at the upper windows bawling to their neighbours, and occasionally emptying into the street the contents of cracked basins and jugs without handles. After Randolph had advanced a few paces up this avenue, he was stopped by a crowd collected round a mountebank, the fortunate owner of a bear and three monkeys The latter animals were dressed as a lawyer, a policeman, and a clergyman; and the temptation of such a spectacle had proved irresistible to all the blackguards, that is, to nine-tenths of the population of the whole neighbourhood.
The youth wished only to make his way through the mob; and, after trying to pass at all its out-skirts, he determined to force himself forward along the houses at one side. He got on readily enough at first; but he was soon obliged to touch on the shoulder a broadbacked man with one eye, who impeded his passage, and to request him to move aside. This the fellow refused with an oath, and told him to keep "hands off." The ruffians round the place heard the dialogue; and all eyes were turned to Edward and his doughty opponent. A dozen voices were raised to encourage the rudeness; and, in the midst of the disturbance, it oc
curred to the youth for an instant that he caught the glance which had arrested his attention on the Exchange of Amsterdam. However, he obeyed his first impulse without much reflection on his situation, and threatened to punish the insolence which interrupted him.
His antagonist, while Edward's arms were impeded by those around him, seized him by the collar and flung him headlong against the door of a house near which they both stood. He was hurt and stunned by the fall, and did not hear the roar of laughter and triumph at his discomfiture. The old man, whose look he thought he recognized, rapidly made his way to him. He was dingy and squalid in his dress; and it would have been hard to believe that the wretched, mendicantlike being was the wealthy merchant Ezra. He signed to two mean-looking men who followed him; and they lifted Edward, and carried him to one of the poorest abodes in all the street. The house looked falling to ruin, and the shop contained scarcely any thing either of furniture or merchandise. The old man, who was called Manasses, made the others lay the youth upon the counter, and then close the door behind them.
This occurred in the afternoon; but Randolph had not reached home long after he was expected. Messengers were sent to seek for him in all directions, and returned without any tidings. At last his father applied to a magistrate, and a search was commenced. By the diligence of the officers, the young man was at length traced to the street, and finally to the shop of Manasses. The closest search, however, could discover no traces of him in the miserable abode. The elder Randolph, who had accompanied the authorities on this fruitless examination, was about departing, when the squalid owner, who, while the search was going forward, had been quietly sitting after the oriental fashion at the entrance, addressed him in a tone of quiet sarcasm.
"And will you give me nothing for the care I have taken of Mr. Edward Randolph ?"-" Ha! how knew you his name?"-" Perhaps he told me. But we are both merchants, though in different lines; and all merchants should know each other's names." He stepped forward as he said this, and held the light up to his own features, while he said to the father of Edward "Did you ever hear of Joseph D'Atorna?" The merchant looked at him, and exclaimed-"Good heavens can you be he?" Manasses did not answer him, but said "Thank you, gentlemen, for your visit,” and shut the door upon them. The astonishment of Randolph was not without a cause. The Joseph D'Atorna, whose voice and features were suddenly recalled to him in the person of the wretched Manasses, had been considered some twenty years before, the wealthiest merchant in London. He had appeared suddenly in England, had engaged in the most extensive and venturous transactions and had seemed to make enormous profits on every thing he attempted. With Randolph himself he had engaged in some considerable affairs, and had been largely the gainer. But, after a year or two of this splendid and singular career, during which he had become the creditor of kings, and almost the founder of empires, he vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, and none could speak more certainly of his fate than of his origin. It is not wonderful that Randolph startled when he found him again in misery and degradation so complete, that he had never before conceived its possi bility.
Edward recovered slowly from the stupor into which he had been thrown. His first sensation was that of being dazzled and bewildered; as he obtained the use of his senses, and collected his mind, he perceived that he was surrounded by an array of gorgeous magnificence. He was habited in a loose wrapper of purple silk, and stretched upon a couch of the softest texture. The walls of the large and lofty apartment were covered with embroidered velvet and mirrors framed in embossed silver; and the ceiling was painted by a master hand. The whole was lighted with two tall candelabra; and a smoking censer dispersed its rich fragrance through the atmosphere. The temperature was kept deliciously cool by jets of icy water mingled with attar of roses, which fell into basins of precious metal, with a faint, tremulous, and lulling melody.
Edward had swooned in the purlieus of London, and woke in the very centre of fairy-land. He raised himself to look around him, and put aside the hangings of his bed, which surrounded him with a rosy halo, like the etherial vapours which encircle the setting sun. His touch shook the little silver bell that was suspended to the curtains, and, at the sound, several pages, seemed to glide through the tapestry of the chamber. They brought with them the robes of a sultan; and, while Edward lay in dreamy amazement on the couch, they clothed him in the glittering garments; but they only sprinkled his curling dark-brown hair with essence and left it in its natural beauty. They then served him with dried fruits and rich wine, and instantly disappeared, without a sound, through the folds of the hangings.
They had scarcely vanished when the drapery at the back of the bed began to open, and enabled the youth to look into what seemed a corresponding apartment. Its furniture was of different patterns and colours from that of the room in which he lay, yet even more voluptuously splendid. But the object which principally attracted the attention of Edward, was a couch placed directly opposite to his own. On it reclined a lady apparently asleep. Her garment was a robe of white silk, which left partly open her gentle heaving bosom. White slippers covered her small feet; but, between them and the lower folds of the dress, her slender ancles were visible, crossed over each other, and encircled with bands of ruby. Her head lay upon her arm, which slightly indented the crimsen pillow; and the careless profusion of her long black ringlets was embraced round the forehead with a string of pearl. Her face was bent rather downwards, and seemed, as she slumbered, a kind of tranquil glory in the midst of so fair a picture. The eyes were closed and hidden, but the long lashes, like a veil which excites by the mystery, gave hint of the secret brightness; and the whole countenance was composed into the placid and faultless beauty of some flower sleeping beneath the moon. Edward would have sprung from his position to hang upon that delicate hand which drooped so gracefully from beneath the dimpled cheek, and so meekly sustained the massiness of a precious ring; and he would have clung to those smooth and rounded lips, so sweetly and timidly parted by her regular breathing; but there was something overpowering in the sight of such a creature, while she appeared to dream of Paradise without being conscious that any eye beheld her.
Even while he looked, she stirred. Her breast pal
pitated more rapidly: she sighed and opened her eyelids; and the youth beheld her eyes, though they did not turn towards him. Their largeness, expression, and perfect brilliant blackness, completed the luxurious and enrapturing prospect. She sat up, drew round her a broad red mantle, and took, from a little table near her head, a lute bestudded with devices of jewellery. She drew her fingers carelessly over the strings, and produced a few broken but exquisite snatches of music. She then swept the chords into a strain of more continuous sweetness, while she sang :
What shall I love! I cannot dote
On gold, or silk, or gems!
All sweets are mine the lip to please,
Then come, unknown, but promised! give
And while beloved! thou maks't me live, Live thou my bosom's guest.
And thou my inmost life shall be,
Till both our days are done;
While the lady uttered the last words, the youth sprang forward and clasped her hand, and flung himself on his knees before her. She blushed all over, even to the snowy ancles, while he spoke; but he did not long implore before her head sank upon his shoulder, and he pressed her to his beating heart.
Time had no measure in these enchanted chambers. Where he was deprived of his scythe, he would have lost the balance of his attributes, had he retained his sand-glass. Except in such voluptuous moments as those during which Edward first beheld the lady, much of queenly pride was mingled with her womanly passion. Amid her feasts and her music, there was a stately tenderness that enhanced the devotion of the youth by giving additional importance to his mistress. But Zorah, for so she was called, speedily turned his attention to other subjects than love or revelry. She initiated him into the studies of those sciences which, as she said, had given her the power of surrounding herself with the splendour in which he saw her. At first, she represented her pursuits as being merely endeavours after that innocent wisdom which could alone make men powerful and happy; but, when she thought the intoxication of her beauty, genius, power and luxuries, had more fully subdued him, she opened to him a fuller knowledge of her arts and purposes. Robed in a long drapery of crimson, with a golden tiara on her imperial brow, and stretched upon a pile of cushions, while the youth was placed near, but below her, she said to him, "It does not become me to make protestations of affection, like the miserable maidens of the crowd, who love, confide, and are deluded. I have done enough to prove my passion, because I know the truth of yours. But I now tell you that I have power greater than you believed could be possessed by our race-for of your race I am. Believe, fear not, and you shall feel what Zorah can accomplish." She touched with an ivory wand one of the basins into which the jets of scented water fell, and produced a slight harmonious ringing,
which seemed to float and eddy in the air till it died upon
Spirits of power, spirits of ill,
Yield to the voice that can sway you still;
From the prisons of flame, to the wastes of the sky. While she spoke these words, she flung aromatic combustibles, from a chased casket, on the fire The fragrant smoke rose thickly, and rapidly rolled upwards till it filled the vast and broken cupola, and floated over the precipice into the black depths, where the subterraneous river thundered. Gradually dark and fiendish eyes were visible through the white vapoursome appearing to sweep downwards from the top, some to rise from the abyss, some to grow out of the surrounding granite. The smoke became dappled with various colours, the air grew close and stifling, and fragments of grotesque and terrible shapes became visible on all sides, and seemed to fill and pile the vast interior of the mountain. As the spirits came floating or rushing around her, chorusses of voices from different quarters, and at various distances, successively chanted such snatches of witch poetry as these :
From caves and clouds,
From cells and shrouds,
From worlds of ice where the storm is dumb;
From forest and fen,
From nook and glen,
With a leap, and a swoop, we come, we come!
"Tis our's to heave the ocean billow,
And we sleep on the hurricane's thunder pillow.
And 'tis merry to ride,
While they sink in the tide,
For the priest may go whine at his lenten dinner,
Four rods were fixed upright at the corners of the skin on which the youth still slept. These Zorah lighted,
and they burned slowly amid the hubbub and the smoke, while the undaunted lady looked around her, and took up the demoniac chant :
Mingle the cup, whose sweets brought low
There was a deep hollow near her feet in the platform of dark rock on which she stood. A bright liquor began to bubble from its centre, and took, while it rose, a thousand different colours. The liquid burst strongly upwards, sparkling with its native light, and it soon overflowed the basin, and streamed in a little cataract down the edge of the precipice. The lady spoke :
Spirits, away! the task is done;
To the realms ye sway!
'Tis mine to deal with the child of clay.
While the smoke melted away, shrieks, and shouts, and wild chorusses of unearthly laughter, mixed with thunder and crashes, and the sound of deep-toned and shrilly instruments, and a trampling and rushing and the sweep of hurricanes, the anarchy of all the hosts of hell, pealed around the mountain dome; and their burst upward for some minutes through the narrow orifice, a stormy rout of mingled clouds and stars. As the last fragment of the demon tumult escaped from the cavern, a flash came down towards the sleeper, and breaking past his face, aroused him. He awoke with a dim and turbid consciousness of supernatural dreams, and looked vaguely and doubtfully around him; but, before he had recovered his apprehension, Zorah filled a small cup with the wine of the new-sprung fountain and offered it to her lover. He took it, and drank; while the lady dipped her wand into the basin, and the spring sank hissing and eddying into the clefts of the rock.
Into how much of misery was Edward hurried by that intoxicating draught! And how deeply did he afterwards curse his lawless passion for the beautiful but tremendous being, whom he had so strangely encountered!
It was a week after Edward Randolph had first seen Zorah. He was in the midst of a small and thickly wooded park. The ground was covered with a short, silky herbage, and traversed by avenues of venerable elms and chesnuts. Among these trees, so fair and green, the youth passed on with irregular and rushing footsteps. He was wrapped in a large cloak. A dark cap shrowded his throbbing forehead, and his hair stood in disordered elf-locks round his glaring eyes. He knew not how he had reached the spot; he was scarcely aware of his own existence. But he was driven forward by a desperate power within him: and his whole being seemed frenzied by the fumes of that dark fire which the unholy draught had kindled in his bosom. There was but one feeling, one remembrance, which absorbed him, the sound of Zorah's voice, whispering in low clear tones, "bring me his heart, or return to me He never bethought himself where he was,
or what was the nature of the fearful enterprise on which he was intent, He only saw, he only felt, that, by some inexplicable necessity, it must be accomplished now. He did not long delay.