knows but some puir mortal is still lying in ag- || ony near the bloody rock? tis na common thing to see sic a sight o' the current o' life in one wee spot." stantly rode away in pursuit and met our travellers before as described. The people collected at the spot, discovered by Duncan, and spent a long while in fruitless and holpless "Ye are a sensitive thing," returned Mc'- search. At length, McCleylan with another Cleylan in an offended tone; "did na yere of the party discovered a faint track, which mither hae a' feeble heart, to gie ye sic freaks wound away round the hill towards a little an' turn yere mind frae yere wark, an' yere lough that slept in glassy smoothness between bairns, an every thing, at the sight o' a little rugged elevations which nearly surrounded wolf blood? "As he finished speaking, a horse-it. Having found this clue, they at once conman came rushing towards them in the oppo-jectured that the murdered one was slumbersite direction, urging his steed forward as fast as possible, over so rugged a road. He met them, and in a hasty tone inquired if they had seen or heard of a stranger at Dinsmoor Heath, or any intermediate place; and in the same breath, turning to Mc'Cleylan said, "Ye are early risen this bright mornin', but what has put the crimson o' the rose on yere jolly face sae quickly?" ing in a watery grave. They searched the clear blue wave and at length the mutilated body was drawn from the bottom! "Twas na the blood o' a wolf;-I could na ha' believed it ;" said McCleylan to Duncan, when he found in what manner the discovery of the morning, so trifling as he considered it, had terminated. They conveyed the mangled remains back to Castle Brae; and were now upon the alert to secure the desperado who had thus infringed upon the most sacred laws of their country. As the horse of the murdered man had been discovered in their village, a thorough search of the houses was com "Tis the lang walk an' the fatigue o' the way;" answered Rowley somewhat embarrassed, and wiping his brow with his sleeve; "tis a jaded warm mornin' as e'er came ower the hills. "As to yere mon o' which ye were speak-menced, and terminated without yielding the in," rejoined Duncan, "we ha nae seen or heard o' ony stranger these mony a day, but if ye wad but ride on, a wee bit up yon knoll, the thick blood wad gie ye a start." slightest ground for suspicion. The party then dispersed, some taking the road towards Givan Glen, others the rude way which was seen winding among stony cliffs, high up a hill in the opposite direction, all inspired with enthusiastic ardor to bring if possible the malefactor to justice. The division which retraced their steps, after having strictly searched every burn and brae, at length met again upon the main road not a hundred rods from the house of Jamie Donald. They here met Jamie, "just ganging," as he said, "to see the gude folks o' Castle Brae." He had returned from his journey the preceding day, and passed through that village in "the edge o' the night." "What aneath the sun has sent ye a' out tagether?" he exclaimed upon meeting them; 66 Surely ye are in a fine wa' o' livin'." "Tis but a short way farther," added Rowley "an if we wad go, perchance we may find some clue o' the man ye are talking of." They both turned and accompanied the horseman to the fatal place, where, after some new discoveries, they were all firmly convinced that it was human blood: that it was the trace of some bloody murder, and probably the spot where the man of whom they were in search breathed out his life. The spirit of exertion to discover the perpetrator of the deed was kindled in their bosoms, the man from Castle Brae, again strided his horse, and hastily rode back to communicate his discovery and procure assistance. Nor was he long in doing it, for in one short hour the inhabitants of the "Hey Jamie," interrogated the officer "ha' little clan were upon the road, for the pur-ye seen ony thing o' the wretch wha has murpose of unravelling the mystery, and divulg. ing the truth. But let us turn to the devoted victim, who was the cause of this excitement. During the afternoon preceding, a travelling stranger supposed to be from the north of England had called at the Brae to procure refreshments. He appeared to be much worn with the fatigue of his journey, and had slept at the house where he stopped. No one knew his object, or whither he was going; he answered their numerous questions only with a simple affirmative or negative, as if wishing to travel unknown. Near the close of the day he requested his horse of the host, stating that as he was in haste he must proceed to Dinsmoor Heath, and departed. In the morning the host had looked and found the identical horse of the stranger before his door, without saddle or bridle. He became alarmed, in dered a puir traveller i' the last night, on a powerful hand, and then, giving him as it seemed to her a farewell look, and uttering a shriek from the very depth of her heart, she rushed back to her cot,exclaiming, "O,my puir, puir bairns, yere father has gone. ye will see him na mair, he shall ne'er lead you ower the Kirk again." Notwithstanding her exquisite innocent. His assertions that he "was gone a weary journey, an' knew nothin' o' the matter," were of no avail, but like a breeze upon kindling fire, tended to increase, rather than diminish their suspicions. They rushed rashly into his little cot, and rigidly scrutinized every crack and crevice of its interior, but discovered nothing. The officer now proceed-grief, she at length became more composed, ed into a small thatched shed which had been reared for the benevolent purpose of shielding his "beasties" from the rough winter, and was followed by several others. He passed with an inquisitive eye through this building, until perceiving a small gathering of straw in a remote corner, he gave it a hasty whirl with his foot, when lo! the identical saddle, bridle and portmanteau of the traveller, crimsoned deeply with blood, rolled out upon the floor before the stroke! "Ha Jamie, tis an unco' wa' to ha' yere horse at Castle Brae while yere saddle an' bridle are lyin' here i' the litter," exclaimed the officer exultingly, as he turned towards the culprit, who stood in a stupified trance of agony, and added, "ye are my prisoner, cam alang." "Ah Jamie this is a sorrowful sight, I should nier ha' tho't it," said Duncan in a tone softened with as much compassionate sympathy as circumstances would admit. They hastily dragged him to his little dwelling, and firmly || bound him before the eyes of his agonized family. "O! ye are a cruel gang, ye could na think sae hard o' my Jamie;" exclaimed his weeping wife, as she sat wringing her hands in phrenzy before him. "O, my Jamie, he could na' ha' been sae cold hearted; he could na ha' dune it, for he did na cam home wi' my wee little Lucy till late i' the night. O, 'tis a pitifu' day o' life; wha could ha tho't Jamie, that ye wad ha' cam to this, when ye sat this rosy morn i' the door to list the prattle o? our tiny new bairn." As they were binding the prisoner, McCleylan discovered upon his collar the sprinkling of blood. ""Twas jaded cunnin' i' ye to turn in yere bloody linen, was it nae?" interrogatMcLeylan as he turned it out and exhibited it to the by-standers. "Tis but the blood which he drawed i' the shavin' of his beard ;" exclaimed the unhappy woman, as she stooped and pointed out the place from whence it came. But the people had turned a deaf ear to all her cries, and when the officer exclaimed in a hoarse rough voice, to "fetch him along," she shrieked out in the plenitude of her sorrow, "Ye sha' na', ye sha' na' go, Jamie, an' if ye do I will gae wi' ye, they sha' na part us. O, our puir dear bairns, an what wi' "come o' them? Jamie, shake them off, they sha' na' tak' ye away. Ye ha' callous hearts, ye are avengin' the murder, i' the sheddin' o' innocent blood; why will ye sport wi' the feelin's o' a woman?" She clung to her husband as they took him away, until severed by and consoled herself by saying that "Justice will hae its wa'." Jamie had fallen into a reverie of stupor when first taken, and awaked from it only to feel his iron shackles. He had submitted to legal authority unknowingly, and without endeavors to relieve himself, and was now resolved to await his destiny with resignation. He was well, too well aware, that there was every proof, by circumstantial evidence, of his guilt; yet he was firmly convinced that innocence would not be doomed to an ignominious death, while guiit should go unpunished. But, suffer us to change the scene, and turn, to find a heart goaded with a convicting sting. There was one, and one too, that was unsuspected, which felt the load of guilt, and was assured by sad experience, that "Conscience hath a thousand different tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale." Its bearer rose in the morning, the earth revived not with its wonted brilliancy in his eye, and the first sweet chaunt of the birds came upon his ear with thrilling sensations never known before. He felt that the day of retribution was at hand. He went abroad; the winds that blew over the hills struck him mournfully, and the gushing waters grated on his heart. He saw the glassy lake, and he wished, but vainly wished, that his bosom was as calm and unruffled as its silent surface. To him the echoing rocks repeated hollow sounds of the yelping cur, that bayed the evening "The Three long and dismal weeks had elapsed after the imprisonment of Donald. It was a clear, cloudless evening, and the lamps of night were thickly set in the deep and dark blue firmament; the wind had ceased to blow over the hills, and silence was broken only by the low hum of distant water. guilty man could find no bliss, no contentment in his home, and he walked forth upon the moor. A vacant wildness was in his eye, his very nature seemed perverted. He crossed the moor unconsciously, and climbing up among the steep craigs of Kirkly Cliff, at length seated himself, with his elbow upon his knee and his head resting upon his hand, up on the summit of a jutting rock. He had rest- Ower mony a bank an' brae EXTRAORDINARY SINGLE COMBAT. AUBRY DE MONDIDIER, travelling alone through the forest of Bondy, in France, was assassinated, and buried at the foot of a tree. His dog remained for several days upon his grave, and quitted it only through the force of hunger. It returned at length to Paris where it went to the house of an intimate friend of the unfortunate Aubry, and by its melancholy howlings, appeared desirous of communicating the loss it had sustained. After eating, it recommenced its cries, went to the door, turned its head to see whether any one followed, returned to his master's friend, and pulled him by the coat, as if inviting him to follow it. The singularity of these actions of the dog, its returning without its master, whom it never had been known to quit, and the sudden disappearance of that master, altogether determined the friend to follow the dog. As soon as the dog reached the foot of the tree, it began to scratch up the earth, at the same time redoubling its cries. The friend immediately dug, and found the body of the murdered Aubry. Some time after, it accidentally met the assassin, who is unanimously called by historians the chevalier Macaire. It seized him by the throat, and could with difficulty be made to let go its hold; and, every time it saw him, it attacked and pursued him with the same fury. The ferocity of this dog, who was mild to every one else, began to be thought extraordinary; its attachment to its master was called to mind, together with some symptoms of hatred which Macaire had often manifested toward Aubry. Other circumstances strengthened the suspicion. The seer receded and was quickly lost from the miscreant's view. The world seemed no longer to possess its wonted splendor, to him who now felt that he was unworthy of its enjoyment. Every circumstance combined to render it loathsome; he could not withstand the whisperings of "the still small voice within ;" and now when the seer had thus reproached him, he resolved to throw himself into the arms of Justice and snatch the unoffending victim from an untimely grave. With this resolution he returned to his sleepless dwelling, and when the morning again burst the shackles of thraldom, he hastened to Castle Brae, and made a full confession of his crime to the officer;-acknowledging that he had committed the murder, and to screen himself from the law, and place the crime up-sufficiently convincing, a combat was ordainon an innocent person, had conveyed the saddle, bridle and portmanteau to the spot where it was discovered, and had driven the strangers steed to Castle Brae. It was Rowley Mc'Cleylan! The innocent prisoner was released, and Rowley, the succeeding day was arraigned at the bar, tried and condemned to suffer, as an attonement to the laws of both God and man, against which he had rebelled. The consternation which these events caused among the inhabitants of the surrounding clans may be more easily imagined than described, and when gude Jamie Donald left the iron shackles of confinement, with the good will of every laddie, he returned to his happy cot, where his loving wife, so overflowed with the rush of joy, could only exclaim, "Ah Jamie, I tauld 'em that justice wad hae its way." CLARENCE. The king, informed of what was said on the subject, caused the dog to be brought into his presence, where it was tranquil till the appearance of Macaire, among twenty other courtiers. Immediately, it turned upon him, barked, and endeavored to seize him. In those times, when the proofs of a crime were not ed between an accuser and accused; this species of combat was called the judgment of God. because it was believed that heaven would rather work a miracle, than allow innocence to suffer. The king, struck with all the particulars which united themselves against Macaire, thought proper to command a single combat between the chevalier and the dog. The lists were prepared in the isle of Notre Dame, which was then a waste and uninhabited spot. Macaire was armed with a large club and the dog had an empty cask allowed it, for a retreat. It was let loose, and it immediately sprang upon its adversary, ran round him, avoided his blows, threatened him, now on this side and now on that, wore away his strength, and at length seized him by the throat, and threw him down. In this situation, and in the presence of the king and all his court, the chevalier confessed the murder. There is a picture of this battle, which took place on the 8th of October, 1361, in the great hall of the castle of Montarges. ON A SINGULAR SUPERSTITION AT MAYENCE. therefore it was Peter who, in gnawing his shroud, caused the death of John. This reasoning is not of the strictest kind; but it is of that sort which, in all times, has been adopted by superstition. It has been clearly shown that judicial astrology had no other origin than that disposition of the human mind to regard, as the cause and effect of each other, all those phenomenons which have often been seen to recur in the same order of time. The utility of repressing such prejudices is evident; for it is better to know why a man who was believed to be dead has gnawed his, shroud, and to take precautions against burying our fellow-citizens alive, than to prevent the unhappy persons buried from eating their grave clothes, under the pretext that by so doing they will draw all their family after them into the grave. SERVANTS. THERE is one foible among housekeepers, that cannot be too severely reprobated. It is a contemptible itching for a knowledge of their neighbors' affairs. This curiosity leads them to encourage and listen to the scandalous prattle of their own servants, concerning the domestic affairs of other families in which they have been employed. Servants are always ready to take advantage of the slightest advance towards familiarity on the part of a mistress; and where they find one weak enough to relish a relation of vices or follies of others, the appetite will be always administered to, so long as prolific brains can coin a lie. Mistresses should recollect while encouraging this practice, that their own household affairs will probably be served up, with no exaggeration of defect, whenever their do NEAR the new burying-ground, situate at the gates of Mayence, there is a place where the dead are deposited before they are buried, and where they are kept for some time, uncovered, in the coffin. The design of this establishment is, to prevent any person, apparently dead, from being buried alive. A keeper is employed to watch the body, and into the hands is put the cord of a bell, to the end that, if life should return, assistance may be immediately obtained. An annonymous correspondent of the Mayence Gazette, after praising with great reason this truly humane institution, condemns a custom which still prevails and which, if persevered in, is sufficient to counteract its aim. A large board is fixed under the chin, and it is secured in that situation by means of nails and screws, which enter into the coffin, on each side. It is evident that, confined in this manner, a person awaking from a long sleep, can never raise himself, nor discover the bell cord which alone can enable him to give notice of resuscitation, and draw assistance. The author of the letter stigmatises, in the most forcible terms, a custom so barbarous; and we ought to hope that his efforts will be crowned with success; but what is more generally interesting is the explanation he offers of the origin of this abuse. He discovers it in a prejudice formerly general in Mayence, and which is still cherished by a part of the inhabitants. According to this, it often happens that the dead seize their grave clothes with their teeth, and then never cease to gnaw, till they have totally destroyed them. In this case also, according to the same preju-mestics pass into another family. Two or dice, while this strange meal continues, the relations of the dead die one after the other, till the grave clothes are consumed. It is to prevent the arrival of this misfortune that the board in question is nailed underneath the chin of the dead. Our judicious writer does not content himself with relating this popular tradition, but clearly demonstrates that, like the generality of others, it has a degree of truth for its foundation. "It has but too of ten happened," says he, "that persons have been interred as dead, who really were alive. When their graves have been opened, it is nothing marvellous that some have been found who, after awaking, have torn their clothes, GETTING INTO NOTICE.-The best talents, and even their own flesh, into pieces. Now, in the world, must be known in order to be which are the coffins that are most likely to patronised. Man is the child of opportunity have been exposed in this manner, a little -circumstances either make or mar him-but time after their being laid in the grave? Those he may sometimes make circumstances. Some certainly of which the graves have been open- time ago, a young lawyer of fine talents, deed for the reception of some corpse of the same cent learning, and a graceful and powerful family." Here are facts sufficient to explain orator withal, settled in one of our western the prejudice in question. When they buried villages. He took no letters of introduction, John, the brother or cousin of Peter, they and knew nobody. He waited in vain for clihave found that Peter had gnawed his shrowd;ents, his abilities were unknown, and of three instances have lately come under our knowledge, where comfort and reputations have been sacrificed by falsehoods propagated by females. And where is the remedy for this evil? It lies in the hands of every head of a family. This tattling tendency should be stopped in its very commencement, and if a refusal to listen to the scandalous catalogue of private weakness or error were accompanied by severe reprimand, the state of society would be very much benefitted. course, unappreciated. At length he devised || a plan for bringing himself into notice. He took a rattan, walked over the way to Mr. Smith's store, and without saying a word astonished the unoffending Mr. S. with a terrible flogging. A prosecution followed, our young lawyer made a splendid speech, showed what he was, was fined $500, and was immediately retained in the suits of importance. He has since made a large fortune by his profession.-N. Y. Courier. FROM THE NEW YORK AMERICAN. "Took his stand There is one apology in the increasing extravagance of the modern fair, for the ridiculous rage that exists among gentlemen, after rich sweethearts; and maidens have a not less tenable excuse for making sure of a full purse, since an empty head is very likely to accompany it. The really prudent and somewhat homebred man, feels obliged to relinquish the idea of marriage altogether, or defer it to a late period, because it is justly considered a hazardous adventure to marry on the score of supporting the expenses of modern living. then-wby, if nobody wants to marry them, they shall comfort me in my old age, and help to bear up my spirit, when about to return to him who gave it. I am an oldfashioned fellow, it is true; but I recollect when I got married I made no account of money, and if I was agoing to marry again, I would look for a poor If I have a girl rather than a rich one. wife, a good one is essential to my happiness, and riches are not. The Athenian general was right: "I had rather marry my daughter to a man without an estate than to an estate without a man." LABAN. When Bajazet, after his defeat, was carried into the presence of Timur Lench, that is, Timur the Lame, vulgarly Tamerlane, that monarch burst into a laugh on perceiving that Bajazet had but one eye. The Turk, who The first inquiry that our young men could ill brook such rudeness, said fiercely, make now, when a woman is proposed you may deride my misfortunes, Timur; but for a wife, is, "is she rich ?" and for varemember that they might have happened to you. The disposal of kingdoms is in the hands riety or a salvo, "is she handsome ?". of God; and they depend on his will. Timur Let a husband die and leave a rich wid-replied, with equal haughtiness, I agree with ow or a rich heiress drop into the mark-your observation, and I did not laugh at your set, and, Lord bless us! how the beaux scamper. misfortune, but at a reflection that just occurred to my mind, how little value thrones and sceptres possess in the judgment of God, who has taken a kingdom from a man with one eye, to give it to another with one leg. In the Limerick paper, an Irish gentleman, cautions the public against trusting her:whose lady had absconded from him, thus My wife has eloped from me without rhyme or reason, and I desire no one will trust her on my account, for I am not married to her. Dionysius, the sophist, addressing his audience on the virtues of moderation in the pursuit of pleasure, used to say that a person should taste honey on the tip of his finger. Notes of the Eagle Bank, with the word " Eagle' extracted, so as to read' Bank of New Haven,' are in circulation. |