opened under a sort of low arcade, which, together with it, formed the thickness of the castle wall within the ramparts; in this arcade or corridor eight soldiers usually kept guard, as well on his account, as because the several vaults on a line with his contained stores of various kinds for the use of the fortress. The other soldiers were in the guard-house, at the gate of the castle, and at their proper stations. The detachment had for its commander an officer who himself was under the orders of the governor.

Some time before the execution of his project, Merovitch had opened himself to a lieutenant of the regiment of Veliki Luke, named Uschakoff, who bound himself by an oath, which he took on the altar of the church of St. Mary of Kuson, in Petersburg, to aid him in the enterprize to the best of his power. Already had he performed a week's duty at the fortress without venturing an attempt; but tormented at the anxieties arising from suspense, and condemning his own irresolution, he asked permission to be continued on guard a week longer. This step does not seem to have excited any surprize; the request was granted, and Merovitch having admitted a man to his confidence named Jacob Pishkoff, they took the earliest opportunity of tampering with the soldiers who guarded the fortress. But why need we prolong this melancholy tale? After he had collected about fifty soldiers, who had promised to obey his orders, he marched straight to the door of Ivan's prison, where a desperate struggle took place, during which the unfortunate Ivan was most barbarously murdered within.

Hearing the noise without, and expecting every instant that the prison-door would have been broken open, the two officers resolved to destroy their prisoner, and accordingly attacked him with the most murderous ferocity. He defended himself for some time, having his right hand pierced through, and his body covered with wounds; he siezed the sword of one of these wretches, and broke it, but whilst he was attempting to wrench the piece out of his hands, the other stabbed him in the back, and threw him down, He was, before he could rise from the ground, stabbed several times with a bayonet, and thus released from life and captivity together. It was at this moment that Merovitch entered the prison, and cut to pieces the two ruffians by whom the young prince had been slain. He was not in time to prevent his death, but he was soon enough to avenge it.

Thus perished a prince who was raised to the imperial throne without his own knowledge and consent, and compelled to linger out his existence in a gloomy dungeon; and thus doomed to atone for a few fleeting months of imposed authority, by long years of imprisonment and a cruel death, the crown of his persecution. The materials of this tragic story are principally derived from Le Clerc's Hist. de Russie Moderne, tome ii.

THE WANDERING JEW.

This very remarkable story is of considerable antiquity. It had gained full credit in this country before 1228, as we learn from Matthew Paris. "For in that year there came an Armenian bishop into England, to visit the shrines and reliques preserved in our churches, who being entertained at the monastery of St. Alban's, was asked several questions relative to his country. Among the rest, a monk, who sat-near him, inquired, "if he had ever seen or heard of the famous person named Joseph, that was so much talked of, who was present at our Lord's crucifixion, conversed with him, and was still alive,

in confirmation of the Christian faith?" The bishop answered, "the fact was true;" and afterwards one of his train, who was well known to the abbot, interpreting his master's words, told them, in French, "That his Lord knew the person they spoke of very well; that he had dined at his table a little while before they left the East; that he had been Pontius Pilate's porter, by name Castaphilus, who, when they were dragging Jesus out of the door of the judgment-hall, struck him with his fist on the back, saying, Go faster, Jesus, go faster; why dost thou linger? Upon which Jesus looked at him with a frown, and said, I am indeed going, but thou shalt tarry till I come. Soon after he was baptized by the name of Joseph. He lives for ever, but at the end of every hundred years, falls into an incurable illness, and at length into a fit of extacy, out of which, when he recovers, he returns to the same state in which he was at the time Jesus suffered, being then about thirty years of age. He remembers all the circumstances of the death and resurrection of Christ, the saints that rose with him, the composing of the Apostles' Creed, their preaching and dispersion, and is himself a very grave and holy person.” Such is the substance of Matthew Paris's account, who was himself a monk of St. Alban's, and living at the time of the above remarkable relation. Since his era, many impositions have appeared under the character of the Wandering Jew, whose several histories may be seen in Calmet's Hist. Holy Bible.

MAGNANIMITY OF AN EGYPTIAN.

One night the great mosque in Egypt took fire, and was burned down. The Mussulmen, suspecting the Christians had done it, set fire to their houses in retaliation. The sultan of Egypt seized those who had burned the houses of the Christians, and having collected them together into one place, ordered that as many tickets should be written as there were offenders. Upon some of these tickets were written, that they should be put to death; upon others, that they should have a hand cut off; and upon others, that they should be whipped; and these lots being thrown among them, each suffered according to his respective chance. A lot which inflicted death fell upon a young man, who said, "It is not on my own account that I am afraid to suffer death, but I have a mother, who, excepting me, has no one to support and protect her.” By the side of him stood another, whose ticket ordered him only a whipping, and he most heroically exchanged lots with him, saying, "I have no mother," and actually suffered death, while the other received the whipping.

HORRIBLE DEATH.

The gates of all towns and cities of Persia are shut a little after sun-set, and re-opened at sun-rise. Strict adherence to this injunction, and carelessness or unavoidable delays on the part of travellers, often subject them to the inconvenience of reaching the gates when they are closed. Hence they must stay without till morning. And during the inclement season, at opening the gates a terrible scene of death sometimes presents itself close to the threshold; old and young, animals and children, lying in one lifeless heap.

Some years ago, a solitary traveller, who had performed a long journey on his own horse, a member of their families to which these people are eminently attached, arrived at Tabreez when the ingress was already barred. The night

was one of the severest that had ever been known; and the poor man to save himself from the fatal effects he too surely anticipated, pierced his faithful horse with his dagger, and ripping up his body, thrust himself into it, in the vain hope of the warmth which might remain, preserving his own vital heat until the morning. But at next dawn, when the gates were opened, he was frozen to death in this horrible shroud!

PRECARIOUS NATURE OF COURAGE.

Some days after the battle of Malplaquet, in 1709, the widow of a gentleman, residing on her estate in the country, was informed one night at supper that a stranger wished to speak with her in the hall. She went, and found an old officer, with the cross of St. Louis, who stood pale and trembling before her, and in whom she at length recognized a beloved relation, whom she had not seen for several years, a man who had, by his valour, raised himself from the lowest rank in one of the first French regiments, to the rank of lieutenantcolonel and the honour of knighthood. Exhausted, and scarcely able to speak, he begged, as well as he could, an asylum for the night. Astonishment, sympathy, and curiosity alternately took possession of her soul. She would have introduced him to the family circle, but he begged to be excused. She offered him refreshments, which he refused, and requested merely an apartment where he might be undisturbed. "To-morrow," said he, "you shall know all; to-day I am incapable of gratifying your curiosity."

The lady complied with his request. Next morning when she inquired for him, she was informed that he had walked to and fro in his chamber all night; that about two o'clock he wrote a letter, and an hour afterwards called up one of the servants, whom he prevailed upon by a present to carry the letter to the post-office, about three miles distant. She had no time to consider what could be the meaning of this, for her guest just at the moment entered the room.

"Madam, said he, I owe you a confidence. A voluntary renunciation of all claim to your esteem is my first punishment. Know then, that previous to the late engagement, I was ordered to defend an advantageous post with one hundred grenadiers, if it were but for an hour, as the issue of the battle might depend on the maintaining of this post. The general entrusted this honourable commission to me,—to me, an old soldier covered with wounds, who had never yet failed in my duty. Scarcely did the enemy appear when I fled-wretch that I am! I fled, impelled heavens knows by what fury. It was not till three hours afterwards that I recovered my recollection; my honour was lost for ever. I hastened to you, intending to implore you to give me asylum, till I could escape in safety to England, and there conceal my disgrace under an assumed name. But, God be thanked! I have not yet sunk so low. The silence of night has restored me to my intellects; my honour is gone, but not my sense of honour, which prescribed what I ought to do, and without loss of time I obeyed its dictates. A letter is already on its way to the general. It contains a confession of my cowardice, and that he would appoint the time and place for me to appear before a court martial, and to receive the punishment which I have deserved. Cheerfully would I purchase with my life the least esteem of my general and the pity of my

comrades."

The lady listened to this account with deep emotion. In vain did she endeavour to comfort her guest, or at least to inspire him with the hope of pardon. "No," cried he wildly, "never could I forgive myself! The general's clemency would only render me still more miserable."

A week passed in which the brave soldier, dishonoured in his own eyes, never quitted his apartment. At length arrived the answer of Marshal Villars, written at Quesnoy, the 26th of September, 1709. It was asfollows:

"It is a melancholy thing for human nature, that a man of unimpeached courage for more than forty years, should suddenly forget what he owed to the most sacred of duties and to himself; but it is not less noble in the same man, that when the confusion of mind, by which he was hurried away subsided, he should voluntary offer his life to atone for his crime and the bad example which he has given. Such are my sentiments, poor unfortunate man; such too are the sentiments of every brave man in the army; and though the laws of war forbid your acquittal, or even the concealment of your fault, yet we all pity you much too sincerely to accept the heroic offer which the bitterest repentance has impelled you to make. Receive then my warmest wishes, joined to those of your old friends, that time may console you for your misfortune, which we feel almost as severely as yourself."

Did this unhappy man derive comfort from this letter? Ah! no. As justice would not punish him, he resolved to punish himself, and in truth more severely than if he had been condemned by a court martial to kneel before his own grenadiers. He returned the cross of St. Louis, went to Calais, where a strong garrison was constantly kept, appeared daily in the uniform of his regiment, but without his sword, and thus doomed himself to the ignominy of serving as a living warning and example to his profession. Bowed down by the weight of years and shame, he was long seen performing the penance, so painful to the feelings of a man of honour.

A SECOND MITHRIDATES.

There is a very extraordinary man living in Constantinople, who is generally known under the name of Soliman," the eater of sublimate." He is a hundred and six years of age, and has seen the following succession of Sultans :-Achmet III. Osman, Mahmoud, Mustapha III. Abdal Hamed, Selim III. and the present sovereign. This man, when young, accustomed himself, as the Turks do, to swallow opium; but having taken by degrees a large quantity without producing the desired effect, he adopted the use of sublimate; and for upwards of thirty years has taken a drachm, or sixty grains a-day. He would sometimes go to the shop of a Turkish Jew, and call for a drachm of sublimate, which he mixed in a glass of water, and drank it up immediately. The first time the apothecary was very much alarmed for fear he should be charged with poisoning the Turk; but he was struck with astonishment when he saw the man again, the next day, who called for another dose.-Lord Elgin, Mr. Smith, and several gentlemen now in England, have met this extraordinary man, and have heard him say, that the sensation he experienced after he had drunk that extremely active poison, was the most delicious he ever enjoyed. Such is the force of habit. It is generally thought that since the days of Mithridates, no one had ever made constant use of such a substance.

WHEN the Spaniards first laid the foundation of Buenos Ayres, in 1535, the new colony wanted provisions. All who attempted to procure them were murdered by the savages; but it became necessary to forbid any one, upon pain of death, from going beyond the limits of the new settlement.

A woman, whom hunger had certainly inspired with resolution to brave the fear of death, eluded the vigilance of the guards who were posted round the colony, to preserve it from the dangers it was exposed to in consequence of the famine. Maldonata, for such was the name of the fugitive, having wandered about for some time in unknown and unfrequented roads, entered a cave to repose herself. A lioness, whom she met with there, filled her with extreme terror, which was soon changed into surprise, when she perceived this formidable animal approaching her with signs of fear, and then caressing and licking her hands with mournful cries, rather calculated to excite compassion than dread. Maldonata soon perceived that the lioness was with whelp, and that her groans were the complaints of a dam who calls for help to get rid of her burden. Maldonata was inspired with courage, and assisted the efforts of nature in that painful moment, when she seems reluctantly to give life to all beings which they are to enjoy for so short a time. The lioness, being safely delivered, soon went out in quest of provision, which she brought and laid at the feet of her benefactress. She daily shared it with the little whelps, who, brought into life by her assistance, and bred up with her, seemed by their playful and harmless bites to acknowledge an obligation, which their dam repaid with the tenderest marks of attention. But when they grew bigger, and found themselves impelled by natural instinct to seek their own prey, and sufficiently strong to seize and devour it, the family dispersed into woods; the lioness, who was no longer called to the cave by maternal tenderness, disappeared likewise to roam about the forest, which her hunger daily depopulated.

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