the dock, in which white and black, the most loath, had broken the heart of a widowed parent in her desome specimens of human depravity, were indiscrimi-lusion-disgraced a fair family name-her seducer nately huddled together, and heard the brief and reluctant history of her arraignment. She desired to plead guilty. She had committed the offence of larceny, that by her conviction she might gain a solitary seclusion from the world. She had loathed the society of her fellow creatures until their contact was no longer endurable. She feared to die, and had not the nerve for a suicidal deed. She had been educated in affluence-she became the victim of seduction had squandered away long since a patrimony which the prosecutrix of I knew the loved of other years would be among the And though I strove to steel my heart against thy train, weaning ways, Would smile as pleasantly as e'er, and speak to me Thy glances lighted up old fires, and started new the again; blaze I knew the memory of the past would rush upon my That burns within my bosom now, unquenchable and heart, And cause the bitter agony of hidden woes to start. I knew I'd see the form I loved, so tenderly and long, Whirled through the dance, the pride and boast of all the glittering throng; And hear her warble forth the strains I prized so much of yore, The strains of softest melody, now sung for me no more. strong, A RAMBLE THROUGH ST. BY A RECENT VISITER. HELENA. NONE but those who have experienced the monotonous existence attendant upon a long voyage of ten weeks, can sympathize with the extravagant joy of the traveller, on first catching a glimpse of land after a tedious passage, the keen excitement of anticipated pleasure on shore-the bustle of the seamen the preparation for departure-the anxious faces peering through glasses to view that which in appearance, presents nothing but a distant and indented cloud, all give a life and animation to the scene, that almost repays the wanderer for his previous confinement. scene. assumed a more blackened and scorched appearance, clearly indicating their volcanic origin; whilst a cave, cast into deep shadow by the beetling cliffs above it, and into which the surf ran madly, lashing its ironbound sides, added to the savage grandeur of the A quarter of an hour's walk over the burning sands, and two strongly fortified drawbridges, brought us into the centre of the little village; the houses are nearly all inhabited by English, and are built in the European style; the shops presented their projecting bow-windows to the street, whilst placards of Day and Martin's Blacking, and Rowland's Macassar Oil, would almost tempt the traveller to believe he had alighted by necromancy into some sequestered village within a few miles of London, were it not for the stern and rugged mountains overhanging his head, which by their giant height, seemed frowning on the pigmy attempts of man, in erecting habitations on a domain, in which nature seemed to have constituted them lords of the soil. Rough shaggy ponies, the only conveyance the island afforded, were soon procured, and our gay party in spite of the glaring sun, set out at a round trot to view the grave. The road ascending spirally, soon conducted us over the town we had just left; nothing could exceed the dif ference of scene; upwards, the mountain reared its rugged and steril head high above us; not a tree or bush to relieve the eye from its russet livery, save where a few stunted rushes fringed the course of a tumultuous stream, which was occasionally seen at times, broad and considerable, foaming and tumbling down the steep declivity, and again, dwindled to the fineness of a silver thread. Below, at the depth of a thousand feet, lay the little town, not as would be seen in our misty isle, but every building, meadow, and plantation, showing as distinctly through the clear atmosphere, as if traced with the minuteness of a map, and seemed not unlike a rich English landscape, viewed through the inverted end of a telescope. Our sure-footed conductors, in the meantime, as if delighting in their accuracy and firmness of step, cantered along the extreme edge of the road, unprotected by the slightest embankment from the abyss below, so that it not unfrequently happened, there was nothing save the blue air of Heaven, between the sole of one's shoe and the peaceful quiet village a thousand feet below. An hour and a half's ride over country, as barren as rock and sand could make it, brought us at length to an abrupt turning, down which the road as rapidly descended as it had before risen, but the whole face of the country was changed; nature, as if to make amends for the barren tract we had passed, here displayed herself in the utmost luxuriance; wild *Float, the long row of lamps in front of the stage. flowers skirted the path at every step, whilst perfect It was on a glorious morning in March 1827, that our ship, under the influence of a fresh breeze, as if participating in the lightness of heart it was bearing, seemed to dance on the bosom of the blue waters, as she threw the white foam from her bows, leaving behind her a long dazzling line of light, as transient and evanescent, as our former cares and sorrows, when St. Helena, the "Isle of Rock and Water," the prison, and the grave, of him who left a name at which the world grew pale," arose in sullen majesty before us. Its harsh, and rugged outline, clearly attenuated on the light and feathery clouds at its back-its dun and sombre mantle, unrelieved by any sign of life or motion, except where an occasional exhalation hung like a fleece half way up the mountain, struggling to gain an eminence which, when attained, would consign it to the pure ether-the tremendous surf dashing against its rocky base-the wild song of the seamew as she flitted before our bowsprit-all presented a scene, which even the sublime genius of a Salvator would have failed to inspire with interest. The first sign of the hand of man in this strong hold of waters, displayed itself on the apex of a rock, perhaps a thousand feet high, called from its great resemblance, "Sugar-loaf Point," on the dizzy height of which, the British flag, diminished to an infant's toy, expanded its broad folds to the morning breeze. After rounding another abrupt promontory, we came in view of St. James's town. Nothing can present a more striking resemblance than to imagine the scene of a country village at a theatre; a long, narrow street, built up a ravine, formed by two lofty mountains, on one side, the village church on the other, the Town Hall, a barn-like-looking building, the float* displaced by a long stone battery, and the illusion is complete. The sails were scarcely furled, ere our barge was running to the piers, a long bricked embankment, stretching perhaps a quarter of a mile along the base of the mountain, at every boat's length; the rocks hedges of geraniums lined each side of the road; at the bottom of this delightful valley lay the object of our toilsome ride, but ah! with what disappointment must the enthusiast be struck, who expects to find a tomb worthy of his career. “No sculptured urn" marks the grave of "him who kept the world awake;" not e'en his name "spelt by the unlettered muse," records who sleeps beneath. Three oblong stones from his kitchen floor, and a part of the iron railing which surrounded his house, form the last resting-place of the greatest man who ever lived. This is as it should be; every attempt to erect a mausoleum in commemoration of his exploits must be abortive, when he has left such memorials on Mont St. Bernard and the Simplon monuments, unperishable as his fame, and gigantic as the mind that created them. Four weeping willows overshadow this simple tomb, and by the soft and peaceful shade they afford, give the spot an air of calm repose, trebly enhanced by the burning atmosphere around. At each side of the head of the grave, we observed three flower-sticks; on inquiring of the sergeant who shows the spot, an old weather-beaten veteran, with cheeks burned to the color of the rock he was guarding, we learned, Madame Bertrand had planted a forget-me-not on either side of the grave, which she carefully watered every morning during her stay in the island. The flowers have long mingled with the hallowed dust they were intended to adorn, but their frail supports still remain-a simple but touching memorial of woman's constancy and tenderness. We were next directed to an artificial excavation cut in the rock, from which a clear and delightful spring of water poured like an oasis in the desert, its cooling tribute rendered doubly grateful from its situation. This was Napoleon's favorite beverage; his table was regularly supplied with it, although Longwood is seven or eight miles distant; indeed, the whole spot was his constant resort, and it was by his express desire that his remains were interred there. A book is kept in the cave, in which every visiter is requested to insert his name and sentiments as they may have arisen impromptu on the spot; most of them are in French, many expressive of regret at his death, but more containing invectives against the English for his captivity. It was with feelings of regret we quitted the verdant valley, to traverse the uncouth road which led to Longwood; no object of interest appearing until we arrived at the Devil's Punch-bowl; this is, with out doubt, the most picturesque spot in the island. On one side, the boundless expanse of waters, viewed from a height of two thousand feet, seemed to encompass us like a wall of adamant; the truth of this metaphor will. I think, be acknowledged by those who have been used to view the sea from a lofty eminence; on the other, an immense amphitheatre of rocks descended to an immeasurable depth, wreathed into every fantastic shape that imagination can picture, seeming, when viewed by the garish sun, as if the foaming ocean, in the midst of its wildest gambols, had been petrified by the wand of an enchanter. The solitude of the place was oppressive; the chirp of a bird or the bleat of a sheep would have been music; no sound met our ears; no moving thing greeted our eyes-all was solitariness and desolation. It is in scenes like these man feels his insignificance—it is here he feels that meekness and humility so essentially required by the Christian creed, and is it not to be expected that the human heart will feel more deeply impressed with a sense of religion, whilst placed in a spot where nature rules in her grandest scale, than when following the monotonous chaunt of a paralytic incumbent, in a temple raised by man? Every object he casts his eyes-on the fretted roofs-the sculptured walls-the clustered columns-are all the works of his own hands, and tend to raise him in his own estimation; but place him on a lofty mountain, a fathomless abyss on one hand, the boundless expanse of ocean on the other, and it is there man acknowledges the speck he occupies in the space of creation. Half an hour's ride brought us to some traces of vegetation; a few straggling, stunted cork trees, all in clining in one direction, by the action of the southeast trade-wind, indicated our approach to old Longwood; at first sight, it appears not unlike three or four cottages thrown into one; their gable ends in some places projecting, in others receding, from the front. An air of desolation pervades the place; straw was scattered around to a considerable distance; in fact, Longwood, once the sojourning place of the greatest man that ever existed, is now little more than a granary. After buffeting sacks of grain and sheaves of barley piled in the apartments occupied by Bertrand and Las Casas, we were shown the room in which Napoleon drew his last breath; the spot where he expired is pointed out between two windows; the room is of moderate dimensions, and hung with a plain green paper; time, neglect, and the passion for relics, which pervades all nations, from the nail of a Redeemer's cross to the stone of a murderer's grave, has already nearly denuded the walls of their simple hanging; a chaff cutting machine and a quantity of loose chaff, constituted its present furniture; the glass was nearly all broken, and the rain had penetrated into some parts of the room, but even in the midst of this extremity of desolation, could we help lingering until the hour warned us to depart; how truly has the poet said: You may break, you may ruin, the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang on it still. New Longwood, built by the government for Napoleon, at an inconsiderable distance, would be called in England a handsome villa; the grounds around it are all laid out in some taste, and there are spacious suits of apartments within. It is singular that it was Napoleon's intention to have moved here the very day he died; the furniture had all arrived from England, the fires were even lighted, and the messenger who was sent (in the midst of a storm never equalled in the island) to announce that it was ready for his reception, brought back the news of his death. The only portion his mortal remains required, were the three stones from the kitchen floor (even now unreplaced) and part of the iron railing from the garden. ALAS! oh my!-I wonder why I cannot be a belle ? I have no wrinkles on my brow; I read the laws of etiquette- I have a hump upon my back That any arm may span. I often walk in Chestnut street; I think Don Juan's very sweet- I have a small patrician hand, And, tho' I've learned it seems to sew, THE TUN OF RED WINE. An Incident that occurred at a Town in Spain during the Peninsular War. "But," continued Herman, the former speaker, "respecting windows, those clever Englishmen have often contrived them as I said, and you've no idea how admirably they answer; they've managed chimneys, too; and thanks to that lucky shell, I see we've got an The Spaniard and Portuguese, will, I've a notion, after the campaign is over, thank the Britons for giving them some little idea of English comfort." It was but a poor place:-the mean and dirty room, still smelling of the blood of the slain, had been almost stripped of every article of furniture it might have heretofore contained: a shell had broken in the roof, and the walls and wooden shutters of the miserable chamber were perforated with various shot, and black-outlet for the smoke of our bright wood-fire to-night. ened with powder and smoke; yet, to the party of worn soldiers who were to occupy this delectable apartment for the night, a mere semblance of a roof over their wearied heads was acceptable, after the terrible exposures they had undergone, to heavy rains and severe cold, from which the fine country of Spain is by no means exempt. Having collected a few empty wine casks, of various dimensions, they made for themselves seats of some, broke up others into fire-in supplies, owing to the neglect of agriculture, and wood, and laying across a couple of them a door, which they had unhinged from a neighboring apart ment, thus readily provided themselves with a table. "And now, comrades," said Meinheim, as he placed upon the board the contents of the ample camp-kettle, "let us make merry: where's the rum? and, Werner, what did you do with our keg of accadent."* “Prithee, man, don't be alarmed about it; 'tis here quite safe: nor am I a Corporal Howitzer, to make myself drunk with the brandy, and then swear that I staved the cask, according to orders! No, no! I understand points of honor better, believe me!" So saying, Werner drew from beneath the arms and bag gage, piled in a corner of the room, the keg in question, and down sat the party to a meal any thing but luxurious; yet with appetites which rendered the most coarse and ill-dressed food a dainty, and with all the buoyant deil ma care spirits, usually appertaining to men of their professson. "What a cursed country is this?" cried Meinheim to his companions. No glass in the windows of the houses, no fire-places, no chimneys! no-" "Nay," rejoined one of the men, " for glass, we've only to cut out the panels of the shutters, and stretch over the apertures some stout paper drenched in oil, of which commodity you will allow, there's plenty hereabouts." *Rather too much," replied Meinheim, "to my thinking; for, upon my soul, we may say of the oil and garlic in this country, what the Frenchman said of the English and their melted butter, 'These people have no other sauce.' Faugh! did you ever smell any thing in your lives so rank and unchristian-like as their houses and cookery, oil and garlic, oil and garlic, as they are all over?" Aqua-ardente; a light kind of spirit, or weak brandy, much admired by soldiers during the Peninsular campaigns. "Comfort, indeed!" exclaimed Werner," that word, I take it, is scarcely to be found in their tongues. In fact, Spain and Portugal, with all their vaunted deliciousness of climate, romantic scenery, and abundant natural produce, are cold, stormy countries, deficient horticulture; mean, dirty, and every way disgusting; and there's nothing good in them that I can discover, save their accadent and wine." "You're right-quite right!” cried one of the party, thumping the board with his fists, in token of extreme satisfaction, and of an evident desire to be heard: "the wine is the thing, undoubtedly, which renders either country endurable; spirits, for a mere trifle we may obtain in any land-not so wine, and here we may drown ourselves in it if we please. Meinheim, why leave we home to-night?" "Nay," replied the soldier," but that I imagined it would be no treat, we might have had plenty; winestores are hard by; we've only to open yon door, then, through a breach in the wall, we're into them imme. diately, and may help ourselves as we list." "Say you so?" cried a man called Schlegel, " then let us do it immediately.” With all my heart," answered Meinheim, "but as we shall hardly be able to bring hither one of the huge wine tuns, we must take with us somewhat, our canteens, I suppose; they will hold a fair quantity of Spain's prime grape juice." So the canteens were immediately put into requisition, and Meinheim catching up a blazing fagot, in which respect he was followed by others of the party, offered his services as leader on this pleasurable expedition; for this office he was indeed well calculated, having, by the chances of war, occupied these quarters, to which his companions were strangers, some weeks before. He now led them through a dark and narrow passage, of which the heat and bad odor were almost insupportable, for it had no apparent means of ventilation, and at the farther end of it, they perceived by the light of their uncouth and dimly burning torches, a considerable breach in the massy wall inclosing the wine stores, about which laid the stones and bricks that had been battered down. "Take care, my lads!" cried Meinheim, giving his |