The execution, which had been interrupted by popular tumult, took place a few days after; the culprit being previously dragged on a hurdle through the principal streets of Vienna.

To prove, if any proof were wanting, that the spirit of proselytism, is as distant from humanity as it is from common sense, a new sentence, to gratify, as it were, and satisfy public hatred, had, in the interval, been passed upon him; the execution of which, but for salutary and impressive deduction, is too shocking to relate; his punishment was in the same proportion odiously cruel, as his rewards for the prostitution of religious avowal had been absurd and unmerited.

Repeating, as long as he could speak, that he hoped his sufferings would expiate his crimes, this miserable wretch's right hand was cut off and burnt before his eyes; his tongue was torn from his mouth, and his body was then suspended by the feet from the gallows over a slow fire; savage and furious dogs in the mean time lacerating his flesh.

Death concluded the odious butchery, and the ashes of the malefactor were thrown into the Danube; but the water of ten thousand Danubes cannot wash away the foul remembrance of such a transaction, or efface the memory of zeal so barbarous and bloody; a crime produced or aggravated by the folly and bigotry of those who punished it.

TERRIFIC EQUESTRIAN FEAT.

On the 17th of October, 1815, F. Poole, Esq. of Holdshrove, undertook for a wager of fifty guineas, to ride down the steepest part of the Devil's Dyke, near Brighton, on horseback, a descent of at least three hundred yards, and in many places almost vertical! Mr. Poole was not only one of the most daring, but one of the best riders in this country; and the frightful and rash task above named, he performed with the greatest ease, in the presence of a field of at least one hundred sportsmen. In the descent he was allowed to diverge ten yards only to the right or left of the starting point; but so nearly straight was his progress, that he did not deviate more than three yards from the line. He rode an aged mare of his own, who rapidly executed her task with her fore feet, and sliding upon her hocks, to the astonishment of all present.

GRATITUDE IN AN INDIAN.

An Indian, who had not met with his usual success in hunting, wandered down to a plantation among the back settlements in Virginia, and seeing a planter at his door, asked for a morsel of bread, for he was very hungry. The planter bid him be gone, for he would give him none. "Will you give me then a cup of your beer?" said the Indian, "No; you shall have none here," replied the planter. "But I am very faint," said the savage; " will you give me only a draught of cold water?" dog; you shall have nothing here," said the planter. It happened some "Get you gone, you Indian months after that the planter went on a shooting excursion into the woods, where intent upon his game, he missed his company, and lost his way; and night coming on, he wandered through the forest, till he espied an Indian wigwam. He approached the savage's habitation, and asked him to shew

him the way to a plantation on that side the country. "It is too late for you to go there this evening, Sir," said the Indian; "but if you will accept of my homely fare, you are welcome." He then offered him some venison, and such other refreshment as his store afforded; and having laid some bear skins for his bed, he desired that he would repose himself for the night, and he would wake him early in the morning, and conduct him on his way. Accordingly in the morning they set off, and the Indian led him out of the forest, and put him in the way he was to go; but just as he was taking leave, he stept before the planter, and turning round, staring full in his face, bid him say, whether he recollected his features. The planter was now struck with shame and horror, when he beheld in his kind protector, the Indian whom he had so harshly treated. He confessed that he knew him, and was full of excuse for his brutal behaviour; to which the Indian only replied, "When you see poor Indians fainting for a cup of cold water, don't say again, Get you gone, you Indian dog!" The Indian then wished him well on his journey, and left him. It is not difficult to say which of these two had the best claim to the name of Christian.

GREEK CEREMONY AT JERUSALEM,

In Turner's Travels in the Levant, the following singular account of religious enthusiasm is related:

"At ten o'clock I returned to the convent, whence I issued again at twelve, to witness the most extraordinary scene I have ever beheld during the twentytwo years of my life-the holy-fire, as it is called, struck by the Greek and Armenian bishops within the tomb of our Saviour, and believed by the ignorant and credulous crowd to descend annually from heaven. This pious fraud,' (says Gibbon, chap. lvii.) was first devised in the ninth century.' "We entered the church of the holy sepulchre with difficulty, our janizary carrying before us a whip of several leathern thongs, which he used most liberally, though not unnecessarily, to make way for us. The church was

filled with pilgrims and spectators, of whom there were not fewer than seven thousand. The aga was at the door, vainly attempting to keep order, with forty or fifty soldiers, all using, unmercifully, whips of the description I have mentioned. After the paying pilgrims and the inhabitants of the city have entered, the procuratori of the Greek and Armenian convents compound for a small sum, with the aga, for the admission of the poor pilgrims who cannot afford to pay for entrance money, of whom there are, this year five hundred.

"The Greek and Armenian bishops were shut up in the sepulchre at ten o'clock with a single Turk, who is well paid to declare that he sees the fire descend miraculously from heaven, or at least to keep silence. Before they enter the sepulchre is publicly inspected, and all the lamps extinguished; but the Turk, I was informed, has been heard to declare that they carry a flint and steel with them. I was inclined to think that the fire was phosphoric, as the priests declare that it will not burn a person; but, on seeing it, I found it was common fire, and that the fable of its not burning is only believed by enthusiasts. At two o'clock the governor entered, proceeded by soldiers, who were forced to use their utmost violence to make way for him, and followed by his secretaries and servants. He took his place in the Frank gallery, where a handsome divan was prepared for him, and where he was attended by the Roman Catholic precuratore and his dragomans. If the fire be much

delayed, he becomes impatient, and generally gives a sign, on which it immediately appears. At five minutes past two, there was a Greek procession round the sepulchre; I counted thirty-seven priests, besides the bishops and monks, and nuns. The bishop was dressed in a gilt mantle, with long crape over his bonnet, and carried a crosier in his hand. Of the priests, some wore green, some yellow, and some dark-coloured robes, richly embroidered with gold; and the monks and nuns were all clothed in deep black. All wore, except, of course, the women, who had long veils, the common cap of the Greek priests. They walked, singing aloud, three times round the tomb, preceded by six banners, representing the nativity, passion, and crucifixion of our Saviour. As the time approached for the coming of the fire, the crowd became more tumultuous, and rolled in a wave towards the window, whence no efforts of the Turks, or of the happy ones who have secured a place there, exerted in curses, blows, kicks, &c., could drive them. At length, at twenty minutes past two, the fire was given from the window, and was received with a tremendous and universal shout through the whole church. On its first appearance, the torch was seized by a boy near the window, who rubbed it against his face, head, and neck, with such vehemence as to extinguish it; for which he was beaten by those near him. Eight different times was the fire given from the window, and as every pilgrim carried candles in his hand, in bunches, some of four, some of six, some of eight, some of twelve, and some a single one, according to their purse, in ten minutes the whole church was in a flame, and in five more, every candle was extinguished. But what enthusiasm! the men rubbed them against their heads and faces, their caps and handkerchiefs; and the women uncovered their breast, directing the flame along their heads, necks, and faces, and all crossing themselves, during the operation, with the utmost devotion and velocity. The candles, when a little of them is burnt, are carried home, and ever afterwards preserved as sacred. Messengers, with lanterns, stand ready at the door, who immediately carry the fire to the Greek convents of Bethlehem, of the cross, (at Sullah) and of Saint Saba, near the Dead Sea. Immediately after giving out the fire, the Greek bishop, coming out of the sepulchre, was carried by the crowd to the Greek church, immediately opposite to the door, holding in each hand torches of the fire, from which the pilgrims scramble to light their candles. After this the Turks guard the tomb, and pilgrims who enter for the next three days pay, the first ones from eighty to one hundred, and the latter from ten to twenty piastres.

DREADFUL ACCIDENT IN IRELAND.

Mitchelstown, Feb. 12, 1816. "A most melancholy event took place yesterday morning near this town. A farmer of some respectability in the neighbourhood, whose daughter was married the previous night, invited a number of his friends, &c. to the wedding. After supper the young people retired to a large barn to dance. There was a fire in the barn as the night was cold; and after they had been dancing for some time, they wished to have the fire extinguished, when one of the young men went into the dwelling-house for some water, and seeing a large jug of water, as he supposed (but it proved to be spirits), brought it into the barn and threw it on the fire. The barn immediately took fire, as it had no chimney; before the door, which was locked, could be opened, dreadful to

relate, a number of them were burned to ashes! and such as found their way out were miserably scorched. Sixteen have been already interred, and about twice that number are despaired of. Among the latter number is the bride; the bridegroom is severely scorched, but he will recover. A young gentleman, who has just come from the melancholy scene, says he never saw so dreadful a sight---men and women lying on the outside of the ruins, so disfigured that their parents even could not recognize them! The uncle of the young man who was married, and his daughter, are among the dead. They have not got out all the bodies from under the ruins yet, but from every account it is supposed that about twenty persons were burned to death!

A subsequent account says, "From the appearance of the ruins, and the bodies found, it is generally conjectured that from twenty-five to thirty have perished, besides those who have died since. It is impossible to describe the state of distraction of the parents and relatives, in endeavouring to find some part of the remains of the unfortunate sufferers."

UNFORTUNATE FAMILY OF JOHN CALAS.

John Calas was an honest merchant, whose whole fortune consisted in the stores of his magazine, and which might amount to about a hundred thousand livres; the greatest part of this money was swallowed up in the expenses or rather by the plunder of pretended justice, which made a bankruptcy in favour of the creditors of this unfortunate man, amounting to fifty thousand livres. He left a widow with five children, and an old female servant, aged seventy years, as respectable for her simplicity as her fidelity, while the family had no other succour but that of public charity, and a sum of about twenty-four thousand livres, that the domain, they said, would be obliged to restore in form of a dowry; but there was every appearance that public benevolence would soon tire, and the more abundant their gifts, so there seemed the greater fear of their diminution. The expenses of the law alone were more than fifty thousand livres, and that was defrayed by the public.

The unhappy family were presented to Louis XV. The king granted them a donation of thirty-six thousand livres which were once paid; eighteen thousand of which were for the widow, to whom the Comptroller-General gave notice, that he should pay this sum in three years, on account of the twelve thousand livres received annually; this arrangement rendered the beneficence of the king but of little efficacy.

Amidst the compassionate who deeply felt for the unfortunate family, were the English, who opened a subscription in their favour; the French lamented their inability to relieve so liberally as these generous islanders.

M. Carmantel painted a fine picture of the family of Calas. The widow was seated in an arm-chair, and on her countenance might be read the deep traces of misfortune. Her eldest daughter, a lovely figure, was seated beside her, her head reclined on her arm. The youngest girl was standing behind her mother, leaning on the back of her chair: her face was peculiarly interesting and pleasing, and resembled that of the Holy Virgin, painted by Guido; the impression of sorrow on her youthful countenance had in it something peculiarly touching. These three figures, which had a family likeness to each other, had their eyes fixed on the young Lavaysse, who was standing before them reading the story of Elie de Beaumont. Peter Calas, the son, stood behind him and was reading over his shoulder. Peter Calas, of all the family, appeared to be the one whom sorrow had most affected.

Every thing that is horrible was united in the deplorable adventures of Calas and his family. Scarce had the mother found a place of concealment after the juridical assassination of her husband, than the Marechausée penetrated into this asylum of woe, and tore her two daughters from her, by virtue of a lettre de Cachet. The two sisters were separated and placed in different convents, in order to convert them to the Romish religion. The eldest suffered many hardships in her retreat, while the youngest, by her angelic sweetness, drew every one on her side. It was not, however, till their cause had become a subject of scandal and grief to all Europe, that the public at length forced the government of France to restore the children to their mother.

DREADFUL SUFFERINGS OF THOMAS THOEN.

The following interesting account of this unfortunate man is extracted from Knox's "History of Ceylon:"

"The British forces had scarcely obtained possession of the Candian capital, when a man presented himself at head-quarters, in a Candian dress, but having the features of an European. His pale and haggard looks, and his long and matted beard, exhibited a melancholy appearance. This man, whose name was Thomas Thoen, said, that he had marched with the British army to Candi in 1803, and he was among the one hundred and fifty sick who had been left in the hospital when the capital was surrendered unto the enemy. When his fellow sufferers were butchered, the barbarians, having torn off the blisters which had been previously applied to his stomach in the hospital, felled him to the ground with the butt-end of a musket, and left him for dead in the general heap. He recovered, however, enough to crawl to a neighbouring drain, when, on being discovered the next morning, he was hung up to a tree and left to perish. The rope happily broke; when he was again discovered, and again hung up in the same way. But again the rope broke, when he contrived to crawl to a hut at a little distance, where he supported himself for ten days with nothing but the grass that grew near the door, and the drops of rain that fell from the roof. At the expiration of that time, he was accidentally discovered by an old Candian, who, after looking at him, suddenly disappeared, but soon after came again with a plate of rice, which he put down and went away.

He

The king, who had never felt for human woe, was struck with the story which he received of Thoen's numerous and extraordinary escapes. thought that Thoen would not have been so often preserved, had he not been a peculiar favourite of Heaven; and he accordingly ordered him to be taken care of by one of the chiefs, and to receive every accommodation which he required. The king allowed him a house in the town of Candy, in which he remained till the arrival of the British. He experienced no further ill-treatment from the jealous tyrant; but the horrid barbarities which he beheld, and which the slightest offence was sufficient to excite, kept him in a state of constant inquietude and alarm. A woman, who had been detected in merely conveying a message from him to Major Davie, was instantly put to death.

The only source of solace which this unfortunate man had access to, in the dreary hours of his long confinement, was the perusal of a detached portion of an English Bible, which contained some chapters of Jeremiah.