which, with long grey hair and a beard as white as snow, gave him a most venerable appearance. When he approached near enough, Dorf requested permission to drink from his pitcher, stating that he had walked from the village, and having forgotten his bottle at setting out, he had not been able to enjoy his meal comfortably without it. The hermit-for such he appeared to be-without speaking, signified his assent by raising the pitcher that he might drink, which Dorf thankfully did, and to excess. But, alas! he had speedy reason to repent of his rashness. Instead of quenching his thirst, as he had grounds for supposing it would, he had no sooner drank than he felt in his inside a burning heat, accompanied with a sensation of sickness, and a mist before his eyes which made every thing invisible. This lasted but for a moment; and when it cleared away, he saw that the hermit was (to him, at least) gradually changing his appear ance. The long white beard and grey hair curled up; and after having arranged itself into a single tuft, like a thin cloud on a mountain top, gradually melted away. All this time the body not wishing to remain inactive, and yet not being willing to follow the example set by the hair, began swelling and puffing out its sides at the same time drawing in its length, till it assumed very nearly the dimensions and shape of an ordinary beer-barrel; finally, a little comically-shaped hat popped itself down upon the heretofore uncovered head: and he who was but a few moments ago, a tall, lank hermit, now stood before the astonished eyes of Dorf in shape and outward paraphernalia a Dutch merchant of the sixteenth century. After the change was completed, he did not allow Dorf long time to observe him, but fixing his eyes steadily on him for a moment, he then began to whirl and spin himself round on the grass; and, after performing sundry curious evolutions, he at last whirled himself with a jerk quite over the rock, turning round his head every moment as he was ascending, and grinning horridly on Dorf, and nodding and beckoning him to follow. Dorf, poor fellow, would very willingly have remained where he was; but, alas! he found that the spinning mania was seizing him—the evil eye was on him so go he must; and away he did go in grand style, whirling round and round, then heels over head, and imitating, with no little expertness and celerity, the wonderful harlequinades of the little fat merchant. Over hill and dale, over mountain, rock, and stream, over crag and precipice-on, on, whirled the little fat man, and on, on, whirled Dorf, whom an unaccountable feeling compelled to follow at his heels, although he felt much in the same predicament as the novice on the ice, who cannot stop himself without running more hazard than if he were to keep gliding on, and yet feels certain that fall he must at last. The perpetual spinning round, round, round, was beginning to effect him in much the same way as the pitching of a vessel in a stiff breeze affects the lands man; and, to make the simile still more applicable, he was just preparing to render himself fitter for his flight, by unburdening his stomach of the bread and cheese he had so shortly before stowed away in it, when, after a journey which, in duration, to his frenzied imagination, seemed akin to the existence of the Wandering Jew, the little man stopped; and Dorf, with feelings nearly allied to those of a criminal reprieved at the place of execution, found himself at liberty to follow his example. When Dorf had so far recovered from the sickening stupor into which his aerial vagaries had thrown him, as to be able to look around, he perceived that the ground upon which he stood formed part of a small but deep valley, which lay stretched out for about a quarter of a mile before him, and was then abruptly terminated by a range of almost perpendicular mountains, whose tall, dark heads, stretching away into the clouds, effectually excluded the rays of the hitherto oppressive sun, and imparted a degree of still and somewhat strange solemnity to the scene. Immediately behind him, and forming the opposite barrier of the valley, frowned an immense rocky precipice, over the summit of which he had so lately before been performing his magical gyrations. These features in the appearance of the place were, however, imprinted on Dorf's remembrance more by the mere mechanical action of his visual organs, than by any attention which he paid to the study of them; for there was something in the valley, the observation of which was to him too absorbing to allow him to pay much attention to either rock or mountain. He had, in fact, scarcely raised his eyes, before he perceived that the little Dutchman and himself were not the only persons in the valley. Near the centre of it a group of five individuals were collected, and engaged apparently in some kind of game; they were all uniformly dressed in grey, their persons were tall and commanding, and their dark hair clustered round the high, pale forehead, which characterised the natives of ancient Germany. He was immediately observed, and welcomed to the circle by a fiendish Ha! ha! ha! which, as it swelled through the vale, echoed from the cliffs, and finally died away on the summits of the mountains, sounded like a death-knell in the ear of the unhappy wight, who instinctively knew he was in the presence of the Grey Men. After the first burst of contemptuous laughter with which Dorf was received had passed away, they, as if by a common movement, turned round to pursue the game, without deigning to take any farther notice of the individual who had excited their risible faculties to such a degree. The game at which they were engaged bore much resemblance to the Scottish one of quoits, excepting that, instead of flat iron rings, they made use of large round stones, with straight wooden handles project ing from them. These they had thrown for a considerable time in perfect silence, when the little fat merchant, who, without putting himself to the trouble of again changing his appearance, had taken his share in the game, seized one of the stones, and approaching Dorf, while a sort of half-malicious, half-humorous smile played about the corners of his mouth, and lurked in the twinkle of his grey eye, desired him, by signs, to try how far he could throw it. From the first moment of his entering the circle, Dorf had remained in a state of the most agonizing suspense, fearing the more intensely that he knew not what he had to fear. When, however, he saw, by the movements of the little man, that something definite was to be enacted, and from his signs perceived the nature of it, a gleam of hope lightened the darkness of his despair, as he considered that, by an exhibition of unusual strength, he might, perhaps, win the pardon of those beings into whose power he had so unfortunately fallen; and it was with something like a smile of triumph on his features, as he thought of his own extraordinary muscular powers, that he took the ponderous stone which the little man tendered him, and prepared himself for the throw. Again the eyes of the whole were fixed upon Dorf, and for an instant he quailed beneath their gaze; but instantly rallying, he swung the stone to the stretch of his arm behind him, and as it recoiled, exerting his utmost strength, he threw it-three yards! The heart of Dorf died within him as the unearthly Ha! ha! ha! again rose wildly upon the air, and broke harshly on the reigning stillness of the scene; and he observed, with renewed apprehension, that the little man was preparing for him another trial. On the ground, and at the distance of, perhaps, eighteen or twenty yards from each other, were two stones, which during the game served as marks to throw at. To one of these the little man brought two of the throwing stones, and placing one on each side, he then removed the middle one, and directed Dorf to occupy its place, and endeavour with extended arms to raise the other two. Refusal or resistance his little remaining senses enabled him to perceive would be of no avail against the power of his demoniacal oppressors. So, with an almost despairing energy, he seized the handles of the heavy stones, and with a mighty effort, gradually raised himself till he stood perfectly straight, holding out the two stones at the full extent of his arms. These he was now willing to drop, and tried to open his hands for that purpose; but by some hellish power they were glued to the handles, inseparably united, and all his efforts to loosen his hold were unavailing. He then tried to drop his arms-it was in vain; something held them extended, although at the same time he felt every moment as if the terrible weight of the stones would snap them through. He endeavoured to bend his body to the ground-he might as well have attempted to bend a bar of iron; every muscle of his frame was stiffened into perfect rigidity, and he felt that he had no more power of motion than a statue of stone. He tried to scream, but the power of articulation was denied; he would have groaned under the anguish of the enormous weight which he bore up, but he could not-he was capable of nothing but feeling, and that sense was only exercised by the most agonising pain. While he continued standing with outstretched arms, motionless and statuelike, a victim to the influence of the dreadful and mystic power which these unearthly beings were thus exercising over him, one of them struck the ground with his foot, and immediately he felt it receding from under him, and he sunk gradually down, down, until his arms reached the level of the earth, and the stones rested upon the surface, when he stopped, and the ground closing in around him, held him with an iron grasp in its yawning jaws. Again the same terrific sound boomed through the valley, and burst with an astounding fearfulness upon the nearly extinct faculties of Dorf. For a moment he stood the shock; but it was too overwhelming to enable him to continue to bear up against it, and with an inward groan he sunk into a state of insensibility. How long he remained in this state, he was not able to judge-probably not more than a few minutes. When he first languidly opened his eyes, he imagined that he was alone; but raising them, and looking about, he perceived that his tormentors were still there. They were grouped around the other stone in the position in which he had first seen them, and the little man was as usual bearing a conspicuous part in their proceedings. He stood somewhat in advance of the others. He was firmly planted upon his left leg, while his right was thrown out behind him; his body was slightly bent forward, his head eagerly stretched out in the direction of Dorf, and his arm was raised in the act of throwing the stone. God in heaven! at what was he going to throw? Dorf shut his eyes again ;the stone flew whirling from the hand that sent it, and with so true an aim, that it struck with a horrid crash against the head of the devoted victim. With the shock the spell was broken. Dorf found himself in an instant in utter darkness; the earth that held him so firmly before was gone; he thought he was falling, and he grasped with his hands to save himself. He uttered a piercing cry, and as he did so, he again heard the laughing chorus of the Grey Men. This time, however, it was not so fiendish; and, as it continued, gradually changed, until it seemed to Dorf to assume the sound of the pleasant, hilarious laughter of a voice to which in happier hours he had often responded. "You have had a long sleep, neighbour Dorf," shouted a voice close to his ear, which bore a marvellous resemblance to that of his friend Jarl. "Whe-what-what where am I!" cried Dorf, as he opened his eyes, and raising himself up, observed his own little but standing right before him, and bright with the rays of the setting sun-" what brought me here?" "Why, as to where you are," said Jarl-for it was indeed he who was standing beside the little cart in which Dorf lay-"I think I need scarcely tell you that; and as to what brought you here, that is easily explained. You may remember, unless you were so drunk as to forget, that · I told you I was going to the hills early this morning, with Kaiser and the schleife (cart), and that I would bring home your goats. Very well; when we were coming home, goats and all, we saw you lying asleep at the foot of the rock; and guessing what brought you there, we lifted you gently into the schleife and came off, intending to lay you in your own bed, and give you a surprise when you awakened. But when we had got the length of your door, the horse stopped so suddenly, that your head knocked against the top of the schleife, and awakened you before the time; and that's all!” And the stout woodsman laughed again till the hills rang. It was observed that from that day Dorf Juystein never spoke but with reverence of the GREY MEN. Frazer's Mag. THE GREEKS. A NEW candidate for the sovereignty of Greece has just made himself known through the medium of a pamphlet, in which his claims are set forth. He assumes the illustrious name of Comnenus, and calls himself a descendant of the last Emperors of Trebizonde; therefore, he says, it is quite clear, sovereignties being always disposed of according to hereditary rights and the rules of legitimacy, that he is the only rightful heir to the sovereignty of Greece. This gentleman is a native of France, and he holds a commission in the French army. His claims were formerly laid before the Ministers of the three protecting Powers, from whom he only received evasive and unsatisfactory answers. It would be rather a difficult task to make out the rights of a descendant of the Emperors of Trebizonde to the sovereignty of modern Greece; and, probably, it would be still more difficult for Mr. Comnenus to prove that he is a descendant, and the only descendant of that race. I have known in Turkey scores of Comnenuses, of Cantacurzenes, and of Paleologoses, all of whom stoutly asserted that they were the direct descendants of the Imperial families bearing those names. All of them might claim the Grecian sceptre with probably as much right as the gentleman in question. But what would the present Greeks care about a host of needy adventurers who chose to assume names of royalty defunct for ages past? The Greeks, in fact, want no king at all. Gratitude to the three protecting Powers, who had delivered them from their deadly foes, the Turks, had made them cheerfully submit to the choice fixed on Prince Leopold; but they suffered disappointment by his refusal of the sove reignty, and the length of time in which they were left under the power and at the mercy of the Capo d'Istria party, weakened, and in many instances obliterated, the sentiments with which their protectors had inspired them, so that their former habits and impressions resumed their empire. The Greeks would much rather be left to govern themselves, as they best understand their wants; and if, in doing so, they occasionally cut each other's throats, they alone would be the sufferers. Civilization is making rapid strides among them, and its influence will introduce order, regularity, and good government, in a much surer way in Greece than all that her protectors think they can devise for her advantage. The Greeks would again become, if not a great, at least a very remarkable people, if left alone. THE EDDYSTONE LIGHT-HOUSE. THE care of this important beacon is committed to four men, two of whom take the charge of it by turns, and are relieved every six weeks. But as it often happens, especially in stormy weather, that boats cannot touch at the Eddystone for many months, a proper quantity of salt provision is always laid up, as in a ship victualled for a long voyage. In high winds, such a briny atmosphere surrounds this gloomy solitude, from the dashing of the waves, that a man exposed to it could not draw his breath. At these dreadful intervals, the two forlorn inhabitants keep close quarters, and are obliged to live in darkness and stench; listening to the howling storm, excluded in every emergency, from the least hope of assis tance, and without any earthly comfort, but what is administered from their confidence in the strength of the building in which they are immured. Once, on relieving this forlorn guard, one of the men was found dead, his companion choosing rather to shut himself up with a putrifying carcase, than, by throwing it into the sea, to incur the suspicion of murder. In fine weather, these wretched beings just scramble a little about the edge of the rock, when the tide ebbs, and amuse themselves with fishing; which is the only employment they have, except that of trimming their nightly fires. Such total inaction and entire seclusion from all the joys and aids of society, can only be endured by great religious philosophy, which we cannot imagine they feel; or by great stupidity, which in pity we must suppose they possess. Yet, though this wretched community is so small, we are assured it has sometimes been a scene of misanthropy. Instead of suffering the recollection of those distresses and dangers in which each is deserted by all but one, to endear that one to him, we were informed the humours of each were so soured, that they preyed both on themselves, and on each other. If one sat above, the other was commonly found below. Their meals, too, were solitary; each, like a brute, growling over his food alone. The emolument of this arduous post is twenty pounds a year, and provisions while on duty. The house to live in may be fairly thrown into the bargain. The whole together is, perhaps, one of the least eligible pieces of preferment in Britain; and yet, from a story, which Mr. Smeaton relates, it appears there are stations still more ineligible. fellow who got a livelihood by making leathern pipes for engines, grew tired of sitting constantly at work, and soli. cited a light-house man's place, which, as competitors are not numerous, he obtained. As the Eddystone boat was carrying him to take possession of his habitation, one of the boatmen asked him, what could tempt him to give up a profitable business, to be shut up for months together in a pillar? "Why," said the man, "because I did not like confinement!" IMMORTALITY OF THE OTAHEITIANS. A THE following account of the people of Otaheite presents a strong contrast to the assertions; of some of the Evan gelical magazines, respecting the benefits of missionary preaching. If it may be relied on, it is certainly a gloomy and discouraging picture. We fear that, unlike many accounts which have reached England, respecting the labours of the missionaries, many of which have subsequently been proved to be false-this relation is strictly true. It is a remarkable fact, that our Saxon ancestors were an honest and upright people, until converted to Christianity, when murders, robberies, and every description of impiety were committed by all ranks; honour and good faith were cast to the winds; the Saxon princes perpetrated many frightful crimes, and then entered a monastery, as if to shun the scorn and contempt of even their vicious age. Let it not be supposed that we are attempting to deny or disprove the benefits which might result from the introduction of the Christian religion into any country; but we have always been of opinion, that it is a wild, a preposterous and an impious thing, to endeavour to plant a belief in the mind of an untutored savage, without submitting him to previous instruction. Our Yankee brethren make this a subject of jest and ridicule, but it is really no laughing matter. Who could hear the vulgar mouthings of an illiterate negro, as he descants on a text which he does not rightly understand, without feelings of disgust and abhorrence? The subjoined is the extract alluded to, which is taken from a recent number of the Manchester Guardian. "The following is an extract from a letter very recently received from Elijah Armitage, who went as a missionary from this town about ten years ago. The accuracy of the account may be fully relied on, from his perfect knowledge of the people, and his well-known fidelity. It is dated Eismeo, South Seas, Nov. 10, 1831 :-'With respect to myself, and the work in which I am engaged, I know not how to give you a just description of the character of the people among whom I labour. You have heard a great deal from the Magazines, &c. which I think the individuals who wrote them should be ashamed of, unless they were quite ignorant of matters here. I know not a better comparison of the people than that, of a child that has been kept out of the way of temptation for fear of being led astray; but this care and kindnesa does not change the heart, which is watching for every opportunity to turn out of the path of virtue, when an opportunity offers. Such is the case here; for, after it was discovered that certain plants, growing in abundance here, would produce spirits, the inhabitants eagerly made them, and drank to excess. In order to prevent serious political and other consequences, a law was made that any person making wine or spirits should be banished, and his goods forfeited. This did not lessen the desire of spirits, but rather increased it. The evil is further increased by most vessels bringing the most poisonous liquors, and taking away the little valuable property, and leaving the people far worse than they were. I assure you there are very few indeed, either in Church 'or State, but are given up to drunkenness, and make themselves beasts. Thieving is become a growing evil. I do not think that many of the inhabitants have any correct views of moral evil. They will readily confess it to be wrong, but very few of them will abstain from it if they think it can be concealed. With respect to the manufactory, I fear but little good will be done, as the wants of the people are so few, and their indolence so great.Pride, however, is creeping in very fast, and will bring a number of wants with it; and God is able to overrule even this for good. The preaching of the missionaries does not seem to make impression, or awaken lively feelings, as with you. Persons are in and out of the place of worship just as frequently as they please. The example of wicked Europeans has had a bad effect on their bad hearts; so that it is hard work even to attempt to do them good," &c. A. M. TEMPERAMENT OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. THE malady to which the English are particularly subject, and the name of which has passed into every European language, the Spleen, arises, I have no doubt, from the double influence of diet and climate. Ask our old friend, Montaigne, how much the continual appearance of a cloudy atmosphere disposes the mind and the imagination to sorrow and low spirits. The desire, the anxiety, to get rid of this heaviness, make the English have recourse to several means, all of which are attended by bad effects. In the first place, they drink a great quantity of tea. beverage facilitates digestion, it agitates and dissolves the humours; but it ex This |