the village where he intented to meet the packet. Finding himself on the hard level way, he advanced at a tolerable pace, not a sound falling on his car, except that of his own steps, nor any thing possessing motion visible, except the rapid train of a meteor as it shot in a line along the sky. When within about a mile and a half of the station house, he began to calculate the exact progress of the night, and to consider whether it might not be nearer the packet hour than he imagined. At this moment a circumstance occurred which led him to conclude that the approach of morning could not be far distant. This was the appearance of two shadows of females, which, although they followed him at a short distance, yet from the position of the moon, necessarily extended in a slanting manner past him, just as his own moved rather in front of himself, but sloping a little to the left. 66 I perceive," said he, that it "cannot far from the hour, for here are others on their way to the station house as well as myself." Good manners prevented him from looking back, especially as those who followed him were women, who probably might prefer avoiding a solitary stranger under such circumstances. He, accordingly, went on at a quicker step, but felt some surprise on seeing, by their motion, that their step quickened in proportion to his. He then slackened his pace: perhaps, thought he, they are anxious to have my company and protection into the village. This, however, could not have been their motive, for they also slackened their pace. 66 How is this?" said he; "I can hear my own tread, but I cannot hear theirs." He then stood, with an intention of accosting them when they should come up. They also stood, and exhibited a stillness of attitude resembling rather the fixed shadow of statues than of human beings. Walker now turned round to observe them more closely, but his astonishment may be easily conceived, when he found no person of either sex near him, or within sight of him. The circumstance startled him, but nevertheless he felt little, if any thing, of what could be termed fear. "This is strange," said he; "want of sleep must have dimmed my eyes, or clouded my brain. Perhaps it was my own shadow I have been looking at all this time." A single glance soon convinced him of his error. There projected his, and there appeared the other two, distinct from it, just as plain as before. He turned again, and traced both the figures up to a particular spot on the road; but substance, most certainly there was none visible. He rubbed his eyes and examined the place about him with a scrutiny that convinced him there was not a living person present, from whom the shadows could proceed. The road before and behind him, for a cousiderable distance, was without shrub, hedge, or ditch. Nothing, in short, could be concealed from his observation. Fear now came upon him; his hair stood, and his limbs shook. "God protect me," said he, "this is nothing natural. I will proceed to the station house as fast as I can." On resuming his journey at a rapid walk, he observed that his shadowy companions were determined not to lose him. Hitherto they had kept at the same distance from him, quickening or slackening their pace according as he himself did; but now he saw that they approached him more nearly than before. His fear was then terrible, though far from being at its height, for, as he kept his eye upon them, he perceived the taller and more robust of the two using angry gestures that betokened an intention to injure him. The slender shadow, on the other hand, pushed her back, and attempted by interposing to divert her from her purpose. Walker stood; his strength was gone; to proceed was therefore impossible. A struggle that was enough to turn his heart into jelly, took place between them. The fury of the more robust appeared to be boundless; gleamy fire, barely perceptible. flashed from her eyes, and her breath, he thought, passed from her mouth like something between flame and smoke. sons and features of both assumed a very remarkable distinctness; and by a flash of recollection he recognized their colourless features, although he could not tell how, as those of the unfortunate but beautiful sisters whose unhappy history the reader has perused. No human passion, no instance of mor The per tal resentment, could parallel the rage and thirst of vengeance that appeared to burn in the breast of the elder sister, nor could anything human, on the other hand, approach in beauty the calm, but melancholy energy with which the younger attempted to protect the man who was the object of her sister's hate. The struggles of the one were fearful, intense, and satanic ; those of the other firm, soothing, and sorrowful. The malignant shadow frequently twisted the latter about like a slender willow, and after having removed her from between herself and the object of her revenge, rushed towards him, as if she possessed the strength of a tempest; but before she could reach his person, there was the benign being again calmly and meekly before her. For twenty minutes this supernatural contest lasted, during which Walker observed that the distance between himself and them was becoming gradually shorter. Nevertheless, he could not stir, no more than if he had been rooted into the earth. It was now that for the first time he felt as if he were actually withered by a shriek of rage and disappointment that burst from the shadow of the murderess. She stood still, as if rendered for a moment impotent by the terrific force of her own resentment, and while standing, her hands clenched, and her arms raised, she poured forth shriek after shriek, so wild and keen, that the waters of the canal curled beneath the thin ice, by their power. These shrieks were rendered, if possible, more horrible by the echoes which gave them back as thickly as she uttered them, with that exaggerating character, too, which softens sweet sounds, and deepens those which are unpleasant. It appeared to Walker, as if there had been at that minute the shadow of a murderess shrieking on every hill and in every valley about him. While the elder was thus fixed by her own fury, the younger knelt down, and, looking at Walker, pointed to the sky. He considered this grew still more feeble, till at length they altogether ceased. The gracions form, however, even then stood between her and him. The rage of the other appeared to have taken the character of anguish, for with a look that indicated torture, she gazed on him, placed her hand on her heart, and exclaimed : “I burn, I burn!” Having uttered these words, she melted from his sight, but although he could not any longer see her airy outlines, he could hear a melancholy wail streaming across the fields, and becom ing fainter and fainter, until it mingled with, and was lost, in silence. The benign being then looked upon him with an expression so mild and happy, that he felt both his strength and confidence return. She pointed again towards heaven, and said :— "Be merciful. There was pardon on earth for my sister, but you refused to seek it on her behalf. She died without repentance, for she despaired. Time would have brought her repent. ance, and hope would have brought her to God. Be merciful." Walker could not reply, and on looking about him, he found she had disappeared, and that he was alone. With feeble steps and a beating heart he proceeded towards the station-house, entertaining rather strong suspicions that he was scarcely safe even with his own shadow. On his arrival, the first thing he called for was a tumbler of punch, which he swallowed at a draught; after this he got another, which went the way of the first; but it was not until he had despatched a third, that he felt himself able to account for the terror which was expressed on his countenance. Even then, he only admitted that he had been attacked on the way by two women, one of whom he said was very near handling him roughly. Now as Walker's courage was known, this version did not gain credit, and according ly an authentic account of the whole affair appeared in the next provincial journal to the following effect: "On Thursday night last, about the hour of four o'clock in the morning, as Mr. Walker of was proceeding on his way to meet the canal packet, he was attacked by two fellows dressed in female apparel, who robbed, stripped, and then threw him, after a sound threshing, into the canal, from which he got out only because he was an expert swimmer. They left him, it is true, an old frieze jock, and a pair of indifferent trowsers, dressed in which he reached the station house in a very draggled, disconsolate, and ludicrous condition. The police, we are happy to say, have a sharp look out for these viragos." Now, Sadducees, perhaps you will not believe this story. If you don't, I can tell you there is one who does, and that is myself. I had it from Walker's son, who is a good Methodist, and when a Methodist tells a ghost story, I don't know by what logic a man can refuse to believe him. The man is always sincere on such occasions, and sincerity is a virtue which we ought all to encourage. A SUMMER STORM. 'Tis calm-some clouds hang low about the west, Large drops fall slow-a flash-again—a third— Now, hurrying close upon the hissing flash, A ray! behold, the glorious God of Light And, peaceful, hides his radiant head at last. ADVENA. ODE ON THE DEFEAT OF KING SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL, AND HIS ARMY, IN AFRICA. TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH OF HERRERA, BY MRS. HEMANS. FERDINAND DE HERRERA, surnamed the Divine, was a Spanish Poet, who lived in the reign of Charles V., and is still considered by the Castilians as one of their classic writers. He aimed at the introduction of a new style into Spanish Poetry, and his lyrics are distinguished by the sustained majesty of their language, the frequent recurrence of expressions and images, derived apparently from a fervent study of the prophetic books of Scripture, and the lofty tone of national pride maintained throughout, and justified indeed by the nature of the subjects to which some of these productions are devoted. This last characteristic is blended with a deep and enthusiastic feeling of religion, which rather exalts, than tempers, the haughty confidence of the poet in the high destinies of his country. Spain is to him, what Judea was to the bards who sung beneath the shadow of her palm trees; the chosen and favoured land, whose people, severed from all others by the purity and devotedness of their faith, are peculiarly called upon to wreak the vengeance of heaven upon the infidel. This triumphant conviction is powerfully expressed in his magnificent Ode on the Battle of Lepanto. The impresssion of deep solemnity left upon the mind of the Spanish reader, by another of Herrera's lyric compositions, will, it is feared, be very inadequately conveyed through the medium of the following translation. "Voz de dolor, y canto de gemido," &c. A voice of woe, a murmur of lament, She who hath seen her power, her fame expire, With grief and horror every realm o'ershade, To the far sea, in other hues arrayed, And the red limits of the Orient's reign, Whose nations, haughty though subdued, behold Christ's glorious banner to the winds unfold. Alas! for those that in embattled power, Elate in lofty dreams of victory, trod And Israel's Holy One withdrew his hand, Their sole support ;-and heavily and prone They fell-the car, the steed, the rider, all o'erthrown! It came, the hour of wrath, the hour of woe, Bursting upon the mighty and the proud Their crests the Eternal in his anger bowed, Then was the sword let loose, the flaming sword Defaced and trampled down; And scattered, rushing as a torrent flood, Are these the conquerors, these the lords of fight, Whose spoils were empires?-They that in their might Making the cities of imperial name Even as the desart place? Where now the fearless heart, the soul of flame? Once were they, in their splendour and their pride, Of the great Lebanon! It rose, arrayed Fostering its beauty. Birds found shelter there Were shadowed o'er. Supreme it stood, and ne'er |