the infection of the dead bodies produced an epidemical disease. After seventy thousand Moslems had been put to the sword, and the harmless Jews had been burnt in their synagogue, they could still reserve a multitude of captives, whom interest or lassitude persuaded them to spare. Of these savage heroes of the Cross, Tancred alone betrayed some sentiments of compassion; yet we may praise the more selfish lenity of Raymond, who granted a capitulation and safe conduct to the garrison of the citadel.

The holy sepulchre was now free; and the bloody victors prepared to accomplish their vow. Bareheaded and barefoot, with contrite hearts, and in an humble posture, they ascended the hill of Calvary amidst the loud anthems of the clergy; kissed the stone which had covered the Saviour of the world, and bedewed with tears of joy and penitence the monument of their redemption.

STORY OF LA ROCHE.-MACKENZIE.*

MORE than forty years ago, an English philosopher, whose works have since been read and admired by all Europe, resided at a little town in France. Some disappointments in his native country had first driven him abroad, and he was afterwards induced to remain

* Author of "The Man of Feeling." The character of the philosopher in this fine story was intended for Hume: I have therefore supplied the blank (originally left,) with his name, for the greater convenience of the reader. The tale appeared in "The Mirror," 1780.

there, from having found, in this retreat, where the connexions even of nation and language were avoided, a perfect seclusion and retirement, highly favorable to the developement of abstract subjects, in which he excelled all the writers of his time.

Perhaps in the structure of such a mind as Mr. Hume's, the finer and more delicate sensibilities are seldom known to have place; or, if originally implanted there, are in a great measure extinguished by the exertions of intense study and profound investigation. Hence the idea of philosophy and unfeelingness being united, has become proverbial, and, in common language, the former word is often used to express the latter. Our philosopher has been censured by some as deficient in warmth and feeling: but the mildness of his manners has been allowed by all; and it is certain that, if he was not easily melted to compassion, it was at least not difficult to awaken his benevolence.

One morning, while he sat busied in those speculations which afterwards astonished the world, an old female domestic, who served him for a housekeeper, brought him word that an elderly gentleman and his daughter had arrived in the village the preceding evening, on their way to some distant country, and that the father had been suddenly seized in the night with a dangerous disorder, which the people of the inn where they lodged feared would prove mortal; that she had been sent for as having some knowledge in medicine, the village surgeon being then absent; and that it was truly piteous to see the good old man,

who seemed not so much afflicted by his own distress as that which it caused to his daughter. Her master laid aside the volume in his hand, and broke off the chain of ideas it had inspired. His night gown* was exchanged for a coat, and he followed his gouvernante to the sick man's apartment.

"Twas the best in the little inn where they lay, but a paltry one, notwithstanding. Mr. Hume was obliged to stoop as he entered it. It was floored with earth, and above were the joists not plastered, and hung with cobwebs. On a flock-bed, at one end, lay the old man he came to visit; at the foot of it, sat his daughter. She was dressed in a clean white bedgown; her dark locks hung loosely over it as she bent forward, watching the languid looks of her faMr. Hume and his housekeeper had stood some moments in the room, without the young lady's being sensible of their entering it.

"Mademoiselle!" said the old woman at last, in a soft tone. She turned, and showed one of the finest faces in the world. It was touched, not spoiled, with sorrow; and when she perceived a stranger, whom the old woman now introduced to her, a blush at first, and then the gentle ceremonial of native politeness, which the affliction of the time tempered, but did not extinguish, crossed it for a moment and changed its expression. 'Twas sweetness, all, however, and our philosopher felt it strongly. was not a time

It

* What we, at this day, call a morning-gown, was in the eighteenth century called a night-gown.

for words; he offered his services in a few sincere

ones.

"Monsieur lies miserably ill here," said the gouvernante; "if he could possibly be moved anywhere." "If he could be moved to our house," said the master. He had a spare bed for a friend, and there was a garret-room unoccupied, next to the gouvernante's. It was contrived accordingly. The scruples of the stranger, who could look scruples though he could not speak them, were overcome, and the bashful reluctance of his daughter gave way to her belief of its use to her father. The sick man was wrapt in blankets and carried across the streets to the English gentleman's. The old woman helped his daughter to nurse him there. The surgeon, who arrived soon after, prescribed a little, and nature did much for him; in a week he was able to thank his benefactor.

By this time, his host had learned the name and character of his guest. He was a Protestant clergyman of Switzerland, called La Roche, a widower, who had lately buried his wife after a long and lingering illness, for which travelling had been prescribed ; and was now returning home, after an ineffectual and melancholy journey, with his only child, the daughter we have mentioned.

He was a devout man, as became his profession. He possessed devotion with all its warmth, but none of its asperity; I mean that asperity which men, called devout, sometimes indulge in. Mr. Hume, though he felt no devotion, never quarrelled with it in others. His gouvernante joined the old man and his daughter

in the prayers and thanksgivings which they put up on his recovery; for she, too, was a heretic, in the phrase of the village. The philosopher walked out with his long staff and his dog, and left them to their prayers and their thanksgivings.

"My master," said the old woman, "alas! he is not a Christian, but he is the best of unbelievers."

"Not a Christian !" exclaimed Mademoiselle La Roche; "yet he saved my father! Heaven bless him for it! I would he were a Christian !"

"There is a pride in human knowledge, my child," said her father, "which often blinds men to the sublime truths of revelation; hence, opposers of Christianity are found among men of virtuous lives, as well as among those of dissipated and licentious characters. Nay, sometimes I have known the latter more easily converted to the true faith than the former, because the fume of passion is more easily dissipated than the mist of false theory and delusive speculation."

"But Mr. Hume," said his daughter; "alas! my father, he shall be a Christian before he dies."

She was interrupted by the arrival of their landlord. He took her hand with an air of kindness; she drew it away from him in silence, threw down her eyes to the ground and left the room.

"I have been thanking God," said the good La Roche, "for my recovery."

"That is right,” replied his landlord.

"I would not wish," continued the old man hesitatingly, "to think otherwise. Did I not look up with gratitude to that Being, I should barely be satisfied