as it were receding in the distance, it gently sank into silence. The young novice was then raised, and advancing towards the priest, she bent down, kneeling at his feet, while he cut a lock of her hair, as a type of the ceremony that was to deprive her of this, to her no longer valued ornament. Her attendant then despoiled her of the rich jewels with which she was adorned; her splendid upper vesture was thrown off, and replaced by a monastic garment; her long tresses bound up, her temples covered with fair linen; the white crown, emblem of innocence, fixed on her head, and the crucifix placed in her hands.

Then kneeling low once more before the altar, she uttered her last vow to Heaven; at which moment the organ and choristers burst forth in loud shouts of triumph, and in the same instant the cannon from °St. Angelo gave notice that her solemn vows were registered.

The ceremony finished, she arose, and, attended in procession, proceeded towards a wide iron gate, dividing the church from the monastery, which, opening wide, displayed a small chapel beautifully illuminated; a thousand lights shed a brilliant lustre, whose lengthened gleams seemed sinking into darkness, as they shot through the long perspective of the distant aisle. In the foreground, in a blazing focus of light, stood an altar, from which in a divided line, the nuns of the community were seen, each holding a large burning wax taper. They seemed to be disposed in order of seniority, and the two youngest were still adorned by the white crown, as being in the first week of their noviciate.

Both seemed in early youth, and their cheeks yet unpaled by monastic vigils, bloomed with a brightened tint, while their eyes sparkled, and a smile seemed struggling with the solemnity of the moment, in expression of their innocent delight in beholding the approach of her who had that day offered up her vows, and become one of the community.

The others stood in succession, with looks more subdued, pale, mild, collected, the head gently bending toward the earth in contemplation. The procession stopped at the threshold of the church, when the young nun was received and embraced by the Lady Abbess, who, leading her onwards, was followed in procession by the nuns, cach bearing her lighted torch.

It might be the brilliant light shed on the surrounding objects, or the momentary charm lent by enthusiasm, that dangerous spirit of the mind deceiving the eye and the heart, which gave to these fair beings a fascination more than real; but such were my feelings, so fixed my attention, that when their forms faded from my view, when the gate was closed, and I turned again towards the busy throng and crowded street, I felt a heaviness of heart, even to pain, weigh upon JOHN BELL.

me.

CLII. JUGURTHA IN PRISON.

WELL-is the rack prepared-the pincers heated?
Where is the scourge? How-not employed in Rome?
We have them in °Numidia. Not in Rome?
I'm sorry for it; I could enjoy it now;

I might have felt them yesterday; but now,-
Now I have seen my funeral procession;

The chariot-wheels of "Marius have rolled o'er me:
His horses' hoofs have trampled me in triumph-

I have attained that terrible consummation
My soul could stand aloof, and from on high
Look down upon the ruins of my body
Smiling in apathy; I feel no longer;
I challenge Rome to give another pang.

Oh! how he smiled, when he beheld me pause
Before his car, and scowl upon the mob;
The curse of Rome was burning on my lips,
And I had gnawed my chain, and hurled it at them,
But that I knew he would have smiled again.
A king! and led before the gaudy Marius,
Before those shouting masters of the world,
As if I had been conquered: while each street,
Each peopled wall, and each insulting window,
Pealed forth their brawling triumphs o'er my head.

Oh! for a lion from thy woods, Numidia!—
Or had I, in that moment of disgrace,
Enjoyed the freedom but of yonder slave,
I would have made my monument-in Rome.
Yet am I not that fool, that Roman fool,
To think disgrace entombs the hero's soul,-
For ever damps his fires, and dims his glories;
That no bright laurel can adorn the brow
That once has bowed; no victory's trumpet-sound
Can drown in joy the rattling of his chains?

Look here, thou caitiff, if thou canst, and see
The fragments of Jugurtha; view him wrapt
In the last shred he borrowed from Numidia;
'Tis covered with the dust of Rome; behold
His rooted gaze upon the chains he wears,
And on the channels they have wrought upon him;
Then look around upon his dungeon walls,

And view yon scanty mat, on which his frame
He flings, and rushes from his thoughts to sleep.
Sleep!

I'll sleep no more, until I sleep for ever:
When I slept last I heard Adherbal scream.
I'll sleep no more! I'll think until I die:
My eyes shall pore upon my miseries,
Until my miseries shall be no more.

REV. GEORGE "CROLY.

CLIII.-POCAHONTAS.

THE residence of Powhatan was situated on the north side of York River, in Gloucester county, Virginia, about twenty-five miles below the fork of the river. It was at that time Powhatan's principal place of residence, though afterwards, not being pleased with its proximity to the English, he removed to Orapax. Upon Sinith's arrival in the village, he was detained until the Indian emperor and his court could make suitable preparations to receive their captain in proper state. In the meanwhile more than two hundred of his "grim courtiers" came to gaze at him, as if he had been a monster.

Powhatan, who was at that time about sixty years old, is described as having been, in outward appearance, "every inch a king." His figure was noble, his stature majestic, and his countenance full of the severity and haughtiness of a ruler, whose will was supreme, and whose nod was law. He received Captain Smith with imposing though rude ceremony.

He was seated on a kind of throne, elevated above the floor of a large hut, in the midst of which was a fire. He was clothed with a robe of raccoon skins. Two young women, his daughters, sat, one on his right and the other on his left; and on each side of the hut there were two rows of men in front, and the same number of women behind. These all had their heads and shoulders painted red. Many had their hair ornamented with the white down of birds. Some had chains of white beads around their necks, and all had more or less of ornament.

When Smith was brought home, they all set up a great shout. Soon after his entrance, a female of rank was directed to bring him water to wash his hands, and another brought a bunch of feathers, instead of a towel, to dry them with. They then feasted him in the best manner they could, and held a long and solemn consultation to determine his fate. The decision was against him.

Two large stones were brought in and placed before Powhatan,

and Smith was dragged up to them, and his head was placed upon them, that his brains might be beaten out with clubs. The fatăl weapons were already raised, and the stern executioners looked for the signal which should bid them descend upon the victim's defenceless head. But the protecting shield of Divine Providence was over him, and the arm of violence was arrested.

Pocahontas, the king's favorite daughter,-at that time a child of twelve or thirteen years of age,-finding that her piteous entreaties to save the life of Smith were unavailing, rushed forward, clasped his head in her arms, and laid her own upon it, determined either to save his life, or share his fate. Her generous and heroic conduct touched her father's iron heart, and the life of the captive was spared, to be employed in making hatchets for himself, and bells and beads for his daughters.

The account of this beautiful and most touching scene, familiar as it is to every one, can hardly be read with unmoistened eyes. The incident is so dramatic and startling, that it seems to preserve the freshness of novelty amidst a thousand repetitions. It could almost as reasonably have been expected that an angel should come down from heaven and rescue the captive, as that his deliverer should spring from the bosom of Powhatan's family.

The universal sympathies of mankind, and the best feelings of the human heart, have redeemed this scene from the obscurity which in the progress of time, gathers over all but the most important events. It has pointed a thousand morals and adorned a thousand tales. Innumerable bosoms have throbbed, and are yet to throb, with generous admiration for this daughter of a people whom we have been too ready to underrate. Did we know nothing of her but what is related of her in this incident, she would deserve the eternal gratitude of the inhabitants of this country; for the fate of the colony may be said to have hung upon the arms of Smith's executioners. He was its life and soul, and without the magic influence of his personal qualities, it would have abandoned in despair the project of permanently settling the country, and sailed to England by the first opportunity.

The generosity of Powhatan was not content with merely sparing his prisoner's life. He detained him but two days longer. At the end of that time, he conducted him to a large house in the woods, and there left him alone upon a mat by the fire. In a short time, from behind another mat that divided the house, was made the most doleful noise he ever heard; then Powhatan with some tro hundred more as black as himself, came in and told him they were now friends, and that he should return to Jamestown; and that if he would send him two pieces of cannon and a grindstone, he would give him the country of Capahowsic, and esteem him as his own

son.

He was faithful to his word, and dispatched him immediately with twelve guides. That night they quartered in the woods; and during the whole journey Captain Smith expected, every moment, to be put to death notwithstanding Powhatan's fair words. But, as the narrative of his adventures has it, "Almighty God, by his divine providence, had mollified the hearts of those stern barbarians with compassion."

Smith reached Jamestown in safety, after an absence of seven weeks, and treated his savage guides with great hospitality and kindness. He showed them two °demi-culverins and a millstone, which they proposed to carry to Powhatan, but found them too heavy. He ordered the culverins to be loaded with stones and discharged among the boughs of a tree covered with icicles, in order to magnify to them the effect of these formidable engines.

When they heard the report, and saw the ice and the branches come rattling down, they were greatly terrified. A few trinkets restored their confidence, and they were dismissed with a variety of presents for Powhatan and his family. The generous conduct of Powhatan, in restoring a prisoner who had given such fatal proofs of courage and prowess, is worthy of the highest admiration. There is hardly anything in history that can afford a parallel to it.

He was stimulated to take the prisoner's life, not only by revenge, a passion strongest in savage breasts, but by policy, and that regard to his own interest, which Christian and civilized monarchs feel justified in observing. He seems to have acted from some religious feeling, regarding Smith either as a supernatural being, or as under the special protection of a higher power. How far this may have actuated him, or how far he may have been actuated by affection for his daughter, it is impossible to say; but, supposing both to havo operated, we only elevate his conduct by elevating his motives. REV. JARED Sparks.

CLIV. THE VOICE OF YEARS.

Ir floated by, on the passing breeze,

The voice of years:

It breathed o'er ocean, it wandered through earth,
It spoke of the time when worlds had birth,
When the spirit of God moved over the sea,
When earth was only a thing-to be.

And it sighed, as it passed on that passing breeze,

The voice of years.