THE PARSEES IN BOMBAY.-SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY IN CAMELS. 183 "Especially for this man." He then asked each of the witnesses whether they understood him. Dr. Joseph Parish explained to them, what Mr. Randolph had said in regard to the laws of Virginia, on the subject of manumission-and then appealed to the dying man to know whether he had stated it correctly. "Yes," said he, and gracefully waving his hand as a token of dismission, he added, "The young gentlemen will remain with me." The scene was now soon changed. Having disposed of that subject most deeply impressed on his heart, his keen penetrating eye lost its expression, his powerful mind gave way, and his fading imagination began to wander amidst scenes and with friends that he had left behind. In two hours the spirit took its flight, and all that was mortal of John Randolph of Roanoke was hushed in death. At a quarter before 12 o'clock, on the 24th day of June, 1833, aged sixty years, he breathed his last, in a chamber of the City Hotel, No. 41 North Third st., Philadelphia. His remains were taken to Virginia, and buried at Roanoke, not far from the mansion in which he lived, and in the midst of that "boundless contiguity of shade," where he spent so many hours of anguish and of solitude. He sleeps quietly now; the squirrel may gambol in the boughs above, the partridge may whistle in the long grass that waves over that solitary grave, and none shall disturb or make them afraid. THE PARSEES IN BOMBAY. THESE followers of Zoroaster are numerous in Bombay. The following account of them is contained in a letter of Mr. Hume, a missionary of the American Board laboring in India. religious principle. They pride themselves on being Parsees, and they are ready to defend Parseeism, whatever it may be. Among them are found the bitterest opponents to Christianity, who are familiar with the principal writings of opposers, and who manifest no little zeal in disseminating their infidel views. Much use is made of the press for this purpose. One infidel work of considerable size, prepared by a Parsee, has been printed in English, and a variety of similar productions have been published in Gujarathe. One monthly Gujarathe periodical is sustained, with the avowed purpose of refuting and exposing Christianity, and defending the religion of Zoroaster. The pages of this are in a good degree filled from the works of infidel authors. Many of these infidel objections to Christianity apply with peculiar force to Zoroasterism, and infidelity in regard to all religions is doubtless gaining ground among the Parsees. And this is not wonderful, considering how little has been done to make known the truth among them. SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY IN CAMELS. THE camels with which I traversed this part of the desert were very different in their way and habits from those which you get on a frequented route. They were never led. There was not the slightest sign of a track on this part of the desert, but the camels never failed to choose the right line. By the direction taken at starting, they knew, I suppose, the point (some encampment) for which they were to make. There is always a leading camel, (generally, I believe, the eldest,) that marches foremost, and determines the path for the whole party. If it happens that no one of the camels has been accustomed to lead the others, there is very great difficulty in making a start. If you force your beast forward for a moment, he will contrive to wheel, and draw back, at the same time looking at one of the other camels with an expression and gesture exactly equivalent to apres vous.' The responsibility of finding the way is evidently assumed very unwillingly. After sometime, however, it becomes un The Parsees are a remarkable people. According to the recent census they number 114,000. But the general conviction is that, in some way there has been a mistake in this item, and that their real number is consider ably less. They are less numerous than some other sections of the community, but they yield in energy and influence to none. They are more ready than any other class to adopt European customs and opinions; and not a few of them speak and write the Eng-derstood that one of the beasts has reluctantly lish language with facility. They have several fine temples in Bombay, and at the time of sunrise and sunset, they may be seen reading and repeating their prayers, and addressing their worship to the sun and to the sea. But they are much less a religious people than the Hindoos. They are indeed zealous for their religion, but are most ignorant of what it really is; and their zeal apparently arises rather from a sectional, national feeling, than from their being imbued with any consented to take the lead, and he accordingly advances for the purpose. For a minute or two he gets on with much indecision, taking first one line and then another, but soon, by the aid of some mysterious sense, he discovers the true direction, and follows it steadily from morning to night. When once the leadership is established, you cannot by any persuasion, and can scarcely by any force, induce a junior camel to walk one single step in advance of the chosen guide. Traces of Travels. [From Miss McIntosh's "Christmas Gift."] THE WOLF CHASE. BY C. WHITEHEAD. DURING the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern part of Maine, I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports of a new country. To none of them was I more passionately addicted than to skating. The deep and sequestered lakes of this State, frozen by the intense cold of the northern winter, presents a wide field to the lover of this pastime. Often would 1 bind on my skates, and glide away on the glittering river, and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed beneath its fetters on toward the parent ocean, forgetting all the while time and distance in the luxurious sense of the easy flight, but rather dreaming, as I looked through the transparent ice at the long weeds and cresses that nodded in the current beneath, and seemed with the waves to let them go; or I would follow on the track of some otter, and run my skate along the mark he had left with his dragging tail until the trail would enter the woods. Sometimes these excursions were made by moonlight, and it was on one of those occasions that I had a rencontre which, even now, with kind faces around me, I cannot recall without a nervous feeling. I had left my friend's house one evening just before dusk, with the intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebec, which glides directly before the door. The night was beautifully clear. A peerless moon rode through an occasionally fleecy cloud, and stars twinkled from the sky and from every frost covered tree in millions. You wonder at the light that came glittering from the ice, and snow-wreathed and encrusted branches, as the eyes followed for miles the broad gleam of the Kennebec, that like a jewelled zone swept between the mighty forests on its banks. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to have frozen trees, and air, and water, and every thing moved. Even the ringing of my skates on the ice echoed back from the Mocasin Hill with a startling clearness, and the crackle of the ice as I passed over it in my course seemed to follow the tide of the river with lightning speed. I had gone up the river nearly two miles, when, coming to a little stream which empties into the larger, I turned in to explore its course. Fir and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an archway radiant with frost work. All was dark within, but I was young and fearless, and as I peered into an unbroken forest that reared itself on the borders of the stream, I laughed with very joyousness, my wild hurrah rang through the silent woods, and I stood listen ing to the echo that reverberated again and again until all was hushed. I thought how often the Indian hunter had concealed himself behind these very trees-how often his arrow had pierced the deer by this very stream, and his wild halloo had here rung for his victory. And then, turning from fancy to reality, I watched a couple of white owls, that sat in their hooded state, with ruffled pantalets and long_ear tabs, debating in silent conclave the affairs of their frozen realm, and wondering if they," for all their feathers, were cold," when suddenly a sound aroseit seemed to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and tremulous at first until it ended in one wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had such a noise met my ears. I thought it mortal-so fierce, and amid such an unbroken solitude, it seemed as if a fiend had blown a blast from an infernal trumpet. Presently I heard the twigs on shore snap, as if from the tread of some animal, and the blood rushed back to my forehead with a bound that made my skin burn, and I felt relieved that I had to contend with things earthly, and not of a spiritual nature-my energies returned, and I looked around me for some means of escape. The moon shone through the opening of the mouth of the creek by which I had entered the forest, and considering this the best means of escape, I darted towards it like an arrow. "Twas hardly a hundred yards distant, and the swallow could scarcely excel my desperate flight; yet, as I turned my head to the shore, I could see two dark objects dashing through the underbrush at a pace nearly double speed to my own. By their great speed, and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I knew at once that these were the much dreaded gray wolf. I had never met with these animals, but from the description given of them I had but little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their untameable fierceness, and the untiring strength, which seems part of their nature, rendered them objects of dread to every benighted traveller. "With their long gallop which can tire they pursue their prey-never stray from the track of their victim-and as the wearied hunter thinks he has at last outstripped them, he finds that they but waited for the evening to seize their prey, and falls a prize to the tireless animals. The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of lighting as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The outlet was nearly gained; one second more and I would be comparatively safe, when my pursuers appeared on the bank directly above me, which here rose to the height of ten feet. There was no time for thought, so I bent my head and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang, but miscalculating my speed, sprang behind, while their intended prey glided out upon the river. Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun from the iron of my skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their fierce howl told me I was their fugitive. I did not feel afraid, or sorry, or glad; one thought of home, of the bright faces awaiting my return, of their tears if they should never see me; and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I spent on my good skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only means of safety. Every half minute an alternate yelp from my fierce attendants made me but too certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and nearer they came-I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer still, until I could feel their breath and hear their snuffing scent. Every nerve and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension. The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary motion on my part turned me out of my course. The wolves close behind unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths; their dark, shaggy breasts were fleeced with foam, and as they passed me their eyes glared, and they howled with fury. The thought dashed on my mind that by this means I could avoid them, viz:-by turning aside whenever they came too near; for they, by the formation of their feet, are unable to run on ice except in a straight line. I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves having regained their feet, sprang directly towards me. The race was renewed for twenty yards up the stream; they were already close to my back, when I glided round and dashed directly past my pursuers. A fierce yell greeted my evolutions, and the wolves, slipping upon their haunches, sailed onward, presenting a perfect picture of helpless and baffled rage. Thus I gained nearly a hundred yards at each turning. This was repeated two or three times, every moment the animals getting more excited and baffled. At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my fierce antagonists came so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress, as they sprang to seize me, and their teeth clashed together like the springs of a fox trap. Had my skates failed for one instant; had I tripped on a stick, or caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now telling would never have been told. I thought all the chances over; I knew where they would first take hold of me if I fell; I thought how long it would be before I died, and when there would be a search for the body that would already have its tomb; for, oh! how fast man's mind traces out all the dread colors of death's picture, only those who have been near the grim original can tell. THEY SAY THAT THOU ART POOR. But what is wealth to noble minds, Or riches to the heart? No! vain your boasted treasure, The LOVE bestowed by heaven! And so I know thou art; Ask ye the proudest minion We'll rove beside the brook at eve, To woods and winds prolong; Could Lydian Croesus, dearest, I know that thou art poor, Louise; But not the hoards of ocean's caves Our poverty could buy ; The treasures of a priceless love, Then at this hour divine, love, Let thy true vows and mine, love, [From Chambers' Journal.] CONVERSATIONAL POWERS OF GREAT MEN. was rather mute in society on some occasions, but when he began to be company, he was full of vivacity, and went on in a noble strain of thought and language so as to chain the attention of every one to him.' Goldsmith, THE late William Hazlitt, a man gifted on the contrary, as described by his contemwith great powers of observation and expres-porary writers, appeared in company to have sion, was of opinion that actors and authors no spark of that genius which shone forth so were not fitted, generally speaking, to shine brightly in his works. His address was awkin conversation. Authors ought to be read, ward, his manner uncouth, his language unand not heard;' and as to actors, they could polished: he hesitated in speaking, and was not speak tragedies in the drawing room, always unhappy if the conversation did not and their wit was likely to be comedy and turn upon himself. Dr. Johnson spoke of farce at a second-hand. The biography of him as an inspired idiot; yet the great essay. men of letters in a great measure confirms ist, though delivering oracles to those around this opinion some of the greatest names in him in pompous phrases, which have been English and French literature, men who happily described as spoken in the Johnsonese have filled books with an eloquence and truth tongue, was not entitled to be called a good that defy oblivion, were mere mutes before converser. Nearer to our own time we have their fellow-men. They had golden ingots, had many authors whose faculty told twice. which, in the privacy of home, they would Sheridan and Theodore Hook were fellows convert into coin bearing an impress that of infinite jest; they could set a table in a would insure universal currency; but they roar,' and fill pages with pathos and wit of could not, on the spur of the moment, pro- such a quality, that it makes their survivors duce the farthings current in the market- think "we could have better spared better place. Descartes, the famous mathematician men.' Burns was famous for his colloquial and philosopher; La-Fontaine, celebrated for powers; and Galt is reported to have been as his witty fables; and Buffon, the great natu- skilful as the storytellers of the East in fixing ralist, were all singularly deficient in the the attention of his auditors on his prolonged powers of conversation. Marmontel, the nov- narrations. Coleridge was in the habit of elist, was so dull in society, that his friend pouring forth brilliant unbroken monologues said to himself, after an interview, 'I must go of two or three hours' duration, to listeners and read his tales, to recompense myself for so enchanted that, like Adam, whose ears the weariness of hearing him.' As to Cor- were filled with the eloquence of an archneille, the greatest dramatist of France, he angel, they forgot all place-all seasons and was completely lost in society-so absent and their change;' but this was not conversation, embarrassed, that he wrote of himself a witty and few might venture to emulate that 'old couplet, importing that he was never intelli- man eloquent' with hopes of equal success. gible but through the mouth of another. Wit Washington Irving, in the account he has on paper seems to be something widely dif- given of his visit to Abbotsford, says of Sir ferent from that play of words in conversation Walter Scott, that his conversation was frank, which while it sparkles, dies; for Charles II., hearty, picturesque, and dramatic. He never the wittiest monarch that ever sat on the talked for effect or display, but from the flow English throne, was so charmed with the of his spirits, the stores of his memory, and humor of Hudibras,' that he caused himself the vigor of his imagination. He was as to be introduced, in the character of a private good a listener as a talker; appreciated every gentleman, to Butler, its author.' The witty thing that others said, however humble might king found the author a very dull companion: be their rank and pretensions, and was quick and was of opinion, with many others, that so to testify his perception of any point in their stupid a fellow could never have written so discourse. No one's concerns, no one's clever a book. Addison, whose classic ele- thoughts and opinions, no one's taste's and gance of style has long been considered the pleasures, seemed beneath him. He made best model for young writers, was shy and himself so thoroughly the companion of those absent in society, preserving, even before a with whom he happened to be, that they forsingle stranger, a stiff and dignified silence. got, for a time, his vast superiority, and only He was accustomed to say that there could recollected and wondered, when all was over, be no real conversation but between two per- that it was Scott with whom they had been sons, friends-and that it was then thinking on such familiar terms, in whose society they aloud. Steel, Swift, Pope, and Congreve, had felt so perfectly at ease. men possessing literary and conversational powers of the highest order, allowed him to have been a delightful companion amongst intimates; and Young writes of him, that he NEVER lose an opportunity of seeing any thing beautiful. Beauty, in God's handwriting, is a way-side sacrament. [From the Yankee Blade.] A STORY OF LOVE AND TREACHERY. THE following circumstances, which have come to our knowledge in the most reliable manner, some of which indeed, fell under our own observation, illustrate the truth that the way of the transgressor is hard, and that our Heavenly Father watches over and protects the weak and friendless : About the first of September last, a young man in this city formed an acquaintance with an amiable, confiding, and affectionate girl, about twenty-one years of age, and by a series of attentions commenced at that time, won completely her heart. She was depend ent upon her own labor for support, and as her health was far from robust, the prospect of gaining a home, and her love for her wooer, induced her to consent to marry him at some convenient season. He was a clerk in an establishment in the city, and represented to her that he possessed a snug farm in a neighboring State, and that he had sisters residing a few miles from the city. He was desirous that their marriage should be consummated at Thanksgiving, or at New Year's, but she postponed that anticipated event until Spring. He subsequently gained her consent to accompany him on a sleighing excursion to his sister's house, who resided, as he said, about fourteen miles from Boston, and with whom they were to remain two days. The fond girl was making preparations for the New Year's ride, anticipating much pleasure from it, but, a few days previous to the beginning of the year, her suitor was taken ill, his disease assumed a dangerous type-indeed he was attacked by a complication of dangerous diseases which soon brought him face to face with the king of terrors. The girl flew to his bedside to minister to his wants, but, strange to say, her presence seemed obnoxious to him. When she attempted to wipe the moisture from his brow, which was assuming the ashen hue which tells of coming dissolution, he repulsed her with strange words which almost broke her heart, and which were received by the kind family with whom he was, as tokens of mental derangement. His physicians averred that something preyed upon his mind, producing an agitation which was hastening his end. The lady of the house, on coming into the room in the afternoon, to make arrangements for having him removed to another apartment, surprised him in the act of reading a letter, which he immediately thrust out of sight. While busying herself about the apartment she saw him attempting to throw the letter into the grate, but he was too weak to accomplish his purpose, and upon observing her, he thrust it into his bosom. Her suspicions that all was not right being aroused, she resolved that he should have no opportunity to burn the letter unobserved. He seemed to be overwhelmed by mental agony. Once after this, he called the deif to make some revelation, but waved her voted girl, his betrothed, to his bedside, as back immediately, and in a few minutes was dead. The letter in his bosom was drawn forth, and proved to have been written by a loving wife, who in it reproached him gently for his long silence, expressed her fears that he was sick-imploring him, if such was the fact, to send her word, and she would fly to him on the wings of love and tend him with her own hands. It appeared his true name was not the one which he had assumed in Boston, that he had no sisters near the city, that he owned no farm or other property, and the inference from all the circumstances was plain and inevitable, that he had deliberately planned the ruin of the young girl, whose heart he had won, and had deserted a fond wife, who was earning her own support in a neighboring State. Well might he be overwhelmed with mental anguish under such circumstances. Although safe from the reproaches of any mortal tongue, for no one in this city knew his treachery, unless, perhaps, it was the driver who was to carry him on his anticipated sleigh ride-he was in the hands of God and his own conscience. Reader, can you imagine the feelings of that wretched man, with that devoted girl hovering around his bedside, yearning to perform any kind of office for his comfort, to clasp his pain-racked form in her fond embrace, and pour the balm of affection upon his heart-with that letter from his absent wife, containing the evidence of her undying attachment to him who had sworn at the altar to love and cherish her, secreted in his bosom. How that letter must have burned upon his false heart. How every affectionate word in it must have cut him him like a poignard! How every glance of love from her who had flown to his bedside, must have scorched his brain! Could the Arch-Fiend have invented a torture so keen, so exquisite as that he had endured during the last days of his sickness-when he exclaimed in agony, "If I live, all may be right; but, my God! if I die, all, all will be wrong!" The young girl was so overwhelmed by the shock which a perusal of the fatal letter caused, that she was thrown into a brain fever. And little hopes are entertained of her recovery, and we may soon be called on to give the intelligence of her death, as the finale of this sad tragedy. |