again to be restored to the dwelling from which they had so long been banished.

"But it was not so. If the furrows on the old man's face were deep before, when he had to toil from morn ing to night, they seemed to have sunk into more ghastly trenches, now that the goodness of Providence had restored a gentle shelter to his declining years. When seen wandering through his fields at even-tide, he looked not like the Patriarch musing tranquilly on the works and ways of God; and when my eyes met his during divine service, which he now again attended with scrupulous regularity, I sometimes thought they were suddenly averted in conscious guilt; or closed in hypocritical devotion. I scarcely know if I had any suspicions against him in my mind, or not; but his high bald head, thin silver hair, and countenance with its fine features so intelligent, had no longer the same solemn expres sion which they once possessed, and something dark and hidden seemed now to belong to them, which withstood his forced and unnatural smile. The son, who, in the days of their former prosperity, had been stained by no vice, and who, during their harder lot, had kept himself aloof from all his former companions, now became dissolute and profligate, nor did he meet with any reproof from a father whose heart would once have burst asunder at one act of wickedness in his beloved child...

"About three years after the death of his father, the disinherited son return ed to his native parish. He had been a sailor on board various ships on fo reign stations-but hearing by chance of his father's death, he came to claim his inheritance. Having heard on his arrival, that his uncle had succeeded to the property, he came to me and told me, that the night before he left his home, his father stood by his bedside, kissed him, and said, that never more would he own such an undutiful son-but that he forgave him all his sins-at death would not defraud him of the pleasant fields that had so long belonged to his humble ancestors-and hoped to meet reconciled in heaven. My uncle is a villain," said he, fiercely, "and I will cast anchor on the green bank where I played when a boy, even if I must first bring his grey head to the scaffold."

"I accompanied him to the house of his uncle. It was a dreadful visit. The family had just sat down to their frugal midday meal; and the old man, though for some years he could have had little heart to pray, had just lifted up his hand to ask a blessing. Our shadows, as we entered the door, fell upon the table-and turning his eyes, he beheld before him on the floor the man whom he fearfully hoped had been buried in the sea. His face was indeed, at that moment, most unlike that of prayer, but he still held up his lean, shrivelled, trembling hand. "Accursed hypocrite," cried the fierce mariner, “dost thou call down the blessing of God on a meal won basely from the or phan? But, lo! God, whom thou hast blasphemed, has sent me from the distant isles of the ocean, to bring thy white head into the hangman's hands!"

"For a moment all was silent-then a loud stifled gasping was heard, and she whom you saw a little while ago, rose shrieking from her seat, and fell down on her knees at the sailor's feet. The terror of that unforgiven crime, now first revealed to her knowledge, struck her down to the floor. She fixed her bloodless face on his before whom she knelt-but she spoke not a single word. There was a sound in her convulsed throat like the deathrattle. "I forged the will," said the son, advancing towards his cousin with a firm step, my father could not-I alone am guilty-I alone must die.” The wife soon recovered the power of speech, but it was so unlike her usual voice, that I scarcely thought, at first, the sound proceeded from her white quivering lips. "As you hope for mercy at the great judgment day, let the old man make his escape-hush, hush, hush-till in a few days he has sailed away in the hold of some ship to America. You surely will not hang an old grey-headed man of threescore and ten years!"

"The sailor stood silent and frowning. There seemed neither pity nor cruelty in his face; he felt himself injured; and looked resolved to right himself, happen what would. "I say he has forged my father's will. As to escaping, let him escape if he can. I do not wish to hang him; though I have seen better men run up to the fore-yard arm before now, for only asking their own. But no more kneel

ing, woman.-Holla! where is the old man gone?"

We all looked ghastlily around, and the wretched wife and mother, springing to her feet, rushed out of the house. We followed, one and all. The door of the stable was open, and the mother and son entering, loud shrieks were heard. The miserable old man had slunk out of the room unobserved during the passion that had struck all our souls, and had endeavoured to commit suicide. His own son cut him down, as he hung suspended from a rafter in that squalid place, and, carrying him in his arms, laid him down upon the green bank in front of the house. There he lay with his livid face, and blood-shot protruded eyes, till, in a few minutes, he raised himself up, and fixed them upon his wife, who, soon recovering from a fainting fit, came shrieking from the mire in which she had fallen down. "Poor people!" said the sailor with a gasping voice, "you have suffered enough for your crime. Fear nothing; the worst is now past: and rather would I sail the seas twenty years longer, than add another pang to that old man's heart. Let us be kind to the old man."

"But it seemed as if a raven had croaked the direful secret all over the remotest places among the hills; for, in an hour, people came flocking in from all quarters, and it was seen, that concealment or escape was no longer possible, and that father and son were destined to die together a felon's death."

Here the pastor's voice ceased; and I had heard enough to understand the long deep sigh that had come moaning from that bowed-down figure beside the solitary well. "That was the last work done by the father and son, and finished the day before the fatal discovery of their guilt. It had probably been engaged in as a sort of amusement to beguile their unhappy minds of ever-anxious thoughts, or perhaps as a solitary occupation, at which they could unburthen their guilt to one another undisturbed. Here, no doubt, in the silence and solitude, they often felt remorse, perhaps penitence. They chiselled out their names on that slab, as you perceive; and hither, as duly as the morning and evening shadows, comes the ghost whom we beheld, and, after a prayer for the souls of them so tenderly beloved in their innocence,

and doubtless even more tenderly beloved in their guilt and in their graves, she carries to her lonely hut the water that helps to preserve her hopeless life, from the well dug by dearest hands, now mouldered away, both flesh and bone, into the dust.'

After a moment's silence the old man continued, for he saw that I longed to hear the details of that dreadful catastrophe, and his own soul seemed likewise desirous of renewing its grief,-" The prisoners were condemned. Hope there was none. It was known, from the moment of the verdict-guilty,-that they would be executed. Fetitions were, indeed, signed by many many thousands; but it was all in vain,-and the father and the son had to prepare themselves for death.

"About a week after condemnation I visited them in their cell. God forbid, I should say that they were resigned. Human nature could not resign itself to such a doom; and I found the old man pacing up and down the stone-floor, in his clanking chains, with hurried steps, and a countenance of unspeakable horror. The son was lying on his face upon his bed of straw, and had not lifted up his head, as the massy bolts were withdrawn, and the door creaked sullenly on its hinges. The father fixed his eyes upon me for some time, as if I had been a stranger intruding upon his misery; and, as soon as he knew me, shut them with a deep groan, and pointed to his son.

I have murdered William-I have brought my only son to the scaffold. and I am doomed to hell!' I gently called on the youth by name, but he was insensible-he was lying in a fit. I fear he will awake out of that fit,' cried the old man with a broken voice.

They have come upon him every day since our condemnation, and sometimes during the night. It is not fear for himself that brings them on-for my boy, though guilty, is brave-but he continues looking on my face for hours, till at last he seems to lose all sense, and falls down in strong convulsions, often upon the stone floor, till he is all covered with blood.' The old man then went up to his son, knelt down, and, putting aside the thick clustering hair from his forehead, continued kissing him for some minutes, with deep sobs, but eyes dry as dust.

"But why should I recal to my remembrance, or describe to you, every hour of anguish that I witnessed in that cell. For several weeks it was all agony and despair-the Bible lay unheeded before their ghastly eyes-and for them there was no consolation. The old man's soul was filled but with one thought-that he had deluded his son into sin, death, and eternal punishment. He never slept; but visions, terrible as those of sleep, seemed often to pass before him, till I have seen the grey hairs bristle horribly over his temples, and big drops of sweat plash down upon the floor. I sometimes thought, that they would both die before the day of execution; but their mortal sorrows, though they sadly changed both face and frame, seemed at last to give a horrible energy to life, and every morning that I visited them, they were stronger, and more broadly awake in the chill silence of their lone some prison-house.

"I know not how a deep change was at last wrought upon their souls, but two days before that of execution, on entering their cell, I found them sit ting calm and composed by each other's side, with the Bible open before them. Their faces, though pale and hagard, had lost that glare of misery, that so long had shone about their restless and wandering eyes, and they looked like men recovering from a long and painful sickness. I almost thought I saw something like a faint smile of hope. "God has been merciful unto us," said the father, with a calm voice." I must not think that he has forgiven my sins, but he has enabled me to look on my poor son's face-to kiss him-to fold him in my arms-to pray for him -to fall asleep with him in my bosom, as I used often to do in the days of his boyhood, when, during the heat of mid-day, I rested from labour below the trees of my own farm. We have found resignation at last, and are prepared to die."

"There were no transports of deluded enthusiasm in the souls of these unhappy men. They had never doubted the truth of revealed religion, although they had fatally disregarded its precepts; and now that remorse had given way to penitence, and nature had become reconciled to the thought of inevitable death, the light that had been darkened, but never extinguished in their hearts, rose up anew; and

knowing that their souls were immortal, they humbly put their faith in the mercy of their Creator and their Redeemer.

"It was during that resigned and serene hour, that the old man ventured to ask for the mother of his poor unhappy boy. I told him the truth calmly, and calmly he heard it all. On the day of his condemnation, she had been deprived of her reason, and, in the house of a kind friend, whose name he blessed, now remained in mercifulignorance of all that had befallen, believing herself, indeed, to be a motherless widow, but one who had long ago lost her husband, and all her children, in the ordinary course of nature. At this recital his soul was satisfied. The son said nothing, but wept long and bitterly.

"The day of execution came at last. The great city lay still as on the morning of the Sabbath day; and all the ordinary business of life seemed, by one consent of the many thousand hearts beating there, to be suspended. But as the hours advanced, the frequent tread of feet was heard in every avenue; the streets began to fill with pale, anxious, and impatient faces; and many eyes were turned to the dials on the steeples, watching the silent progress of the finger of time, till it should reach the point at which the curtain was to be drawn up from before a most mournful tragedy.

"The hour was faintly heard through the thick prison walls by us, who were together for the last time in the condemned cell. I had administered to them the most awful rite of our religion, and father and son sat together as silent as death. The door of the dungeon opened, and several persons came in. One of them, who had a shrivelled bloodless face, and small red grey eyes, an old man, feeble and tottering, but cruel in his decrepitude, laid hold of the son with his palsied fingers, and began to pinion his arms with a cord. No resistance was offered; but, straight and untrembling, stood that tall and beautiful youth, while the fiend bound him for execution. At this mournful sight, how could I bear to look on his father's face? Yet thither were mine eyes impelled by the agony that afflicted my commiserating soul. During that hideous gaze, he was insensible of the executioner's approach towards him

self; and all the time that the cords were encircling his own arms, he felt them not, he saw nothing but his son standing at last before him, ready for the scaffold.

"Idarkly recollect a long dark vaulted passage, and the echoing tread of footsteps, till all at once we stood in a crowded hall, with a thousand eyes fixed on these two miserable men. How unlike were they to all beside! They sat down together within the shadow of death. Prayers were said, and a psalm was sung, in which their voices were heard to join, with tones that wrung out tears from the hardest or the most careless heart. Often had I heard those voices singing in my own peaceful church, before evil had disturbed, or misery broken them ;-but the last word of the psalm was sung, and the hour of their departure was come. "They stood at last upon the scaffold. That long street, that seemed to stretch away interminably from the old Prisonhouse, was paved with uncovered heads, for the moment these ghosts appeared, that mighty crowd felt reverence for human nature so terribly tried, and prayers and blessings, passionately ejaculated, or convulsively stiffled, went hovering over all the multitude, as if they feared some great calamity to themselves, and felt standing on the first tremor of an earthquake.

"It was a most beautiful summer's day on which they were led out to die ; and as the old man raised his eyes, for the last time, to the sky, the clouds lay motionless on that blue translucent arch, and the sun shone joyously over the magnificent heavens. It seemed a day made for happiness or for mercy. But no pardon dropt down from these smiling skies, and the vast multitude were not to be denied the troubled feast of death. Many who now stood there wished they had been in the heart of some far-off wood or glen; there was shrieking and fainting, not only among maids, and wives, and matrons, who had come there in the mystery of their hearts, but men fell down in their strength,-for it was an overwhelming thing to behold a father and his only son now haltered for a shameful death. "Is my father with me on the scaffold?—give me his hand, for I see him not." I joined their hands together, and at that moment the great bell in the Cathedral tolled, but I am convinced neither of them heard the sound.-For a moment there seemed to be no such thing as sound in the world;-and then all at once: the multitude heaved like the sea, and uttered a wild yelling shriek.—Their souls were in eternity-and I fear not to say, not an eternity of grief."

1 D

VOL. IX.

Sir George Nayler, Clarencieux King of Arms, is preparing, by command of the King, an extensive Work, with engravings, descriptive of the late ceremony of the Coronation.

Mr Bewick, the celebrated engraver on wood, is preparing for the press, a Supplement to his History of British Birds.

A new edition of the Eton Latin Grammar; by Rev. J. Smith, of St John's College, Cambridge.

A Treatise on the newly-discovered White Vinegar, called Pyroligneous Acid, with detailed directions for its application to Pickling, and every other domestic purpose.

The Speeches of the Right Hon. Henry Grattan, with a Memoir by his Son, are printing in four vols. 8vo.

The Dying Confessions of Judas Iscariot, a convincing evidence of the Divine Origin of Christianity; an Essay, by the Rev. Dr Cracknell.

To be published in September, by Mr T. Lynn, to be continued annually, a work called Star Tables and Ephemeris for 1822, for the more easily determining the latitude and longitude at sea during the night.

Nearly ready for publication, the Miscellaneous Tracts of the late Dr Withering, with Memoirs of the Author, by William Withering, Esq.

Mr Nicholson's Popular Elements of Pure and Mixed Mathematics, will appear in the autumn.

A volume of Poems, original and translated, by Mr Noble of Liverpool.

Preparing for the press, a History of Brazil, with numerous engravings; by Mr James Henderson.

A new and enlarged edition of Dr Conquest's Outlines of Midwifery, &c. with copperplate engravings.

A Tale in Verse, called "Temper," by Mrs Taylor of Ongar.

A Poetical Essay on the Character of Pope; by Chas. Lloyd.

To be published by subscription, an Account of the Crowning of his most Sacred Majesty King George IV. including the names of all the Peers, Knights, and principal Officers, who were engaged in that ceremony. To be embellished with a beautifully illuminated frontispiece, printed in letters of gold.

A second Series of Sermons in MS. character; by Rev. R. Warner.

A second edition of Mr Bramsen's Travels in Egypt, Syria, &c. is preparing for publication.

A Course of Lent Lectures on the Seven last Sentences uttered by our Saviour from the Cross; by Rev. Johnson Grant.

Dr Carey has in the press the Greek Terminations, including the Dialects and Poetic Licences, in alphabetical order, with explanatory references to the Grammar; on the same plan as his Clue for young Latinists, lately published.

Nearly ready, the First Part of Mr A. T. Thomson's Lectures on Botany.

The Rev. John Campbell will shortly publish a second volume of Travels to South Africa, describing the manners and customs of the natives, their agriculture, arts and manufactures, food, clothing, &c. &c. with an account of the cities of Mashow and Marootzee, the former consisting of 12, the latter of 16,000 inhabitants; with a map and plates.

In the press, the Theory and Practice of Latin Inflexion, being examples in the form of copy-books, for declining and conjugating nouns and verbs; by Mr Haigh, of the classical school, Kitt's End, near Barnet.

We have much pleasure in informing our readers, that the author of "The Ayrshire Legatees," and "Annals of the Parish," is preparing a Scottish novel for the press, which he intends to call "Sir Andrew Wylie of that Ilk."

In the press, and speedily will be published, a small Treatise on the important subject of Self-examination, with a special View to the Ordinance of the Lord's Supper; originally published by the Rev. William Trail, A. M. Minister of the Gospel at Benholm, and a near relative of the eminently, learned, and pious Robert Trail of London. The Work has long been out of print; and the present edition, which is the fourth, will be accompanied with a considerable variety of additional Matter,

together with a Preface and a Sketch of the Life of the Author. This small volume will form an useful guide and help to Christian communicants in their preparation for the ordinance of the Supper; and on this account, as well as others, it particularly claims the notice and patronage of ministers of the gospel. The publication is conducted under the editorship of the Rev. Robert Burns, one of the ministers of Paisley, Author of " Historical Dissertations on the State of the Poor in Scotland." To promote the circulation of the Work, the price will be exceedingly moderate.

Report of the Trial before the Jury Court, Edinburgh, 25th June, 1821, of the Issues in the Cause in which the Rev. Andrew Scott, Roman Catholic Clergyman in