exclaimed, “O, sit anima mea cum Bedello!"-"Oh! | sober tranquillity. There are anxious hearts under smiling may my soul be with that of Bedell!" His purpose of teaching the native Irish the word of God, by means of their own language, met with great opposition from the Church of Rome, as well as from many Protestants, who either from ignorance or prejudice, were disposed to thwart his designs. Had he been spared to forward what he had so laudably begun, there is no doubt but that it would have been crowned with success; but though his version of the Bible was afterwards published under the auspices of Boyle, there does not appear to have been any great exertion made, for more than a century, to circulate its benefits. Meanwhile the lamentable darkness, in which so vast a portion of our globe, and so many of our fellow-creatures, to whom the light of the Gospel had not yet come, were involved, had become an object of such interest, that missionary associations were formed, and many, for the sake of reclaiming others, volunteered to risk their lives in far and distant lands. While by the strenuous efforts of these associations, missionaries were sent forth in different directions, and the very hills and deserts of Asia and Africa began to feel the good effects of their exertions, Ireland, unhappy Ireland, was well nigh forgotten,-at least it was neglected, or considered a hopeless case. Attempts to evangelize the Irish were, no doubt, now and then tried by a few philanthropic individuals, but the means which they employed for reforming others, were not employed in the case of these. The Gospel was often preached to them, but in a language which was only imperfectly known to a few, and utterly unknown to thousands. The good work which had been begun by Bedell, but after his death lay dormant for many years, has been lately followed up with comparative success, when we consider the means of its execution. It has met with the most determined opposition from many, and had it not been for the unwearied exertions of a few persons, must inevitably have failed; but the labours of the Irish Society have not been unrewarded. Who would have supposed that in the very wilds of Kerry, the most uncivilized portion of our island, in the midst of mountains, at the distance of seven miles from the nearest road, where the English language is unknown, a church may now be found, which has been lately erected by this Society, and in which the service of the Church of England is regularly performed in all the simplicity of the Irish language? There are now upwards of 20,000 individuals, old and young, who until the formation of this useful Society, which loudly claims the assistance of our English brethren, were involved in ignorance and darkness, but who now continue stedfast in searching the Scriptures, willing and anxious to communicate to those around them that blessing, which an acquaintance with Jesus has brought home to their own hearts. THE WEDDING. B. H. B. A WEDDING is a ceremony of mingled pain and pleasure, in which anticipation prevents the pain from being positive pain, and recollection precludes the possibility of unmixed pleasure. The very bells, merry as their peals are intended to be, convey a tender melancholy, which is, to us, inseparable from the sound of a village belfry, whatever be the occasion of their being put in motion. Then the banquet, the wit, the repartee, the joke, are not continuous; a little life sparkles upon the surface of the conversation, but, like the effervescence of the champagne which fills the glasses of the party, it soon subsides into countenances. The parents look at their daughter, and feel how great, how rich a treasure they are losing, and confiding to another's care. Their minds glance back to her days of infancy, the progress of her childhood, and now dwell with anxious solicitude upon her entrance into the duties of womanhood. None but a parent can know what parents feel upon occasions like this. And then the bride, gazing with a filial and grateful spirit upon the faces of those under whose paternal kindness she has been fostered, still trembling at the magnitude and irrevocability of the step she has taken, and which must give a colour to the whole of her future existence. Then, turning her eyes upon her new-made husband, with a glance which seems to say-" and now I must look for husband, parent, all in you," the reciprocal glance re-assures her she drinks in confidence and reliance as her eyes bend beneath his-a thousand new feelings agitate her bosom-and anticipation gets the better of recollection. The future for a moment banishes the past, and she feels secure on the new throne which she has erected for herself in the heart of the man to whom she has confided her happiness—her all. THE FLIGHT OF LOCUSTS. In the vicinity of Odessa, a city in Russia, the visitation of a flight of locusts is more dreaded than the incursion of an army of warriors; it is considered a most dreadful calamity. The flight of these insects at times literally darkens the sun. In some years every thing is eaten up; not a blade is left for man or beast; not a single green leaf remains either on herb or tree. Instances are known of people dying of actual hunger, not far from the city above mentioned, during the famine occasioned by their devastations. Locusts are therefore the greatest scourge that the country is exposed to, and no sooner do they appear than the poor peasant prognosticates misery in a future year; for it appears that it is not always by actual invasion in flights that the greatest harm is done, but also by the larva bred from insects deposited in the ground, during a previous visit. The severe cold of winter has no effect on them; the only thing that destroys the egg is a smart frost in August. When the locusts come in their dense array, from the south, nothing but noise has any effect in preventing them from settling in any spot. It is well known also that bees may be prevented in like manner by sound from flying in any particular direction. An English lady gave the author a very amusing account of the musical entertainments held in her house and gardens a few years before, at the time swarms of locusts were in progress. Her lord and husband was, as of right, leader of the harmonious band; and for this purpose armed himself with a huge bell, which he swung with amazing effect. Next to him came the gardener with his watering pan; after this zealous functionary came the footman with the fireshovels; then the housemaids with their pots and kettles; and finally, the children of the family, equipped with tea-boards and toasting-forks, which assuredly played no secondary part in the noisy concert. Ever as the hour of danger returned, the performers were at their posts, walking up and down, to their own great amusement and delectation, but greatly to the dismay of the locusts, as well as of the families in the adjoining hutors, who thought that their English neighbours had all gone mad. So effectual, however, were these performances, that while not a leaf was left in any other part of the land, this well-watched garden_continued as verdant as ever.-Bremner's Excursions in Russia. ORIGINAL POETRY. THE THORN. WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. The praises of the Thorn to sound? The Thorn as sentinel doth stand. Unplundered and untrod preserves? Which best to foil intruders serves. Although of life itself not sure; So untrue is it that all men are equal, that two men never remained half an hour in each other's company without the one obtaining a superiority over the other.-Johnson. CLOSE CALCULATION.-The "St. Louis Gazette" goes into a calculation, to show the amount of tobacco a man chews in a lifetime. The editor says, "Suppose a tobacco chewer is addicted to the habit of chewing tobacco fifty years of his life, each day of that time he consumes two inches of solid plug, which amounts to 6375 feet, making nearly one mile and a quarter in length of solid tobacco, a half-inch thick, and two inches broad." He wants to know what a young beginner would think if he had the whole amount stretched out before him, and he were told that to chew it up would be one of the exercises of his life, and also that it would tax his income to the amount of 1095 dollars. We guess he would think it a pretty considerable job.-New York Evening Post. HOW TO LEAD MANKIND.-If masters fully understood the influence which even the slightest personal attention produces on the minds of their workmen, they would be more lavish than they are of a simple act of justice which can cost them so little, and would profit them so much. Treat a man like a friend, and you soon make him one; treat him like a rogue, and his honesty must be much greater than your wisdom, if he do not seem to justify your suspicions! In no way are men so easily led-often, it is true, so blindly led-as through the affections. Thanks to the benign arrangements of a merciful Father, the affections are the only part of our nature the cultivation of which man cannot neglect, however much he may often pervert them. Every man comes into the world surrounded by objects of affection. The filial and parental tie is one which binds rich and poor alike; and is often the P. C. E. R. stronger in the poor, because it is almost the only domestic blessing which they can truly call their own. Hence it is, that men who are quite inaccessible to reason, are easily led by the affections; and no wise man will neglect to use, especially when it is for the mutual benefit of all, this powerful and universally prevailing instrument. The next stage to the tie of parent and child, in the progress of society, is that of master and servant; and it is for the interest of both to carry into their relations with each other as much as possible of the kindly feeling which has been nursed in the bosom, in childhood, by the domestic fireside -Rev. Mr. Parkinson. What checks him, and cries out, "beware?" VARIETIES. EFFECTS PRODUCED ON AN IDIOT'S MIND BY HABITS OF INTERCOURSE WITH A YOUNG GIRL.-In the course of conversation, a case was mentioned to me as having occurred in the experience of a highly respectable physician, and which was so fully authenticated, that I entertain no doubt of its truth. The physician alluded to had a patient, a young man, who was almost idiotic from the suppression of all his faculties. He never spoke, and never moved voluntarily, but sat habitually with his hand shading his eyes. The physician sent him to walk as a remedial measure. In the neighbourhood a beautiful young girl of sixteen lived with her parents, and used to see the young man in his walks, and speak kindly to him. For some time he took no notice of her; but, after meeting her for several months, he began to look for her, and to feel disappointed if she did not appear. He became so much interested, that he directed his steps voluntarily to her father's cottage, and gave her bouquets of flowers. By degrees he conversed with her through the window. His mental faculties were roused; the dawn of convalescence appeared. The girl was virtuous, intelligent, and lovely, and encouraged his visits when she was told that she was benefiting his mental health. She asked him if he could read and write. He answered, No. She wrote some lines to him to induce him to learn. This had the desired effect. He applied himself to study, and soon wrote good and sensible letters to her. He recovered his reason. She was married to a young man from the neighbouring city. Great fears were entertained that this event would undo the good which she had accomplished. The young patient sustained a severe shock, but his mind did not sink under it. He acquiesced in the propriety of her choice; continued to improve, and at last was restored to his family cured. She had a child, and was soon after brought to the same hospital perfectly insane. The young man heard of this event, and was exceedingly anxious to see her; but an interview was denied to him, both on her account and his own. She died. He continued well, and became an active member of society. What a beautiful romance might be founded on this narrative!-Combe's Notes on the United States. The power of enjoying the harmless and reasonable pleasures of life is not only essential to a man's happiness, but an indication of several valuable qualities, both of the heart and the head, which can hardly-exist without it. A Frankfort paper says, there is now living at Moscow the widow of a dealer in skins, who has attained her 157th year. When 123, she married her fifth husband. All her alliances have been prosperous and happy. She is still in full possession of all her mental faculties. She has never been attacked with any dangerous illness. THE THOUGHTS OF ANOTHER WORLD.-It is not in the heyday of health and enjoyment—it is not in the morning sunshine of his day, that man can be expected feelingly to remember his latter end, and to fix his heart upon eternity. But in after life many causes operate to wean us from the world; grief softens the heart; sickness searches it; the blos soms of hope are shed; death cuts down the flower of the affections; the disappointed man turns his thoughts towards a state of existence where his wiser desires may be fixed with the certainty of faith; the successful man feels that objects which he has already pursued fail to satisfy the cravings of an immortal spirit; the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness, that he may save his soul alive.-Southey. LONDON: W. BRITTAIN, PATERNOSTER ROW. Printed by J. Rider, 14, Bartholomew Close, London. CONDUCTED BY JAMES GRANT, AUTHOR OF "RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS," "THE GREAT METROPOLIS," &c. AND FRANCIS ROSS, FORMERLY SOLE EDITOR OF THE JOURNAL. ILLUSTRATIONS OF HUMANITY. named Charles Dolphus, who was tried at the Liverpool assizes about ten months ago, for having returned to this country before the fourteen years of transpor No. XX.-WELSH WOMEN GOSSIPING AT tation to which he was sentenced four years ago, for a 66 THE WELL. THE high-bred dame may scorn the imputation of being a gossip," as something far beneath the dignity of her character; and the city lady, after her example, may appear to disdain that "sweet community" of soul, which is requisite to a true and genuine gossip. But woman in her natural state is a gossip. Her tongue is her sword; and that she never suffers to rust. But gossiping contains other elements -requires higher qualifications, than the mere power of using the tongue with an incessant "click-a-ticktack." The ear must be quick to hear, as well as the tongue swift to speak. A notable memory, too, must the gossip have one "crammed with observation," and as ready to mark the wink of a neighbour's eye, as to record the colour of her ribbon. Have you not seen Seymour's hit, one of the many happy hits of an unhappy man? A slipshod damsel is straining her neck, that her head may be thrust over a garden wall; and she is whispering "Oh, Mary, I told my missus what your missus said of my missus-and we had such a row!" Yes, dear creatures, speak they must, or the most fatal consequences might ensue. More especially is this the case where women are secluded. In the East, where scriptural or patriarchal simplicity still prevails, the young damsels, when in the cool of the evening they meet at the fountain to fill their pitchers, have a comfortable gossip together, reporting to one another all that they have respectively picked up during the day. Our artist has here presented us with two of the "daughters of Cambria," alias Welsh women, having a gossip at the well. The old woman is a confirmed gossip-her face proclaims it. She does not care how long it takes to fill her neighbour's pitcher, provided she but extracts a good comfortable lot of news from her young companion. The young one has not yet reached that "uncertain age" where sentimentalism ceases, and confirmed gossipry is established. Still, she listens; and if she has a tale, she tells it: for a meeting at a well in a mountain district between two women, is as important to them, as for the men to assemble at the smithy, or meet in the barber's shop. THE HORRORS OF TRANSPORTATION. An impression is very general among young thieves and others, that transportation to New South Wales is not a severe punishment for any offence, but, on the contrary, that the convicts are comparatively happy. The result of this erroneous impression is, that young persons do not feel their criminal propensities checked to the same extent as they would, were they acquainted with the real facts of the case. Perhaps a more graphic or faithful account of the sufferings endured in our penal colonies was never given, than that which proceeded from the mouth of a young man, burglary, had expired. When Mr. Justice Coleridge was about to pass sentence on him a second time, he rose and addressed the Court in the most powerful and touching terms. SUFFERINGS ENDURED BY CONVICTS. but He commenced by saying, that four years ago, when he was only nineteen years of age, he was tried for a burglary, and sentenced to fourteen years' transportation. He did not then believe what he had since been so powerfully convinced of, that transportation was so full of misery as he had proved it to be from experience. He could assure his lordship that it was terrible, and those who thought otherwise were in a very great error. He was first sent to the hulks, where he remained six months, and there, though he suffered much hardship, which he need not describe, it was nothing to the misery which he had since endured. He was, at length, sent on board the transport that was to convey him and many others to Botany Bay: and he looked forward to this change with some satisfaction, indulging a hope that it would better his circumstances; he was fearfully mistaken. The severe regulations of the hulks were exchanged for the military rule to which the prisoners were subjected; and he soon found what it was to be under the strong discipline of a convict vessel. The prisoner described the manner in which the several classes of convicts were taken away from the ship, on their arrival. Those who were doomed to the chain gangs for life, were first sent off to their horrible punishment, which he described as being considered by all convicts who knew anything of the matter, as a thousand times worse than death, in its most dreaded form. Many thought they had a chance of bettering their condition when transported, but they were dreadfully mistaken. Even the gentlemen who were transported, he meant those who were well educated, and who thought their education would prove an advantage to them, were doomed to suffer equally with the most ignorant and depraved; for they were ranked among those who were infirm and invalids, and were, being useless, sent to a quarter where they were under the command of men whom they regarded, in all respects, as their inferiors; so that, instead of being better, they were absolutely worse off than their fellows. He was attached, he said, to what we believe he called the Woollaloo party, with which he continued for a time, working under a burning sun by day, and subjected to the most severe discipline. Every thing was under military regulation, and, on the slightest infraction of rule or orders, the convicts were tied up to the triangles and flogged. The prisoner, at length, happened to be “assigned" to a lady and gentleman, in whose service he was less miserable. They left New South Wales for England, and he was again turned over to Government, on which he experienced A RENEWAL OF HIS MISERIES. But even these hardships were nothing to what he had afterwards experienced, for the Governor was changed; and when Governor Phipps went out, it was much worse for convicts. He was now sent, with others, to work in the interior of the colony, among the chain-gangs; and here it was that he saw transportation in its true colours. They were miserably dealt with; indeed, forced by the most severe treatment to work all day, beyond their The prisoner, some time after, contrives to escape, in company with another young man named Carney, and describes, in most affecting terms, the circumstances under which the escape was accomplished. His narrative may justly be called THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. strength, beneath a burning sun, not daring to utter a and, therefore, no one whom he wished to be reminded of complaint for fear of the lash, and with scarcely food him. His companion (the prisoner wept at the rememenough to support them, consisting only of a wretched brance) took out a dirty letter, and told him where to find meal of homminy. It was out of the power of language his poor mother in London. Sobbing as he spoke, he bade to describe what they endured. The most conspicuous his brother convict, if ever he should reach England, to object at their encampment, was the triangles; and, for tell her that, the last time he saw him, he was well and the most trivial error, they were taken before a military prospering, and would, some time or other, come and see gentleman, who assigned them a flogging, which always her; "and that," said he, "will add many years to my took place at dinner time; after which, they were taken poor dear mother's life." The prisoner said, he then wetout to toil again beneath the scorching sun. At night ted a pair of drawers, and swathed them round his comthey slept in huts. They had no beds, and merely a co- rade's head. He himself got into the tank of water, when vering of a sort of stringy bark. If one word were spoken he, some hours after, heard the order to put up the topsails, during the hours of rest, the sentinel called out the offender, which gave him some satisfaction, as he knew, by that, and he was handcuffed till morning, when he was flogged that the vessel was going to sea. He knew not where she for having violated the regulations, by the expression of❘ was bound to, nor did he care, so that they got away from even a natural and involuntary complaint. Here his life the miserable place which he had quitted. He remained became a misery to him, and he had no consolation, from in the tank, among the water, twelve or fourteen days, the reflection that he had deserved his punishment. He suffering extreme torture, and he had still, and should assured his lordship, that his constant unmitigated suffer- have to the end of his days, a recurrence of the pains he ings were unbearable; for they were treated worse than then endured. During the whole time his only food was dogs, and were looked upon as even worse than beasts. seven biscuits. The prisoner proceeded to state that they One night he awoke from sleep. He saw before him 300 were discovered, and described with what horror he heard men, each of whom had been the author of some crime. the captain, who, he supposed, suspected what they were, give the order to put the ship about; and how he and his companion, being resolved to brave any fate rather than be taken back, jumped overboard when the ship was about six or seven miles from the Feejee Islands. His comrade was on the point of sinking, when they perceived an old canoe, bottom upwards, into which they, after many attempts, managed to get. The canoe swamped with them once or twice, but, at length, they reached the land in safety. The natives soon saw them; and, as they were known to be cannibals, they had great dread of them. They took hold of Carney, who foolishly resisted, upon which they forced him away; but not before one of them had inflicted a wound upon his (Dolphus's) shoulder, which brought him to the grouud. He suffered great torture for several days, being without food or water, and unable to help himself. He tried to eat the grass which was within his reach; and, at length, worn out with suffering, he became quite insensible. When he recovered, he found himself lying with his head resting against a native woman, who was applying antidotes to the wound, which had been inflicted by a poisoned spear. On his recovery, the young woman indicated to him, that there was a white man in the bush. He went to the spot which she pointed out, and there found the dead body of Carney, the flesh nearly all taken from his bones either by the natives or the hogs. He interred him in soft ground, an operation which he described as having given him great satisfaction. It turned out, however, that he had infringed upon what the natives deemed privileged ground; and he would have been sacrificed, but for the interference of the young native woman, who was a chieftain's sister. At length one day, the girl ran to him exclaiming, “Kibooker;" which meant a large man-of-war canoe. This turned out to be a French ship, the Angelica, of Havre de Grace, which was on a whaling cruise. When the boat took him away, he said the affectionate young native girl swam after him, and he was compelled to take her with him. A short time afterwards, he had an opportunity of consigning her to the care of a benevolent missionary, who took her back to the island which she had left, where he wished to establish a missionary station, and in which design her influence would be useful. The prisoner detailed many other hardships, sufferings, and adventures which he had undergone before he reached England. His intention was to have entered on board one of Her Majesty's ships, where, after some years of good service, he was in hopes he might have obtained his pardon. He concluded by imploring his lord They proceeded far into the bush, and were well nigh exhausted, when they discerned a party of the aborigines, who were roasting a kangaroo. His companion was afraid to venture near them; but he being pressed by hunger, went to them, and they gave him a piece of a kangaroo, and a piece of an opossum. The prisoner proceeded to detail the particulars of their journey till they arrived at a small bay, which, he said, was called Botany Bay, and from which the whole district was called. He mentioned his horror at hearing footsteps when he suddenly awoke from sleep, as he would rather have died than have returned. At daylight they saw a vessel, which he, having been brought up to the sea, knew was going out of port, from the blue Peter at her mast-head. She was about two miles from them, and he and his companion, after some consultation, resolving to run any risk rather than remain where they were, plunged into the water and swam to her. They contrived to get on board, and to get into the hold, unperceived, where each agreed to conceal himself as he best could. He knew not where his comrade concealed himself, but he got into a water-tank. Shortly afterwards the inspector came on board and examined the ship, and he was under inconceivable dread that they would be taken, when, by the law of the colony, he would have been sent to Norfolk Island for fourteen years. The prisoner endeavoured to give some notion of the horrors of Norfolk Island, but here his power of language failed him. The inspector did not find them, but he heard the sailors putting on the hatches and tarpauling, and immediately his companion joined him. A new horror appeared before them. The prisoner stated, that it was customary, when convicts were suspected of having concealed themselves on board ships, to smoke the hold, to force them to come forth. To this operation they became convinced they were about to be subjected. Believing themselves to be in this fearful extremity, his companion asked him if he had any memorial which he wished him to deliver in England, in case he survived him and ever reached this country. He replied, no; he had no one in the world who cared for him, |