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"The next day saw me an inmate of a prison. I cannot dwell minutely on all these circumstances; they only distress you and unman me. My wife evinced no want of sympathy in my misfortunes; and my sister Clara, who had flown to me on the first news of my arrest, like a ministering angel, was soon at my side.

"As the criminal court was then in session, my fate was soon determined. Of the details of my trial I retain but an indistinct recollection; thus much I know, that troops of friends came forward to sustain me; the most eminent counsel were employed to defend me; all that friendship, all that legal skill could accomplish, were called in aid to save me; but my guilt was too clearly established to admit of a doubt; and nothing remained to be done, but to strive for a mitigation of punishment. My youth and previous good character were dwelt on with much effect; and also, that as I had actually paid the note, no one was in fact injured. But the law is a hard master, and admits of no such palliations. I was convicted of a crime particularly dangerous in a commercial community; and as the court wished to make a signal example of me, I was sentenced on two indictments, to ten years imprisonment.

"That night I parted with all I held dear on earth-my wife-my boy; and yet, who that witnessed the extravagance of her grief, could have believed she would ever prove false-false to me!—and Clara, Clara !—thine was the heart that was most deeply wounded! Pressing her marble cheek to mine, she tried to breathe of hope and trust in Heaven; and kneeling together once more, as in the days of childhood, we poured forth our united prayers to Him who is emphatically the God of the fatherless.

"It was my wish that my son should be reared far from the scene of his father's disgrace; and as my wife saw the wisdom of the arrangement, she consented to place him in the care of my sister-and thus we parted; they to return to a home that I had dishonored—and I, to my living tomb.

"But oh! the horrors of this place-to be the companion of villains-the daily associate of the most vile and degraded. But it cannot be told.

"You know the rest. It was her hand that gave the final blow! Vain, vain my boundless trust-my faith in her affection. Oh vanity! thou art cruel as the grave; when once it takes possession of the heart, farewell to every noble, every generous emotion. But it will soon be over. Within these prison-walls I shall end my pilgrimage; for to him to whom nought is left but a blighted name and forsaken hearth, there is but one refugethe grave!"

I have not attempted to describe his manner, as he thus painfully recalled the past. At one moment powerfully excited, and then subdued to a childlike softness, he paced the room with uncertain and faltering steps; and as I marked his flushed cheek and quickened respiration, I again and again besought him to spare himself the pain of the recital. "But no!" he exclaimed, for the first time disregarding my entreaties, "You shall know how much one human being can suffer, and yet live."

Whether it was owing to the agitation of this interview, or to the natural course of the disease, I know not; but from that period he declined apace, and a violent hemorrhage of the lungs, which about that time succeeded, indicated a speedy termination to his sufferings.

Satisfied that he could not long survive if he remained in prison, I made an appeal to the proper authorities, and being backed by the representations of the officers of the establishment, I succeeded in obtaining his release, and in placing him in a neighboring family, where he could have all the attention which his feeble state demanded.

His sister, Mrs. Davidson, had been duly informed of his situation; and it was an anxious moment, as we gathered round his bedside, to await her coming. Poor fellow! all that friendship or my poor skill could suggest, had been done to calm his agitation; but worn and wasted by suffering, and with a throng of tender recollections, all struggling at his heart, who can wonder that his fortitude gave way, and that he yielded to an intensity of anguish, that threatened to tear his scattered frame in pieces. She camebut I dwell not on the meeting-it is enough that he once more clasped her to his heart-her who had clung to him through good and through ill, and that he again looked upon the face of his boy.

I have never seen any one that reminded me of Mrs. Davidson. In person she was like her brother, but in mind and energy far his superior. Her countenance was singularly in accordance with her character-so calm, so holy, so touched and refined by suffering. It seemed as if sorrow had done its work, and "so o'er-wrought its house of clay," that freed from the dross and entanglements of mortality, she was like "a pilgrim that tarries but for a night."

Poor Finley! his last hours drew nigh, but they were soothed and sustained by the voice of affection. There was ever the same untired watchman at his pillow, to calm his fears, to cheer his hopes, to go down with him to the very gates of death; aye, and how gladly, I doubt not, to have passed with him through its dreary portals;-and well was she rewarded: for meekly, and without a murmur, and breathing nothing but love and gratitude to all around him, and an unfaltering heart in the merits of the great mediator, he quietly and peacefully surrendered his existence to him who gave it. "Poor weary heart, that beat itself to rest!"

Mrs. Davidson desired that the remains of her brother should be deposited in her immediate vicinity. My extreme interest in her, induced me to accompany her on her mournful errand. Sad was the journey, and still sadder its termination. There was no crowd of assembled friends anxious to evince their respect for the dead and their sympathy for the living, to bear him to his last resting place; but it was hallowed by prayer and consecrated by affection.

He sleeps in a nameless grave; but though no sculptured monument proclaims to the passing traveller that here rests the ashes of one, who once "thought, felt and suffered," yet his record is on high. And those dear friends shall never fade from my remembrance. Thou hast taught me, by thy meek example, the Christian duties of humility and forgiveness, and that no sin, of however dark a stain, is beyond the reach of mercy. This thou hast taught me, and "oh! still harder lesson, how to die." God grant that it may never be forgotten.

PLAGIARISM OF FRANKLIN.

IN our October number, under the head of Literary Larcenies, through inadvertence, a charge passed into print against Benjamin Franklin, of plagiarism upon Jeremy Taylor, in causing to be published as his own, a parable against Intoleration in the peculiar style of the Scriptures. The imputation does not appear, however, to rest on any good foundation. A similar story was published long before in Jeremy Taylor's "Liberty of Prophesying," and was said by Taylor to be taken from the "Jew's Book," certainly very vague authority. A Latin version of it was also contained in the dedi

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cation of a work by George Gentius, who ascribes it to Saadi, the Persian poet; and Saadi credits it to another person. The author of the story is, therefore, difficult to discover. It however never attracted general attention, until, in the hands of Franklin, it assumed the scriptural style, giving evidence of the facility with which that style can be imitated. Franklin, it appears, was in the habit of amusing himself by reading it as if from a bible, to divines and others well versed in the Scriptures, and obtaining upon it their opinions, which he tells us were sometimes very diverting. In this manner, while in Scotland on public business for the colonies, he brought it to the notice of Lord Kames. That gentleman, sometime afterwards, wrote to Franklin for a copy of it, which was furnished. Fourteen years subsequently, Lord Kames published the first edition of "Sketches of the History of Man," and the parable was inserted without authority, with the declaration that it was "communicated" by Franklin. This was erroneously understood as crediting him with the authorship, hence the charge of plagiarism. The merit of the parable consists altogether in its biblical phraseology, and to this it is indebted to Franklin alone. It never attracted notice until it passed from his hands in its scriptural garb. Its publication by another, without his knowledge or consent, could in no degree have criminated him, had he contributed nothing to the merit of the fable; as, however, all of merit that it did contain was derived from his genius, he may fairly be considered its author.— The maker of cloth is considered the manufacturer, although another may have grown the wool. The imputation on the fair fame of Franklin has been frequently advanced, and as often refuted; the pertinacity with which it lingers in the public mind, affords an instance of the difficulty of eradicating an error that has been widely circulated.

THE RHINE.

How many a tone upon the sounding lyre,
How many a genial strain of poet power,
How many a yearning breath of wild desire,
Stirring with rhapsody some fleeting hour,

Hast thou awoke, fair river of my song,
On whose swift bosom now I float along!

Fast speed thy waters to their distant goal,
High rear thy rocky guardians of the wave,
And, pinnacled above man's poor control,
The crumbling ruins mark their final grave;

Fling o'er thy watery depths their shadowy pall,
A part of what is past,-what is, the all.

Fair vineyards deck thy mountains' sloping sides,
And glittering cities speck the distant view,
Beside soft emerald isles our vessel glides,
Which part the heaven-reflecting waters blue;
And gazing round thy antiquated tide,
I mark the footsteps of thy legend bride.

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Here Lure Ley* bends majestic o'er the flood,
As when of yore the peerless maiden sprite,
Undaunted on thy rocky summit stood,
Entrancing danger from her airy height;

Yet tho' no more survives that fatal fair,

Her syren voice still wakes the enchanted air.

Forth from yon ancient tower,† how oft hath he,
The luckless lover, bent with anxious gaze,
Pouring his soul upon the spot, where she

Walked in her convent garb with prayer and praise.
But broken hearts soon found one burial veil,
And broken arches now tell all the tale.

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Still spreads thy giant chain§ as once it spread,
Still frowns thy mightiest mount as once it frowned;
But she, the doomed, has from thy summit fled,
And he, the valiant, treads no more the ground;

Yet now, as then, expands the blooming green,
That clothes with honor thine eternal scene.

Between Wesel and St. Goar, the Rhine dashes impetuously forward, as if enraged at the precipitous crags which at this spot seem to oppose its progress. The most terrific of these rocks is called the Lurleyberg, where there is a remarkable echo, which repeats distinctly several times. Tradition has made this the haunt of a fair nixe or water-spirit, named Lurley, of whom many mad pranks are told. She is, notwithstanding, believed to be friendly to faithful lovers. The boatmen on the Rhine seldom pass without invoking her, and the echoes never fail to repeat "Lureley!"

The legend attached to the sombre ruin of Rolandzeck and the beautiful island of Nonnenworth, is briefly as follows: The death of the famous Paladin Roland, the nephew of Charlemagne, having been falsely reported to his betrothed bride, the beautiful Hildegart, in the first transports of her grief, she took the veil in the convent of Nonnenworth. Roland, upon his return to the banks of the Rhine, finding his love separated from him forever in this world, built himself a fortress on the summit of the conical rock that overlooked the island convent, and sat day after day at the gate of it, gazing upon the walls which contained the beloved of his soul. Two years passed in this manner, when one day, looking down as usual on the convent, he heard a passing bell, and saw some people digging a grave in the garden; something whispered it was for Hildegart. The conjecture proved too true. He stood and watched the funeral procession, saw her laid in the earth, and listened to the requiem chaunted over her, and the next morning was found in his customary situation, dead! his eyes still turned towards the convent.

The two castles of Leibenstein and Sternfels, generally known by the name of" Die Brader," (the brothers,) were once the property of an old nobleman who had two sons, and a beautiful ward, of whom the said sons were both desperately enamoured. The elder, however, perceiving that the young lady preferred his brother, nobly resigned his pretensions and retired to Rhense. The younger, however, resolving to join the crusades, deferred his nuptials until his return from the Holy Land; but the fickle crusader came back from the wars. bringing with him a beautiful Grecian lady, to whom he had betrothed himself. Indignant at his perfidy, the elder brother sent him a fierce defiance; and a bloody combat would have ensued, but for the tears and entreaties of the forsaken fair one, who took the veil in the convent of Marienberg, at Boppart, and saw the brothers no more. The falsehood of the crusader was punished by the frailty of his new love.

The "seven mountains," the highest of which is the Drachenfels, (dragon's rock,) rises in the form of a colossus on the banks of the river, bearing the ruins of an ancient castle. The summit was formerly the abode of a terrible dragon, concerning whom many stories are told. A Christian maiden, according to one tradition, was exposed on this rock to the fury of the monster by her pagan captors, and saved from his devouring jaws by a crucifix she had concealed in her bosom, and which so terrified the beast, that he plunged into the abyss and was never heard of more. The most popular tradition is that Sir Seigfried the Horny, the famous hero of Neibelungenbled, slew

High bends the brow of the majestic rock,
Crowned by old Rheinfels castellated tower;
Here oft have foemen felt the fiery shock,

And bloody triumph sealed the fatal hour!

But time has bleached them of their scarlet dies,
And stainless now those tottering walls arise.

But Ruin, beautiful in its decay,

Decks not alone thy banks with deepening awe,
For thou hast living children by the way,
Growing in grace along thy varied shore ;

Fair Heidelbergt adorns its learned seat,

And thrice doomed Baslet thy genial waters greet.

Old Mayence, mother of the child of art,§
Sits proudly there in venerated age ;—
And the white walls of Coblentz gently part
With storied interest thy watery page.

Fame now outlives the printer's crumbling dust ;—
And peace smiles scornful at thy place of trust!}}

How like a spectre, Strasburg's sovereign spire, ¶
Its shapeless shadow o'er the city throws!-
Ambition stops when it can mount no higher,
And wraps the mantle of its stern repose.

Below thee stands King Carlos' bridal town,"

Where Luther dared to brave a monarch's frown.

this monster with his celebrated sword Balammy, and delivered the fair daughter of King Silibaldus, whom it bad carried off from her father's court. He was rewarded by the hand of the princess, but was soon after treacherously slain by her three brothers.

* The ancient fort of Rheinfels stands upon a very high rock back of the town of St. Goar. This place was formerly a convent of monks, but was afterwards transformed, by Count Thierry, surnamed the Rich, into a strong castle, who compelled boats descending the Rhine to pay a toll. In consequence it was besieged by sixty of the towns on the Rhine, but unsuccessfully. The fort of Rheinfels was defended in 1692, by the brave Col. Gorz against Tallard. During the revolution it was surrendered to the French, and was afterwards blown up by them.

The celebrated university of Heidelberg, after Prague, the oldest in Europe, was founded by the Count Palatine Ruprecht, in 1346, and its privileges confirmed by Pope Urbanus, in 1376. The celebrity of its teachers and the number of its students, under a paternal government, gives it a high place among the German universities.

Basle or Bale, under the sway of its bishops, was the theatre and the object of several bloody wars, particularly during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. To the war succeeded a plague which fell so cruelly on the town, that only three families it is said was spared by it. An earthquake followed close upon these terrible scourges, and completed the ruin of this unfortunate city. It is now a beautiful and flourishing town, with a population of 25,000. It is built upon both sides of the Rhine, which here becomes a large river.

This town gained great celebrity in the fifteenth century, by the invention of printing, an honor of which Strasburg and Haarlem have in vain endeavored to deprive it. A colossal statue of Guttumberg, the inventor, now adorns the public square of Mayence.

The fortress of Erenbreitstein, opposite Coblentz, which is considered, next to Gibraltar, as the strongest fortification in Europe.

The principal curiosity in Strasburg is its cathedral. What renders this building particularly remarkable, is its very elevated steeple, which is surpassed in height by the largest Egyptian pyramid only by 25 feet, and it has not its equal in Europe.

** Worms is situated at no great distance from the Rhine, in the dominions of the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt. Carlo Magno, (Charlemagne,) was married in this town. In 1521 a Diet was held here, before which Luther declared his adhesion to the reformed creed, in the presence of Charles V.

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