out repentance and of course without religion, as they themselves acknowledged, and as was still more evident from their constant longings for those amusements which had ruined them, and in which it was impossible now to indulge without exposure to instant death. Every little unusual exercise was sure to induce a cold. Every cold seemed to be followed by additional languor. By this time there was such a universal lassitude pervading every limb, and the mind, as usual, so sympathized with the debility of the body, that no effort of their own, urged on by the distressing forbodings of friends, could rouse them to any thing like their former vivacity.

In one of them especially there was such a relaxation of the whole nervous system, that some of the smaller joints were frequently dislocated by the gentle exercise of taking food. On such occasions it is impossible for one who has not witnessed similar scenes, to conceive the degree of mortification that was felt by the unhappy individuals, or the embarrassment and confusion which instantly flow from face to face through a whole circle of friends. Such instances, however, when the first commotion had subsided, would frequently call forth from some of the friends concerned, expressions of the most affectionate solicitude in behalf of some antidote for the mental disease as well as the bodily. And this was usually followed on the part of the young ladies with some general acknowledgments of past imprudences, but nothing like the full confessions of agravated guilt, or, the bitter compunctions of ingenuous sorrow which the case demanded or a true penitent would feel, ever escaped from their lips. There was, on the contrary, something like a silent sullenness, when this subject was introduced, which was interrupted only by criminating others as the authors of their misery, or giving no very obscure indications that they deemed the allotments of Providence unnecessarily strict and severe in thus following the follies of youth, or their sins, if any body was pleased to give them so harsh a name, with so heavy a calamity as they were visited with. Such manifestations of something more than

latent enmity to a benevolent God could not fail of awaking emotions of pity and concern in every one who looked at the subject in a religious point of view. Accordingly, much had been felt, and said, and done, by pious friends to impress them with proper views of the strictness and spirituality and extent of the divine law, and the total defectiveness of their character, when referred to a standard like this; and indeed there were intervals when their own good sense and intellectual discernment really assented to the reasonableness of these requirements, and the guilt contracted by disregarding them in the conduct of life. By the most conciliatory measures and affectionate tenderness something could be lodged in their minds at such seasons, constraining them to attend to the subject with what energy they had left. Then you might see them enter into conversation with affecting anxiety whether they should hasten the death of the body by exposure to church, or ruin the soul by their precautions to preserve the body a little longer from the grave. And though their debates became somewhat frequent and anxious about the time I visited the place, for there had been for some time an interesting revival gradually progressing among the youth, and they sometimes. ventured out but always at the expense of a severe cold, yet to all human appearance during my stay theirs was a case of awful apprehension as to the final result, and considering their state of health, manner of of life, and the probability of a speedy dissolution, almost absolutely hopeless. H. S.

AL-MOHDI, AN EASTERN TALE.

[Concluded.]

It was now past mid-day, and the hours fled rapidly. As if lost to himself and to the world, Al-Mohdi wandered on, unmindful of the family he ought to cherish, or the kingdom he ought to govern. He had friends

by whom he was most ardently beloved, and to whom he was most fondly attached. But he was now so completely absorbed in the contemplation of objects around him that there was no room for the indulgence of his affections. He had forgotten himself, he had forgotten his friends, he had forgotten all the world.

Thus were his hours beguiled, as if he had never been happy before, and as if his present happiness was never to end. The sun had shone brightly, but the deep thickets made his present place a cool retreat, while the unsheltered plains were parching with heat. At length, however, the western horizon was beclouded with darkness. The clouds thickened, and advanced with dreadful impetuosity, and a tremendous peal of thunder, immediately over his head, first aroused the amazed and lost Al-Mohdi to a sense of his dangerous situation.* But what could be done, when he beheld that all around him was a howling wilderness and a driving tempest. His courage almost failed, and his heart almost died within him when he heard the roaring wind, and saw over his head the pending storm. But there was no time for deliberation, or shrinking. He must fly, and where? He knew not whither to direct his course, but ran if possibly he might find an opening out of the wilderness, which so lately had been to him a paradise. But its terrors had now turned his recent emotions of pleasure to those of rage and despair. Remorse now harrowed up his soul to madness at his temerity and inconsideration. The cup from which he so lately drank the choicest beverage, he now dashed to the ground as containing the most deadly poison. What he lately esteemed as affording him soundness and strength, he now regarded as the most deadly sleeping draught, that saps the fountain of life in an unconscious hour.

* It is necessary for the youthful reader to be apprized, that storms are much more dreadful and dangerous in the hot cli. mates of the east than in our own country. They often become like those tornadoes, which now and then visit some portions of our own land, laying waste fields, prostrating forests, and destroying every thing which opposes their progress.

But the lowering storm had now begun to pour down its full torrents. The forest darkened. The lightnings gleamed with dreadful coruscations. The roar of the thunders, which reverberated through the air in frequent and dreadful peals, and the crash of the falling forest-trees struck terror to the heart of the despairing Al-Mohdi. He hurried with hasty steps in search of the mansion he had left. Fear added speed to his flight. And now when he almost fainted for breath, exhausted with his long journey over hill and dale, and the various obstructions, which opposed his progress, but buoyed up with the hope that he had almost reached the plain, which lay before the city, to his utter astonishment and dismay, he found himself in the very same place, in which he received his first alarm. But who can now describe the passions that rankled in his bosom, the remorse that corroded, the conscience that accused him. With the wildest agitation he looked around him. Nothing now cheered his despairing eye. "Oh! cursed," said he, "be the fortunes of this day. Cursed be the motives which propelled me to this act; which drove me from all I hold dear on earth. Friends I once had, whom I loved; a home, which I could enjoy. But now, by this foolish adventure, I am lost to all future enjoyment. Oh! cursed be the hour when I stole like a thief from my father's capital, from his court, his mansion, and every wished for pleasure. This morning I left the abode of security and comfort -this evening must I perish !"

Such were the frantic strains, and more than these, in which Al-Mohdi poured out the bitterness and despair of his soul. Overcome by the tempest of his emotions, he sunk down in a state of listlessness, and insensibility.

Meantime the storm subsided; the lightnings flashed no more; the thunder no longer rolled in peals so dreadful; but the murmur died away at a distance. The air became calm again. The work of desolation had ceased. The sun shone in brighter splendour, and - all nature seemed to resume more than her wonted gladness. The young, lost Caliph was found by a peasant, and conducted to his capital, his palace, and his

home, and learned this important lesson, never to let the love of novelty counteract reason; that, while he surveyed the works of nature, which are curious and new, to act the part of a rational observer, and not that of the idiotic novice. He learned not to suffer a new pleasure to blind him to what he had enjoyed, and not to leave known and tried enjoyments, for that which is fancied and unknown. Thus this day's adventure taught, and chastened the prince, who afterwards became one of the most illustrious Caliphs of the Moslems.

HASSEN.

[For the Monitor.]

INFLUENCE OF FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS UPON HAPPINESS, BY THEIR TENDENCY TO PRODUCE A DISORDERED IMAGINATION.

Ir is related of a French Physician, that, having been consulted by a person subject to the most gloomy fits of melancholy, he advised his patient to mix in scenes of gaiety and dissipation, and particularly to frequent the Italian theatre, adding, "If Carlini does not dispel your gloomy complaint, your case must be desperate indeed." "Alas, sir," said the patient, "I myself am Carlini, and while I divert all Paris with mirth, and make them almost die with laughter, I myself am dying with melancholy and chagrin."

66

There is a morbid sensibility, which corrodes and eats up life. It is the canker of the soul; and, however the subject of it may amuse others, he is never amused himself. His days are cheerless and his nights steepless. Life to him appears a tedious burden, and the world does not contain a friend. This trait of character may be often met with in youthful circles, and would be much more often, had we power to read the feelings of the heart. All men dread, and seek to avoid it. The rich and luxurious, for this purpose, propose to themselves a great variety of pleasures. The diversions of the gaming table, of riding and visiting parties,