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volume ii. | & jFaroila Sictosuajicv : Brtootett to Ettevaturr, ftfirlcultuve, iftlectiauCcD, EtrucaUou, jForeCgti .'mo Domestic SutrUisritre, &c. \ number 2*
U C. R. HANLEITER.
I [p(o)ETlSlf.
H TIIE STAR OF LOVE.
W by a- r. Mortal*
9 Tlie star oflove now shines shove,
M Cool zephyrs crisp the se, \
Among the leaves the wind harp weaves
9 Its serenade tor thee.
II I’he atari., the breeze, the wave, the trees,
ft Their minstrelsy unite;
m jiut all are drear till thou api*ar,
U To decorate the night.
9 >j’l if ]i g ht of noon streams from the moon,
9 Though w ith a milder ray;
I G'cr hill and grove, like woman’s love,
I It cheers us on our way.
H Titus all that’s bright, the moon, the night,
9 The heavens, the earth, the sea,
§J Exert their powers to hless tile hours
9 W’e dedicate to thee.
IsSLIEOT.I®
I Fa l l o f palenque.
H A Story of the New World.
| The Sun is setting—golden and purple.—
■ The clouds sleep ih the west —early spring
I lias covered the land with Iter treasury of
I fruits and flowers, and slowly the waves of
■ iheGuardiann rolled on. On the hanks of
I iltc river st tod the castle of the proud race
■ „f ,ii Castro, and in it our history begins.
1 Inez <li Castro was just seventeen —sev-
I cittern in Spain, where woman ripens so
I early—where love is madness, and where
I woman lover or dies.
1 Inez had long been of opinion, that n-
I motig all the young knights STid nobles she
I had ever seen, iter cousin Hernan was the
I handsomest and best; and she had promis-
I ril that if she ever fell in love it should be
I with him.
I Well, on the evening described, two fta-
I utvs sat within a lofty room, curved with
I (iiitliic-work tint carpeted and hung from
I the looms of the Moresco. The elder of
I the two was an old grandee, proud of his
I name and rank. He had seen much ser-
I nee under the banner of Sunt’ Jago. The
I other, a tall young knight, well built, and
I mdl-lonking enough, stood playing with his
I ‘bigger hilt.
I•• And so, Hernan,” said the Fidalgo,
I “ you wish to marry Inez.”
I ”So please yon, good uncle.’’
j “ Dost love the girl, Hernan ?”
I “ better than aught but honor, Senor.”
! “And what says Inez, nephew 1”
“ l have reason to believe she loves me,
sir.”
“Humph! art of good courage, Iler
ir.n ? ’
The color rose to the young man’s check
ax he answered— ** l have been little tried
yet, uncle, but lam adi Castro.”
“ And you would like to sit down quiet as
a priest, with no occupation for youth but
raising n family, and no memory for your
old age but of your marriage-day. Not so!
tint so, Hernau ; when you have well pro
ven yourself; when glory can add to the
lustre of our house then will I give you my
daughter.”
*******
That night Hernan joined a band who
were going to join Cortez in America.
And now let us, without apology or de
lay, pass over two years, and we will find
Hernan second in command of a large
troop who had patted from Cortez to seek
adventure far in the interior.
Already many had learned the Indian
tongue. Already had they taught the op
pressed natives to hate them. Already had
■he Inca of Palenque learned to know thet
iltc strangers must be masters of bis land.
At noonday the pealing of horns from the
great pyramid called the people together lo I
meet their Inca. And to ‘.n&t gathering
they came. Thq young, untried in battle ;
toe nU ,vnofte swords had rusted. The
toother with her infant on her breast, the
Jtged crone, the guileless and laughing
child.
Standing on the steps of the pyramid, in
his royal robes of spotless white, with plum
ed and jewelled crown upon his knightly
: brow, Arouyab overlooked the people.—
Immediately around him were the priest
hood, robed and tiaraed. At the foot of
the altar grouped the stern warriors, with
bow and quiver, copper falchion, and spear
and battle-axe of stone. The Inca wavqd
his arm, and thrice the mass prostrated
themselves and then si>od up.
” Children of the sun !” he said. ”My
people! This is our last gathering ! Priest
and prophet and wise men say the time of
our end is come. God bath given Pal
enque to the spoiler ; the stranger must in
herit oUr land ; the race of Ivianco Capac
must perish, and if any remain.it is to give
’birth to slaves. Our arts must decay, our
altars and temples must crumble in the dust;
and in the time to come, the toot of the
Granger will wander mid the ruins of our
brittle, attd find tt6 trace of name or lineage
Os those who built these walls. Brothers,
the hour i come ! Ase ye ready to die V
’ * I from t Ofi people qame up the stern
•• We C r ready.
f flashed. “SWear
The ey ofthv ~:o n>te} w. “ swear then
then!” Weor4ed i pa*-'” the j n .
that ye will not die unavt. 8 ’ , m ->de:
ndeir shall tremble at the mS be has rtUJJ
that if we perish they shall Ml.
yQqr right arms, my people, ind
your oath with mine, that the same grave
shall welcome both !”
And with one voice pealed out solemnly,
“ We swear I”
*• Enough !’’ continued the Inca. “ This
night I know the Spaniards will attack the
city. Take then my commands. Let the
gates of the city tie opened ; take the guard
from the walls, and bid the gateman Itecp
no watch ; and when the night sets in, gath
er here, ns fully as ye may; then one blow
for Palenque and we will perish P*
In the Spanish camp fierce were the vows
of vengeance for the death of Don Andicas.
They resolved to attack the city. Hernan
di Castro was chosen leader, but he refused
the charge.
“ Enough had been done,” he said, “to
the Indian race to blacken the Spanish name
forever: lie would no further join them oth
erwise than for a fair field. A midnight
massacre jumped not with his humor.”
And as lie spoke he retired from the coun
cil.
The cousin of Don Andreas, Fenan d’Al
varaz, was chosen in his place, and Ferran
was but little troubled with scruples. Their
plan was to reach the river about two hours
before midnight, there to fell trees for a
bridge, and when entrance was gained, fire
the city and massacre the inhabitants as they
came from their dwellings. As for Di Cas
tro lie otdered Diego to prepare all things
for a departure to the coast.
“ Is your Excellency tired of soldiering V’
asked Diego.
“ Heartily,” replied his lord, “ for here
is no honor to l>e won.”
“ Plenty of gold, Excellency,” suggest
ed Diego.
“ Thou mayest stay,” said his master
drily.
“ No, Senor,” cried the man at arms, “ I
will not Ipnve you. 1 followed you from
home, and I will e’en go hack with you.—
Besides what would yon do without ”
“See to the mail*, Diego,” interi opted
Hernan, “ we start to-morrow.”
The night came down, silent, royless
and profound. Not a star shone out; not a
ray from the moon. The heavens were
thickly covered with black clouds, the air
was still and sultry and omened a coming
storm. And at midnight, in the square at
the foot of the great pyramid, Aronyah
stood at the head of his Warriors. Not n
light was in the city. Mothers stilled the
cries of their babes within their own dark
chambers; children slept soundly, their
sports forgotten for a while ; and men busi
ed themselves, with thoughts too stern and
sad for speech. And in that square stood
that patriot hand awaiting the hour of de
struction.
At length they hear the approaching ene
my, betrayed by the ringing of some un
guarded step. Slowly they came near, and
were now unwittingly within a few paces of
their foemeti ; and the dead silence was ap
palling. Suddenly the sky grew red with
lightnings, and face to face the focmen saw
each other.
“ Upon them, brothers.” shouted Arou
yali, “ let us show them how cheeifully wo
can die for Palenque.”
Even os he spake tlie living thunder peal
ed ; crash after crash echoed along the sky,
tlie mighty rain poured down in torrents,
and the spirit of the Earthquake awoke.—
The ground reeled and shook beneath them;
the temple tottered and the obelisk fell.—
Tlie huge pyramid quivered and rent. And
the roar and crash of falling piles ; the
shrieks of women and the cries of children;
the neigh of frightened steeds and the fear
ful war-cry of warrior men rung comming
ling up to God. And the thunder rolled in
Heaven; and the storm blast howled its
song, and mighty rain poured ceaseless
over all.
And when the Sun of the morning sprang
tip the east in brightness ond in glory, he
saw that the Fall of Palenque was accom
plished.
• ••**#•
It was a beautiful evening in old Spain,
when from the gates of the di Castro palace
a small party issued forth upon the lawn,
and walked down towards, the river side.
There was a pale girl, with truces of
matchless beauty in face and form, but the
latter was attenuated by illness, and the first
dimmed with a settled melancholy. She
leaned upon the arm of an old gentleman
in whose stern but still handsome features
could be traced a resemblance of herself.—
A servant followed those two, and a noble
hound walked at the lady’s side.
“ Well Inez,” said the old man, “ will
you not give up vo r resolution. ‘ I am
growing c’.o, and l like it ill that the lands
of di Costra should go to the hands of a
stranger. The Count Almaviva loves you,
Inez ”
“ Father, dear father, do not speak of that.
I cannot marry. To-morrow, by your kind
permission, I will seek the convent of Saint’
Angelia, and renounce the world that has
given me nothing but sorrow.”
“ Was your father’s love a source of sor
row to you, Inez V’
” No, dear father, I meant not that, I
meant but to tell you that other ’ove than
that I bear you is impossible.”
“ And to think,” said the old noble, sadly,
“‘that your heart is broken. And for one
so worthless—so
“ Do not blame him, father,” pleaded In
-62. M He was rash and wild, but he was
noble and affectionate. Do sot. blame bim,
.'l..'.’ •*’ - ,
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMRER 9, 1843.
for ere now be is perhaps beyond the reach
of this world's praise or blame’’—and the
tears gathered in her beautiful eyes.
“ Excellency !” said the servant, draw
ing near, “A cavalier is coming from the
castle.”
“ It is perhaps Almaviva,” said tlie Don.
“I cannot sec him, father,” said Inez,
shuddering slightly.
The otd hound walked in front of the
pair, and fixed bis eyes on the cavalier.—
Nearer and nerer he came with a quick
step-,
“ It is not Almaviva !”—and as llte senor
spoke the hound sprang forwotd, crouched
at the feet of the cavalier, and then hound
ed about him with a low whine of joy.
“ Father, father, it is Hernan !” and in
anolhet moment she had fallen on his breast.
He lient over her and murmured, •* Who
shall port us now, Inez ?”
And she answered, “None hut death.”
THE GRATEFUL HUNCHBACK.
From the French.
There otire lived in a 6mall town in
Fiance, a little, old hunchback, who, in his
youth had, by some accident, lost both his
legs, his name was Caro. Caro was not
rich; at least he would not acknowledge
that lie had anything more than his mule, n
pack saddle, and a pair of crutches.
To gain a livelihood he made himself use
ful in the village. He took leltrrs to the
post-office—brushed dusty clothes—polish
ed boots and shoes; indeed, he did every
thing to gain an honest living. lie would
sometime! get six cents—sometimes mote
—sometimes less—at other times he would
receive an old hat or cord,some bread orsome
meat—in a wind, lie always received some
thing for his trouble. Caro was so good—so at
tentive—sti honest—every body loved Caro.
In the morning early (for Caro never was
lazy) he would go out to seek for something
to do. In good weather he would take his
clutches and walk—or rather crawl on his
knees—but when the weather was l>ad he
would tide on his mule—and in this way of
fer his little services. In the evening he re
turned to his hut to talk with Colas.
Colas was a young gardener, laborious,
and kind, who gave a corner of his cabin to
poor old Caro. Cam loved Colas os a fa
ther loves a child ; and when Caro was sick,
Colas was his nurse and physician. Colas
made his soup—Colas made his lied—Colas
took care of the mule. In all the good
things that Colas enjoyed,Caro shared.
Every day, at noon precisely, Caro re
paired to the house of the rector of the pnr
i>h. Tlie good man was a worthy parson
who, in former days, had received seme im
portant favors from the hunchback, and in
gratitmlp, he l ad ordered his servant to give
him, legnlarly, his dinner at this hour.
The name of the servant was Rosette,
she was an amiable, pretty and sensible
young girl. Colas loved the pretty Rosette,
and Rosette loved tlio good Colas. But
they were both very poor—too poor they
thought to be married, and both hoped and
looked for better times.
The situation of the poor hunchback in
terested the tender-hearted Rosette. As
soon as she heard the sound of his crutches
at the door she would exclaim, “It is Caro”
—she would then assist him to descend from
his mule—give him a chair near to the fire
—inquire about his health—and, indeed, she
did all for tlie poor, decrepit little hunch
back to make him happy. Caro loved tlie
good, the kind Rosette with all his heart.—
It is so natural to love those who try to rnokc
us comfortable and happy.
And when the hunchback h'jJ eaten his
soup, Rosette always found some nice deli
cacy : “ Father Caro, pn' t t’ <wge nu t s j n V onr
pocket—father Caro, e- 1 a pp le_firtl,er
Caro, take this “jaso of wine.” Every day
the same kindness wa# B b OW n, ar)t ] every
day old Cato would say: “God will re
ward you, my beautiful Rosette,” and thus
he would depart muttering blessings on tlie
good girl.
One day Rosette’s friend did not come.
The hour had passed ; no one knocked.
“ Alas !” she exclaimed, “something has
happened to Caro. He never would io;get
his good dinner. He must be sic!;. Can
be be V’ She dared not finish the sen
tence—the thought would break her heart.
Suddenly someone knocked at the door.—
“ Ah, it is not Caro—that is not the knock
of Caro’s crutch
™ ’•** Z neart full of grief she opened the
door. It was Colas. Coins, his eyes filled
with tesrs, had come to tell the good rector
that Caro was no more ! An atlsck of ap
oplexy had suffocated him during the night.
Tender Rosette, and honest Colas, simple
and pure souls, mingled their tears over the
cold remains of poor Caro.
Id the pockets of the poor Cam was found
a paper containing his last will. This is
what was written :
“ I leave to Rosette my pack-saddle : and
I leave to Colas my crutches, on condition
only that he marries Rosette. As for my
poor mule, that has served me so faithfully,
I leave to the good rector, that it may be ta
ken care of during its old age.”
Every body regretted old Caro: but Ro
sette and Colas, his two best friends, were
for a king time incousolable.
But, in time, sorrow for the Hunchback
gave place to funny sayings about hisatrange
bequest. The peasants of the village found
great pleasure in tcazing Colas and Rosette.
“It is to beat thy wife,” one would say
to Colas, “ that Caro left you his crutches.”
“Nodoubt,” another would reply, “it
was for this purpose that the old man left
the pack-saddle to Rosette, as every body
knows it is the symlml of patience.”
Every one had his little jest, ond the poor
voting people hardly knew what to snv.—
however, in respect to the memory of their
old friend, they kept sacred the modest l:cr
itoge.
One dey, a long time after the death of
Caro, Coins WBS sitting at the door of his
hut, w hen he saw a large hog in his garden,
destroying all his nice vegetables. He went
into his chamber to get a stick, but in bis
haste be picked tip one of the crutches’ of
the old hunchback, with which he beat the
animal so hard upon the back, that it broke
into fifty pieces. What wos his surprise,
on eeeing strew and nil about him many pieces
of gold! Honest Colas could not believe
his ryes—bnt he felt the different roins, and
turned them over and over again, until he
could doubt no longer. He then got the
other crutch—and wondered that he had
never before rematked bow heavy it WBS,
and when he had broken it, he found it too
filled with gold pieces. Colas was overjoy
ed—be danced under Ida humble roof—lie
wept —he laughed—he hlesged the memory
of his benefactor. A thousand agreeable
ideas crossed bis imagination ; he thought
of what the paper said about his marriage
with Rosette; he counted again his treasure,
and then, swiftly as lie could, he ran to the
house of the rector.
“ Here, Rosette !*’ cried he, as soon as lie
perceived her, “ come, behold our good for
tune!”
Rosette opened her large black eyes as
she listened to tlie happy Colas. “ Oh,” she
exclaimed, “and where is my pack-saddlel
They came together.”
The ugly thing was decaying in a corner
of the stable. But they found it. They
opened it—and it was stuffed with pieces of
gold !
Colas and Rosette were married. They
liouglit a pretty little farm, and lived com
fortably and happily for a great many years.
And to the end of their lives, cherished with
gratitude the memory of the affectionate
Caro, who, by liia wise economy, acquired
means o reward, after bis deatli, those who
were his disinterested and honest friends
during Lis life.
From iLe Southern Literary Messenger.
A GHOST STORY.
After a raw, unpleasant winter’s day, a
storm burst forth towards evening, that had
evidently l>een some time brewing. The
wind howled, the rain and hail lieat against
the windows, and we instinctively drew our
rhairs closer around the cheerful, blazing
fire ; we felt, when doing so, as if our com
forts within were sensibly increased by the
violent ragitig of the storm witliovt. We
talk over our reminiscences of former
storms, and told many a story of peri) by
flood or field.
One of the party had been a quiet Vistener
all the evening, which we thor.’ nt utifair;
so, before separating for the Light, we urg
ed upon him to give hfc contribution for the
amusement of the rest,
1 b ee vevy little of a traveler,”
said lie, “and no personal adventures
to recount; t is y f)U wish it, I will relate
a ghost sf.ovy, and, moreover, I am prepar
ed to ‘iouch for its truth.”
Let us have it by all means,” cried we
all at once. Our friend then gave us the fol
lowing history :
“ The city of Exeter, in the south of Eng
land, contains tine of those venerable calhe
dials whose magnificence gives evidence
alike of the wealth of the church and of its
liberal expenditure in those days when Eng
land acknowledged the supremacy of Rome.
Dwelling-house* are joined to the remains
of the monkish cloisters; ond at the time I
speak of, two mansions, on opposite sides
of the cathedral, were occupied by Mr.
Smith and M r .Siiefli' - ’o . both of them were
clergymen, y,ho had been connected with its
ttiini.bierlal services.
In order to pass from one house to the
other, yon were obliged to make a consider
able circuit. Therefore,for the convenience
of social intercourse the families had solicit
ed and obtained permission each to make a
abort passage, by opening a door way into
the cloisters, by means of which they could
pass privately from house to house. This
explanation is necessary for the understand
ing of the story.
Fanny Sheffield had been spending an
evening at Mr. Smith’s, where the young
people had enjoyed themselves with so
much gayety that time had slipped away
more rapidly than any of the party was a
warcof; and when Fanny rose to return
home the Smiths begged her to stay the
night, which she had oTteu done before ; but
she positively decliued it, saying she would
just skip across the cloister, and that the
door was to be left open for her. She wish
ed good night, and danced and sung with
the exuberance of her spirits, as she tripped
through the ancient monastic precincts.—
When she reached the door she was dis
mayed at finding it locked. The hour was
so lute that the family had made sure she
was remaining at Smith’s and all had retired
to rest. She knocked as hard as she could
with her band. Then she kicked the door;
but all in vain. The passage that interven
ed between the door and the house prevent
ed tlie sound being beard. After a moment’s
considers!ion si e ran hack to the other side
to try to gain admittance; lut she was there
equally unsuccessful, for the door had been
locked as she went from it to go home.
Fanny was hy no means of a timid tern
fierament and when she found that she real
v must spend the night in the cathedtal,
her feelings were rather agreeable thati oth
erwise; end the more she thought of it the
better she fell pleased at an occurrence that
savored so strongly of romauce. The moon
was nearly at the full, ond sometimes shone
brightly through the gothic windows, form
ing many giolesqtte figures, by the shadows
it threw around. Flying clouds swept over
it occasionally, and all wasdaik, then again
it would emerge bright ns ever. It is not
surprising that Fanny should hare little in
clination to sleep under these circumstan
ces. She walked slowly up and down the
aisles, sometimes stopping before a monu
ment, where the crossed legs told her that
the mortal remains of a gallant crusßdrhad
been deposited, and then passed on to tombs
where the youth and beauty of more modem
days had alike mingled with their mother
earth. No one could be alone, at midnight,
in such a place, without feelings of awe, and
most persons would be unnerved. After
pacing almut in various directions, Fanny
began to fancy she saw something in mo
tion near the organ, hut she would not per
mit Iterself to dwell on the thought; for,
said she to heiself, “ I know that I am alone
in this place; it can be nothing hut the
moonlight, however, ns l am growing fanci
ful, I had better go to sleep.”
Sl.e thought the pulpit would be a good
place for rest, and she mounted its steps, ar
ranged some cushions, amused herself with
picturing the surprise of the family when
they should hear, in the morning, where she
had passed the night, and was in the art of
dropping 89leep when she beard footsteps
gently approaching up tlie aisle. All thoughts
of sleep vanished, and she looked in the di
rection from which the noise j roceeded.—
Could it he that her eyes deceived her ?
No, it was not an illusion !. for by the moon
light she saw a white figure, with perfect
distinctness. She was tooted to the spot;
she could not stir, nor could she scream;
she was unable to withdraw Iter eyes fiom
the object which created *o much alarm, as
is ti;e poor little bird when fascinated by
the eye of n snake. She watched the fig
ure gradually drawing nearer and neater,
until it stood 8t the font of the pulpit; and,
after eyeiug her for a moment or two, it as
cended, and she felt a cold Lnud laid on her
arm. £he recollected nothing more—all
was blank.
“Week after week she lay upon a sick
bed, her body ronsuming with fever, and
ber brain so shaken by the shock it bad re
ceived, that her friends feared her reason
would not be restored. By slow degtees
ber feeble frame began to regain strength ;
and, as the body l>erome invigorated, the
mind also showed symptoms of returning
strength, and she was at length able to re
late the history I have given you. After
doing so, she begged her mother to let her
know how and where they had found her.
“ We were surprised that you did not
make your appearance after breakfast, and
sent over to Mr. Smith’s to say that you
were wanted. But our surprise was chang
ed into consternation when the seivant came
bock and told us that you had not slept there,
and that no one had seen you after taking
leave at the cloister door. We went into
the cathedral, ond called aloud for you,
tLinking; it just possible that you might lie
(tiding from us by tlie way of frolic. On in
quit y fiom the man who kept the keys, we
learned that on opening the cathedtal at an
early hour, he found a poor idiot boy in it,
who, lie supposed, had wandered there the
day before, and not being obsetved, had
lieen locked in. A low moaning sound di
rected us to the pulpit, where we found you,
my child, in a perfectly unconscious slate.”
Fanny entirely recovered from the shock,
but in consequence of the distressing cir
cumstances that had caused her illness, the
doors of the rloisters were closed, and for
the future both families were willing to walk
round about through the frequented streets,
instead of taking tlie shortcut.”
When the story was finished, there wns a
general pause, broken by the youngest of
die party saying in a lone of disappoint
ment, “ So it was not a ghost after all.”
** No,” said the narrator, “ and I make no
doubt that other ghost stories, be they ever
so well authenticated, would admit of simi
lar explanation, if sifted to the bottom.”
DESTRUCTION OF THE INQUISI
TION OF MADRID.
In the course of a lecture delivered a few
days ago, in tfe chape) of Brown Universi
ty, Col. Lehmannwsky gave a most graphic
descripf’on of the capture and destruction
of one of these establishments, by soldiers
under bis own command.
In the early part of ihe yenr 1809, Napo
leon commander all the buildings occupied
by the Inquisition to be destroyed. Col. L.
requested Napoleon to give him a command
in an expedition against one of these dens of
vice and cruelty. (If I remember rigltt.it
was the Inquisition of Madrid.) “My re
quest,” said the Colonel, “ was complied
with, and I bad the command of the 11 ith
regiment of the line. Upon approaching
the building we saw several soldiers on the
walls. We summoned them to surrender ‘
¥M. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR!
in the name of the Emperor of the Preftdh;
they turned slid I>enr over aa if conversing!
with some who were inside, and after care
fully seaming our number, which wits but
small, they answered our summon* by firing
among us. Several were Wounded and one
man killed. We then procured some heavy
timbers, and by the .United strength of aft
the men made a breach, and entered within
the walls. As soon as we were inside, we
had a specimen of the cunning jesositry of
these rascals. The whole company of priests
and inquisitors, came towards us in avert
humble attitude, with their hands crossed
over their breasts, and tl.e first we heard
these artful fellows were reproving the job
diers on the wall for having made any re
sistance, end for not having politely qdlnil
ted these “ very fine gentlemen”—ollhtWigb
it wns, of course, by the direction of these
very men, that resistance had been offered.
The only answer we gave was by placing
guard over these now obliging fellows, with
directions to keep a sharp look out after
them that none might escape.
Upon examining the interior of the build
ing, we found it beautiful in the extreme;
every thiug appeared quiet and in excellent
order.
The floo* of the piincipal hall wns paved
with slabs of fine marble, and at the eixinf
this hall was an altar with several wax can
dles burning. The priests appeared so bum
ble and submissive, and every thing appear
ed so quiet and orderly, that my suspicions,”
said Cos?. L., “ were almost lulled to sleep,
(which was the effect they intended to pro
duce.) and I began to suspect that a great
many falsehoods bad been told about the
cruelties practised in these establishments.
We could discover nothing of the secret
rooms and underground cells, of which we
bad often heaid, end I was upon the point
of retiring w ith my men, Rnd leaving the
building for the present in the hands of its
old occupants, when a brother officer erged
a mn-e diligent examination of tba whole
building. We proceeded to examine care
fully the principal ball, to discover, if possi
ble, some trap door or other entrance to the
regions below. Some of the soldiers tried
to thrust the points of their bayonets, others
of their swords, between the slabs of mar
ble, but all without success. I was upon
the point of giving *p, whew it was suggest
ed that water should be poured over the
floor to see if it would find an outlet through
the crevices. After watching the wafer
carefully, we observed one place where it
evidently escaped between the slabs. * Ah,*
said some, * whot’s here ? we shall make
some discoveties now’—while the captive
inquisitors stood by shaking with fear.
Presently a soldier struck a heavy blow
with the butt end of bis musket upon one
side of a slab, when all at once a spring
seemed to give way, and the slab at unce
turned upon a pivot by which it was fasten
ed at the two sides, disclosing an opening,
and a staircase leading down tu some dark
cavity below.
1 at once walked up to the altar and seiz- -
cd some of the lighted candles, when one of
the buhl paled priests stepped up to me arid
suid very sanctimoniously— ‘ O, my son,
these ate holy candles, you must not touch
them.’ ‘But,’ said the Colonel, ‘myonly
reply was—very well. 1 want them fo{& ho
ly purpote, I want to tee holy thmgt’ Be
low we found an apartment of considerable*
size, furnished with setters. See., which we
at once knew, by the infernal contrivances, 1
t< be the hall of torture. We went round’
and soon discovered an alley, and on each’
side of this alley a number of dark and
gloomy cells. In those cells were • large
number of the victims of popish
young and old, loaded wish chains, and
some of them, women as well as men, liter
ally ns naked as their mothers bore themyr-
The soldiers threw their coats ami cloaks
over these poor miserable wretches, ana
loosing them from their chains, proceeded
to help them to the hall of judgment above
ground.
When the soldiers had provided fojr .the
safety and comfort of these weeping wreicb
es, they turned their attention to the mauiti
itors, and insisted upon nutting them all to
death. In their excited state of feelings,'*
said the Colonel-,- “ it would have been vain
for me to oppose their will.
Among other instruments of torture, we
found an image of the Virgin Mary, so con
trived with spikes, knives, ter., that when a’
person went to kiss it the arms closed h£
the victim was pierced with a thousand
wounds, and rut to pieces. The soklfcts
insisted upon the chief inquisitor kissing! haq
image; he refusedthey pricked him with
their bayonets and compelled him to do ab,
when the arms closed and he was cut sad
hacked to death in a most shocking manner.
After taking out the most valuable books
and other articles, we placed a rumber of
barrels of gunpowder in the budding, and!
setting fire to the train soon fisd the satis
faction of seeing this horrid abode of cruel
ty a heap of smoking ruins.
After we had seen the end of the inquiti
t on, we invited all the neighborhood whose
relation* had been torn from them by the
officers of this bloody tribunal, to cohne end.
convey to their homes such of tjhem aa they
could find alive; and,” sard this Ootouef,
” never shall I forget that sight! The sol
diers whoro T commanded Were mep of
blood, the eight of human mpaegy and slaugo
ter had become ‘so comdmn To them that
they could eat their meal yfitjo none the %•%
* t * -'• ‘tT-