Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

■ . ... ‘ 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-