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POETRY. From the Meteor. * CARTHIAN. At sunset, when the parting light Oi‘beauty, crept through Mian’s vale, And on the wave and mountain height Hung quivering and pale. When o’er the gloom that evening brings The day-king, as he sunk in flight, Shook splendour from his folding wings, And laugh’d at hovering night: The tents of Carthian were seen All gilded hy that orient sheen; And warriors who had often braved The power of many a mighty foe, Stood with the sparkling laugh below Where Persia’s banner waved. When lo! from out the mountain shade, From rock, and tree, and gloomy dell, A host with flashing spear and hlaue Bore on, and liktva torrent fell Upon the thoughtless group: They fell—and as the Persain saw The might, and heard the loud hurra Of that wild bandit troop; Hope’s flowers closed before his eye— He felt it was his hour to die, But still stood firm and brave: He fought, though life was dim, and all Grew dark in death; he fought to fall— To a fame-laurel’d grave. The combat died—how red and wild With Persians basely slain, With lorms in their own life-blood piled, ' Lay all the Illian plain: In death were they who once had breathed The song—the laugh—the vow: Who once with victor-sword unsheath’d, Lived with a light that glory wreath’d Around the soldier’s brow: They lay in ruin—sunset’s light Beheld each life expire, They lay upon that fi -ld of fight; Therr bier, the earth—their pall, the night— That sun, their funeral fire. The frozen lip—the folded eye—• The cheek With life’s red beauty gone; The blood that stream’d in torrents by, Yet gilded by the glancing sun; The banner, that in pride at morn, Waved in its purple beauty—torn,, A nd broken spear, and cloven shield, Were wide upon that silent field. X)ark shadows deepen’d, and o’erhung In folds;of gloom the evening arch, When frotjn tne hills the wild notes rung Of bandiit Alpin’s march; There with the outlawed banner high, With spears like star-light in the s!.y, They ranged with martial pride; There with the work of rapine done, With golden spoil, and captive won, They glitter far and wide. But soon the glorying music fell, Along the evening air; Troud Alpin, with commanding word, W r aved to the ,band his crimson sword, And as he spoke, the shout and swell Of happy voices, rose to dwell Withmarayan echo there. " Comrade's, victorious and brave! Te fought for conquest or the grave, With yonder prostrate ioe: X e con/quer’d—let the silent night Jtesowncl with voices of delight; Arwf pass with song and festal rite >' Amid the wine cup’-(low!” They shouted—and the midnight moon To scenes of warrior revel rose; To loud lips, and wild eyes. that soon Met long and dark repose: It pas.’d to voices murmuring high, To laughter that went up the sky, From joy’s unbounded power; And while the song and mu ic peal’d, Blithe hearts with pleasure’s fullness reel’d Throughout that radiant hour. ^ But who was he within that cave, With clouded brow and dark eye bent, Bound with the letters of a slave !— Mis garb in blood—his helmet rent— What being, that, with lonely frown, Gazed dark upon that banquet down! ’T was Carthian—captive of the fight— The valiant, and the kingly knight— The Persian chieftain—he whom day Had seen as proud, as free as they; Who saw in blood his soldiers fall B; dastard drot and coward blow, And hear within his heart their call For vengeance on the foe. Jle gazed, but not alone in thought; For deeper in the cavern gloom, Like rising specter to a tomb, A soldier of bis blighted band, With loyal heart and sword in hand,. His voiceless signal caught; The soldier sprang—it was to free His chieftain from the chain; It was with Carthian to be The death-blast to thaf banquet glee, And freedom’s own again— ***** The morn rose up, brave Carthian shone, Once more upon the Persian throne. Rover, GUIDE ME JEHOVAH. 1. dtX,.Ifi4cn)J, RWJ strt; IpaeSPCP DR, ophy.i iw»; f*y<»9Prii>i**t)j hA. 2. <M15A SUAET do-cj <*y<»sTL; X>h-4Z 0»<?ysi TEA DT4w.I. otydWF<fty a(»y»<',(V.!t&. 8. «Wio- IUh ©MJBT, DiO i-A<h>A<® k T ; beyoSiPoey, aa tfoeywbfitiO'. hAA4l At.Ezyb®t,lu rs. Dc&A-UT III. 1. GAG? Qpyiy Gh AhWrty DPh-A^o®!- top- 2. AO IiSJJbeiv, 0>h Th^-qO TIpoSSO-' CsT, ty-V- Gi> MW.I (PTPAA R^SIiCr 6' c3T. 3. Gbeybeyh ad h>©^tTb5.xb?p- da<tp‘ oty thjs, .ad lrhsjawp', ©.as o^ss.My to* P-T, htss O’CAmU.S, S0-0- Uh>* irZ 4. Goeyz AD Gh O’ChCt/R «*XU (P* SZlrZ (PWdilST, (PPovDBUZ itf, TOPZ RA (VSPt. 5. t,*rz Etvair'Atr hmbph d* iisacr JAM), Dtf IiSUG? GO-etf 3 KBIi, 5. KBIiZ SCPetlSRT, DhZvt-oilI-CPhoCSO" CsT. 7. O’liG.'I D4Z SAbD DhXPB DMJSiZ (PhMCS l>G<L9o?E, AD hSJU4rf; h, T6J* h>~ ToP, SA TlrJllr T8PR.IA CPl»We>A6tA Jv' RT. 8. TipeaAaiiA DS«PAb®a o»/i Tir^R TIrc«)SO-C=T, 9. Drf LriSA AD III Mr Mb TTPRy, RX DB *yAt>; TC=h4^Z (P^ltVO-A .pF*V” AD 0~<3 JiMIp RX. 10. Dcf Got)*^ serw »Mc3<S.l O^PIi^ S- trtssp sar>r.T, G<»yz hsaG- so'E, tgtz eeLiTbiJEe DZwXP TIv4<n>.I, .JStfBt*Aa ©I.* AO-wlZ DIr>a.»o>. 11. tPAAGfoiyhZO- SCstSWotA D*’ 0>h Tlr<»SOC=T; D4Z #h O' GAG?" O’pnyucr R<flfS4” DB, jGvflP ^Ash-hTi, Gbeybtiyh At,Gft5b®\vh s^-vacr 0 TrO-A D<f Dlr*a. 12. WMGZ TD^op, IiSAGT BSW-PSE, O’TPZ (PSW'WOA BSGtJIi D BOO A A, (PJTB* Abtyii rA&iJWh IiEVoPEe Dh-a. 13. t r .v«z htf HVP JS4T, It Till O^MT* T Gh SMTrf (P4!-a4T. 14. D4Z Gh SP©4(f«V’, DBbtyh ,5o?X- Wi h-AZ TdtiyMToP. 15. mjz i/ic-, (p/ttvy f w a a, *i.cr\p" Z Gbfy TGf-btU yhoiiXAbiVl Ii«i SGJ V A(T , T; (yirviT. ywz o>/iw y tpitsi^T. 16. IpVZ D«t5i, ywty TB(T’ CP0M4T, ,ni(h4T, Dtf EhGT S41VJ Gh-bf yRrf. SAPZ (P/ttVO-A CPBOA ASZAF4 J<f U«).\h‘ A UTPlP, D«r GJUce-qTT. 17. Dir EhW JD hW4 S-3HM, AD Irp-GrT DbDh, CPhG? lpIr^-qD, (PWT. MffSCELtLAJiY. THE SPANISH INQUISITION. Some of our readers may recollect, that the author of the narrative from which the extract below is taken, visit ed this country after the fall of the Cortez and the constitution ol Spain. He was the companion inarms oi Ceu. Mina, and the brother in law ol Gen. Quiroga. Some account ol' his misfor tunes were published in many oi the papers in the United States. At the time of his arrival he had not lully re covered from the tortures he had suf fered at Cadiz, lie was accompani ed by his wife and child. The publi cation was originally intended for this country; but in consequence of a hope that Col. Van Hailen entertained— and whit h subsequent events have not made good—of returning with his com panions to their native country, & es tablish r.gainthe constitutional system, he concluded to publish it. in London, where he at present remains with the other Spanish exiles.—Statesman. On the night of the lbth, I again appeared before the tribunal. I w r as made to go through all the ceremo nies and formula of swearing as on the first occasion. “Do you sw r ear, said Zorilla, to have told the truth in all the answers you have given to the ho ly tribunal?” “Yes.” “Doyou swear, as an apostolical and Roman catholic, that you have not concealed from the knowledge of the holy tribunal, any person or fact inimical to the divine or human majesty?” “Yes, sir.” “Do you swear it upon your Catholic con st ience?” “Yes, sir.” “Are you sure that you have forgotten nothing?” “Do you require more time to re flect?” “I believe that ! have for gotten nothing, sir.” “Well, then sign.” I had scarcely laid down the pen, when the tw o jailors approached, and suddenly seizing me succeeded in spite pf my struggles, in binding my hands behind my hack with strong leather thongs, which were wound round my arms from the elbows to the wrists. The fiscal then rose, and read a very long remonstrance, in the name of 1he divine Redeemer and of the holy tribunal, and concluded hy warning me, that if in twenty four hours l did not make a full and com- pVte avow r al of oil that I concealed, the holy tribunal would declare me guilty of perjury, and proceed in con sequence fo treat me as I deserved, t o this I replied, that my conscience forbade me lo comply with the desires of the tribunal: to do what they requir- t d of me would render me guilty at the same time, of lalseliood and base ness. On hearing this, the president in a 1H of impatience dashed the snuff box on the table; Verdeja made the sign of (the cross: and Zorilla, starting furiously from his chair, exclaimed, “ah vvlut wickedness! Well, to mor row we shall find a way to untie your tongue. Y ou have 24 hours to choose between your safety and your ruin.— Jailor take hm away.” And Juanito, pulling me by the thong that hung from my wrisj, took me back to my dungeon. Mijrcelino followed us.— Seeing that I was to be left wdtli my arms thus boiud, I asked them to give me some watir beforq they locked me up. Marcello, who always showed somewdiat let* humanity than his col leagues, raised the vessel to my lips, and said, in j confused tone of voice, that they vv<|re expressly forbidden to speak to mel About one o’clock in the morning) the door of dungeon o- pened, andjZorilla, followed by his worthy satelite, Juanito, entered.— Finding a striding or sitting position in tolerable frjim the pressure on my arms, I had ‘thrown myself upon the bed: they njade me rise, and murmur ed at my awkwardness in doing so. I was devoured by a burning thirst; for being deprived of the use of my hands, I had, in endeavoring to drink, thrown down the vessel containing the water. The mqment I saw my jailors, I asked them in a suppliant voice for water. They paid no attention to what 1 said, but proceeded to’ search my person and afterwards my bed, bedstead, pil low, and even my watch. I then a- gain begged for something to drink, imploring them in the name of reli-' gion, charity and all Christian virtues, of which the holy tribunal talks so much. At length, Zorilla ordered a pitcher of water to be brought, and when Juanito poured some into a bow l, he said to me, “drink like the savages of Africa since you have no more re ligion than they have.” [Col. Van Hailen underwent anoth er examination the next day, tho’ in an alarming state of fever. The result was the same as on the former occa sions—denials on his part, and meha- ees on the part of the inquisitors. It was not tVil some days after that their menaces were put in execution.] Between 7 and 8 o’clock in the e- vening on the 27th November, Juani to entered my dungeon with four men, whose faces were concealed by black veils, that covered their heads, shoul ders and breasts, in the form ot a cowl. I w as dozing: the noise awakened me; and when, by the dim light ol the lamp, which Juanito held, l perceiv ed these four phantoms, I remaineu some time in doubt if I were not in a dream. They signified to me to got up by pulling the end of the leather thong that bound my arms, and with out uttering a single word, bandaged my eyes wdth a leather strap. In This state I was led from the dungeon to the place of punishment; there, upon an oi det of Zarilla, w hose voice 1-re cognized, my arms were unbound'— “Listen with attention,” he saiu in a tone of fury, “.you propagator of se cret and impious societies—you who' have been deaf to the counsels of peace, mildness and religious charity, which the holy tribunal has so often given you. YVell, the holy tribunal at length decided to force the secret from you, Oh! perfidious enemy of our holy religion and our catholic sove reign—those truths w'hich neither oaths nor exhortations have beep able to obtain from you. It is the cause of our divine Redeemer and of our Catholic king that w e judge; w r e shall not shrink in doing our duty. Y es pre pare yonrself, yes, the moment is come. Let justice, truth and reli gion, be at length satisfied.” At this moment the four executioners ap proached, and w ithout giving me time to utter the few words which the troubled state of mind I w r as then in would have allowed me to pronounce, laid hold of me, raised me up several feet from the ground, and placed ine upon a kind of crutches, to one of wdiich my right arm was bound in a vertical position, whilst my left was stretched out horizontally; iny left hand was then put into an iron glove, very tight at the W’list, and from w r hich extended two iron bars that enclosed the whole length of my arm up to my shoulder and prevented me from making: the least movement.— My two legs and the middle of my body, were beund iu the same munnejr her as my right arm, to the pi tween which 1 was- suspended, so in a little time all movement but that of respiration w T as suppressed. When the tribunal saw ine in this painful po sition, they ordered the various char ges accumulated against me to be read. Zorilla in a trembling voice indicating bis thirst of vengeance, said. “kou have carried on revolutionary relations with the count Mountija, the Marquis de Campo Verde, Don Juan O'Donoju, and Don Jose Torritos; they have written to you several times—you have answered them; you had assented to their plans, is not this the case?”. I uttered a few words meant to prove the contrary. , “No circumlocution; yes or no—is not this the‘case?” 1 persisted in my denial. The iron glove, which seemed to be connected with a wheel, was then lightened, and as the movement oi the iron bars began to squeeze my arms, I gradually felt, particularly from the elbow to the shoulder, a most indis- cribable pain.—boon after, all my limbs became convulsed, and a cold perspiration covered my face.—The interrogatory however was continued. “Yes or no—is it not so? is it not so?” until I fainted away, and heard nothing more than a confused sound of voices. When I recovered njy senses, 1 found myself stretched on the floor of my dungeon, and surrounded by my exe cutioners, in the midst of whom my enfeebled sight recognized Zorilla and Juanito. During my state oi insensi bility I had been heavily ironed. Mar tyrized as I was, 1 kept my teeth firmly closed upon a corner ol the col lar oi my coat to prevent myseli from giving utterance to those cries which the pain L suffered might have forced from me before these odious beings. Zorilla spoke to me in the most abusive terms, saying that I sufiered more from rage and despair than from any thing else. When they quitted me, I dragged myself across the floor to my bed. The noise of my chains brought in my executioners at every moment, and their presence was not the least cruel of my torments. Colonel Van Hollen, was not again subjected to tortures; and alter a cap tivity of one hundred and thirty one days, he made his escape by knocking down Marcellino, one of bis jailois, and locking him in his dungeon. STORY FROM THE MISHNA OF THE RABBINS. During the absence oi the Rabbi Meir Irom Ins bouse, his two sons died, both of them of uncommon beamy & enlighten.'dd by the law. ills wife bore them to her.chamber, laid them upon the bed, and spread a white cov ering over their bodies. When Rabbi Meir returned’ his first inquiry was fov his sons. His wife reached to him u goblet; he praised the Lord at the going out of the Sabbath, drank, and again asked, “Where are my sons, that they too may drink of the cup of blessing?” “They will not be far off,” she replied, and placed food be fore him that he might eat. He was in a gladsome and genial mood; and when he had said grace after the meal, she thus addressed him: “Rab bi, with thy permission I would fain propose to thee one question.” “Ask it then, my love,” he replied. “A few days ago, d- person entrusted some jewels to my custody, and now he demands them: should I give them back to him?” “This is a question,” said rabbi Meir, “which my wife should not have thought it necessary to ask. What! w'ouldest thou hesitate or be reluctant to give to every one his own?” “No,” she replied; “but yet I thought it best not to restore them W'ithout acquainting thee therewith.” She then led him to their chamber, and stepping to the bed, took the white covering from the dead bodies. “Ah! my sons, my sons!” loudly la mented their father; “my sons! the light of my understanding. I w'as your father; but ye were my teachers in the law.” The mother turned a- w'ay and wept bitterly. At length she took the. husband by the hand and said, “Rabbi, didst thou not teach me, that we must not be reluctant to re store that which was intrusted to our keeping? See, the Lord gave, aed the Lord hath taken away; and blessed be the name of the Lord!” “Blessed be the name of the Lord!” echoed the holy man; “and blessed be his glorious name for ever*” An Irishman who w'as employed on the canal last spring at Mears, was ob served one da • very intently watching a red-headed woodpecker w hile it was “ tapping a hollow beach tree. ”—Ou iqg asked what attracted his atten- Ion 8omarvellously-“I am speering,” said he, “at the strsmge baste upon yonder tree-for sure enough the silly crathur has knocked his lace against it till his head is all a gore of blood!!” MY MOTHER’S GRAVE, “I had a mother once, like you, Who o’er my pillow hung, Kissed from my cheek the briny dev^ And taught my faultering tongue. But then there came a fearful day, 1 sought my mother’s bed, . 1 ill harsh hands tore me thence away, Ana told me she was dead.” L. H. It was thirteen years since my mother’s death, when, after a long absence lrom my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound, be neath which I had seen her buri- edi Since that mournful period^ great changes had come over me. My childish years had passed away; and with them had passed my youth* ful character. The world was alter ed too; and as 1 stood at mv mother’s grave I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose cheek she had so of ten kissed in her excess of tenderness. But the varied events of thirtee* years had not effaced the remem brance of that mother’s smile. It seemed as if 1 had seen her yester day—as if I heard the blessed sound of her voice then in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and childhood \j ere brought back so dis tinctly to my mind, that had it not been for one bitter recollection, th* tears I shed would have been gentl* and refreshing. The circumstance may seem a trifling one; but Vh& tho’t of it, even now agonizes my heart and I relate it, that those children who have parents to love them, may learn to value them as they ought. My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so much ac customed to her pale face, and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, a.3 children usually are. At first, it is true, I had sobbed violently —for they told me she would die; but when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I be gan to believe she w'ould always be spared to me. One day when I had lost my place in the class, and done nay work wrong- side-out-, I came home discourag ed and fretful. I went into my nrcih~ er’s chamber. She was paler than usual,—but she met me w'ilh the same affectionate smile, that always wel comed my return. Alas, when I look back, through the lapse of thirteen years. I think my heart must hove be come a stone, not to have melted by it. She requested me to go down stairs, anu bring her a glass of water —I pettishly asked w'hy she did r ot call a domestic to do it. With a look of mild reproach, w'hich I shall never forget, if I live to be hundred years old, she said, “And will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother?” I went and brought her the water; but I did not do it kindly—instead of smiling and kissing her, as I was wont to do, I sat the glass down very quick, and left the room. After playing a short time, I went to bed without bidding my mother “good night;” but when alone in my room, in darkness and silence, I re* membered how pale she looked, and how' her voice trembled when she said, “Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor sick moth er?”—I could not sleep; and I stole into her chamber, to ask forgivenessv She had just Junk into an uneasy slumber, and they told me I must not waken her. I did not tell any one what troubled me; but stole back to my bed, resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry I Tor my conduct. The sun was* shining brightly when I awoke, and hurrying on my clothe^, I hastened to my mother’s room. She was dead!—She never spoke to me more—and never smiled upon me again—and when I touched the hand that used to rest upon my head blessing, it was cold, it made me start. I bow'ed down by her side^ and sobbed in the hitterness of my heart. I thought then I wished I could die, and be buried with her; and old as I now am, I would give worlds, were ihey mine to eLe, could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I can not call her back; and when I stand by her pra^e, and whenever I think of her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful.look she gave me, will “bite life a serpent, and sting like an adder.”—Juvenile Miscellany.