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you to arouse the spirit of your ancestry who had given the signal of action, thus within you; and, by whatever means it may addressed Sobiesky. be practicable, and at whatever peril ob- “ Heir of the valiant Count Soltikoff, tained, to avenge your own indignities and you behold yourself surrounded by men your father's wrongs !" “ Chowanskoi," whose only crimes are their misfortunes ; replied the youth, “ I feel my humiliation, you see the remnant of your country's deand mourn my unfortunate sire's untimely fenders, who have escaped the vengeful death, and pledge myself never to dis- tyranny of the Czar. That barbarian, though honour the name and lineage of Solti- he put to death, by the hands of the exekoff!”

cutioner, and even by his own, the greater The company had dispersed at different part of our companions, the Strelitz has not periods, and by different ways repaired to succeeded in extending his fury to us. Heathe appointed rendezvous. Sobiesky and ven has preserved us, to execute its rightChowanskoi were the last who left the inn:

eous vengeance upon him, and the desired with considerable palpitation, the youth moment rapidly approaches. You shudder, followed the guidance of him in whose Count Sobiesky !--well may you do so, hands he had placed himself, who con- with strong revenge. I have seen the blood ducted him to the dilapidated mansion, of your unfortunate father shed on the scaf. amidst the ruins of which the fatal meeting fold; I followed him to the melancholy was to be held. Sobiesky's director proved, spot; but I could not save him! Outcasts by the adroitness with which he turned the from the body of men, myself and brave comdark angles, and surmounted the piles of panions have wandered for years through rubbish by which their path was beset, that dreary forests, and made our resting places he was no stranger to the place. He was, the lion's lair, or the bear's habitation. The indeed, one of the most active agents in the misery of our circumstances has compelled business; and hence, he secretly exulted that us to seek by fraud, or to obtain by violence, their plot was nearly ripe for execution, that subsistence to which our rank as soldiers with every prospect of complete success. and citizens justly entitled us. But, to

The conspirators had already assembled; morrow, the tyrant and his courtiers are and when Sobiesky and his companion doomed to fall by our hands. We loved were ushered into the assembly, every in your father; he was our chief. You are dividual was

leeply engaged in familiar now invited to become so. Your resolution discussion. The attention of the company, and courage will, we doubt not, prove our however, was instantly directed to the choice has not been improperly made.” Count Sobiesky; for by that title he was Sobiesky listened with astonishment, and cordially greeted by the whole conclave. at once became fully alive to the dilemma Sobiesky, by a silent inclination of his manly in which he was placed. He had proceeded person, acknowledged their reception, and too far to recede, and yet, more than ever, each person resumed the seat from which he detested the contemplated deed of blood. he had risen, A few moments' pause fol- To stale his objections, he was aware, would lowed ; an awful silence prevailed. The only be to secure his own destruction, while extensive, and but faintly illuminated place, to proceed on the projected plan, would be appalling in itself, from the evidences in to act in concert with murderers, whose almost every part of the hand of time being chief object was to spread anarchy and hard upon it, was rendered more chil- confusion in every direction. He felt the lingly appalling-even breathing seemed only alternative left him was, to disguise suspended; and the hoard of conspirators his feelings, and summon to his aid an aplooked rather like so many frightful bodies pearance of determination, foreign to his from which the spirits had escaped, than heart and understanding. In this he sucliving men ;-every eye was fixed, move- ceeded, and the next night was appointed less as stone, upon Sobiesky, when, at a sig- for their last meeting. The conspirators nal given, all at once arose, and above dispersed, each taking a different direction. a hundred shining daggers were simultane- Chowanskoi merely conducted Sobiesky to ously brandished above the head, while the place at which they had entered the “ The murdered Count Soltikoff, and re- ruins, and then left him to pursue his way venge !” burst from every lip. Sobiesky to the inn, while himself, to prevent obseragain bowed with firmness, but spoke not. vation, took a more circuitous route. One of the band, whose appearance and Sobiesky had not advanced many paces, conduct gave full intimation of superiority, before he felt his arm suddenly seized by gently motioned with his hand, and the an unseen hand, while a stranger addressed fearful weapons were re-sheathed. The him, and requested with earnestness that he company again took their seats, and he would follow him. To distinguish the fea

A TALE OF THE KREMLIN

179

tures of the person by whom he was ac- and you shall not calculate in vain upon the costed, was impossible; but, as he felt con- exertions of my arm.” fident in his mind, that he was one of the Sobiesky had listened with the utmost party from which he had just separated, he attention to the stranger during his address; conceived that to refuse would be danger- and after he ceased to speak, continued to ous; hence, making a slight motion with survey him with mingled emotions. There his hand, he whispered—“ Lead on," was a noble boldness in his manner, an inand immediately followed his unknown dependence of look and tone, equally dis. guide.

tant from the vaunting of a coward traitor To whatever part of Moscow Sobiesky of a cause he had espoused, and the bravomight have been conducted, would have like fiery expression of an assassin. There been equally indifferent to him, as he had was a calm dignity about all he said, which, only been in it a few hours in the whole, together with the open, fearless confidence hence all places were alike strange to him. A he had displayed, charmed Sobiesky, and few minutes brought them to a narrow and begat in him a similar spirit. The designdecayed staircase, which, with considerable ing secrecy of a conspirator comported not difficulty, they ascended, and entered an with his ingenuous temperament, hence, apartment, the door of which the Russian without disguise, he as freely communicated closed after them instantly. “ Whither are his own, as he had received the sentiments you leading me?" demanded Sobiesky, as of the Russ. the stranger still moved forwards in silence. Delicately he adverted to his happiness “Do you fear to follow me?" asked the and contentment in the cottage at Valdai. guide, surveying him attentively, by the light There, where he knew not the sting of amof a lamp which depended from the ceiling. bition, nor felt the envenomed tooth of envy, Sobiesky felt awed beyond what he could nor the fires of malice and revenge; where account for. He gazed upon the tall and his wants were few, and easily supplied ; he robust figure before him, whose piercing had learned what in courts is seldom known eyes looked as if they would read the secret -to be sincere and honest.

66 And still,” working of his mind; at length, he replied continued Sobiesky, “I might have enjoyed, as before, “ Lead on, I'll follow you." what I now can scarcely hope to possess, They entered a second room, of limited di- happiness, had not my blissful ignorance mensions, the door of which was likewise been removed. And what have I gained by immediately closed; when the Russian knowledge?—the painful information, that in turned, and thus addressed Sobiesky. order to avenge the author of my being,

“I perceive you are surprised at what I whom I never knew, I must stain my hands have done. It is unnecessary—be secret, in the blood of my sovereign. Whether, and all will be well. I have, as well as indeed, he who is declared to have been yourself, just left the ruins in which the my father, was innocent or guilty, I know death of the Czar has been resolved upon not; doubts may well agitate me here, with a solemn oath. Like yourself, I have surveying the assembly in which I have to-night, for the first time, been among the been. Burdened with these doubts, I am conspirators. I too have reasons for being to murder my master. Fear would not the irreconcileable enemy of Peter. But our weaken my arm, nor hesitancy hold me plot, I fear, is badly laid. For who are our back, if I knew my cause were good; but companions? Wretches stained with crimes, I doubt it. I am equally unable to form outlawed plunderers, who have eluded the an opinion even of the conduct of the emarm of justice, and now breathe only mur- peror in reference to my father; nor can I der and pillage. They state, indeed, that think that Heaven, as some would persuade the chief men in the empire are in their me, has willed it that revenge should so be plot, and yet not one of them was named. taken. I would at once have expressed the But can we suppose any noble would so far indignation of my heart against the plot, disgrace himself, as to mingle with common and the detestation I felt at its purposes, banditti? They have opened no plot to us.

when first I heard it in the ruins, had not For what, and for whom, do they expose the conviction of my mind assured me, that themselves to danger ? it is true they name death would have immediately followed, your father, and revenge ; but it is only to and without benefit to my sovereign. I induce others to become the blind instru- shudder at the dastardly proposal--an inments of their enterprise; every thing is, in ward voice seems to address me, “The life fact, unknown to us. You, Sobiesky, they of your sovereign is sacred ; love and prohave appointed their chief. I cheerfully tect him.' This monitor I am resolved to subscribe to their choice; only make me follow-pity, and save my youth and igno. better informed on this mysterious matter, rance-give your advice and assistance

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deliver me from the hands of these insur- would ensue, while part of the band were gents and murderers-point me to a way of employed in plunder, the others, headed by escape, and I will follow. For if the em- Sobiesky, were to force the palace, and surperor must bleed by my hand or consent, round the apartment of the emperor, upon or I must suffer, I will cheerfully submit, whom, instantly as he appeared, they were and perish as I have lived-innocent !". to rush, and despatch him with their dag• “Noble Sobiesky,"exclaimed the stranger, gers. The arrangements were completed embracing him, “You shall not perish ; a dreadful oath had been prepared, to bind such heroism demands, and shall have, re- them together-an awful silence ensued. ward. Behold,” continued he, throwing off, The individual who had addressed Sobiesky, as he spoke, the cloak by which he had on his first appearance among them, rose, partly concealed himself—“ behold your and was proceeding to swear the assembly, emperor before you; he who addresses you when a sudden crush shook the dilapidated is the czar, is Peter your sovereign; he can building, the baracades were forced, gleam. and will protect you."

ing fire-arms and glittering swords struck It was, indeed, the magnanimous monarch. terror into the hearts of the boldest of the Sobiesky fell at his feet, but was soon raised conspirators; to flee was impossible-resistfrom that position by his royal master, ance was in vain; the soldiers of the czar, Every circumstance connected with the plot, led by himself, surrounded them. The from its commencement, had been known whole were secured ; and, on the dawning by Peter. That terrible tribunal, which of the day, which was to have witnessed a was established in Russia during the reign flaming palace, a murdered monarch, and a of Czar Alexei Michailowitch, called “ the pillaged city, the lifeless bodies of those Chancery of Secret Inquisition," was, dur- who had formed the plot, afforded a fresh ing his reign, merely a nominal institution. instance of the knowledge and deterinina. The numerous conspiracies, both of a poli- tion of Peter the Great, tical and private nature, which were formed The forfeited estates of Count Soltikoff against Peter, rendered it necessary in his were, with his titles, conferred upon his view not only to continue, but to render it son, whose courage and loyalty proved,

that additionally active. Its members were the professions he had made to the czar, found in all ranks, yet known by none, save while in the habit of a slave, were not less themselves. Nothing transpired of the most sincere than strong. Honour and dignity trivial nature, but, through this medium, were in him united ; and next to Prince was almost instantly conveyed to the czar. Menzikoff, in power and in influence, stood Thus he had heard of the meeting at the the once humble Sobiesky of Valdai. His inn, at which Sobiesky and Chowanskoi first sudden reverse of fortune, and flattering stopped; there, in the habit of a slave, Peter elevation, did not, however, divert his atwas present; he overheard the plot, and tachment from those to whom, from infancy, determined to be of the party in the ruins. he had been united. By his interest the He had there noticed the confusion of So- life of Chowanskoi had been spared. He biesky, was convinced of his innocence, was, however, condemned to perpetual and determined to save him, and therefore banishment to the regions of Siberia : but he had led him, by a secret communication, this sentence was not carried into execution; to a wing of his palace.

a disease which then prevailed in the prison It was determined on the part of Peter, where he was confined, carried him off. He that Sobiesky should return to the inn, died in the arms of Sobiesky, who had oc. where a ready excuse for his absence, if casionally visited him during his confinecalled for, would be furnished, in his igno. ment; and, as his last breath trembled on rance of the streets of the city. Chowan- his lip, commended Eudocia to his care: skoi had not, however, returned when So- This was not necessary, his heart was too biesky reached the place; he had been deeply interested in her welfare to neglect detained on his way by some of the conspi- her. rators.

Immediately after the interment of ChowShortly after his entrance, each repaired to anskoi, he flew to Valdai. The cottage of his chamber, and, in the following night, his childhood appeared in sight. The sun when the inhabitants of Moscow had retired had not sunk beneath the waves of the Boristo rest, they rejoined the conspirators in the thenes, when he drew up to the gate. Eu. place of general rendezvous. The execu- docia was walking in the garden. She turned tion of the plot was now finally arranged, her head as the carriage stopped: the welleach person had his place and work assigned known form of Sobiesky, as he stepped him. The palace was to be fired at various from it, met her eye, and in an instant she places; and, during the confusion which was in his arms—“My own Sobiesky !" was

REFLECTIONS OF A TRADESMAN.

181

GUIDANCE OF HIS CHILDREN.

all that escaped her lips, as her lifeless head bave suffered me to sit with the dogs of fell over his shoulder. The scene was pain their flocks. I wonder men, from selfish fully interesting. The excess of joy which motives, are not more wise. I wonder they she suddenly felt had stopped the current of will have servants, before they find they can life. Sobiesky bore his lovely burden into pay them; I wonder they will trust busithe cottage, and then, yielding to all the agony ness to the hands of shopmen, when they of sorrow, demonstrated by his emotions, can do it better themselves. These few that the lacerating wound he had received things I see, in the course of men's lives, are was incurable, as be deplored his blasted the causes of their ruin. hopes and crushed affections. Eudocia was One lies in bed in the morning till eight, interred by the side of her father, in the nine, and sometimes until nearly ten o'clock. cemetery of the convent of the Holy Trinity; By this he robs himself of the best quarter and after sustaining, with honour to him- of the day, and gives all who are about him self and profit to his sovereign, the dignity an opportunity to rob him. This generally, conferred upon him, Sobiesky was, at his I think, always ends in poverty, if not in death, by his own particular desire, depo- utter ruin. sited in the tomb which had received his Another gads about every where, attends beloved Eudocia.

to every one's business but his own; his cusBrigg

tomers never find him in his shop, which is

left to apprentices. He sets up his horse, To whom it may concern.

and, consequently, has an extra servant, and makes in the street, and on the road, or in

the field, a most respectable gentleman-like REFLECTIONS OF A TRADESMAN, FOR THE

appearance, when he should be behind his

counter, at his day-book and ledger. After MR. EDITOR,

some time, his fine horse stumbles, and Sir,- The following extract from the throws his rider, and so he is obliged to journal of my late father, you will oblige me walk on foot all the days of his life after, by inserting in the Imperial Magazine. and has neither day-book nor ledger to turn

X. X. X.

over, nor horse of his own to ride. Oh, how many families are now in the A third I have seen enters on trade; deepest distress! How many hearts will marries a wife with a fortune, and of rebreak, through calamity! Oh that my spectability. He clears £300 a year by children may ever be wise-never to wish trade, and, with an expensive table, and to make appearances in the world, or in- seeing company, lives at the rate of £500. dulge their appetites or pride, so as to live Ruin is as sure bere, as if it had already above their income.

taken place; and, in some instances, I have Since the first year after I was married, seen it take place. when the whole of my salary was not more Another good-natured simpleton is rethan £40 a year, including my board, I quested by some sinking spendthrift (who took care my outgoings were not more than himself never knew the getting of money) to £30. After I got into trade, and for many lend him his name,

as a mere matter of years wanted double the money I had to form,” to his flying drafts. He does so, carry it on, we wore our old clothes till they until the drawer and the indorser are obliged were threadbare. Instead of riding to the to go hand in hand to be white-washed at manufactories, I saved horse-hire and ex- the county gaol; so much for accoinmopense on the road, and by day and night dation. walked on foot. By this I always fore- Another rises early, late takes rest, eats casted to be ready when payments were to the bread of carefulness, till he gets rich, and be made, and so my credit became estab- trusts some of these respectable gentlemen. lished. Had I not taken these steps then, They put it in bags that have holes, and my dear family had not been so well pro- away it is gone at a stroke. vided for now. If I, like many in my Another is avaricious, hard-hearted, cruel, time have done, had set up for gentleman and will help nobody. The curse of God then, I had been a poor man now. Thanks is over the wretch. In out-witting, he is for ever be to that tender Father, who himself outwitted, his villany exposed, and watched over me, and blessed my honest all is blasted. endeavours in almost every thing I put In the midst of all these dangers, and my hands to.

more that I could enumerate, such as unHere I am ; I stand a wonder, a wonder expectedly falling into some shameful sin, to myself. I stand, while I have seen others by which I bave seen three or four opulent fall, who, at my beginning, would scarcely families suddenly ruined ; in the midst of

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all these dangers, how much need have I to watch and pray withal, to be diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. Oh! how happy, how secure are Christians, when they live as Christians, and are governed by those sacred precepts of the Bible, which “ give subtlety to the simple, and to the young man knowledge and discretion."

Farewell ! no more thy heaven-touch'd lips shall

flow With heaven's own eloquence; no more thy

prayer Rise from the altar with celestial glow,

And spread a savour of devotion there; Thy sainted spirit now beholds the Lamb,

Of whom on earth thy genius loved to tell, Now reaps the peerless blessings of his name,

Now with his ransom'd ones delights to dwell, Where prophets, martyrs, and a countless throng Of bloodbought, faithful souls unite in endless

song Farewell! we feel, and deeply feel thy loss : Thy orphan'd flock, the church, the world must

feel; We lose a mighty champion of the cross.

Yet at the throne of heaven submissive kneel; We will not wish thee back to mortal sight

From courts of bliss to scenes of haggard woe;. We will not wish thee from the realıns of light,

Where radiant glories blaze around thy brow: Then vainly Death may vaunt what he has doneEclipsed an earthly star, to light an beavenly sun. Oxford.

J. S. B.

POETRY

TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE REV.

ROBERT HALL, A.M. WRITTEN AFTER ATTENDING HIS FUNERAL, AT

BROADMEAD, BRISTOL, ON WEDNESDAY, MARCH 2ND, 1831.

“ Know ye not that there is a great man fallen this day in Israel ?"

BIBLE. “ Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit."-HORACE.

"T18 o'er—the pastor and the saint is gone,

From earth's dark wilderness of sin and woe ; And reckless Death a sombre cloud has thrown,

In fancied triumph, o'er the church below: Yon sacred house, where oft his accents fell,

With heavenly cadence on the enraptured ear, Is now the spot where mourners love to dwell,

And pour their sorrows o'er bis ballowed bier ; In life, bis energies were here displayed, And now his ashes rest beneath the temple's

shade. Yes! Hall is gone! no more to mingle here,

The faithful pastor with his much loved flock; No more their souls with richest food to cheer,

No more to point them to the smitten Rock, Whence living waters flow; the stream of life,

of fadeless health, of purest joy and love, That flows from heaven to earth, with blessings

rife, Then refluent seeks its wonted source above ;No more his flock shall listen to his voice, The shepherd of their love-the guardian of their

choice. Around bis tomb a mourning train appear,

Whose heaving bosoms tell their deep-felt grief; One common sympathy has drawn them here,

One coinmon wound that seeins to mock relief: Pale Learning in her sable stole is seen;

And Eloquence, her eyes bedim'd with tears; Genius and Fancy on each other lean,

And mourn the spoil of sickness and of years : One sister-band,-they all conspire to lave, With sad, commingling tears, their Hall's lament

ing grave. Yet one there stands more fair than all the rest,

Whose lovely visage speaks her heavenly birth; With trembling hand she rends her spotless vest, And seems to tread as if on hallow'd earth

: Now rests her eye upon the silent tomb,

Then quickly darts it to the seats of bliss, As if she knew the grave's recipient womb,

But open'd to a life more blest than this, Where sainted Hall, with unbeclouded ray, Should shine around the throne, through one undy.

ing day 'Tis Piety, the offspring of the skies,

Who mourns in silence o'er the mighty dead; Ah! who can tell how deep her sorrow lies !

She cannot weep--her very heart has bled! Or if, perchance, one lonely drop may seek,

To find an exit from its pearly cell, Far more than words that lonely tear may speak,

And mark what feelings in her bosom swell; In hope she sorrows, and delights to know In heaven that plant shall bloom, she dearly loved

below,

MAY,
WREATHED WITH MISSION FLOWERS, DOING

HOMAGE TO THE CROSS OF CHRIST; Respectfully inscribed to the Mission and other

Christian Societies, who hold their Annual Meetings in this Month,

BY JOSHUA MARSDEN. " The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come; and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land."'--Solomon.

RETURNING bloom adorns the plain,
Enamelling both field and bower;
And sure the pious heart may deign,
To tind a text in every flower ;
The purple bud, the foliage,
Inscribed by Wisdom's pencil fair,
Is musing man's delightful page,
He reads a vernal sermon there.
An alphabet in every vale,
Is legible to mortal ken ;
Illuminated volume hail!
The primer of unletter'd men:
The rustic may this folio spell,
The plowboy learn this A B C,
And every violet's sweet bell
May teach a litany to me !
Each peasant may philosophize,
Though Science bar him from her fane,
On the green earth and amber skies,
The pearly dew, the springing grain,
The eye may smile, the bosom swell,
When Nature weds sweet floral May,
And Beauty walks on dale and dell'
In all the pomp of Eden gay. *
There's not a bird that thrills the air,
Or drop that glistens on the spray,
But may suggest a grateful prayer,
Or shine a gloomy doubt away;
The doubt if God be good and wise,
Spring vouches, if you bail require,
For grove and garden, earth and skies
Are psalters, and each flower a lyre !
The air is balm, the morning cool,
Each rustic whistles down the vale ;
Mild zephyrs crisp the lucid pool,
And nectar fills the milk-maid's pail :
Gay bounding on the verdant lawn,
The artless lambkins frisk and play ;
And when Aurora opes the dawn,
The lark salutes the purple ray.
And some prefer the park and grove,
The garden, or the river's sedge;
Others the mountain moorlands rove.
These love the bower and hawthorn bedge:

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