this sensible and worthy man, and it was to the affectionate care of his daughter that he owed the restoration of his health and mental faculties. But how often do we find brave men to be the possessors of tender and affectionate hearts! And so it was with the father of Télésile. Brought up in a camp, and equal in courage and abilities to the bravest warriors of the day, he concealed, under a countenance denoting firmness and severity, and a determined tone of voice, a most sensitive and amiable disposition, which was always exhibited in his domestic life. If commanding an army, he was an inexorable general, whose look alone would inspire with terror, and whose voice would make one tremble; but, sitting at a fireside, he resembled one of the fabled tutelar deities, whose eyes seemed to feast on the happiness of others, and whose gentle and endearing manners made him appear more disposed to obey than to command. Beloved by the people he governed, respected by the soldiers he commanded, and feared by the enemies of his country, he lived honoured by every one, and happy in his deserved title of "The people's Friend." As he had by his noble actions and unbounded influence over the people, contributed principally to the election of René to the dukedom of Lorraine, the young prince had placed unlimited confidence in him, and appointed him governor of Nanci. It was even remarked, that the young Duke had publicly evinced such a decided admiration for Télésile, that the people expected to see her become the wife of their prince, and Grand Duchess of Lorraine; and this expectation, instead of exciting their envy, only filled them with delight; a feeling so unusual, as bore ample testimony to the tender and respectful estimation in which this accomplished model of filial piety was held by all ranks of the people. It was at this time that Charles the Terrible, after having employed all the resources of his military genius in endeavouring to possess himself of the suburbs of Nanci, at last came to the resolution of besieging it.

Notwithstanding the scarcity of provisions, and the absence of their idolized young prince, the faithful Lorrainers repulsed for a long time with advantage the numerous attacks of Charles, so that he became furious, and determined to die rather than raise the siege. Every citizen of Nanci joined the troops of the garrison, to defend their hearths and families. The old men went through every part of the city, exciting, by their example, the women and children to carry every thing they could to the ramparts to throw down on their merciless besiegers. In one place, showers of stones were flying from the summit of the walls on the besiegers' heads; in another, torrents of boiling oil were poured on them by women of every age and rank-a whole family were united to repulse an enemy. And never did the love of home and country, and sworn fidelity to a prince, give birth to such prodigies of valour, or call forth such heroism. Charles, seeing that his efforts were useless, and that his brave opposers were neither intimidated by his powerful army, nor frightened by his threats, suspended for a few days the siege, and proposed a capitulation. He only required the surrender of Nanci, and promised to respect their firesides, and to protect them from pillage, protesting, at the same time, the high esteem which he felt for a people who had shown themselves so valiant and faithful to their sovereign, and concluded his address by declaring it to be his highest ambition to be allied to so worthy a people, and that his chief desire was a lasting peace. In this instance, the propositions of Charles were sincere; often in his cruel and ambitious career he had exhibited some sensibility; virtue was not totally foreign to his fiery spirit; but he was too often led astray by his thirst for power and military fame, and he now experienced what is sooner or later the just punishment of warriors, who are unfaithful to their promises, and who do not respect treaties, even at the risk of their lives. Picardy still smoked from the fire with which this warlike prince

had devastated that fine country, which he had sworn a hundred times to spare. Normandy groaned under the ashes with which he had covered its fertilc fields, and he had but just returned from making the city of Liege the theatre of a most bloody persecution of its numerous inhabitants. With such fearful examples of his cruelty, the Lorrainers could only look upon the overtures of Charles as a cruel snare, which they resolved to avoid. The valiant governor of Nanci was the most incredulous, and, by his powerful eloquence, as well as by the veneration in which he was held by all ranks of the people, determined them not to accept his proffered treaty. All resolved to die rather than submit to a faithless warrior, and to resist him vigorously. Charles being informed of the positive refusal of the inhabitants of Nanci, and, above all, of the governor's address, who had painted him in the strongest and most insulting manner, swore to be revenged. He sent again, for the last time, a herald to announce to the Lorrainers, that, if they did not surrender the town that very day, and acknowledge him for their conqueror, he would commence an assault on Nanci, and slay all the inhabitants with the edge of the sword. This threat only served to irritate them still more against him, and to redouble their courage. The governor, assured that he would be the first victim, but choosing death rather than dishonour, walked through the town haranguing the people, collecting troops, and giving to each posts to defend, as appeared to him the best for repulsing the besiegers.

Telésile, who was as much in danger as her father, as she declared she would never forsake him, partook of his heroic enthusiasm, and, following his example, harangued the women and girls who surrounded her. She reminded them of the sublime patriotism of the women of Beauvais, who feared not to participate in the horrors of the fight, and who, with their fathers, husbands, and sons, braved every danger to prevent this same Charles the Terrible from penetrating into their city, and exercising his cruelty. "We have seen," cried Télésile, with the most fascinating tone of voice, "mothers of families and timid girls arm themselves with whatever first presented itself, carrying to one place immense loads, collecting broken lances into bundles, and tying them together with their hair, overwhelming by their united strength the soldiers of Charles, and compelling them to raise the siege; they were not more devoted than we are to a glorious death; they were not so many as we are,-why then do we not follow the example of those courageous women, whose actions will descend to the farthest posterity? Why then shall we not, like them, save our city and our hearths from the tyrant?" Télésile's discourse made a lively impression on them all; it was now, who should be her assistant in imitating the touching heroism of the women of Beauvais? Neither the fatigue of labour, nor the threats of their cruel and formidable enemy, nor the fearful prospect of an assault, could intimidate the wives and daughters of the faithful Lorrainers; all determined to second them by their efforts and courage, and the weakness of a sex so little accustomed to the dangers of battle seemed to vanish, as the moment approached which was to decide for them victory or defeat. Charles, still more enraged by their persevering resistance, exerted all his ingenuity: profiting by a very dark night to deceive the besieged, he made at first several unsuccessful attacks on different parts of the ramparts, and, as soon as it was day, collecting the best of his troops before one of the most defenceless bastions, he gave the assault with so much vigour and impetuosity, that in less than two hours he opened a breach in the walls, and penetrated into the heart of the city at the head of his soldiers, who, like their leader, were burning with fury and revenge. He was going immediately, while his rage was at its height, to order the massacre of all the inhabitants of Nanci.

"Barbarian!" said Télésile, whom they had brought

before him, "if we shall perish, over whom will you reign?"

Charles." Who art thou, that darest thus to speak to me?"

Télésile.-"Thy prisoner, who wishes to prevent thee from adding to the dark catalogue of thy crimes."

The expressive voice of Télésile, her beauty, and above all, the noble indignation which burned in her, suspended for a moment the fury of Charles; his first demand was, the surrender of the governor, who, yielding to the solicitations of his daughter, and to the unanimous wishes of the inhabitants, disguised himself under the dress of a simple citizen, and mingled amongst the crowd of Lorrainers, who all sought to shield him from the ferocity of the conqueror. It was impossible for Charles to forget his promised vengeance on this honourable victim, whom he ordered to be delivered up to him, promising a considerable reward to whoever should take him.

"You will not find one who will betray the governor," said he, without discovering himself. "Swear on the word of a soldier, to pardon every inhabitant of Nanci." "To pardon them!" said Charles furiously; "no, no; you all have despised my power; you have rejected my overtures with too much insolence for me to listen to your prayers for mercy. If fate spares for a time your governor, I know well how to discover him after the terrible manner I treat those who, like you all, have dared to brave me, and tried to oppose the course of my victories." Then, addressing the officers who surrounded him, he gave orders to decimate, instantly, the people of Nanci-and then what a melancholy sight presented itself! Men, women, old men and children, all assembled in a long row, which extended from the place where Charles had stationed himself, to the ramparts of the city. Every family was grouped together, young girls clinging to their mothers' arms; friends standing side by side, each resigned to the death which was to choose its victims, and each one hoping that fate would select him to die in place of the object that was dearest to him. At last, a herald, on a sign made by the conqueror, began to number the prisoners, and those to whom the number ten came, were to be slain by the sword; but at the first falling of the fatal decimal, a difficulty arose which suspended this barbarous execution. Télésile, at her father's side, who still was in disguise, followed with eagerness every movement of the herald, she heard him reckoning aloud every one, and, judging too accurately that the number ten would fall to her beloved parent, she glided gently behind him, and had the filial satisfaction of hearing the number nine fall to him, and to herself the fatal ten. The governor was so overcome by this magnanimous resignation of life, by one so lovely, admired and beloved, and for whom life had so many charms, that he could scarcely find words to express himself. He declared that it was he who ought to die, that fate had selected him for the victim, and that he could not allow another to die in his place. Télésile, without saying that he was her father, affirmed that it was only by chance she guessed his number, and as fate had decreed it so, she would die. The herald and his companions not knowing which to believe, brought them both before Charles for his decision. The touching scene which ensued, and the heart-rending debate of both father and child, as to which should die for the other, made the prince experience an emotion which he could not prevent. Undecided, confused, and not knowing which side to take, he preserved the most rigid silence. "Thou hesitatest, cruel man!" cried Télésile, with a coolness and dignity which rendered her still more interesting. "Cause me to perish, and prolong the days of this old man, who has crowned sixty years with his virtues." Ah! do not agree to her wish," said the governor. "What are the virtues she speaks of compared to her noble self-devotion, which fills every heart with admiration, and at which thy own breast swells with emotion?"

Télésile.-"Behold these white hairs! they tell thee of a head of a family who is loved and revered by his children."

Governor.-"See the brightness of her youth and beauty! she would live long to be the ornament of her sex; and wilt thou sacrifice her, to lengthen the few days that I can call my own?"

"Ah!" cried Télésile, seeing the tender expression of countenance with which Charles regarded her. “Ah! cease to admire in me what is but my duty; it is but a daughter who would fain save the author of her days. Learn then, conqueror, he is my father!"

"Well," replied the governor, "I will now put an end to your indecision, and oblige you to grant life to this model of filial piety. I deliver to thee that enemy on whom thou desiredst to take vengeance; thou seest before thee the governor of Nanci, who would have given himself up to thee before, had thy barbarous fury not refused to save, at the price of his head, his faithful fellow citizens." At these words, all the inhabitants, whose affection for him was heightened by the heroism of Télésile, surrounded her and her father, and forming a rampart about them, demanded to be allowed to die in their place. Never had Charles beheld so touching a spectacle. The cries of a suppliant people, kneeling at his feet, ready to die to save their governor; the free and loyal resignation of the old man, who offered himself as a victim; the heart-rending cries of Télésile, who swore by heaven never to survive her father; the astonishment and admiration depicted in every countenance; the tears falling from every eye, produced on the conqueror, and even on his soldiers, a feeling they could not define. At last the governor, piercing the surrounding crowd with Télésile hanging on his arm, required Charles to pronounce their fate. "You shall neither of you die," said this formidable warrior," it would be indeed too difficult to decide be tween you; you have penetrated my heart to its core, and, if it is, indeed, glorious to conquer, you have taught me it is still more glorious to forgive. Enjoy," cried he, 'enjoy, lovely and noble Télésile, all the happiness which awaits you, and receive the reward of your filial heroism, which shall be immortalized by history. I grant you not only the life of your worthy father, but that of every inhabitant in the city. Do not thank me, I owe you much more than you owe to me, for without you, my soul, filled only with the desire of military glory, would never have known the sweets of clemency, which I confess, are superior to any." These words of the conqueror were received with transports of delight; all the inhabitants, overpowered with their expressions of gratitude, uttered cries of joy, in which they were joined by the soldiers of Charles, who partook of their master's emotion. This prince, having learned by experience the valour and fidelity of the Lorrainers, declared his intention of making Nanci the capital of his dominions He restored to the governor his rank and prerogatives. Télésile became more dear than ever to her fellow coun trywomen. There was no family, no individual, who was not indebted for the preservation of a cherished object, and perhaps for their own existence. Her name was always uttered with love and respect, and, while she lived, she experienced in her happy, honoured, and vir tuous life, that we must raise our minds above every circumstance in which we are placed, and that the surest way of escaping danger is by putting our entire confidence in our God, who will enable us to meet it with courage, presence of mind, and resignation.

THE MARINER'S COMPASS.

THIS wonderful invention, or discovery, which enables us to bring around us the productions of the farthest corners of the globe, is generally referred to the beginning of the fourteenth century; but there is reason to suppose that the peculiar qualities of the magnet were known to the ancients. The long and difficult voyages which we know they accomplished, seem almost impossible without the aid of the magnet. Even in their native hemisphere the stars were often clouded, and consequently useless as guides; and in the southern hemisphere, the strange aspect of the heavens must have bewildered, instead of aiding them. Yet we know that the ancients circumnavigated Africa; and if, in the spirit of modern incredulity and self-gratulation, we declare their voyages to Britain to be mere coasting expeditions, we must allow the voyage described by Herodotus to have been of a more important character. In fact, mention of the magnet has been traced by learned writers, through clouds and darkness, up to a very remote period. Homer writes:

"No pilot's aid Phoenician vessels need,

Themselves instinct with sense securely speed;
Endued with wondrous skill, untaught they share
The purpose and the will of those they bear;
To fertile realms and distant climates go,
And where each realm and city hes, they know ;
Swiftly they fly, and thro' the pathless sea,
Though wrapt in clouds and darkness, find their way."

This quotation has been applied to steam, but we think weakly. Plutarch says that the loadstone was mentioned by Manetho. We cannot trace it in " Cory's Fragments," that precious gift to the unlearned inquirer.

Mr. Maurice, in his "Indian Antiquities," says, "The magnet is mentioned by the most ancient classical writers, under the name of Lapis Heraclius, in allusion to its asserted inventor, Hercules; and Dr. Hyde enables me to affirm, that the Chaldeans and Arabians have immemorially made use of it to guide them over the vast deserts that overspread their respective countries. According to the Chinese records, also, the Emperor, Ching-Vang, about 1,000 years before Christ, presented the ambassadors of the King of CochinChina with a species of magnetic index. The Chinese called this instrument Chinam, a name by which they at this day denominate the mariner's compass."

And

It does not appear that the Egyptians were acquainted with the use of the magnet; at least not in that very early age, when those structures were raised which are still the wonders of the world, as the position of the great pyramid stands perfect to the true north. that nation, enlightened, skilful, rich, were never navigators; the ships sent out by Pharaoh - Neco were manned by Phoenician sailors. It is probable that the magnet was one of the inventions of their eastern ancestors, which was in some measure unnecessary to the Egyptians; but it has been attempted to be proved that this people possessed it. Plato calls it, "The stone which Euripides named the magnet; and some call the Heraclian stone, which attracts iron rings."

By thus attempting to show that the magnet was known to the ancients, we do not at all endeavour to detract from the merit of modern discovery. How many valuable arts were buried, or lost, in the debris of ignorance which the flood of Gothic ambition spread over Europe? Some revived slowly and secretly, under the influence of monkish seclusion; and, at length, in the course of ages, again made their way to a more enlarged sphere of usefulness. Others were

totally and entirely lost, till the searching intellect of man, clouded, but not extinguished, gave them a new birth. Among the latter we may reckon telescopes, gunpowder, the magnet; and, at a much later period, gas. The modern inventor of the subject of our remarks shares the fate of the authors of many of the noblest inventions. He cannot be precisely ascertained. Some call him Flavio Gioja, others Giri, a native of Amalfi in Naples; others say, that Marco Polo, who received it in China, and brought it to Europe about 1290 A.D., that is, twelve years before Gioja introduced it, was its first patron in the Western world. But the magnetic needle was known in Europe even before Marco Polo brought it from the East. Vitrianus, Bishop of Ptolemais, who died at Rome, 1244 A.D., says, that "the needle is necessary to ships;" and, from some verses by a French poet, in 1180 A.D., giving a plain description of the mariner's box, it seems that a contrivance similar to the compass, and called marinette, was at that period in use in France. The British first suspended the compass, so as to enable it to retain always a horizontal position, and the Dutch gave names to the divisions of the card.

The compass is composed essentially of a magnetic needle, suspended freely on a pivot, and containing a card, marked with the thirty-two points of direction, into which the horizon is divided, and which are thence called points of the compass. The needle always points to the north, (excepting slight variations,) and the direction which the ship is steering is therefore determined by a mere inspection of the card. This apparatus is enclosed in a brass box covered with glass, and again freely suspended within another box, in order to prevent the needle being affected by the motion of the vessel. The box, of whatever material it is made, must have no particle of iron in its construction. Upon the same principle as the above all compasses are made.

Poetry.

In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.]

THE GOVERNESS.

THIS, an orphan, and desolate!
Treat her then kindly;
Think of your little ones-
View her faults blindly.
What though a governess?
"Tis a title of honour!
Should you then love her less,
Or trample upon her?

Her blood, as your own,

Is as gentle and pure;
And, not long since, her home
Seem'd as certain and sure.
But death, in one day,
Claim'd her father and mother;
She is now the sole stay
Of a sister and brother.

Treat her not haughtily,
Speak to her kindly;
Think of your little ones-
View her faults blindly.

Would you tread on a flower,

To extract its perfume? "Tis not when the clouds lower

That it shows its fair bloom.
The caged bird sings sweetly,

When tended with care;
But, handle it roughly,
It dies in despair.

Though the morning is bright,

And the sun darts his ray, It may rain before night, And be yet a dark day.

Thus, ere death, your own daughter,

All friendless may be,

As the poor girl who taught her
To lisp on your knee.

Should her robe be more coarse,
Is her skin the less fair?
Does her voice sound more hoarse
Than your own child's? Declare.
If her smile 's not so glad

As you'd have it to be;
Think, that countenance sad
Speaks the heart's misery.

Then cheer her, not chide her,
But speak to her tenderly,
Remember, your God above
Loves her not slenderly.

Like her now, all motherless,
Your child may yet seek
The place of a governess,
Humble and meek.

Hark! she's spoken to gruffly-
Your eyes fill with scorn;
"My child treated so roughly!

Gods! can it be borne ?"

Treat HER then with courtesy,
Honour and gentleness,
Be affable to her,
Because she's a governess.
By Charles Piesse, Esq.

TO THE NAUTILUS. WHERE Ausonian summers glowing Warm the deep to life and joyance, And gentle zephyrs nimbly blowing Wanton with the waves, that flowing By many a land of ancient glory,

And many an isle renown'd in story, Leap along with gladsome buoyance,— There, marinere,

Dost thou appear,

In fairy pinnace flashing,

Through the white foam proudly dashing,
The joyous playmate of the buxom breeze,
The fearless fondling of the mighty seas.

Thou the light sail boldly spreadest,
O'er the furrow'd waters gliding;
Thou nor wreck nor foeman dreadest,
Thou nor helm nor compass needest,
While the sun is bright above thee,
While the bounding surges love thee,
In their deepening bosoms hiding;,
Thou canst not fear,
Small marinere;

For though the tides with restless motion
Bear thee to the desert ocean-

Far as the ocean stretches to the sky-
"Tis all thine own-'tis all thy empery.
Lame is art, and her endeavour
Follows Nature's course but slowly:
Guessing, toiling, seeking ever,
Still improving, perfect never.
Little Nautilus, thou showest
Deeper wisdom than thou knowest,
Lore, which man should study lowly:
Bold faith and cheer,

Small marinere,

Are thine within thy pearly dwelling,-
Thine a law of life compelling
Obedience, perfect, simple, glad, and free,
To the Great Will that animates the sea.

Miscellaneous.

"I have here made only a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own, but the string that ties them."-Montaigne.

THE QUEEN AT BONN.

JULES JANIN recounts, with great pleasure, that Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, after the fête, set off arm in arm through the streets, in despite of the bad weather, to visit his old tutor, his college, and his friends. This was truly entering into the spirit of the country, and recalling to us an anecdote of the late lamented Duke of Orleans. He called one morning to see Ary Scheffer, the artist. On asking the porter if Scheffer was at home, the janitor replied, "You'll find him on the third story; and since you are going up, will you be kind enough to take up, at the same time with yourself, this coat that I have been brushing for him?" The Prince walked up to Ary Scheffer, with the latter's coat upon his arm.-Examiner of last year.

THERE are thousands so extravagant in their ideas of contentment, as to imagine that it must consist in having every thing in this world turn out the way they wish that they are to sit down in happiness, and feel themselves so at ease on all points, as to desire nothing better and nothing more. I own there are instances of some, who seem to pass through the world as if all their paths had been strewed with rose-buds of delight;— but a little experience will convince us, 'tis a fatal expectation to go upon. We are born to trouble: and we may depend upon it whilst we live in this world we shall have it, though with intermissions; that is, in whatever state we are, we shall find a mixture of good and evil; and therefore the true way to contentment is to know how to receive these certain vicissitudes of life, -the returns of good and evil, so as neither to be exalted by the one, nor overthrown by the other, but to bear ourselves towards every thing which happens with such ease and indifference of mind, as to hazard as little as may be. This is the true temperate climate fitted for us by nature, and in which every wise man would wish to live.-Sterne.

HE that enlarges his curiosity after the works of Nature multiplies the inlets to happiness; and therefore I call upon the younger part of my readers to make use, at once, of the spring of the year, and the spring of life. to acquire, while their minds may yet be impressed with new images, a love of innocent pleasures, and an ardour for useful knowledge; and to remember that a blighted spring makes a barren year, and that the vernal flowers, however beautiful and gay, are only intended by Nature as preparatives to autumnal fruits-Dr. Johnson.

NATURE has perfections, in order to show that she is the image of God; and defects, in order to show that she is only his image.-Pascal.

WHATEVER God himself has pleased to think worthy of his making, its fellow-creature, man, should not think unworthy of his knowing.-Boyle.