necessarily lead to an unpleasant exposure of his daughter, who, if he defended the case, would be called into court to give evidence, the lawyer seriously advised the incensed old gentleman to settle the claim, unjust and exorbitant as it was, and so get clear of the whole matter.

It took old Mr. Mayflower some days to make up his mind to pay the bill. Finally, however, the tears and entreaties of poor Mary prevailed, who had a dreadful fear of being called into court. Her fun with the doctor brought the laugh on the wrong side.

About a week after the claim was settled, a letter was received from Doctor Carpus, couched in pretty plain but respectful language, setting forth the nature and effects of the practical joke which the young lady had played off upon him, and alleging, that as she had enjoyed a little fun at his expense, it was no more than fair that he should pay off the score in her own coin. In conclusion, he referred to a check for forty guineas, which he had enclosed, and stated, that as he had no legal right to the money, he could not retain them. He had succeeded in making the party who had provoked him to institute a mock-suit, sensible of her folly, and there he was willing to let the matter drop; trusting, that when next she took it into her head to have some fun with the doctor, she would think twice before she acted once. And here the matter ended, leaving both Doctor Carpus and Mary Mayflower somewhat wiser from having read attentively a new leaf to them in the book of human life.

THE

THE ANATOMIST.

FALLACY OF

CIRCUMSTANTIAL

EVIDENCE.

THERE lived once in Switzerland, a rich bachelor, about forty years of age, called Peter Gortz, who had the reputation of being a very pious, but rather austere and thrifty man. He kept but one servant, an orphan, whom, as a child, he took to wait on him, and afterwards taught her to read and write, boasting her fidelity, indulging her, as if she had been his daughter. He was her only friend. At sixteen, Caroline de Burgh was as comely a girl as eye need see; with the gait of a peacock, and a skin like new milk; but from her silent, almost haughty disposition, the young men called her prude, the young women-fool; though mothers, even of less lowly station, would point her out to their own giddy geese, and cry "Take pattern by poor Lina!"

Suddenly she appeared to grow timorous and melancholy; and one day was seen by a neighbour to hurry from her master's house, in fearful agitation, Peter Gortz pursued, but missed her; the neighbour sought with better fortune,

and overheard her muttering to herself, "The Virgin forbid I should be so rash -yet-anything rather than that! I can bear it no longer."

The neighbour questioned her on the meaning of these words; but, as she only trembled, blushed, and wept, he forcibly led her back to her master, who looked pleased at her return, and, on what she had said being repeated to him, he merely laughed out, "I was too strict this morning, perhaps; silly wencb, don't quarrel with thy second father."

Lina was about to retort, when Peter bade the other leave them. What was this person's amaze, when, next morning, his wealthy neighbour ran to him, all afright with the tidings that his house had been robbed of gold and plate, to a large amount, though no locks were broken, and his servant either murdered and concealed, or carried off alive, which seemed most likely, as everything that had belonged to her was missing, and no sounds of contention had disturbed her master in the night. The menaces she had used, tempted their hearer at once to suspect her, though the loser did not. She must, it was supposed, have taken the road to her native village. Officers of justice pursued that route, and, overtaking a waggon, whose driver looked alarmed at their appearance, insisted on searching it. There, indeed, they found a female answering the description given them, hidden, with her trunk, amid the straw. She denied her name, but a sheathed knife was found about her, on which it was engraven. "Well, (she cried, as if bewildered,) no law can force my return to him." Not heeding her they lifted out the box. "'Tis heavy enough," (said, one significantly.)

She screamed to the driver. This appeal caused them to arrest him also. Falling on his knees, he swore by all the saints, that he only knew this girl as having hired him in the next town to come privately to a certain house for herself and baggage; that he had gone, stolen in, moved the box from her chamber to his waggon, where, by another bribe, she had induced him to conceal her. The lid was forced, and at the bottom of her wardrobe, sewn into some articles of apparel, were discoved a sum of money, and several articles of silver, bearing the initials of Peter Gortz.

In positive distraction Caroline shrieked, "I refused to be his wife, and told him I would leave him. Oh, be threatened to punish me."

"You had threatened, too, (said one of her captors,) and now of course would fain criminate your accuser."

"Nay, then I am lost, indeed!" she cried, and was taken to the prison of the town she had just left, amidst the execrations of its assembled inhabitants, who had never before heard of such a way as hers for requiting an offer of marriage from a superior.

She was tried immediately on her apprehension. Who could bear witness in

He

her favour? Who knew her character so well as Peter Gortz himself? gave his evidence with extreme reluctance; everything tended to prove her guilt. She was condemned to die, without delay; yet the priest who attended her could gain no avowal of the theft; finding her so impenitent, he tried all the power of terror upon her soul, with but the result of unnerving her for the awful fate she was to meet. I cannot grace my story with a word in praise of her heroism. She begged for time, she supplicated the Virgin to interpose, and save her young days; she grovelled at the feet of her guards, her shrieks and groans rung from the very scaffold, she struggled with the executioner, till even he was half overpowered by her pleading beauty. At last her strength and reason failed, she became insensible. The fatal cord was adjusted, and the poor girl left to hang for the usually appointed period.

Her body, according to the sentence of the law, was given for dissection. It fell to the lot of a rising anatomist, named Ebreson, who had it conveyed to the wonted scene of his scientific vigils, a large arched cellar, beneath his house, chosen for its coolness, yet its air was noisome, and its walls discoloured; it was lighted from the ceiling by an antique lamp, whose rays fell on the instruments of his labours, and still more terrific-looking preparations on which he had toiled. The operator was accustomed to attire himself, for these experiments, in a dark dress, which tightly fitted his gigantic figure, and left his lean arm bare. His fiery eyes, cadaverous and strong features, set off by the black locks which streamed over his shoulders, must have rendered him a frightful picture. Before him, on his table, lay the body of Caroline, partially covered with a cloth, often before used for similar purposes, and, here and there stained from the dead. Ebreson, who had hitherto been constrained to study from such revolting remnants as his elders might leave of their church-yard spoils, was gratified in obtaining an entire figure, so recently deprived of life. He had not attended Caroline's trial, though he had listened, with a sad, shuddering interest, to the account of her early crimes and punishment. He commenced his examination. The limbs were scarce yet rigid; and when he bared the face, he .observed that the manner of her death had neither blackened nor distorted it; for the first time was he aware of her identity with one he had seen walk the world in maiden pride; oft had he felt inclined to ask the young thing's name. He knew it now-and half forgetting his art, sighed forth, "Had she but been as good as she was fair, this is not a breast that I could lacerate." He turned away to make some preparation for his horrid work, when a heavy sigh, which seemed to bear upon its breath the word "Mercy!" recalled him to the side of Caroline; he seized her wrist, a feeble fluttering pulse vibrated thrillingly to his touch.

She opened her eyes, gazed around her, saw the surgeon, and all his accom

panying horrors. She sprung from the board, and threw herself at his feet; her own disarray affected her not, the feelings of this world she believed had passed for ever; but in the most earnest accents, she articulated, "I know not whether I am in the presence of God or a devil, but I am innocent."

"Innocent!" repeated Ebreson, in his sepulchral voice.

"Yes, (she continued, wringing her hands) in pity torture me not! or say that this dismal place is but purgatory-that I do deserve, for I did carry a knife about me, that I might put an end to my own life, rather than be his; but of the crime for which I suffered he knows me guiltless; and thou, terrible being! canst read in my soul that I speak truth. Oh, thou lookest just; this will not last eternally. Spare, save me! and I will worship thee!"

Such an appeal, in such circumstances, and under such a delusion, could not, for a moment be doubted. Ebreson, in a transport of gratitude, poured over that dear bruised throat the vinegar, which he kept at hand as a disinfector, weeping forth, "Be calm, my child; and fear me not-you are with a fellow creature, who believes, and will protect you. This earth, and the life so miraculously preserved, shall yet be endeared to you."

Instantly screening her limbs from the chill air, he led her to his own room, consigned her to bed, brought her food and wine, while his servant slept; and would have left her to rest, but that her state still bordered on delirium; so he sat all night, like an elder brother, beside her. But now what was to be done? To announce her existence to the world, cruelly as it had used her, and branded as was her lowly name, might but provoke fresh persecutions; she had no power to prove the crimes of Gortz; her new benefactor's bare assertion of her innocence would not have impressed others with a like conviction: for Ebreson was, as yet, an obscure and needy man. The only course left for her was to fly, call herself somebody else, and, in a distant part of the country, live in retirement; but how could she gain a living, while unable to mix with her kind? Ebreson resolved never to abandon her; he could toil for them both. He would trust no one with his secret. Caroline, he thought, would no longer be exclusively his if he shared the knowledge of her life with his dearest friend. He had one brother in the place, a catholic curé. Locking up his treasure, he stole out ere dawn, awakened this holy man, and borrowed all his money by telling him that debts and some quarrel consequent on a hasty marriage, forced him to change his name and residence. The priest charged himself with forwarding all goods; Ebreson then hired a swift conveyance, bade Caroline array herself in a suit of male attire he had procured for her; having packed up his books, instruments, &c., he commenced his journey.

When his servant rose the curé was ready to account for everything. Ebreson found in his poor Caroline such intellect and virtue, that he married her.

The good curé settled with them, and they heard no tidings of Gortz, save that he had left his native town. One night, the curé entered their abode with a face of dismay." Brother, (he cried,) I come from a shocking sight, the death-bed of a despairing sinner. I was called in to administer the consolations of religion to an aged man, who has not long resided here; he will have no physician, though the people about him think he cannot see another sun-rise; yet poverty is not the sole cause of his recklessness; he refused the last sacrament, calling himself unworthy of it; so I hastened hither to procure your charitable assistance."

"What is this unhappy penitent's name?" asked the wife.

"Gortz, sister."

“Now, all gentle saints be praised! (she exclaimed.) No questions, brother, our neighbour the notary must accompany us all-pray heaven we are not too late!"

The party accordingly hurried to the wretched abode of the dying man; as they entered his chamber they heard him rave, "Talk not to me of sealed confessions—the whole world gaped on her degradation-and I have wandered for twenty years-like the accursed undying Israelite-still no rest from that thought. I can give ye nothing, mercenaries! if ye find any gold, bury it at the gallows foot, or lay it out in masses-but no, no hopes of pardon for thy murderer, innocent Lina!"

Caroline drew aside his curtain; at first he stared without recognition; when she called him by name, believing that he beheld her spirit, he coweringly hid his face; but she removing his hand from his eyes, whispered, "Peter Gortz, take courage, I bring you peace and pardon. You are no murderer. The Queen of Heaven enabled her true servant wondrously to save me from death, and you from despair. I am a happy wife and mother, yonder is my husband, come to serve you."

The moment Gortz was assured of her life, he started up, and-retributive justice again! begged for one hour's-for but one half hour's breath. "Some potent restorative, (he cried,) my poor girl's fame must be cleared to all the world, and as much atonement made as wealth can make." The restorative was given the notary was ready; to him Peter deposed that, believing Caroline thought herself entirely dependent, and in his power, her rejection of his suit, and threats of departure had stung him to vindictive madness. She told him she had packed up, ready to set forth with the first light, and insisted on leaving the house to seek a conveyance, telling him she had left her trunk open, he might search it if he would, for she had stolen nothing. Revenge prompted him to sew up the property in her clothes. Having confessed his guilt, he consigned his wealth to her, and sank into a slumber from which he never awoke.