offspring. From so infamous a proposal, even thus coloured and disguised, the virtu ous, innocent Julia shrank, as at the sight of a basilisk. From arguments and entreaties her mother proceeded to threats, in case a promise of compliance should not be given within the period of a few days. Neither the prayers nor tears of her virtuous daughter, in the mean time, made the smallest impression on the obdurate heart and debased mind of the vicious parent. A sense of filial duty prevented the suffering Julia from disclosing the horrid scheme in agitation. The debauched dotard, who, by dint of bribery, was to triumph over such virtue, saw her in this trying situation, and was just meditating to seize upon his prey, when, with fearful steps,

she flew for relief to a former friend of her father's. She mentioned not her situation such as it was the dreadful alternative that awaited her-the brink of ruin on which she stood-but only solicited to be reinstated in her former residence, where she might once more find happiness in retirement. This was readily promised, but alas too late to prevent the sad catastrophe that ensued.

Julia' returned home, but to what a home! a fiend awaited her arrival! she had to encounter immediate infamy, dishonour, and ruin.

Here let me draw a veil over this melancholy history suffice it to add, that Julia, in the hour of despair, friendless, unprotected

and left to her distracted thoughts, sought refuge in another and a better world. Hers had not been a life of pleasure, but it had been a life of peace and innocence; could then her unsullied mind bear up against the stigma of vice, the scorn of the severely virtuous, of such whose hearts had never possessed half her innate modesty or worth, yet to whose slights and contumely she must have been hourly exposed? Her soul shrank from the prospect; urged by despair, she hurried from her mother's blasted sight; and bereft of reason, rushed unbidden into the presence of her Maker! Poor Julia! and

shall a deed, committed in the hour when reason was overpowered by the phrenzy of despair, cancel the purity of thy life, unmarked by errour? Ah, no! the many acts of virtue thou hast done shall plead for thee at the throne of Mercy, and thou mayest still look down and witness the tear of sympathy I shed on thy sorrows and untimely fate. Peace to thy manes !-sweet Julia.

OMENS, or at least incidents which carry that appearance, are not always regardable. The gallant Epaminondas, a little before the battle of Leuctra, on being told that several inauspicious omens seemed to

portend bad success; nobly answered, in a celebrated verse of Homer, Evs olwv ogis& αμυνεσθαι περι πατρες : i. e. The best omen we can have, is to fight manfully for our country.

When William the Norman, commonly called William the Conqueror, was landing on the Sussex coast, his foot slipped and he fell to the ground. One of the soldiers gave the incident a very courtly turn, by crying out, with a loud voice, "Joy to you, Sir! you have already taken possession of England." A short time after, when the same prince was arming himself for the battle of Hastings, he perceived that, in his hurry, he had put on his coat of mail the lower side uppermost; but, instead of showing any symptoms of superstitious discouragement, he cheerfully said to his attendants," By this I prognosticate that my dukedom is turned into a kingdom."

Julius Caesar, (if I rightly remember the person) is reported to have fallen, in landing on the shore of Africa: and, lest his followers should be disheartened by so unfavourable a beginning, he turned it off with saying, "Thus, Africa, do I embrace

thee."

But though it be true, that all omens are not worthy of observation; and though they should never be so regarded as to shock our fortitude, or diminish our confidence in God, still they are not to be constantly despised. Small incidents have sometimes been pre

lusive to great events; nor is there any superstition in noticing these apparent prognostications, though there may be much superstition in being either too indiscriminately or too deeply swayed by them.

A most singular chain of uncommon circumstances preceded the assasination of that excellent monarch, Henry IV. of France. In the morning of the day on which he was murdered by Ravaillac, (viz. Friday, May 14, 1610) his Majesty was exceedingly pensive. In the hope of composing his spirits, he threw himself on his bed, but was unable to rest. Thrice he rose, and thrice he fell on his knees in prayer. Soon after repairing to the presence-chamber, his attendants endeavoured to divert the melancholy which. preyed upon his mind. Being naturally amiable and cheerful, he tried to fall in with the well meant pleasantry of his nobles, and attempted to smile, but concluded thus : "We have laughed enough for Friday; there will be weeping on Sunday."

His queen (Mary Medicis) had been crowned but the day before his murder. One La Brosse, a physician, is by some reported to have said to the Duke de Vendome on the evening of that day," If the king survives a mischief which threatens him at present, he will live these thirty years. The Duke intreated the king to grant this physician an audience, and repeated what the old gentleman had been saying. His majesty, with unusual asperity and hastiness, replied

"He is an old fool for telling you such things, and you are a young fool if you believe him." The Duke's rejoinder was firm, respectful, and sensible: "Sire, one ought not to believe such things, but one may fear them." The same day, as the king and queen were walking through an apartment of the palace, the king stopped to speak with somebody present. The queen stopping at the same time, he said to her, as by a spirit of involuntary prophesy, Passez, passez, Madame la regente, i. e." Go on, go on, Madame the regent."

A few nights before the catastrophe, the queen dreamed that all the jewels in her crown were changed into pearls, and that she was told pearls were significative of tears. Another night she started and cried out in her sleep, and waked the king, who asking her what was the matter? She answered,

I have had a frightful dream; but I know that dreams are mere illusions.”. "I was always of the same opinion,” replied Henry, "however, tell me what your dream was.' "I dreamed," continued she, "that you was stabbed with a knife under the short ribs.” "Thank God," rejoined the king, "it was but a dream."

I have already noted that, on the morning of the fatal day, his majesty was unusually chagrined; and he said, more than once to those about him, "Something or other hangs very heavy on my heart." Before he went to his coach, he took leave of the