"Alas!' (thus he continued,) 'the misfortune of a strong memory! The harder I try to forget it, the more it comes into my mind. If it had only been a long sentence-but a single word, that drops out like a loose tooth before one is aware. Ah, there is no being on my guard!' Having thus lamented, with many tears, by degrees he became more composed, and resolved to refresh his spirits by a walk in the open air. But the tyrannical idea still pursued him with its diabolical suggestions. For instance, he could not help saying to himself, as a passenger passed by, 'There's a tall swaggering fellow, but I could strike him stone-dead in an instant. One WORD from me, and that flaunting maiden is a corse.' Moreover, the very demon, curiosity, that first led him to his guilty knowledge, now began to tempt him to its abuse. 'I wonder,' thought he, 'if it be true, or only a juggle. Suppose I were to try it—just one syllable-on that soldier, or that miller, or on his dog!' But remorse soon followed. Wo is me! I must fly the faces of my kind! I must turn hermit, or live like Roland on a bleak rock, beyond speech with man, woman, or child!' As he said this, he was run against by some one, blind with haste, whom he caught by the arm. It was the maidservant of his old friend and neighbor, Hermann Liederbach. Let me go,' cried the breathless female, struggling to get free. I am running to fetch the doctor to my poor master, who has dropped down in a fit, if he is not dead.' 'That's very sudden,' said Peter, as if musing. O, like a gun!' answered the maiden; 'he was quite well and merry only the minute before, talking and laughing with that wild student, Ferdinand Wenzel.'

Poor Krauss was ready to drop down himself. However, he contrived to get home, where he threw himself on his knees behind the counter, and hid his face among the bales of cloth. The horrid work was begun-but where would it end? Nor were his fears in vain. On a sudden his attention was excited by the trampling of numerous feet; and going to the shopdoor, he saw a crowd following four men, who carried a dead body on a board. 'Hollo! what have you there?' shouted an opposite neighbor from his upper window. It's poor Stephen Asbeck,' answered several voices; 'he dropped down dead in the market-place whilst squabbling

with one of the students.' Krauss stood rooted to the spot, till the whole procession passed by. 'It's dreadful work,' said Mrs. Krauss, just entering from the back parlor. 'What is?' asked the startled tailor, with all the tremor of a guilty man. 'To be cut off so suddenly in the prime of youth and beauty.' 'Beauty!' repeated Krauss, with a bewildered look, for in truth neither Liederbach nor Asbeck had any pretense to good looks. 'Yes, beauty,' replied Mrs. Krauss; but I forgot that the news came while you were absent. Poor Dorothy has died suddenly-the handsome girl who rejected that goodfor-nothing Ferdinand Wenzel.' Krauss dropped into a chair as if shot. His fat wife wondered a little at such excessive emotion, but remembering that her husband was very tender-hearted, went quietly on with her knitting.

"Poor Peter's brain was spinning round. He who would not willingly hurt a dog, to be privy to, if not accomplice in, three such atrocious and deliberate murders! His first impulse was to discover the whole affair to the police; but who would believe so extraordinary a story? Where were his witnesses? Wenzel, of course, would confess nothing. Still his knowledge invested him with a very awful responsibility, and called upon him to put an end to the diabolical system. But how? Perhaps― and he shuddered at the thought—it was his dreadful duty to avert this wholesale assassination by the death of the assassin. As if to sanction the suggestion, even as it passed through the tailor's mind, the detestable Wenzel came into the shop to add some new item to his instructions. 'Have you heard the news?' asked the wild student carelessly; 'Death is wondrous busy in Bonn.' Krauss only answered with a mournful shake of the head. 'Poor dear Dorothy!' sighed Mrs. Krauss; 'so young, and so beautiful.' The wild student burst into a sneering laugh: 'There will be more yet,' said he; they will keep drop-drop -dropping, like over-ripe plums from the tree!'

"So fiendish an announcement was too much for even the milky nature of Peter Krauss. His resolution was taken on the spot. Wretch! Monster! Were-Wolf!' he said to himself, thou wert never of woman born. It can be no more sin to slay thee than the savage tiger! Yesthou shalt hear the word of doom thyself!'

But the moment he attempted to utter it, his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth; his throat seemed to collapse; and when he had regained the power of speech, the fatal word, that hitherto had never ceased ringing in his inward ear, had vanished completely from his memory! However, such an oblivion was in itself a blessing, as it removed any temptation to actual guilt; but, alas! no sooner had the wild student departed, than back came the hateful syllables, clear and distinct on the tablets of Krauss's mind, like a writing in sympathetic ink.

"As the vile Wenzel had predicted, the number of sudden deaths rapidly increased. One after another, the most respectable of the inhabitants fell down in the street, and were carried home. All Bonn was filled with lamentations and dismay. 'It's the plague,' said one. 'It's the black death,' cried another. Some advised a consultation of physicians; others proposed a penitential procession to the Kreutzberg.

"In the mean time the unfortunate tailor again took refuge in the bed-room, desperately closing his eyes, and stopping his ears, against the melancholy sights and sounds that were constantly occurring in the street. But the mortality had become too frightful for even the apathetic temper of the stout Trudchen, who for once, thrown into a state of violent agitation, felt the necessity of comfort and companionship. Accordingly she sought eagerly for her husband, who sitting, as we have said, with closed eyes and ears, was of course unconscious of her entrance. Besides, he was grieving aloud, and his wife bent over him to catch the words. Miserable mortals,' he groaned, miserable frail mortals that we are!-wretched candles,-blown out at a breath! Who would have thought that such a cause could produce such a calamity? Who could have dreamed it? To think that such a hearty man as poor Liederbach, or poor Asbeck, could be destroyed by a sound-nay, that half a town should perish through simply saying and the unconscious Peter pronounced the fatal WORD. It had scarcely passed his lips when something fell so heavily as to shake the whole house, and hastily opening his eyes, he beheld the comely Trudchen, the wife of his bosom, the mother of his darling Peterkin, in the last death-quiver at his feet!

"The horrified Peter Krauss was stunned stupefied-bewildered! With his eyes fixed on the victim of his fatal curiosity, he sat motionless in his chair. It was the shock of a moral earthquake, that shook his very soul to its foundations. He could neither think nor feel. His brain was burning hot, but his heart seemed turned to solid ice. It was long before he was even sensible of outward impressions; but at last he became aware of a continued tugging at the tail of his coat. A glance sufficed-it was little Peterkin. He will be the next!' shrieked the frantic father; and tossing his arms aloft, he threw himself down the stairs and rushed out of the house. At the top of his speed, as if pursued by the unrelenting Fiend, he raced through the streets and out of the gates, into the open country, where he kept running to and fro like a mad creature, tormented by the stings of conscience. Over rocks, among thickets, through water, he leaped and crashed, and struggled; his flesh was torn and bleeding, but he cared not-he wanted to die. At one time his course lay toward the Eifel, as if to end his misery in that scene of volcanic desolation, so similar to his own; but suddenly turning round, he scoured back to his native town, through the gates, along the streets, and dashing into the church of St. Remi, threw himself on his knees beside the confessional. The venerable father Ambrose was in the chair, and with infinite difficulty extracted the horrible story from the distracted man. When it was ended, the priest desired to know the awful WORD which acted with such tremendous energy. 'But, your reverence,' sobbed Krauss, with a thrill of natural horror, 'it kills those who but hear it pronounced.'

"True, my son,' replied the aged priest, but all unholy spells lose their power within these sacred walls.'

"The word! the word!' "POTZTAUSEND!' murmured Krauss, in a low tremulous voice, with a shudder throughout his frame, and a terrified look all round him. And lo! the ghostly father was a ghost indeed the church of St. Remi had tumbled into fragments, and instead of the holy tapers, a few strange lights were gleaming mysteriously in the distance. 'Potztausend!' repeated Peter Krauss, giving himself a shake, and rubbing his eyes; but I've certainly been sleeping and dreaming on the wrong side of the town-gate!'

DUFAVEL'S ADVENTURE IN THE WELL. ONE morning, early in September 1836,

as Dufavel, one of the laborers employed in sinking a well at a place near Lyons, in France, was about to descend in order to begin his work, one of his companions called out to him not to go down, as the ground was giving way, and threatened to fall in. Dufavel, however, did not profit by the warning, but exclaiming, "I shall have plenty of time to go down for my basket first," he entered the well, which was sixty-two feet in depth. When about half-way down, he heard some large stones falling; but he nevertheless continued his descent, and reached the bottom in safety. After placing two pieces of plank in his basket, he was preparing to reascend, when he suddenly heard a crashing sound above his head, and, looking up, he saw five of the side-supports of the well breaking at once. Greatly alarmed, he shouted for assistance as loudly as he was able; but the next moment a large mass of the sandy soil fell upon him, precluding the possibility of his escape. By a singular good fortune, the broken supports fell together in such a manner, that they formed a species of arch over his head, and prevented the sand from pouring down, which must have smothered him at once. To all appearances, however, he was separated from the rest of the world, and doomed to perish by suffocation or famine. He had a wife and child, who now came into his mind; and the thought of them made him feel still more bitterly his imprudent obstinacy in descending into the well, after being warned of the danger to which he was exposing himself.

But although Dufavel regretted the past and feared for the future, he did not give

way to despair. Calm and self-possessed he raised his heart in prayer to God, and adopted every precaution in his power to prolong his life. His basket was fastened to the cord by which he had descended; and when his comrades above began to pull the rope, in the hope of drawing him to the surface, he observed that, in their vain efforts, they were causing his basket to strike against the broken planks above him in such a manner as to bring down stones and other things. He therefore cut the rope with his knife-which he had no sooner done, than it was drawn up by those at the top of the well; and, when that he must be alive, and determined to his friends saw the rope so cut, they knew make every exertion to save him.

The hole made by the passage of this rope through the sand that had fallen in, was of the greatest use to Dufavel: through it he received a supply of fresh air, and, after a while, his friends contrived to convey food to him, and even to speak to him. Of course he was in utter darkness; but he was enabled, in a curious manner, to keep a reckoning of time. A large fly was shut up with him, and kept him company all the time that he remained there. When he heard it buzzing about, he knew that it was day; and when the fly was silent, he knew that it was night. The fly boarded as well as lodged with him; he was as careful as he could be not to interrupt it while taking its share of his meal; when he touched it, it would fly away, buzzing as if offended, but soon return again. He often said afterwards, that the company of this fly had been a great consolation to him.

More skillful persons than the poor laborers of the village of Champvert were soon engaged in the attempt to liberate Dufavel. The municipal authorities of Lyons procured the assistance of a band of military miners, who, under the direction of experienced officers, began to form a subterranean passage for the purpose of relieving him. Prayers for his safety were daily offered up in the churches of Lyons, and the most intense interest prevailed; it was found necessary to erect a barricade, and station a guard of soldiers around the scene of the accident, to keep off the flocking crowd from the neighborhood, all eager to obtain news, and see what was being done.

The cavity at the bottom of the well,

over which the wooden rafters had so providentially formed a sort of roof, was at first about seven feet in height; but owing to the sand constantly running through, and pressing down the roof from above, by the third day the space became so small, that the poor man could no longer stand, or even sit upright, but was crushed upon the ground in a peculiarly painful manner, his legs doubled under him, and his head pressed on one side against his left shoulder. His arms, however, were free, and he used his knife to cut away such parts of the woodwork as particularly incommoded him, and to widen the hole the passage of the rope had made. Through this hole, by means of a small bottle, soup and wine were let down to him, and, after a few days, what was quite as important, a narrow bag to receive and bring to the surface the constantly accumulating sand, which must soon have smothered him, if this means of removing it had not been devised, and he had not had strength and energy for such a painful labor as the constantly filling and refilling the bag soon became. Of course, any pressure from above would have forced in the temporary roof, so that nothing could be attempted in the way of removing the mass of sand, &c., that had fallen in. They dared not to touch the surface above, but they contrived, by means of a tube, to speak to him. A cousin of his, himself a well-digger, was let down for this purpose. This man spoke to Dufavel, and assured him the miners were making progress, and would soon reach him he inquired after his wife and child, and charged his cousin to tell her from him, to be of good cheer, and not lose heart. At this time he had been a week in the well.

Day succeeded day, and still the expectations of the miners were deceived. They worked night and day; but such was the treacherous nature of the soil, that neither pickax nor shovel could be used: the foremost miner worked upon his knees, inserting cautiously a flat piece of wood into the ground, and afterward gathering up with his hands, and passing to those behind him, the sand which he thus disturbed. On the twelfth day of his imprisonment, they calculated they were only twelve inches from him, and yet it took them two days longer before they were able to reach him. Every minute the ground was giving way, and it sometimes

took them many hours to repair the damage that a single moment had produced. Besides, they felt it necessary to proceed with the utmost caution, when they approached Dufavel; for there was great reason to fear, whenever an opening was made, the mass of sand above his head would fall down and suffocate him. At length, about two o'clock in the morning of Friday, 16th September, they made a small opening into the well, just above his shoulders. The poor man shouted for joy, and was able with his knife to assist in extricating himself. He was carefully conveyed along the horizontal gallery, and wrapped in blankets before he was drawn up into the open air. Several medical men were in attendance, and one of them had him conveyed to his house, and put to bed.

We will not attempt to describe Dufavel's happy meeting with his wife, nor the tears of joy which he shed over his infant boy, who did not at first recognize him, muffled up as he was obliged to be to protect him from the cold, and his chin covered with a beard of more than a fortnight's growth. In the evening, he was so well, that Doctor Bienvenu consented to his being conveyed to his own home; and he was accordingly transported thither in a litter, attended by a great concourse of happy and thankful spectators.

WAR.

VOLTAIRE thus expresses himself on

the subject of war:-"A hundred thousand mad animals, whose heads are covered with hats, advance to kill or be killed by the like number of their fellowmortals, covered with turbans. By this strange procedure they want, at best, to decide whether a tract of land, to which none of them lays any claim, shall belong to a certain man whom they call sultan, or to another whom they call czar, neither of whom ever saw, or will see, the spot so furiously contended for; and very few of those creatures, who thus mutually butcher each other, ever beheld the animal for whom they cut each other's throats! From time immemorial this has been the way of mankind almost over all the earth. What an excess of madness is this! And how deservedly might a Superior Being crush to atoms this earthly ball, the bloody nest of such ridiculous murderers "