Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

FROM THE SALEM GAZETTE. MR. EDITOR,

451

with whom he kept concealed in order to escape an unjust persecution, and with whom he wished to unite on that day in a fraternal repast, emblem of that union of hearts, and universal love which he wished to see diffused throughout the world, that among these should be found a traitor, who for a sum of money was ready to deliver him up to his enemies. Grief, so affecting and sublime, required, to be represented in painting, a composition wholly engrossed by the words tion the most simple, leaving the attenwhich Jesus was then uttering. It the disciples should possess a characwas important too that the heads of ter of grandeur, accompanied with the ly to impress us with the conviction utmost dignity of action, in order fulthat it was not simply the despicable fear of death which overpowered the heart of Jesus. If he had been a comin the indulgence of a sorrow which mon man he would have lost no time might prove fatal to him: he would

As the engraving from the celebrated picture of The Last Supper, painted by LEONARDO DA VINCI, an eminent Florentine painter, and a most extraordinary man in every respect, has become a common ornament of our parlours, I take the liberty to send you a short account of it for publication. The original which I met with in a late number of the Edinburg Review, is in French, and is taken from a work written by the Baron de Stendahl. I have not been able to do justice to the affecting simplicity and beauty of the original: but the trans-immediately have killed Judas, or lation may nevertheless be useful to else have fled precipitately in compathose who cannot read French. With the exception of a little hypercriti-mained faithful to him. That celesny with those disciples who still recism on the subject of the Apostle Thomas, it is one of the most satisfactory accounts that I have any where found of the admirable picture above mentioned. I am yours.

THE LAST SUPPER.

The intention of the painter here was to represent that affecting scene, and to recall that identical moment of time, in which Jesus, regarding him merely in the light of a young philosopher surrounded by his disciples on the evening previous to his death, declares with a heart melting with sorrow and pity, that one of them is about to betray him: "Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me A bosom so tender and benevolent, must have been deeply af- || fected by the reflection, that among twelve friends whom he had chosen,

tial purity and intensity of feeling which so strikingly characterise the conduct of Jesus on this occasion, did not escape the observation of Leonardo da Vinci. Shocked at the frightful enormity of so black a deed, and witnessing the turpitude of men, Jesus becomes disgusted with life, and willingly abandons himself to that divine melancholy which has taken possession of his soul, indifferent to the preservation of a mournful existence, which must be passed in the midst of beings so ungrateful. Jesus beholds his system of universal philanthropy destroyed. "I am deceived saith he to himself, I believed the hearts of all mankind like my own." His grief is such, that in addressing his disciples in those sorrowful words, one of you shall betray me ;-he dares not look long table, the side of which farthest upon any of them. He is seated at a

of soul which ought to characterise the friend of Jesus. Of what conse quence is it whether he was to be betrayed by one or more of his disciples? One had been found base enough to betray so affectionate a master. It was the consciousness of that which must have overwhelmed them all for the moment. And immediately af ter, this other reflection must have occurred to them-" We shall never be

same breath, they would ask themselves" In what way shall we save him?" St. Philip, the youngest of the apostles, by a motion indicative of frankness and simplicity, rises in or der to protest his fidelity. St. Matthew is repeating the alarming words to St. Simon, who will not believe the unwelcome truth. St. Thaddeus, who had before communicated them, ap. peals to St. Matthew, who had heard them as well as himself. St. Simon, the last of the apostles, on the right of the spectator, seems to exclaim"What tale of horror do you dare to utter!" But we soon feel that all those who surround Jesus are only his disciples, and after having surveyed the different personages, the eye quickly returns to, and fixes itself upon their divine master, whom we behold bowed down, indeed, but there is a greatness in his sorrow, which pene trates us to the very soul. The mind is here brought back to the contempla tion of one of the greatest evils of life

from the window, and nearest to the spectator, remains empty. St. John, whom of all the disciples he loved most tenderly, is on the right. Next to St. John, is St. Peter; and beyond him appears the hard-hearted Judas. As the side of the table in front remains unoccupied throughout its entire length, the spectator has a disfinct view of each personage. The moment of time is that in which Jesus has just uttered the dreadful pro-hold him again!" And almost in the phecy, and a spontaneous expression of indignation is depicted in the countenance of every one present. St. John, overcome by what he has heard, listens however with some attention to St. Peter, who eagerly communicates to him his suspicions of one of the apostles on the right of the spectator. Judas, half turned round, endeavors to obtain a sight of St. Peter, and to find out of whom he is speaking with so much earnestness, but at the same time endeavors to preserve his countenance, and dispel every suspicion in regard to himself. But he is already discovered. St. James the less, passing his left arm over the shoulder of St. Andrew, indicates to St. Peter that the traitor is at his side. St. Andrew contemplates Judas with horror. St. Bartholomew, who is standing up at the end of the table on the left of the spectator, has risen to obtain a better view of the traitor. On the left of Christ, St. James protests his innocence by a gesture quite natural, among every people; he opens his arms, and presents his bosom unprotected. St. Thomas abruptly quits his seat, briskly approaches Jesus, and elevates the finger of his right hand, seems to say to the Saviour "What! one of us ?" Here is one of those artifices of the pencil which reminds us that painting is after all only a terrestrial art. This picture was necessary to indicate the moment of time to the ordinary observer, and to make him clearly understand the import of the words just uttered by St. Thomas. But this apostle has not that grandeur

treachery in friendship. We feel an oppression at the heart; we pant for more air-we look round, and we find that the painter, anticipating our sensations, has left open the door and the two windows at the lower end of the apartment. Through these the eye catches a view of a distant and peaceful country, and we find ourselves somewhat relieved. But we languish for that soothing tranquility which pervades Mount Sion, and which so often induced Jesus to lead his disci ples thither. The evening sun, whose dying rays descend through the open

ing, diffuses a melancholy light in unison with the feelings of the spectator,|| and he too plainly perceives that this is the last night which the friend of man will pass upon the earth. At the setting of the sun on the succeeding day, he will no longer be in existence.

THE FLOWER GIRL.

was

were the first kind words I have heard since I lost all that was dear to me on earthrupted her discourse; she stopped and A sob interwept silently; then raising up her face from the hand on which she had laid it "O Sir! I have no father! no mother! no relation! Alas! I have no friend in the world! Choaked with her emotions, she was silent for a moment before she could proceed." My only friend is God! on him I rely; I submit to his will. I only pray that I may support with fortitude the miseries I am born to experience! To him, kind Sir, this heart shall always protect you! added she, dropping a pray for you. May that God forever courtesy, full of humility and native benediction, and went on. grace, as she retired. I returned her

"And can I thus leave this poor creature?" said 1, as I walked pen

"Pray, buy a nosegay of a poor orpban!" said a female voice, in a plaintive and melodious tone, as I passing the corner of the Hay-market. I turned hastily, and beheld a girl about fourteen, whose drapery, though ragged, was clean, and whose form was such as a painter might have chosen for a youthful Venus. Her neck, without colouring, was white as snow; and her features, though not regularly beautiful, were interesting, and set off by a transparent complexion; her eyes, dark and intelligent, were sha-sively on. "Can I leave her forever, ded by loose ringlets of a raven black, and poured their sweetly supplicating beams through the silken shade of very long lashes. On one arm hung a basket full of roses, and the other was stretched out towards me with one of the rose buds. I put my hand into my pocket, and drew out some silver; "Take this, my pretty girl," said I, putting it into hers, "and may that God, who is the Father of the fatherless be the preserver of your existence, and your virtue!-Virtuous poverty is no crime."

I was turning from her, when she caught my withdrawn hand; and, putting it to her lips, burst into a flood of tears. The action, and the look which accompanied it, touched my soul; it melted to the artless gratitude of this poor flower girl, and a drop of sympathy fell from my cheeks. "Forgive me, Sir," said she, recovering from her transport, while a sweet blush diffused itself over her lovely face; "my heart was full of what it could not express-nature impelled me to so free an action. You will pardon me, when I tell you, they

without emotion? What have I done for her, that can entitle me to her prayers? Preserved her a few days from death, but that is all! And shall I quit thee, fair flower, to see thee no more? to be blown down by the rude blast of adversity! to be cropped by some cruel spoiler! droop thy lovely head beneath the blight of early sorrow!-No! thou hast been reared on some happier bank; thou hast been nurtured by the sweet fears of maternal affection; thou hast once blushed beneath the cheering sun of domestic content, and under it thou shalt bloom again!" I turned, as I spoke: my heart beat with its sweet purpose. I saw the beautiful flower girl before me. I approached-caught her hand -the words of triumphant virtue burst from my lips :

"Come, thou lovely, deserted girl! come and add one more to the happy groupe who call me father! their home shall be thine: thou shalt share their comforts: thou shalt be taught with them that virtue their father tries to practice!" She stopped me; her eyes flashed with frantic joy; she Ggg

flung herself on her knees before me, and burst into a flood of rapturous tears. I raised her in my arms-I hushed her eloquent gratitude, and led her to a home of happiness and piety. She loves my children; she loves their father, and is equally beloved by them all-and the poor orphan of the Hay-market is now the partner of my only son!- -DE BURGHE.

FROM THE ZANESVILLE MESSENGER.

hopes that it will prove a complete antidote against hard times.”

MAXIM.

There is no condition of life that excludes a wise man from discharging his duty. If his fortune be good, he tempers it; if bad, he masters it; if he has an estate, he will exercise his virtue in plenty; if none, in poverty.

A NEW SILVER MINE. We received the following account of a silver mine, a few days since from a gentlemen in Peru, Huron county," Ohio. It appears that the prospect was considered good enough to venture an experiment, and who knows but Peru, in Ohio, may prove as celebrated a place for money as Peru in South America.

"A silver mine (supposed to be very valuable) has lately been discovered in this county, in the township of Ridgefield, about five miles northwest from the county seat. It lies on the bank of Huron river, about fourteen miles from its mouth, on the premises of Jabez F. Irony, and Martin Loudon Siago. It was first discovered by Mr. Daniel Page, a respectable citizen of this place. They have since formed a respectable committee, consisting of three gentlemen of candour and respectability, who, after mature deliberation, deemed it a matter of the utmost importance, and therefore have made every exertion in their power to hasten a speedy excavation, in hopes to realize the benefits arising therefrom; they have now sunk about thirty feet below the surface, and have twenty feet further to dig before they find the hidden treasure; they have already found several large veins, which, upon trial, appear to be rich silver ore and notwithstanding the general cry against silver mines by the ignorant, the proprietors have the fullest confidence of its value, and feel in

......

FOR THE MASONIC REGISTER THE MOUNTAIN GRAVE-YARD. Surrounded by rugged eminences which pushed their summits into the lazy pacing clouds," I came to a small knoll, thickly covered with the never fading laurel. Though unassuming, and lowly in its growth, it carried me back to the remote traditionary period, when its deity, in the fullness of his affection for a cruel maid, ordered that it should adorn the future brows of the worthy, and of the brave! It now shadowed a place, consecrated as the burial ground of the humble mountaineer. The day was cloudythe sky was of that peculiar inky hue, which is ever the precursor of a winter storm. It was near the setting of a sun, who in his course had "disdained to shine" on the aspiring rocks which environed this secluded spot. Every object, and every recollection, conspired to render it more gloomythe long rows of sepulchral hillocks were arranged with the precision of martial columns, and to the vision of the observer, they appeared confined to the circular boundary produced by the natural curvature of the ground.

The silent tenantry of this solitary and romantic hill, rested from their labours, yet, "in my mind's eye," I could see the sturdy smith, of former days, leaning on his anvil, to swallow the post-boy's news; and the mountain maid, tricked in all the finery of gaudy ribbons, and flimsy muslins, tripping on airy foot across her native rocks. But here, the one was no low

er than the heroes whom he may sometimes have envied; nor the other less happy, than those who in public assemblies had

rustled in unpaid-for silks."

To the same complexion they all had come at last-"Malice for them had done its worst," and the "storied urn, and animated bust" of the one, afforded as little consolation, as did the laurels which waved in the mountain breeze over the lowly tombs of the others.

EXTRAORDINARY THIRST.
BY M. M. BELLOT AND BRONGIARTN.

(Translated from the French.)

The Philomatic Society, desirous of complying with a request made to them by M. Parmentier, in the name of Dr. Simmons, appointed M. Bellot and me to examine the constitution and bodily habit of a woman who drank an extraordinary quantity of

water.

On Saturday the 15th of October, we accordingly repaired to the Hotel des Arts, Fauxbourg, Saint Martin, where the woman resided; but not finding her, we went to the place where her husband was at work, after procuring from the porter of the house, some information respecting her, which corresponded perfectly with what we had before heard. When we found her, she had a pitcher of water close by le; and in order that we might be witnesses of the extraordinary fact related, it was agreed that she should come and pass a whole day with one of us.

On Monday, October the 17th, we met for that purpose, and received from her the following particulars.Catharine Bonsergent, the wife of James Fery, a cobler, residing at Paris, in the Hotel des Arts, Fauxbourg, St. Martin, is forty years of age, and was born at Senslis; she is of a very fair complexion; her skin is delicate and freckled; she is rather thin than lusty;

and appears to be of a bilious habit.— Her arms are much leaner than any other part of her body.

After she was weaned, she was placed under the care of her grandmother, who drank a great deal of wine, and taught her to do the same. When she returned to her mother, she vomited every thing she swallowed; and the matter she threw up was of a black colour. From her earliest infancy she had a very great thirst, and sought every means of allaying it. Before she was married, she drank three pailfuls of water; but after she married, two pailfuls served her till she brought forth her first child, when she returned to her former quantity till she had her fourth child. After that period, she drank only two pailfuls in twenty-four

hours.

When she is indisposed, she has not the same thirst; and when she does not drink as much as she desires, she finds herself ill. When she lies in, she has a much greater thirst than usual. Her thirst is never greater in summer than in winter. Salt provisions, which she is not fond of eating, occasion no greater thirst to her than

others.

She

Her thirst is announced by a faintness at the stomach, like that which one experiences when hungry. has a clammy mouth, and cannot, as she says, swallow a morsel of bread. when she has drank, she feels about the region of the stomach a considerable coldness, which makes her shiver for some time; and which obliges her to be continually by the fire whenever the weather is in the least cool.

This woman's lower lip is very thick, and covered with scurf; she feels very severe shooting pains in it, especially during summer; and she is subject to hemorrhoids, which do not discharge. When she is troubled with these, her lip is no longer sore.

She has had eleven children at ten births. She has been subject to the hemorrhoids since she lay in with her first child. Of all her children, none

« AnteriorContinuar »