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THE CATHEDRAL OF STRASBURGH. STRASBURGH is a French city of great antiquity, the capital of the department of the Lower Rhine, and formerly of the province of Alsace. Till the latter part of the seventeenth century, it was a free city of the German empire, possessing the power of electing its own magistrates, being exempt from subjection to any neighbouring prince, and entitled to assert its independence at the diet. But in 1682 it was taken by Louis the Fourteenth; and its possession being confirmed at the peace of Ryswick, it thenceforth became a part of the French territory. Strasburgh is distinguished for having at an early period embraced the doctrines of the Reformation; and at the time of its incorporation with France, the majority of its inhabitants were of the Protestant religion. Even now it counts of that persuasion no less than onethird of its population; and boasts of containing one of the two principal Protestant seminaries in France, the other being at Montauban.

The city stands at the confluence of the rivers Brusche and Ille, and is only half a mile distant from the left bank of the Rhine. Some of its streets are wide and straight, but most of them are narrow; the houses are built chiefly of the red stone found in the quarries along the Rhine, and though lofty, are heavy and inelegant. Its appearance is, indeed, altogether German, as are the language and customs of the greater part of its inhabitants. Strasburgh is a bishop's see, and contains, besides the cathedral, six Catholic churches, seven Lutheran, and one Reformed church. The Cathedral is its principal public building, and is justly classed among the most distinguished specimens of Gothic architecture existing.

The origin of the first Cathedral of Strasburgh is, like that of most buildings of a similar character, matter rather of tradition than of history. It is probable that the bishopric was founded about the middle of the fourth century of the Christian era, and that there existed soon after that period an Episcopal church, which was entirely swept away by the barbarous hordes who broke out from the wilds of Germany, when the power of Rome declined, and who, for a time, obscured the light of religion, in those countries which they invaded.

But about the beginning of the sixth century, the zeal of Clovis, king of the Franks, himself a convert from paganism, re-established the worship of Christianity, and caused the Cathedral of Strasburgh to be rebuilt. The structure thus raised was extremely simple in its nature, being composed, according to the practice of the time, entirely of wood, and boasting of few decorations either in its internal or external arrangements. But it lasted only until the commencement of the eleventh century, though probably it underwent many alterations and repairs in the mean while.

In 1002 it was pillaged, together with the town, and burnt, by Herman Duke of Suabia and Alsace, in revenge for the bishop's having sided with Henry of Bavaria, the competitor of that prince for the imperial throne. When, however, Henry became Emperor of Germany, he was not unmindful of the sufferings of the people of Strasburgh in his cause, and he compelled Herman to make restitution for the mischief which he had occasioned, by surrendering to their bishop the revenues of a rich abbey. Wernher, who then held the see, proceeded with great zeal to make arrangements for the erection of a new Cathedral; and, after many interruptions, was enabled, in 1015, by the liberality of the emperor, and the contributions of the clergy and the people,

to lay the foundation of the edifice which now exists. No less, however, than 424 years elapsed before the building reached the state in which we now behold it; and of these 162 were spent in the construction of the tower alone.

"This far-famed Cathedral," says Mr. Russ in his Tour in Germany, "is in some respects the est Gothic building in Europe. There are many which are more ample in dimensions. In the solemn imposing grandeur to which the lofty elevations and dim colonnades of this architecture are so well adapted, the Cathedral of Milan acknowledges no rival; and not only in some German towns, as in Nürnberg, but likewise among the Gothic remains of our own country and of Normandy, it would not be difficult to find samples of workmanship equally light and elegant in the detail with the boasted fane of Strasburgh. The main body of the building is put together with an admirable symmetry of proportion, and to this it is indebted for its principal beauty as a whole. Connoisseurs, indeed, have measured and criticised; they have found this too long, and that too short: but architectural beauty is made for the eye; and even in classical architecture, where all has been reduced to measurement, the rules of Vitruvius or Palladio are good only as expressing, in the language of art, judgments which taste forms independent of rules. Yet there is no superfluity or confusion of ornament about the edifice; there is no crowding of figure upon figure, merely for the sake of having sculpture. With more it would have approached the tawdry and puerile style of the present day; with less it would have been as dead and heavy as the cathedral of Ulm, which, though exquisite in particular details of the sculpture, yet, without being more imposing, wants all the grace and elegance of the fabric of Strasburgh."

The side of the Cathedral represented in our engraving, is the southern; but the view is well calculated to convey an excellent idea of the chief beauties of the building, especially of the tower, which is the most remarkable part of it. The western front has, as usual, three portals, decorated with statues and sculptures in bas-relief, and presents an appearance of great beauty and elegance. Immediately above the portals are three equestrian statues, each formed of one block, and representing the kings Clovis and Dagobert, and Rodolph of Hapsburgh, Emperor of Germany. There is a niche for a fourth figure; but it has always remained vacant, although the proposal has been entertained of placing in it a statue of Louis the Fourteenth, who was a great benefactor to the Cathedral.

But the great attraction of this edifice consists in the tower which surmounts the western front, and which is remarkable for its enormous height, its elegance of form, and the delicacy of its workmanship. Its altitude is second only to that of the great pyramid of Egypt,-the pinnacle of the spire being more than 500 feet above the pavement. There is nothing uncommon in its general form; but the harmony of proportions, and the elegance of workmanship, appear to greater advantage in it than in the rest of the building. The massive base terminates just at the point where, to the eye, it would become too heavy if carried to a further elevation; and it is succeeded by the lofty slender pyramid, so delicately ribbed that it hardly seems to be supported. The profuseness of decoration, and the extreme lightness displayed in this part of the structure, give it, at a distance, the appearance of an exquisite lacework; but a glance at the engraving in the preceding page, will enable our readers to form a more correct

notion of its beauty than could any detailed description.

The clock of the Cathedral of Strasburgh* is one of the most curious specimens of early proficiency in horological mechanism that exist, and is equalled in celebrity (though not in size) only by that which belongs to the Cathedral of Lyons. It was constructed in the sixteenth century, after the designs and under the superintendence of a learned mathematician, Cunradus Dasypodius by name, who filled the post of a professor in the university of Strasburgh, and who has left behind him a very erudite description of this master-piece of his ingenuity. Besides serving the ordinary purposes of a measurer of time, it exhibits the motions of some of the planets, with various other astronomical phenomena; and is furnished with a fanciful apparatus of allegorical figures, for marking the division of time into hours and quarters. We must observe, however, that all these merits belong to this clock only when it is in very good repair, an occurrence which, according to all accounts, has not happened very frequently since its original construction.

Our readers will perceive, above the small dome which crowns the point of intersection of the cross, a species of apparatus somewhat resembling the machine which is occasionally seen in operation on the top of the Admiralty-office in London. It is an instrument of the same kind, being, in point of fact, a telegraph used for the purposes of communication by signal.

This Cathedral did not escape the violence which, at the time of the Revolution, profaned the chief part of the sacred edifices in France. The great gate of the central portal was coined into money; and many of the most precious ornaments of the building were carried off or mutilated, or entirely destroyed. In the height of their phrensy the levellers of the day proposed to demolish the exquisite tower of the Cathedral, on the ground that its superior loftiness was offensive to the spirit of "equality" which then characterized the ruling party in France, and led them away into such absurdities; fortunately, the proposal was not carried into execution.

See Saturday Magazine, Vol. III., p. 156.

THE numbers of the Ants here were so immense as to cover the roads for the space of several miles; and so crowded in many places, that the prints of the horses' feet were distinctly marked amongst them till filled by the surrounding multitudes. They made bridges across large and rapid rivers with the dead bodies of their comrades. Every kind of cold victuals, all species of vermin, particularly rats, and even the sores of the negroes, were exposed to their attacks. A premium of 20,000l., from the public treasury, was offered to the discoverer of any effectual method of destroying them, and the principal means employed were poison and fire. By mixing arsenic and corrosive sublimate with animal substances, myriads were destroyed; and the slightest tasting of the poison rendered them so outrageous as to devour one another. Lines of red-hot charcoal were laid in their way, to which they crowded in such numbers as to extinguish it with their bodies; and holes full of fire were dug in the cane-grounds, which were soon extinguished by heaps of dead. But while the nests remained undisturbed, new progenies appeared as numerous as ever; and the only effectual check which they received was from the destructive hurricane which, by tearing up altogether, or so loosening the roots of the plants where they nestled as to admit the rain, almost extirpated the whole race.-MARTIN's West India Colonies.

TRUTH should never strike her topsails in compliment to ignorance or sophistry; and if the battle be fought yardarm to yard-arm, however her cause occasionally may suffer from the weakness of its champions, it is sure to prove ultimately victorious.-T. H.

TIME

TIME is precious, but its value is unknown to us. We shall obtain this knowledge when we can no longer profit by it. Our friends require it of us as if it were nothing, and we give it them in the same manner. It is often a burden to us, and we know not what to do with it; but the day will come when a quarter of an hour will appear of more value to us than all the riches of the universe.

GOD, who is liberal in all his other gifts, shows us, by the wise economy of his providence, how circumspect we ought to be in the management of our time, for he never gives us two moments together. He only gives us the second as he takes away the first, and keeps the third in his own hands, leaving us in absolute uncertainty whether it shall ever become ours or not! Time is given us that we may take care for eternity; and eternity will not be too long to regret the loss of our time if we have mis-spent it.--FENELON

AN ANSWER TO "WHAT IS TIME?'
"KNOW'ST thou me not?" the deep voice cried;
"So long enjoyed, so oft misused :-
Alternate in thy fickle pride,

Desired, neglected, and abused.
"Before my breath, like blazing flax,
Man and his marvels pass away,
And changing empires wane and wax,
Are founded, flourish, and decay.
"Redeem my hours,-the space is brief,
While in my glass the sand-grains shiver,
And measureless thy joy or grief,

When TIME and thou shalt part for ever."
SIR W. SCOTT.

Ir were unjust and ungrateful to conceive that the amusements of life are altogether forbidden by its beneficent Author. They serve, on the contrary, important purposes important effects both upon our happiness and character. in the economy of human life, and are destined to produce They are "the wells of the desert; the kind resting-places in which toil may relax, in which the weary spirit may recover its tone, and where the desponding mind may reassume its strength and its hopes. They are, in another view, of some importance to the dignity of individual character. In every thing we call amusement, there is generally some display of taste and of imagination; some elevation of the mind from mere animal indulgence, or the baseness of sensual desire. Even in the scenes of relaxation, therefore, they have a tendency to preserve the dignity of human character and to fill up the vacant and ungarded hours of life, with occupations, innocent at least, if not virtuous. But their principal effect, perhaps, is upon the social character of man. Whenever amusement is sought, it is in the society of our brethren, and whenever it is found, it is in our sympathy with the happiness of those around us. It bespeaks the disposition of benevolence, and it creates it. When men assemble, accordingly, for the purpose of general happiness or joy, they exhibit to the thoughtful eye, one of the most pleasing appearances of their original character. They leave behind them, for a time, the faults of their station, and the asperities of their temper; they forget the secret views and the selfish purposes of their ordinary life, and mingle with the crowd around them with no other view than to receive and communicate happiness. It is a spectacle which it is impossible to observe without emotion; and while the virtuous man rejoices at that evidence which it affords of the benevolent constitution of his nature, the pious man is apt to bless the benevolence of that God, who thus makes the wilderness and the solitary place be glad, and whose wisdom renders even the hours of amusement subservient to the cause of virtue.

It is not, therefore, the use of the innocent amusements of life which is dangerous, but the abuse of them; it is not when they are occasionally, but when they are constantly pursued; when the love of amusement degenerates into a passion, and when, from being an occasional indulgence it becomes a habitual desire.-ALISON.

ON THE LUMINOUS APPEARANCE OF
THE SEA.

FROM the earliest ages, the luminous appearance of the sea, in the night-time, attracted the attention of navigators; and the phenomenon was attributed to various causes, such as putrid substances floating on the water, electricity, friction, and, lastly, the presence of luminous insects. Its appearance is thus described by an old author, who merely gives the result of his observation without a knowledge of the cause.

"When the ship ran apace, we often observed a great light in its wake. This light was not always equal, sometimes it was very vivid, and at other times nothing was to be seen. As to its brightness I could easily read by it the title of a book, although I was nine or ten feet above it from the surface of the water. As to the extent of this light, sometimes all the wake appeared luminous to thirty or forty feet distance from the ship, but the light was very faint at any considerable distance. Some days one might easily distinguish such particles as were luminous from those that were not, at other times there was

no difference. The wake seemed then like a river of milk, and was very pleasant to look on. It is not always that this light appears, though the sea be in great motion, nor does it always happen when the ship sails fastest."

The general cause of this appearance, is the presence of an immense number of minute creatures of the Class Radiata, Zoophytes* (animal plants); although, at times, it may be attributed to putrid substances. It has been asserted that several species of fishes, particularly those belonging to the mackerel tribes, give out, under peculiar circumstances, while yet living, a kind of phosphorescent light; but more accurate researches have proved, that the power of shining in the dark has been limited, in living animals, to the classes Mollusca, Insects, Worms, and Radiated animals. The mollusca and worms contain each but a single luminous species, the Pholas dactylus (the Date pholas) in the one, and the Nereis noctiluca, (Nightshining nereis) in the other. Among the insects the species are more numerous, and contain many well-known objects, as the glow-worm and the lantern-fly but the greatest number of these illuminated creatures are confined to the sea, and belong, as we have already said, to the class The same magnified. Radiata. The most numerous and the most widely-distributed species is the Medusa Scintillans.

Medusa Scintillans Natural size.

The origin of the property possessed by these curious creatures is hitherto unexplained. Sir Everard Home says, "It seems proved, that so far from the luminous substance being of a phosphorescent nature, that it sometimes shows the strongest and most constant light when excluded from oxygen gast; that it in no circumstances undergoes any process like combustion, but is actually incapable of being inflamed; that the increase of heat, during the shining of glow-worms, is an accompaniment and not an effect of the phenomenon, and depends upon the excited state of the insect, and lastly, that heat and electricity increase the exhibition of light, merely by operating like other stimuli, upon the vital properties of the animal."

On the passage from Madeira to Rio de Janeiro, the sea was observed, by Sir Joseph Banks, to be unusually luminous, flashing in many parts like lightning; he directed some of the water to be hauled

See Saturday Magazine, Vol. II., p. 236.

+ Phosphorus burns intensely when exposed to this gas

[merged small][graphic][merged small][graphic]

MEDUSA PELLUCENS. One quarter the size of nature.

of light being so vivid as to affect the eye of the spectator.

The Pyrosoma Atlantica was discovered by Peron, during his voyage from Europe to the Mauritius, and the sudden appearance of an immense group of these creatures, appears to have produced a very striking effect; he thus describes the incident.

"We had for some time been detained by calms in the middle of the equatorial regions, and were only able to increase our latitude, by the aid of the sudden stormy gusts of wind, peculiar to these climates. In the evening we had experienced one of the mest violent of these gusts; the heavens were in every quarter covered with heavy clouds, and a profound darkness hung over all; the wind blew with violence, and our vessel made great way. On a sudden there

appeared at a little distance from
us, what seemed to be an enor-
mous sheet of phosphorus,
stretched out upon the waves; it
occupied a great space in front
of us.
This spectacle, under
the circumstances I have just
described, had something ro-
mantic, imposing, and majestic
in it, which attracted all our
notice.

Every one, on board both vessels, hurried to the prow, to enjoy so singular an appearance. We soon came up with the phenomenon, and perceived at once that this brilliant light was caused, simply, by the presence of an innumerable quantity of large zoophytes, which, lifted up by the waves, and carried forward along with them, were floating at different depths, and appeared to partake of various forms. The individuals which were situated deep in the water, and were imperfectly seen, appeared like large masses bound together, or rather, like enormous red balls; while those which appeared on the surface of the waves, perfectly resembled cylinders of red-hot iron.

PYROSOMA ATLANTICA.

"In the mean time, all the naturalists of both vessels were equally strenuous in their endeavours to obtain these singular creatures. One of our party soon succeeded in withdrawing from the water more than thirty or forty, which we immediately proceeded to examine. The length of these animals differed from three to seven inches, their form was lengthened and nearly cylindrical. As to their colour, when in a state of rest, or immediately after death, they were of a transparent yellow, mixed with a dirty green; but when, during life, they spontaneously contracted themselves, if they could be induced to this act by gentle irritation, they became instantly of the colour of molten iron of extreme brilliancy, but in the same manner as this metal, as it becomes cooler, they assumed a host of agreeable, delicate, and varying tints, such as red, pink, orange, green, and azure blue. This last colour, above all, was as bright as it was pure.

"I may here observe," says Peron, " that during the whole of our long and numerous voyages in the midst of different seas, we never afterwards observed any animals resembling these, so that it would appear that they are confined between the 19th and 20th degrees of longitude, to the east of the meridian of Paris, and the 3rd and 4th degrees of north latitude."

THE LAST DAYS AND THOUGHTS OF
DR. JOHNSON,

FROM THE LETTERS OF MRS. HANNAH MORE.
Dec. 1784.

POOR dear Johnson! he is past all hope. The dropsy has brought him to the point of death: his legs are scarified, but nothing will do. I have, however, the comfort to hear that his dread of dying is in a great measure subdued, and now he says "the bitterness of death is past." [We have been told in previous letters of the same writer, that this great man's dread of death had been exceedingly great.] He sent, the other day, for Sir Joshua Reynolds; and, after much serious conversation, told

him, he had three favours to beg of him; and he hoped he would not refuse a dying friend, be they what they would. Sir Joshua promised. The first was, that he would never paint on a Sunday; the second, that he would forgive him thirty pounds that he had lent him, as he wanted to leave them to a distressed family; the third was, that he would read the Bible whenever he had an opportunity, and that he would never omit it on a Sunday. There was no difficulty on the first point; but at length, Sir Joshua promised to gratify him in all. How delighted should I be to hear the dying discourses of this great and good man, now that faith has subdued his fears. I wish I could see him.

In a letter written at a subsequent period, we find the following very interesting particulars, not generally known. The writer is recording a conversation which she had with the Rev. Mr. Storry, respecting Dr. Johnson.

We were riding together near Colchester, when I asked Mr. S. whether he had ever heard that Dr. Johnson had expressed great dissatisfaction with himself, on the approach of death, and that in reply to friends, who, in order to comfort him, spoke of his writings in defence of virtue and religion, he had said "admitting all you urge to be true, how can I tell when I have done enough." Mr. S. assured me that what I have just mentioned was perfectly correct, and then added the following interesting particulars.

[graphic]

In

Dr. Johnson, said he, did feel as you describe, and was not comforted by the ordinary topics of conversation which were addressed to him. consequence, he desired to see a clergyman, and particularly described the views and character of the person whom he wished to consult. After some consideration, a Mr. Winstanley was named, and the Doctor requested Sir John Hawkins to write a note in his name, requesting Mr. W.'s attendance as a minister.

Mr. W., who was in a very weak state of health, was quite overpowered on receiving the note, and felt appalled by the very thought of encountering the talents and learning of Dr. Johnson. In his embarrassment, he went to his friend Colonel Pownall, and told him what had happened, asking, at the same time, for his advice how to act. The Colonel who was a pious man, urged him immediately to follow what appeared to be a remarkable leading of Providence, and for the time, argued his friend out of his nervous apprehension; but after he had left Mr. Pownall, Mr. W.'s fears returned in so great a degree, as to prevail upon him to abandon the thought of a personal interview with the Doctor. He determined, in consequence, to write him a letter that letter I think Mr. Storry said he had seen, at least a copy of it, and part of it he repeated to me, as follows:

Sir, I beg to acknowledge the honour of your note, and am very sorry that the state of my health prevents my compliance with your request; but my nerves are so shattered, that I feel as if I should be quite confounded by your presence, and instead of promoting, should only injure the cause in which you desire my aid. Permit me, therefore, to write what I should wish to say, were I present. I can easily conceive what would be the subjects of your inquiry. I can conceive that the views of yourself have changed with your condition, and that on the near approach of death, what you once considered mere peccadillos, have risen into mountains of guilt, while your best actions have dwindled into nothing. On whichever side you look, you see only positive

transgressions, or defective obedience; and hence in spirit as if he had been in perfect health. When he self-despair, are eagerly inquiring, "What shall I do expressed some of his former dread of dying, Sir to be saved?" I say to you in the language of the John said, "If you, Doctor, have these fears, what Baptist, "Behold the Lamb of God," &c. &c. When is to become of me and others?" "Oh! Sir," said he, Sir John Hawkins came to this part of Mr. W.'s "I have written piously, it is true; but I have lived letter, the Doctor interrupted him anxiously, asking, too much like other men." It was a consolation to' "Does he say so? Read it again Sir John." Sir him, however, in his last hours, that he had never John complied, upon which the Doctor said, "I must written in derogation of religion or virtue. He see the man, write again to him!" A second note talked of his death and funeral, at times, with great was accordingly sent; but even this repeated solici- composure. On the Monday morning, he fell into a tation could not prevail over Mr. W.'s fears. He was sound sleep, and continued in that state for twelve led, however, by it, to write again to the Doctor, hours, and then died without a groan. renewing and enlarging upon the subject of his first letter; and these communications, together with the conversation of the late Mr. Latrobe, who was a particular friend of Dr. Johnson, appear to have been blessed by God, in bringing this great man to the renunciation of self, and a simple reliance on Jesus as his Saviour, thus also communicating to him that peace which he had found the world could not give, and which, when the world was fading from his view, was to fill the void, and dissipate the gloom, even of the valley of the shadow of death.

I cannot conclude without remarking what honour God has hereby put upon the doctrine of faith in a crucified Saviour. The man whose intellectual powers had awed all around him, was in his turn made to tremble, when the period arrived when all knowledge is useless, and vanishes away, except the knowledge of the true God, and of Jesus Christ, whom he has sent. Effectually to attain this knowledge, this giant in literature must become a little child. The man looked up to as a prodigy of wisdom, must become a fool, that he might be wise. What a comment is this upon that word, "The loftiness of man shall be bowed down, and the haughtiness of men shall be laid low, and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day."

Another anecdote from the same source, relating to the last hours and thoughts of this great man, is highly interesting.

FROM MRS. HANNAH MORE.

Mr. Pepys wrote me a very kind letter on the death of Johnson, thinking I should be impatient to hear something relating to his last hours. Dr. Brocklesby, his physician, was with him; he said to him a little before he died, "Doctor, you are a worthy man, and my friend, but I am afraid you are no Christian! What can I do better for you, than offer up in your presence, a prayer to the great God, that you may become a Christian in every sense of the word!" Instantly he fell on his knees, and put up a fervent prayer; when he got up, he caught hold of his hand with great earnestness, and cried, "Doctor, you do not say Amen." The Doctor looked foolishly, but after a pause, cried "Amen!" Johnson said, "My dear doctor, believe a dying man, there is no salvation but in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God: go home, write down my prayer, and every word I have said, and bring it me to-morrow." Brocklesby did so.

A friend desired Dr. Johnson would make his will, and as Hume in his last moments had made an impious declaration of his opinions, he thought it would tend to counteract the poison, if Johnson would make a Fublic confession of his faith in his will. He said he would; seized the pen with great earnestness, and asked what was the usual form of beginning a will. His friend told him. After the usual forms he wrote, "I offer my soul to the great and merciful God, I offer it full of pollution, but in full assurance that it will be cleansed in the blood of the Redeemer." And for some time he wrote on with the same vigour and

No action of his life became him like the leaving

it. His death makes a kind of era in literature; piety and goodness will not easily find a more able defender; it is delightful to see him set, as it were, his dying seal to the profession of his life, and to the truth of Christianity.

I now recollect, with melancholy pleasure, two little anedotes of this departed genius, indicating a zeal for religion, which one cannot but admire, however characteristically rough. When the Abbé Raynal was introduced to him, upon the Abbé's advancing to take his hand, Dr. J. drew back, and put his hands behind him, and afterwards replied to the expostulation of a friend, "Sir, I will not shake hands with an infidel." At another time, I remember asking him, if he did not think the Dean of Derry a very agreeable man, to which he made no answer; and on my repeating my question, "Child," said he, "I will not speak any thing in favour of a Sabbathbreaker, to please you, nor any one else."-T.

66

WHEN passing near the Riet river-gate, and while our
oxen were grazing, Van Wyk, the colonist, related to us
It is now," he
the following interesting circumstance.
said, more than two years since, in the very place where
we stand, I ventured to take one of the most daring shots
that ever was hazarded. My wife was sitting within the
house, near the door, the children were playing about her,
and I was without, near the house, busied in doing some-
thing to a wagon, when suddenly, though it was mid-day,
an enormous lion appeared, came up and laid himself
quietly down in the shade, upon the very threshold of the
door. My wife, either frozen with fear, or aware of the
danger attending any attempt to fly, remained motionless
in her place, while the children took refuge in her lap.
The cry they uttered attracted my attention, and I hastened
towards the door; but my astonishment may well be
conceived, when I found the entrance to it barred in such a
way. Although the animal had not seen me, unarmed as
I was, escape seemed impossible; yet I glided gently,
scarcely knowing what I meant to do, to the side of my
house, up to the window of my chamber, where I knew my
loaded gun was standing. By a most happy chance I had
set it into the corner close by the window, so that I could
reach it with my hand; for, as you may perceive, the
opening is too small to admit of my having got in; and,
that I could see the whole danger of the scene. The lion
still more fortunately, the door of the room was open, so
was beginning to move, perhaps with the intention of
making a spring. There was no longer any time to think;
I called softly to the mother not to be alarmed; and
invoking the name of the Lord, fired my piece! The ball
passed directly over the hair of my boy's head, and lodged
which shot forth, as it were, sparks of fire, and stretched
in the forehead of the lion, immediately over his eyes,
him on the ground, so that he never stirred more."
Indeed, we all shuddered as we listened to this relation.
Never, as he himself observed, was a more daring attempt
hazarded. Had he failed in his aim, mother and children
were all inevitably lost; if the boy had moved, he had been
struck; the least turn in the lion, and the shot had not
been mortal to him. To have taken an aim at him without,
was impossible; while the shadow of any one advancing
in the bright sun, would have betrayed him; to consum
mate the whole, the head of the creature was in some sort
protected by the door-post.-LICHTENSTEIN's Travels,

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