alone, in a period of three years, they had traded for a million sterling in tulips.

CORONER'S INQUEST.-A.gentlewoman in London having buried six husbands, found a suitor hardy enough to make her a wife once more. For several months their happiness was mutual, a circumstance which seemed to pay no great compliment to the former partners, who had disgusted her, she said, by their drun kenness and infidelity. With a view to ascertaining the character of his mate, the gentleman began to absent himself, and return at late hours in a state of apparent intoxication. Reproaches at first, and menaces in succession, were the effects of this Conduct. The gentleman persisted, and seemed daily to become more addicted to his vices One evening, when she thought him senseless and asleep, she unsewed a leaden weight from a fold in her gown, and having melted it, approached her husband, to pour it into his ear. Convinced of her wickedness, the gentleman, start ing up, seized her, and, having pros cured assistance, confined her till morning, when she was carried before a Magistrate, who committed her to prison. The bodies of her six husbands were dug up, and as marks of violence were discernible upou the whole of them, she was brought to trial and convicted of murder. To these circumstances, it is said, we are indebted for a most useful Institution.

MORTAL CALCULATION.-The ag gregate population on the surface of the known habitable globe is estimated at 895,600,000 souls. If we reckon, with the ancients, that a generation lasts thirty years, then in that space of time 895,600,000 human beings will be born and die: consequently, 81,760 must be dropping off into eternity every day, 3407 every hour, and about 56 every minute.

STORKS. The veneration shewn by the Germans to storks is a very remarkable superstition. The houses

ler,

which these birds light upon are considered as under the special favour of Heaven. It is usual to contrive a small flat square spot on the top of the roof, for them to rest upon, and build their nests. Catholic curates, as well as Protestant ministers, endervour to allure them to their churches. I observed," says a French travelfour or five steeples dignified by such visitors. There are people so luckly as to attract some of them into their poultry-yard, where they stalk about wish the hens, but without yielding up any particle of their freedom. Were any one to kill a stork, he would be pursued like an Egyptian of old for killing an ibis, or for fricasseeing a eat. In a fire, by which the town of Delft in Holland was burnt to ashes, a stork, which had built her nest upon a chimney, strove all she could to save her little ones she was seen spreading her wings around them, to keep off the sparks and burning embers. Already the flames began to seize upon her, but, un mindful of herself, she cared only for her offsprings, bemoaning their loss, and at length fell a prey to the fire, un der the eyes of a sympathizing crowd, preferring death, with the pledges of her love, to life without them."This interesting anecdote was cele brated by a Flemish poet, who lived in 1503, in an effusion bearing the title of "The Stork of Delft; or, the Model of Maternal Love."

NUNS. THE following interesting description of the ceremony of taking the veil, occurs in "Letters from Spain by Don Leucadio Doblado." The writer is evidently, a person of strong mind, of somewhat lively fancy, and of liberal notions-but he is no Spaniard. However, we do not like him the less because he is an Englishman with a Spanish title, for we have thus obtained a better book upon Spain, than could have been produced, we suspect, by a native. The style is vigorous and elegant-the information often curious-and the sketches of manners animated and

amusing. The following powerful description of the glowing passions, half human, half divine, which are excited in the bosom of a youthful female destined to monastic seclusion, and of the solemn ceremonies that accompany her final renunciation of the world, we extract from his 8th letter:

"There is an extreme eagerness in the Catholic professors of celibacy, both male and female, to decoy young persons into the toils from which they themselves cannot escape. With this view they have disguised the awful ceremony which cuts off an innocent girl from the sweetest hopes

of nature, with the pomp and gaiety which mankind have unanimously bestowed on the triumph of legitimate love. The whole process which condemns a female to wither on the virgin thorn, and live a barren sister all her life, is studiously made to represent a wedding. The unconcious victim, generally in her fifteenth year, finds herself, for some time previous to her taking the veil, the queen-nay, the idol of the whole Community which has obtained her preference. She is constantly addressed by the name of bride, and sees nothing but gay preparations for the expected day of her spiritual nuptials. Attired in a splendid dress, and decked with all the jewels of her family and friends, she takes public leave of her acquaintances, visits, on her way to the convent, several other nunneries to be seen and admired by the recluse inhabitants, and even the crowd which collects in her progress follows her with tears and blessings. As she approaches the church of her monastery, the dignified ecclesiastic who is to perform the ceremony, meets the intended novice at the door, and leads her to the altar amid the sound of bells and musical instruments. The monastic weeds are blessed by the priest in her presence; and having embraced her parents and nearest relations, she is led by the lady who acts as bride's maid to the small door next to the double grating, which separates the nuns' choir from the body of the church. A curtain is drawn while the abbess cuts off the hair of the novice, and strips her of her worldly ornaments. On the removal of the curtain she appears in the monastic garb, surrounded by the nuns bearing lighted tapers, her face covered with the white veil of probationship, fixed on the head by a wreath of flowers. After the Te Deum, or some other hymn of thanks giving, the friends of the family adjourn to the locatory, or visiting room, where a collation of ices and sweet-meats is served. In the more austere convents the parting visit is omitted, and the sight of the novice in the white veil, immediately after

having her hair cut off, is the last which, for a whole year, is granted to the parents. They again see her on the day when she binds herself, with the irrevocable vows, never to behold her more, unless they should live to see her again crowned with flowers, when she is laid in the grave.

"Instances of novices quitting the convent during the year of probation are extremely rare. The ceremony of taking the veil is too solemn, and bears too much the character of a public engagement, to allow full liberty of choice during the subsequent noviciate. The timid mind of a girl shrinks from the idea of appearing again in the world, under the tacit reproach of fickleness and relaxed devotion. The nuns, besides, do not forget their arts during the nominal trial of the victim, and she lives a whole year the object of their caresses. Nuns, in fact, who after profession, would have given their lives for a day of free breathing out of their prison, it has been my misfortune to know; but I cannot recollect more than one instance of a novice quitting the convent; and that was a woman of obscure birth, on whom public opinion had no influence.

"That many nuns, especially in the more liberal convents, live happy, I have every reason to believe; but on the other hand, I possess indubitable evidence of the exquisite misery which is the lot of some unfortunate females, under similar circumstances. I shall mention only one case, in actual existence, with which I am circumstantially acquainted.

"A lively and interesting girl of fifteen, poor, though connected with some of the first gentry in this town, having received her education under an aunt who was at the head of a wealthy, and not austere, Franciscan convent, came out, as the phrase is, to see the world,' previous to her taking the veil. I often met the intended novice at the house of one of her relations, where I visited daily.She had scarcely been a fortnight out of the cloister, when that world she had learned to abhor in description, was so visibly and rapidly winning

her affections, that at the end of three months, she could hardly disguise her aversion to the veil. The day, however, was now fast approaching which had been fixed for the ceremony, with out her feeling sufficient resolution to decline it. Her father, a good but weak man, she knew too well could not protect her from the ill treatment of an unfeeling mother, whose vanity was concerned in thus disposing of a daughter for whom she had no hopes of finding a suitable match. The kindness of her aunt, the good nun to whom the distressed girl was indebted for the happiness of her childhood, formed, besides, too strong a contrast with the unkindness of the unnatural mother, not to give her wavering mind a strong though painful bias towards the cloister. To this were added all the arts of pious seduction 80 common among the religious of both sexes. The prepa rations for the approaching solemnity were, in the mean time, industriously got forward, with the greatest publicity. Verses were circulated, in which her confessor sang the triumph of Divine Love over the wily suggestions of the impious.-The weddingdress was shown to every acquaintance, and due notice of the appointed day was given to friends and relatives. But the fears and aversion of the devoted victim grew in proportion as she saw herself more and more involved in the toils she had wanted courage to burst when she first felt them.

"It was in company with my friend Leandro, with whose private history you are well acquainted, that I often met the unfortunate Maria Francisca. His efforts to dissuade her from the rash step she was going to take, and the warm language in which he spoke to her father on that subject, had made her look upon him as a warm and sincere friend. The unhappy girl, on the eve of the day when she was to take the veil, repaired to church, and sent him a message, without mentioning her name, that a female penitent requested his attendance at the confessional. With painful surprise he found the future novice at his feet, in a state bordering on distrac

tion. When a flood of tears allowed her utterance, she told him, that for want of another friend in the whole world to whom she could disclose her feelings, she came to him, not however, for the purpose of confession, but because she trusted he would listen with pity to her sorrows. With a warmth and eloquence above her years, she protested that the distant terrors of eternal punishment, which she feared, might be the consequence of her determination, could not deter her from the step by which she was going to escape the incessant persecution of her mother.-In vain did my friend volunteer his assistance to extricate her from the appalling diffi. culties which surrounded her; in vain did he offer to wait upon the Archbishop, and implore his interference : no offers, no persuasions could move her. She parted as if ready to be conveyed to the scaffold, and the next day took the veil.

"The real kindness of her aunt, and the treacherous smiles of the other nuns, supported the pining novice through the year of probation. The scene I beheld when she was bound with the perpetual vows of monastic life, is one which I cannot recollect without an actual sense of suffocation. A solemn mass, performed with all the splendour which that ceremony admits, preceded the awful oaths of the novice. At the conclusion of the service, she approached the superior of the order. A pen, gaily ornamented with artificial flowers, was put into her trembling hand, to sign the engagement for life, on which she was about to enter. Then standing before the iron-grate of the choir, she began to chant, in a weak and fainting voice, the act of consecrating of herself to God; but, having uttered a few words, she fainted into the arms of the surrounding nuns. This was attributed to mere fatigue and emotion. No sooner had the means employed restored to the victim the power of speech, than, with a vehemence which those who knew not her circumstances attributed to a fresh impulse of holy zeal, and in which the few that were in the painful secret