to that exclusive bigotry, which now enfolded him with such an iron grasp, that no other sentiment could reach his bosom. When he came a pilgrim to America, she had remained in her father's hall, but now, as it appeared, had crossed the ocean after him, impelled by the same faith that led other exiles hither, and perhaps by love almost as holy. What else but faith and love united could have sustained so delicate a creature, wandering thus far into the forest, with her golden hair dishevelled by the boughs, and her feet wounded by the thorns! Yet, weary and faint though she must have been, and affrighted at the dreariness of the cave, she looked on the lonely man with a mild and pitying expression, such as might beam from an angel's eyes, towards an affiicted mortal. But the recluse, frowning sternly upon her, and keeping his finger between the leaves of his half-closed Bible, motioned her away with his hand.

"Off!" cried he, "I am sanctified, and thou art sinful. Away!"

“Oh, Richard," said she, earnestly, "I have come this weary way, because I heard that a grievous distemper had seized upon thy heart; and a great physician hath given me the skill to cure it. There is no other remedy than this which I have brought thee. Turu me not away, therefore, nor refuse my medicine; for then must this dismal cave be thy sepulchre."

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Away!" replied Richard Digby, still with a dark frown.

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My heart is for the sun is

in better condition than thine own. Leave me, earthly one; almost set; and when no light reaches the door of the cave, then is my prayer

time!"

Now, great as was her need, Mary Goffe did not plead with this stonyhearted man for shelter and protection, nor ask anything whatever for her own sake. All her zeal was for his welfare.

"Come back with me!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands-" Come back to thy fellow men: for they need thee, Richard, and thou hast tenfold need of them. Stay not in this evil den; for the air is chill, and the damps are fatal; nor will any, that perish within it, ever find the path to Heaven. Hasten hence, I entreat thee, for thine own soul's sake; for either the roof will fall upon thy head, or some other speedy destruction is at hand."

"Perverse woman!" answered Richard Digby, laughing aloud; for he was moved to bitter mirth by her foolish vehemence. "I tell thee that the path to Heaven leadeth straight through this narrow portal, where I sit. And, moreover, the destruction thou speakest of, is ordained, not of this blessed cave, but for all other habitations of mankind, throughout the earth. Get thee hence speedily, that thou may'st have thy share!"

So saying, he opened his Bible again, and fixed his eyes intently on the page, being resolved to withdraw his thoughts from this child of sin and wrath, and to waste no more of his holy breath upon her. The shadow had now grown so deep, where he was sitting, that he made continual mistakes in what he read, converting all that was gracious and merciful, to denunciations of vengeance and unutterable woe, on every created being but himself. Mary Goffe, meanwhile, was leaning against a tree, beside the sepulchral cave, very sad, yet with,something heavenly and ethereal in her unselfish sorrow. light from the setting sun still glorified her form, and was reflected a little way within the darksome den, discovering so terrible a gloom, that the maiden shuddered for its self-doomed inhabitant. Espying the bright fountain near at hand, she hastened thither, and scooped up a portion of its water, in a

The

cup of birchen bark. A few tears mingled with the draught, and perhaps gave it all its efficacy. She then returned to the mouth of the cave, and knelt down at Richard Digby's feet.

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Richard," she said, with passionate fervour, yet a gentleness in all her passion, "I pray thee, by thy hope of Heaven, and as thou wouldst not dwell in this tomb forever, drink of this hallowed water, be it but a single drop! Then, make room for me by thy side, and let us read together one page of that blessed volume-and, lastly, kneel down with me and pray! Do this; and thy stony heart shall become softer than a babe's, and all be well."

But Richard Digby, in utter abhorrence of the proposal, cast the Bible at his feet, and eyed her with such a fixed and evil frown, that he looked less like a living man than a marble statue, wrought by some dark imagined sculptor, to express the most repulsive mood that human features could assume. And, as his look grew even devilish, so, with an equal change, did Mary Goffe become more sad, more mild, more pitiful, more like a sorrowing angel. But, the more heavenly she was, the more hateful did she seem to Richard Digby, who at length raised his hand, and smote down the cup of hallowed water upon the threshold of the cave, thus rejecting the only medicine that could have cured his stony heart. A sweet perfume lingered in the air for a moment, and then

was gone. "Tempt me no more, accursed woman," exclaimed he, still with his marble frown, "lest I smite thee down also! What hast thou to do with my Bible? -what with my prayers?-what with my Heaven?"

No sooner had he spoken these dreadful words, than Richard Digby's heart ceased to beat; while-so the legend says-the form of Mary Goffe melted into the last sunbeams, and returned from the sepulchral cave to Heaven. For Mary Goffe had been buried in an English churchyard, months before; and either it was her ghost that haunted the wild forest, or else a dreamlike siprit, typifying pure religion.

Above a century afterwards, when the trackless forest of Richard Digby's day had long been interspersed with settlements, the children of a neighbouring farmer were playing at the foot of a hill. The trees, on account of the rude and broken surface of this acclivity, had never been felled, and were crowded so densly together, as to hide all but a few rocky prominences, wherever their roots could grapple with the soil. A little boy and girl, to conceal themselves from their playmates, had crept into the deepest shade, where not only the darksome pines, but a thick veil of creeping plants suspended from an overhanging rock, combined to make a twilight at noon day, and almost a midnight at all other seasons. There the children hid themselves, and shouted, repeating the cry at intervals, till the whole party of pursuers were drawn thither, and pulling aside the matted foliage, let in a doubtful glimpse of daylight But scarcely was this accomplished, when the little group uttered a simultaneous shriek, and tumbling headlong down the hill, making the best of their way homeward, without a second glance into the gloomy recess. Their father, unable to comprehend what had so startled them, took his axe, and by felling one or two trees, and tearing away the creeping plants, laid the mystery open to the day. He had discovered the entrance of a cave, closely resembling the mouth of a sepulchre, within which sat the figure of a man, whose gesture and attitude warned them all to stand back, while his visage wore a most forbidding frown, This repulsive personage seemed to have been carved in the

same gray stone that formed the walls and portal of the cave. On minuter inspection, indeed, such blemishes were observed, as made it doubtful whether the figure were really a statue, chiselled by human art, and somewhat worn and defaced by the lapse of ages, or a freak of Nature, who might have chosen to imitate, in stone, her usual handiwork of flesh. Perhaps it was the least unreasonable idea, suggested by this strange spectacle, that the moisture of the cave possessed a petrifying quality, which had thus awfully embalmed a human

corpse.

There was something so frightful in the aspect of this Man of Adamant, that the farmer, the moment that he recovered from the fascination of his first gaze, began to heap stones into the mouth of the cavern. His wife, who had followed him to the hill, assisted her husband's efforts. The children also approached as near as they durst, with their little hands full of pebbles, and cast them on the pile. Earth was then thrown into the crevices, and the whole fabric overlaid with sods. Thus all traces of the discovery were obliterated, leaving only a marvellous legend, which grew wilder from one generation to another, as the children told it to their grand-children, and they to their posterity, till few believed that there had ever been a cavern or a statue, where they now saw but a grassy patch on the shadowy hill-side. Yet, grown people avoid the spot, nor do children play there. Friendship, and love, and piety, all human and celestial sympathies, should keep aloof from that hidden cave; for there still sits, and, unless an earthquake crumble down the roof upon his head, shall sit forever, the shape of Richard Digby, in the attitude of repelling the whole race of mortals-not from Heaven-but from the horrible loneliness of his dark, cold sepulchre.

PHYSIOGNOMY.

OR A TRUE KEY TO THE "PARAGON OF ANIMALS."

THERE are perhaps few subjects in the whole circle of the sciences more universally and readily admitted, and yet at the same time apparently less reducible to principles of scientific demonstration, than that of Physiognomy. The phrenologists indeed, seem here to have the advantage; for whatever may be said of the correctness of their delineations, and their adaptation to positive principles, they certainly present to us more palpable and more tangible evidence in the multiplicity and variety of their protuberent and characteristic bumps. I cannot but believe that there is much truth in each of these sciences, notwithstanding it has been contended that such a designation is by far too dignified an appellation for them. Undoubtedly both, being in such juxtaposition, may be supposed to possess a common affinity, although the validity of the one in no degree involves that of the other. The advocates of phreno

logy have been by far the more numerous; it has consequently received a larger share of the popular consideration. For this reason, I have ventured to select that of physiognomy as the subject of a few remarks. I shall endeavour to present some of the leading principles of the science, with an occasional illustration, simply "premising," by a few common-places touching the more prominent features of the countenance, by way of prima faciæ evidence.

And first, I shall begin with noses. Every one knows he has a nose, and he

No. III.

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The

knows that it is the leading feature, since all follow it. Noses, then, are of divers kinds. There is the Roman, the Grecian, the Aquiline, the Snub, the Bottle, the Turn-up, the Mulberry, the Snout, the Crooked, the Pimple, and the No-nose! In attempting an anal tical description of these varieties of the organ, I confess myself not a little embarrassed for terins, by which to accu rately delineate their respective characteristics. With the first-named, the Roman, we are all familiarly acquainted. The excess of its conformation, however, strikingly resembles the bill of the parrot; hence this nose is sometimes facetiously termed the "beak." For an illustrious specimen of this variety, we may refer to that, world-renowned son of Mars, the Duke of Wellington, vulgarly known by the cognomen of "Nosey"—" Old Nosey!" There are doubtless many similar instances to be met with, but let this suffice. The classic honour bestowed on this species of the nasal organ, is from the well-known circumstance of its having been so generally in vogue with the people of that name. same, as its title imports, is also the case with the second class, called Grecian. This may be said to possess by far the greatest pretensions of any to beauty of figure. It is more perpendicular from the forehead, and without any of the projection of the bridge, comes straight down, with rather an acute angular termination. The Aquiline somewhat approaches the latter, with the excep tion of a slight indentation from the frontal bone, with rather an inclination upward at the extremity. We come next to the "Snub." This has been sometimes vulgarly but expressely termed "the Puq." It has great expansiveness of the nostrils, is rather short and wide, and uncommonly fleshy withal. The Bottle-nose belongs almost exclusively to the victim of intemperance, of which it may be consi ered the sure concomitant. It is a kind of bulbous plant, or absorbent, concentrating in itself the fiery essences of the "potations deep" of the devotee of Bacchus. Its appearance is the physical embodiment of the rosy juice. The " Turn-up" is a caricature of the "Snub," possessing all its peculiarities in more startling relief, and is commonly supposed, although perhaps unjustly, to characterise the more vulgar of the species. We have an illustration of this variety in the case of the great "schoolmaster," Lord Brougham, who sports a nose of this description, which, in an eloquent harangue, possesses the most extraordinary nervous action. This however should be regarded rather as an anomaly than as an illustration of the class. There is also the "Mulberry." This is a most abominable specimen of the bottlenose, in all its worst features. Nothing indeed can outvie its hideous characteristics. I have yet another to describe in my catagraph of the genus-the Snout. This is a nose concerning which there can be no mistake. It seems to project almost horizontally from the face, a little inclined to turn up, and appears to be made solely to accommodate a pair of elongated nostrils, of out rageous proportion; while from its very peculiarly projecting conformation, it seems to induce in the beholder an irresistible desire to have a pull at it, for which office indeed it is singularly adapted. Little need be said about the "Pimple." It is the smallest apology for a nose extant, being "small by degrees, and beautifully less ;" hence it will be only proportionably just to the others, to say as little about this variety as possible; I may remark, however, that it is sometimes observable in the young boarding-school Miss. But I must not omit to notice "Crooked-noses," as well as the "No-noses." It is a curious fact, although common to the observation of all, that there is scarcely a straight nose to be met with. None may be said to be entirely without

irregularity. Almost all noses incline either to the right or left of the direct line, in a slight degree, caused most probably by the frequent and indispensable application of manual service to that worthy member. It is also equally

curious, that no two faces are to be found precisely alike in expression.

The next feature I shall glance at will be the eyes, "those windows of the soul." I am not acquainted with a very extensive variety in this delicate and insinuating member. There appears, however, to be certain broad characteristic differences between the following varieties; viz. the dark eye, the gray, the blue, and the gimblet. The dark eye, although proper to no particular class of character, may yet be said to possess some peculiarities. It is not only a token of beauty, and capable of imparting to features of even defective outline a highly pleasing effect, but it is of itself always powerfully expressive. Of the gray, there are some minor varieties, such as the dark-gray, which is also expressive, and seems to be a medium between the black and blue. Then there is the light-gray, which seems to belong peculiarly to elderly maiden ladies, nurses, and regular devils. Why this peculiarity is so apparent, I confess myself unable to explain. Perhaps those more efficient in physiological science, may be able to offer some elucidation of a subject so confessedly shrouded in mystery.

The cat's-eye is another variety of the gray, caused apparently by a slight infusion of yellow. It is extremely disagreeable to look upon, and its possessor is supposed to share some affinity in character and disposition with the feline race. The blue eye is always beautiful; it is one of Nature's own sweet tints, and consequently ever delightful to contemplate. It betokens mildness and amiability of disposition, and is most generally monopolized, as indeed it should be, by the fair sex. The gimblet, otherwise called the swivel-eye, is a kind of anomaly in the world of eyes. It being an exception to all rule, no direct application can be made of it to any distinct individual class. The swivel, however, is of a very penetrating nature, since it at once insinuates itself into your affections. Sometimes it is seen to ornament the unmarried, of both sexes oftentimes; also the more courageous disciples of St. Benedict. Some prominent individuals have possessed this peculiarity. I remember several instances; among them, the late Rev. Edward Irving.

There are three or four varieties of the Mouth. It will not however be required that these should be very minutely particularized. A small mouth being justly considered the test of beauty, it would be ungallant to mar its fair proportions by attempting to enlarge upon it; while the large one, being already an outrage upon the true standard, any extended remarks upon it would be

uncharitable.

The science of physiognomy, as already stated, although frequently condemned as being fallacious, and liable to mislead us in our estimate of character, is yet everywhere practically admitted among us. And although it may seem to be difficult to reduce it to positive principles, yet to reject it altogether, on this account, is indeed a very unphilosophical method of solving the problem. Nothing is more common than exclamations like the following, on first seeing an individual: "What an honest-looking face he has!" "How forbidding an expression this one has!" "How the rogue is depicted in the other!" etc. Have we not our likings and our aversions? Do we not involuntarily shrink from one person whose face does not comport with our ideas of honesty, and rush with open arms to another, whose countenance more nearly approaches