LOGOUL. Both, both, annihilate them both! one for endangering our place of abode, the other for trusting to a woman's love. Stand off, magician! stand off! or you too feel my power. Let me strike, let me strike. I'll scatter their limbs in the tempest, and send their souls howling with demons. A moment more, and we are gone

OLD MAGICIAN. Logoul! have you no pity for the errors of human nature? Logoul! what are we? Criminal and abandoned as I am, through your infernal seductions, I cannot consent to destroy this unoffending stranger. Much less can I touch the life of my daughter, the only child of my days of innocence. What appeared trivial in prospect, now wears its true face of horror.

VOICE amid the uproar. Magician! remember the covenant, remember the condition, and tremble!

OLD MAGICIAN. Take back thy palace of enchantment, thou Unseen! in the name of the Almighty. In this awful name I most willingly throw from me the accursed art, both now and forever. O Being of beings, let this suffice. I cannot destroy the innocent; I cannot harm my daughter; I fear the hand of Heaven. I cannot

"But I can," roared the infuriate Logoul. "No power in the universe shall withhold me." He then burst from the grasp of the magician, and, furiously brandishing his sword, rushed forward with dreadful impetuosity; but ere he could execute his fell purpose, a thunder-stroke stretched him black and breathless on the floor.

At the very moment of this catastrophe, the guardian spirit of Muzoil became visible in glory, took his hand, and, while amid the convulsions of an earthquake, the palace was crumbling to atoms, they were imperceptibly lifted above this suffocating atmosphere; and lo! they stood on his own native banks, and once more breathed the fresh air of liberty. No hurricane, no sweeping whirlwind, no confusion of elements: a soft breeze gently curled the surface of the Almadora; the moon walked in brightness and beauty; and the dark-blue dome of heaven, studded with stars, beamed peacefully over them.

This holy transition Muzoil felt to be the Peace, be still, of miraculous power. His heart rose to thank his

deliverer; but overwhelmed with consternation, as memory rushed upon him, he exclaimed in agony :

"Where is Seraphina? Where is the innocent Seraphina? Why did I not perish with Seraphina!

The Spirit mildly and thoughtfully replied: "The ways of Heaven are ways of wisdom. Your loss is indeed severe. I feel its extent, and I give you the strong sympathy of a spiritual nature, the sympathy of a heart tenderly interested in all that concerns you. But whatever may be your calamity, whether trivial or as now disastrous, should you exclaim, "Why did I not perish with Seraphina! better had death ended at once both life and misery." O no: give to every event of your life a proportionate regard. Remember the words of the wise: "The veil which conceals from view the events of futurity, is a veil woven by the hand of Mercy." God is wise, and will he not know? God is merciful, and will he not pity? God is almighty, and will he not afford alleviation? He removed from you, one after another, all you most loved and cherished on earth. He left you at last in utter loneliness, and now he has taken from you Seraphina, his newly bestowed gift, the dearest and the best. Still confide in his wisdom and goodness. Though he slay you, still put your trust in him. The time will come, and it may not be far distant, when you will feel and acknowledge his infinite love. Return home, pour out your heart before him, and be no more distrustful of His providence. "HERE, or HEREAFTER!" is the voice of promise: rich and sure are the rewards of FAITH. Believe in the truth and watchful tenderness of your guardian Spirit."

The Spirit ceased, and faded into air.

Before Muzoil returned home to his lonely dwelling, he fell on his face in the dust, and prayed with a gush of tears: "O God, convinced of the wisdom of thine every purpose and dispensation, however mysterious, I submit to thy will. If it be thy will, O take me home to the loved and the lost. If it be thy wisdom that I remain longer upon earth, I. bow to thy sovereignty in holy confidence. O my Maker and Disposer, pity and enlighten thy lonely child. I put my trust in thee, and wait for thy salvation."

When Muzoil arose, the peace of earth, air, and heaven that breathed around him, breathed also within his soul; for the influences of that spirit for which he had prayed, had been granted to his prayer.

Pausing to realize this divine calm of the soul, before proceeding to his home, whom does he behold, what blessed vision does he see rise before him, in the light of the moon? And did his guardian Spirit, did the Spirit of the Almadora, perfectly accomplish their purpose of kindness? Yes, their good work is done; their scheme of love and trial is completed. His own, his true, his well beloved Seraphina falls upon his neck in the mute ecstasy of gratitude and affection; while her father, rescued from perdition, sheds tears of heavenly hope.

O blessed re-union! Christian light and Christian joys are around them. The delights of mutual tenderness, the energy of faith in the divine will, the glowings of pure devotion, these form the bliss of father, son, and wife, and these are enough. They are happy. Their lives remind you of the mysterious words that appeared written on the cloud, and make them clear as the characters of truth:

THE

"BEAUTIFUL IS THE BLUSH OF MORNING, SPLENDOUR OF YOUTHFUL HOPE AND LOVE; BUT THE LUSTRE OF MATURED AFFECTION, THE CLOUD OF EVENING, MADE LUMINOUS BY THE MOON, WITH THE STAR OF IMMORTAL LIFE GLEAMING FROM BEYOND, THIS IS THAT SPIRITUAL LIGHT WHICH NEITHER FADES ON EARTH NOR DIES IN HEAVEN.

This family of love, - do they dwell in the abode of the humble, far removed from the forbidden riches and false grandeur of sorcery? They dwell also in the abode of the believing, the obedient, and the blest of heaven.

Ascending the loftiest eminence on the bank, the father often views the scene of his guilt, his penitence, his preservation; and, near the grave of his departed Selena, he lives in holy hope of pardon and acceptance; while Muzoil and Seraphina never lift their eyes toward the mountain in the west, without giving thanks to Infinite Goodness. for creating them, and making them one. The lustre of

the moon, setting over it, is not softer or more tranquil than their confidence in each other. Their faithful guardian Spirit, and his sympathizing brother of the Almadora, they bear in grateful remembrance; and they bless the Sovereign Disposer, that THE FORTIETH HOUR is gone forever, leaving them not only unharmed, but in greater security and happiness, it may be, than thay had ever dared to anticipate.

WERTER'S WARNING.

I then sink into a deep reverie, and cannot help saying: Albert to die, Charlotte and I would.

:-'Were

LETTER 60.

THE night was cool and tranquil. I was walking the palace-roof of home; and, as I mused on the close of the year and the swiftness of time, I saw in the southern sky a bright circlet of stars, resembling the Pleiades so arranged.

At this image of magic beauty I gazed in delightful wonder, but my wonder soon became astonishment; for the starry circlet, with a strange whirling motion, rapidly drew nigh, and tempestuously dispersed around me in snow-flakes of fire,—soft, chill, transparent. With these descending gems of heaven music sweetly and mournfully mingled, and the voice of an unseen Being arrested my ear: "Werter! ONE WARNING MORE, and we part, part forever."

WERTER. Part, O invisible spirit!-We have but this moment met, and do you speak of our parting? Say, what mysterious Being addresses me?

GENIUS. And are we strangers? Twelve months have we been companions, although we are never to meet again. You ought by this time to know the Genius of the Departing Year.

WERTER. Do we then separate forever? It is a mournful voice, which says forever.' It is mournful, we hear it said, eternally to part even with an enemy; but in bidding you farewell, Genius of the Year, a more tender emotion swells within me. My treatment of you, I acknowledge, has not been according to your merit, though I have ever been your friend at heart; but for your assiduities to me, Old Year, I am doubly grateful. You have