comforter-oh, it was almost a mockery to think of comfort then-was borne away upon the wild gushes of the gale; and, exhausted by fatigue and faintness, Pierre found his strength, both mental and physical, forsaking him. A benumbing heaviness crept over his faculties, and he conjectured that he was approaching the termination of his earthly career. His eyes became dim, his recollection faded, he sank into insensibility.

The east had opened her portals, and daylight, in mournful array, had gloomily issued forth, when Pierre Michaud, stiffened with cold, and scarcely alive, awoke to a consciousness of his awful situation. He shook with convulsive agitation, that portended the last struggles against dissolution; he felt his end was near at hand. And what was the spectacle which he beheld? The brig had fallen over nearly on her broadside, and he was in some measure suspended by his lashings. At his side were the mother and the daughter, clasped in each other's arms; the former with her head thrown back and her eyes fixed and glaring, the latter with her face upon that bosom from which she had drawn her nutriment in early infancy; both were dead! At his feet, in the waste of the water, were two seamen, whose only motion arose from the fluctuation of the waves; they were past suffering. On his left hand, a little below the shattered bulwark, lay the captain on his back; but though the sea was breaking over him, he made no movement, for he, too, was lifeless. The shore, a wild rocky coast, could be faintly discerned; but as the gale still exulted in its devastating strength, Michaud dared not cherish a single hope. He resigned himself to his fate; a stupor came over him, and he was lost to consciousness.

Once more the banished man awoke to sensibility; but oh, what a change was presented! There was no longer the howling of the tempest and the bellowing of the waters; there was no longer death and destruction stalking in fearful array around him; he lay upon a soft bed, under warm coverings; his pillows had been carefully arranged beneath his head, and the curtains were

'Where am I?'

closely drawn to exclude the cold air. exclaimed the bewildered man, as with difficulty he raised himself up, and, having parted the curtains, gazed with astonishment at the scene. 'Father of mercies!' he exclaimed, has it then been only a dream? Eulaliemy own Eulalie!' for she was sitting by his side, 'what is all this? Oh, there is too much of horrible reality in the remembrances that crowd upon my mind!-am I yet living? Come, come to my arms, thou partner of my joys and sorrows, and by your fond embraces convince me that this is no deception.'

6

Madame Michaud passed her arms around her husband's neck, kissed his pallid lips, and shed tears of joy upon his breast. Yes, Pierre,' said she, thus wonderfully restored to me and to your home-blessed be His holy name who has wrought out this deliverance.' 'I see--I see,' exclaimed Pierre delightedly; we are in my own ancestral mansion. In this room I drew the first breath of existence; and here, Eulalie,' continued he, as he pressed her to his heart, here am I restored to a second life. But how has this astonishing event been brought about?'

Madame Michaud briefly informed him of the wreck being observed on the coast near to his own dwelling, and himself, with three or four others, rescued from impending death. Notwithstanding his emaciated appearance, he was recognised by many who had known him in brighter days, and the papers found upon his person corroborated the evidence of his identity. He was promptly removed, and assiduously attended to by his devoted wife, who, after undergoing severe hardships and cruelties, had been restored to her matrimonial rights.

But the Directory,' exclaimed Michaud; 'my enemies, Eulalie; will they not discover where I am, and continue to persecute?'

The Directory is no more, Pierre,' responded his wife; 'the monsters have been shorn of their power. Napoleon Bonaparte effected a revolution on the 18th Brumaire, and

is now Chief Consul. It is through him that I am hereand you, oh, my husband!-you are no longer a banished man.'

Pierre withdrew from public life, and cultivated his estates; and it is not many years since I plucked delicious grapes in his vineyard, and saw him surrounded by a numerous and noble progeny, on whose minds he had inculcated one excellent and wholesome lesson, that may be summed up in two words-NEVER DESPAIR.

MAGICIANS OF MODERN EGYPT.

ANCIENT EGYPT was famed for its dexterous jugglers or magicians, and the country in the present day still boasts of possessing personages of that mysterious character. The existing magicians of Egypt, who are most commonly of Arab descent, display their art almost always by what is called 'the experiment of the magic mirror of ink.' This is performed in the following way:-Being in the presence of those who are to witness the exhibition of his powers, the magician prepares for his task by certain forms of invocation, which consist usually in writing down on a slip of paper a string of charmed words. Mr Lane, author of The Modern Egyptians, and one of the first Oriental scholars of the day, examined a charm of this kind, and found the words to signify in English: "Tur'shoon! Turyoo'shoon! Come down! Come down! Be present! Whither are gone the prince and his troops ? Where are ElAhh'mar the prince and his troops? Be present, ye servants of these names!' And on a second slip of paper were written the words: And this is the removal. And we have removed from thee thy veil; and thy sight to-day is piercing.' These last words are intended to open, in a supernatural manner, the eyes of the boy,

on whom the working of the charm mainly depends; for after the preliminary invocations are gone through, the magician announces himself ready to begin his display, and desires a boy to be brought to him. A pure and innocent female would do equally well; and some magicians hold that a black female slave or a pregnant woman would also answer the desired purpose, but a young boy is generally chosen, as the most convenient party; and those before whom the enchanter is exhibiting his art, commonly hire any boy whom they find accidentally on the streets, in order to prevent, if possible, the chance of collusion. When the boy arrives, the magician takes the lad's right hand, and draws in the palm of it a magic diagram, in the form of a square. A little ink is then poured into the hollow of the same hand, and this ink forms the 'magic mirror,' into which the boy looks intently in the course of the exhibition, and sees all the figures and scenes which it is the wish of the enchanter and his visitors or employers to call up. A chafing-dish stands all the while at the magician's hand, and into this he throws at times the before-mentioned charm cut into slips. Perfumes are at the same time burnt in the chafing-dish, and their smoke fills the room, circling around the performers and spectators, and satiating their nostrils with the odours of frankincense and coriander.

When all is thus prepared, the enchanter begins to question the boy-'Do you see anything?' If the charm works well, the boy usually appears frightened, and replies that he sees a man sweeping the ground. (This answer, we believe, is at least a common one, if not uniformly given.) The magician then desires the boy to call for various flags in succession, and the boy calls for and sees seven flags of various colours. He then calls for 'the sultan,' who is the party that is to shew all the future objects in the mirror. If the sultan comes, the charm is wound up. The chief performer, meanwhile, mutters incessantly in the intervals, and keeps throwing the fragments of the written charm into the VOL. XIV.

B

chafing-dish. After a time, if all has gone to his mind, the magician turns to the spectators, and announces that any person whom they may select, living or dead, will be called up in the magic mirror, beheld, and described by the boy.

Lord Prudhoe, an English nobleman of the Percy family, and Major Felix, a British officer, were among the first persons who astonished the European world with their report of the magic-mirror experiment. Being men of character and sense, their statement created a considerable sensation, when it was reported by the interlocutors in the 'Noctes Ambrosianæ' of Blackwood's Magazine for August 1831. The experiment, such as we have described it, was performed before the two gentlemen when travelling in Egypt, and they were desired to call up either the absent or the dead. They asked for Shakspeare, Voltaire, and others, and received descriptions of them from the lips of the boy, exactly corresponding with their portraits, as regarded dress, figure, and countenance. They then tested the boy with lesser known living persons. Archdeacon Wrangham was called for, and described by the boy as 'a tall, white-haired Frank, with a smiling countenance, and wearing spectacles,' whom he saw 'walking in a garden.' Even his dress, that usually worn by an English clergyman out of his canonicals, was pointedly described. Warming with wonder, Major Felix then called for a description of his own brother, an officer in the army, and then in India. The boy described a red-coated Frank, whom he saw standing by the seashore, with a horse and a black servant behind him. Finally, the lad exclaimed: 'O! this is a strange Frank ; he has only one arm!' When Major Felix heard these words, which accurately painted the condition of his brother, his feelings of awe and excitement so much overpowered him, that he fainted away.

Lord Prudhoe and Major Felix were not the only persons thus impressed by the magicians of Egypt. The late British consul, Mr Salt, a man intimately acquainted