I turned my eyes from them, wishing to give myself wholly up to religious meditation during the moments of my stay.  Just then the executioner approach, ed.  Sir Thomas desired him to remove the cap from the face of one of the sufferers.  He prepared to comply—­but his first act was to place his hand on the more prominent features and press them together.  This, on inquiry being made, I learned was done that the bystanders might not be shocked by witnessing any distortion of countenance.  Sir Thomas smiled at the anxiety of the man to make it appear that his work had been well performed.  The cap was then withdrawn.  There was nothing terrific in the aspect of the deceased.  I recognized the features of the young man who had been so wildly, so violently agitated, when about to suffer.  Now pain was at an end, apprehension was no more, and he seemed in the enjoyment of sweet repose.  His countenance was tranquil as that of a sleeping infant, and happier than the infant, his rest was not in danger of being disturbed.  While reflecting on the change which a single hour had sufficed to produce, I could hardly help regarding as idle the the sorrow, the pity, and the self-reproach for momentary forgetfulness of these, which I had felt and breathed within that period.  I almost accused the sufferers of weakness, for showing themselves depressed as they had been, while I felt disposed, seeing their griefs were, to all appearance, terminated for ever, to demand with the poet,

  “And what is death we so unwisely fear?”

and to answer as he replies to himself,

  “An end of all our busy tumults here.”

Knight’s Quarterly Magazine.

* * * * *

JEU D’ESPRIT.

(For the Mirror.)

  A sanctified hermit was heard to complain
  That raiment and food he no longer could gain. 
  “For,” quoth he “in this village the famine’s so great
  That there’s not enough left e’en a mousetrap to bait.”

  A neighbour who happened to bear his sad plaint
  Addressed in the following manner the saint: 
  “The nation will keep thee to support splendour’s throne,
  And interest will pay thee, because thou’rt alone.”—­(a loan.)

W.G.

* * * * *

The Months.

[Illustration:  September]

SEPTEMBER.

  “Now sober Autumn, with lack lustre eye,
  Shakes with a chiding blast the yellow leaf,
      And hears the woodman’s song
      And early sportsman’s foot.”

September is generally accounted the finest and most settled month in the year.  The mornings and evenings are cool, but possess a delightful freshness, while the middle of the day is pleasantly warm and open.  Hence the well-known proverb: