a flight of steps has been discovered, ascending to a metal tube or pipe; which, fixed in the hollow body of the statue, and attached to its lips, the priest of Isis was enabled by speaking through this tube, to make the poor deluded multitude believe that their idol gave articulate answers to their anxious queries!  We have heard of similar delusions being practised by Christian priests, in days comparatively modern!  But, only let us conceive, the shame and dismay which would now suffuse the countenance of one of these worshippers of Pompeian Isis, could he but behold the deception which had been practised upon him unsuspectedly!  I have said, that but few skeletons have been found in Pompeii; all that have been met with are covered with ornaments, and appear as in the act of escaping from their hapless town, with what they could carry off of their most valuable possessions; from which death would not relinquish his hold.  More wealth is supposed to have been buried in Herculaneum, from that which has already been found therein; but owing to the excessive difficulty, time, and expense, which the attempt to bring it to light would occasion, excavations in this city, are now almost, if not entirely, abandoned; for it is to be remembered, that Herculaneum was destroyed by a flood of liquid lava, which as it cools, hardens into solid and impenetrable rock; whereas the hot ashes of Vesuvius overwhelmed Pompeii, and consequently it is much less difficult to clear.

    [2] “Witness,” said my friend, “the bracelets which I am now
        wearing; they are modelled from a pair found in Pompeii.”  These
        were made of gold, quite in the fashion of the present day;
        beautifully chased, but by no means of an uncommon pattern.

* * * * *

THE CONVICT’S DREAM.

(For the Mirror.)

    “A wreck of crime upon his stony bed.”

    R. MONTGOMERY.

  He who would learn the true remorse for crime
  Should watch (when slumbers innocence, and guilt
  Or wakes in sleepless pain, or dreams of blood)
  The convict stretched on his reposeless bed. 
  Then conscience plays th’ accusing angel;
  Spectres of murder’d victims flit before
  His eyes, with soul-appalling vividness;
  Hideous phantasma shadow o’er his mind;
  Guilt, incubus-like, sits on his soul
  With leaden weight,—­types of the pangs of hell. 
  His memory to the scene of blood reverts;
  He hears the echo of his victims’ cry,
  Whose agonizing eyes again are fixed
  Upon his face, pleading for mercy. 
  See! how he writhes in speechless agony! 
  As morning dew-drops on the face of nature,
  So hangs upon his brow the clammy sweat. 
  Each feature of his face, each limb, each nerve,
  Distorted with remorse and agony,
  Is fraught with nature’s speechless eloquence,
  And is a faithful witness to his sin. 
  It is not all a dream, but memory holds
  Before the sleeper’s eyes her magic glass,
  In which he sees the image of the past.