offence. At this promise, Chalcahual's soul was possessed by a sternness and an unforgiving spirit which was never his again, and which afterwards he would have given up his wealth, his life even, to have blotted from his memory or from truth. In bitter tones he told her that he was weary of tears and promises, always made to be broken, and when those promises were performed he might forgive. Lesa hid her face in her hands as she heard these cruel words in woe unutterable, and a sharp scream testified to the agony of her soul; but the storm passed, the expressions of intensity of emotion ceased. She felt deeply aggrieved; she had humbled herself so deeply before Chalcahual, and to be spurned! and because of his bitterness, his unforgiving spirit, she felt that he was scarcely loveable; and now that the words were uttered, Chalcahual perceived their full bitterness and weight; he hoped for renewed supplications from Lesa that he might forgive, but he heard none. When she spoke she said; "Give me my child, his father's hand is rude." Chalcahual resigned the child, and Lesa, intent upon her care for her son, would not meet his eye. Too proud to ask forgiveness, Chalcahual strode to and fro in the room for a long time, and then, going to Lesa, whose eyes were still bent upon the sick child, while she sang a low, wild, sad chant to wile it to sleep, at length said, abruptlyLesa, the white man is wicked and a tyrant: he and his men must be destroyed, else our fair land will be spoiled by them-else we shall be slaves. To-morrow night they will be our prisoners if there is strength in the right. Even now I go to your father, Montezuma, to urge him to join us. He fears the power of this new race, and though he may not aid us, he will be glad if we succeed. Have you any message for the emperor?" "None," answered Lesa; and the chant which had ceased when Chalcahual began speaking was recommenced, though its tones seemed to gain in sadness. Chalcahual hesitated about what he should do to heal the deep wound he had inflicted; but too proud to ask forgiveness, he left her to seek the emperor. 66 Painful indeed were the thoughts of both; and poor Lesa's head drooped in her terror and desolation of spirit. By her act of hospitality to Cortes she had maddened Chalcahual. By imprisonment was meant death, possibly a horrible death to the white men; and could she ever smile again, knowing, as she would, that had it not been for her wilful disobedience their lives might have been spared. She would save them if it were possible, but how should she do it? Presently the head which had drooped was raised in determination, and resigning her child to an attendant, she quickly made her way to the enemy's quarters, asked an interview with Marina, disclosed the determination of the Aztec nobles, and implored her to persuade the Spaniards to leave the country as they valued their lives; that among the Aztecs there was no abiding safety for them; and alone and unattended she left their quarters for her own home, with the pleasant assurance that the Indian woman had testified fear enough to make her believe it would be somewhat shared at least by the white men. Night passed away and brought with it no Chalcahual. Toward morning the child fell asleep, and Lesa, wearied with excitement and fatigue, leaned her head upon the pillows of her couch and slept also. The moan of her child wakened her, and she found it had been day for some time, and that her slaves were clustered around her, waiting the wakening of mother and child. Chalcahual came in, asked about the child, and told her hurriedly that his evening's interview with Montezuma had been of no avail; that his dread of the white man prevented his ading them; but that going from Montezuma to the caciques then in the city, he had been more successful, and that instantly he must leave the city to meet other nobles again; that it was deemed advisable that their plan should not be carried into execution quite as quickly as they had first thought, and that it might be days before he returned, as the nobles without the city shared Montezuma's fears too much as yet. This he said to her in low tones, unheard by the slaves, and his eye sought hers with earnestness. Lesa's gaze was clear and calm, for she felt that Chalcahual's harshness had raised her from her supplicating posture to that of one whose forgiveness should be asked; and then she felt glad that the people who were hated with this fierce hate would not be lost because of her imprudence; that she who was so near being the one to bring about their downfall had saved them-for she doubted not they would take her advice in this their peril. Her hope was strong in the belief that they would leave the city now, and that by bribes of gold they seemed so to covet, to be induced to leave the land in peace. Chalcahual told her he repented him of his harshness of last night and hoped that she would forget and forgive it. Lesa's smile was bright as he told her this, and with a kiss Chalcahual hastened from the room to bring about the destruction of the very people whom Lesa rejoiced that she had saved; for she trusted that Chalcahual would recognise the wisdom of her warning, when he saw their beloved land rid of the hateful stranger without having to mourn over one drop of blood being spilt in war with them. Then she felt that he would glory in Lesa's pacific and timely interference. Before Chalcahual had been gone long a messenger was announced from Montezuma, and presently the slave, in his gorgeous livery, was admitted into Lesa's presence. Montezuma, in the early part of his reign, was simple in his tastes, wise, kind, and good; but in the latter part of it, how different! It is well known that the government of the Aztecs was an elective monarchy, four electors chosen from the most powerful, and nobles chose the one they deemed most competent for the office of king from the royal family. In the case of this Montezuma, they had passed over his elder brother and selected him. When the news of his election was carried to him he was found fulfilling his duty as a priest, sweeping down the steps of the temple. With eyes bent upon the ground in humility, he declared himself unworthy of the rank; and this was the man who, in his later days, paved the way to the conquering of his nation by the white man, by alienating his people from himself, by his cruelty, by his hard exactions, his tyranny, duplicity, and ostentatious pride; and not only alienating his vassals, but alas! also alienating himself from his nobler self, so that when the hour of his utmost need came upon him, he had lost the power to be bold, courageous and true. So true it is, that when we shackle the soul with bonds of sin the soul itself withers. The slave bore a small golden salver, upon which was placed an exquisite bouquet of flowers, the stems of which were concealed by a band of gold thickly studded with emeralds, while several chains of gold. passed over the bouquet, forming a network about it. With this magnificent gift the slave knelt before Lesa, with the word that Montezuma desired the presence of his singing bird, Lesa, so soon as the child was well enough for her to leave him. Lesa's heart bounded with joy at this message, for she saw that the emperor's heart was moved toward her, and she might the more easily influence him regarding the bribing the Spaniards to leave the land. With delight she saw that her child soon became better, and that he sunk into a sweet sleep; and immedi ately donning her gala dress she hastened to the presence, throwing over her gala dress however a dark mantle of netting, which covered, though it did not conceal, the rich court costume. (TO BE CONTINUED.) THE SIMULTANEOUS PRAYER. "TWAS in the time of early flowers. The earth And warmth and beauty. Forests, old and shorn The sun had rolled within his western gate, Day fled, with all And waken thoughts of chosen ones the heart And what said such a night And wakened aspirations for a tried And faithful one afar. And that lone star, That looked so like a Queen in its blue home Into the azure Heaven. Thus they met, Went up, not in the cold array of words, The maiden looked, and myriad lights PHAEDON; OR, THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF MOSES MENDELSSOHN. [We find the following notice of MENDELSSOHN in Carlyle's article on the State of German Literature:-"The history of Mendelssohn is interesting in itself, and full of encouragement to all lovers of self-improvement. At thirteen he was a wandering Jewish beggar, without health, without home, almost without a language, for the jargon of broken Hebrew and provincial German which he spoke could scarcely be called one. At middle age, he could write this Phaedon; was a man of wealth and breeding, and ranked among the teachers of his age. Like Pope, he abode by his original creed, though often solicited to change it: indeed, the grand problem of his life was to better the inward and outward condition of his own ill-fated people, for whom he actually accomplished much benefit. He was a mild, shrewd, and worthy man; and might well love Phaedon and Socrates, for his own character was Socratic. He was a friend of Lessing's, indeed, a pupil. In its chaste precision and simplicity of style, his Phaedon may almost remind us of Xenophon: Socrates, to our mind, has spoken in no modern language so like Socrates, as here, by the lips of this wise and cultivated Jew." He was born Sept. 12, 1749, and died in 1786.] # ECHECRATES, PHAEDON, APOLLODORUS, SOCRATES, CEBES, CRITO, SIMMINS. DISCOURSE FIRST. Echecrates.-Wert thou thyself present, my Phaedon, with Socrates, when he took the poison, or did some one relate it to thee? Phaedon.-I was there myself, Echecrates. Echecrates.-What were then the last words of the man? How did he depart? I am so anxious to hear all these things related. None of our Phliasican citizens often visit Athens now, nor has any one for a long time come from thence to us who could inform us of such things. So much only have we heard: Socrates drank the poison and is deadnot the least circumstance further. Phaedon.-What, not of his condemnation? Echecrates.-O, yes; some one related that to us. Still we wondered that he should be allowed to live so long, after he had received his sentence. How happened this, Phaedon? Phaedon.-Entirely by accident, Echecrates. It chanced that the vessel, which the Athenians are accustomed to send annually to Delos, was crowned the day before his condemnation. Echecrates-And what kind of a ship is that? Phaedon.-The same, as the Athenians declare, in which Theseus, having sailed to Crete with the seven pairs of children, preserved them with himself alive. The city had, as is affirmed, made a vow to Apollo, that if the children should be spared, they would send yearly in this ship rich presents to Delos; since that time, they have ever kept their promise to the god. When the sacred ship is ready to depart, the priest of Apollo hangs the stern with wreaths of flowers, and immediately the festival commences. This feast continues until the vessel, arriving at Delos, again returns; during which time the city must be kept pure from all shedding of blood, and by law, no one can be publicly executed. When the ship is detained by contrary winds, the condemned enjoy a long reprieve. Now it happened, as I have already said, that the crowning of the vessel took place the day before the condemnation of Socrates, and therefore a long time passed between his sentence and his death. Echecrates. But the last day, Phaedon, how was that passed? What did he say, and what did he do, in those moments? What friends were with him in his last hours or would the Archons admit no one to his presence, and did he die without having one friend by his side? Phaedon. By no means! there were many with him. Echecrates. Be so good, dear Phaedon, as to relate all circumstantially to us, if no business prevents. Phaedon. I have leisure at present, and will endeavor to satisfy your wishes. To me nothing is more pleasing than to call to mind my Socrates; to speak of him myself, and to hear him spoken of by others. Echecrates. And those who listen to thee, Phaedon, are of a similar mind. So relate all as truly and minutely as is possible. Phaedon.-I was present, friend, but in a very singular mood; I felt none of that compassion and grief which we are accustomed to experience, when a friend expires in our arms. The man appeared to me fortunate, enviable, Echecrates! So mild and calm was his demeanor in the hour of death, so serene were his last words, that his conduct seemed to me not like that of a man who descends before his time to the shades of Orcus, but as of an immortal, who is assured, that whithersoever he may go, he shall be as blessed as it is possible for him to be. How could I then experience those painful emotions, with which the sight of an ordinary death is accustomed to affect the mind? Nor, on the other hand, could the philosophical instructions of our Teacher afford us at this time that unmingled pleasure which we were wont to receive from them. We felt a singular mixture of joy and of grief, which we had never experienced before; for our happiness was constantly interrupted by the sad reflection: soon we shall lose him forevermore! All of us who were present found ourselves in this singular frame of mind, and the effects of these conflicting emotions were soon clearly visible on every countenance. One might have seen us smiling at one moment, and weeping at the next, and frequently, with a smile upon the lips, and warm tears in our eyes. Yet Apollodorus surpassed us all in these respects. Thou knowest him and his sensitive nature. Echecrates.-How could it be otherwise? Phaedon. He manifested the most singular emotions. He felt all far more intensely, was enraptured where we smiled, and where our eyes moistened, his swam in tears. We were through him far more moved than by the sight of our dying friend. Echecrates. Who then were present? Phaedon. Those of this place were Apollodorus, Cristoholus and his father Crito, Hermogenes, Epigenes, Eschines, Antisthenes, Ketesippus, Menexenus, and some others. Plato, I believe, was sick. Echecrates.-Were there strangers present? Phaedon.-Yes; out of Thebes were Simmias, Cebes, and Phaedontes; and out of Megara, Euclid and Terpsion. Echecrates.-How? Were not Aristippus and Cleombrotus there? Phaedon.-No; they were detained at Ægina. Echecrates.Was no one else there? Phaedon.-I cannot recollect any others. Echecrates. Now, dear friend, relate what conversation followed. We were accustomed, as long as Socrates was confined in prison, to |