The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-04-26

delight, the intense enjoyment, as did the hrst
utterings of sympathy and affection to this poor,
forlorn outcast of humanity. Her hard, harsh
nature softened and changed. To her, as if by
magic, changed the world All things grew beau
tiful-life had an object, the earth heaven.
Such natures will not be trampled or imposed
upon. Philip conceived his plans and made
his approaches in intense selfish hypocrisy. He
pretended kindness when he felt only disgust
he sought to awaken affection only for the pur-
pose of betraying it. But all this gradually
changed, when he found himself fascinated by a
clear, subtle intellect, approaching almost GEM
Us, and stored with treasures to which his own
could make no pretence. The mind, turned up
on itself, had not been idle. The books she had
devoured-the poetry she had treasured up
the sciences she had mastered, were all spread
before him. The dim, ugly, little cell gradually
changed to the closet of o student. Philip
found himself supplied with books, pen. ink,
paper, and a lamp, things denied to him before,
and the comforts, even luxuries, to which he had
been accustomed. These were much, but moth
ing to the charm, the fascination, of the strange
being accident had brought him in contact with
And she became less and less repusive, as the
attractions of her mind grew upon his ikings
Week after week, month after month, passed
away, and, lost in study, lost in the interest of
other and higher things, Philip forgot his pro-
jected escape New desires, new hopes of purer
ambition, took possession of his fine nature
and he looked back with establishment at the
idle life of stupid dissipation he had passed
Under the teachings, at least under the inhu
ence, of the weird creature he had sought to use
his nature was realizing its own strength and
high destiny.
What would have been the result of this, had
it continued as it commenced, we cannot say.
But a new fact came to change the current of
events. Accustomed to an active outdoor Efe,
the close, badly-ventilated cell began in time to
exercise pernicious influence upon his health.
He slowly wore away, losing appetite and spir-
its. His respiration seemed impeded, and a
subtle fever the greater part of the time seemed
to be consuming him. All this was seen with
intense anguish by Louise. She nursed, encour-
aged, and prescribed for him, as she would for
child. But it was of no avail. The prison
fever had taken possession of its victim, and
was not to be baffled or destroyed. "Ah mel"
she said, in her soft, low voice, to him one night,
as the lamp-light fell upon his sunken cheeks
and ghostly eyes, "you will die here, Philip
you are dying;" and her words seemed strug-
Cling up through tears; but no, you shall not
perish here-you want cir, exercise-pure
air."
She hastily left the room, but in few min.
utes returned, bidding Philip follow her. He
did so, slowly threading the intricate passages,
and opening door after door, until at last they
stood upon the threshold-the stars glittering
above, and the free, cold air came dashing
against their faces. Philip was almost gddy
with delight-ike very child, he almost shout
ed in the sense of exquisite enjoyment. A Sec
ond's thought brought the reality to him, and
he turned to his guide. &C.," she said, be
free, be happy" " But yQu?" he asked. "Have
no thought of me-or if You do, only as prison
be punished for this-and your father - The
poor girl started, vet said nothing. "Ns, com
tinued Philip, Ito leave in this way will be the
act only of coward. Let us return-return to
our books-and laugh at the Cardinal, brigand
that he is. Let us return, and be philosophers.
/ will tell you how deformed bodies have fair
and truthful souls-and deceitful, crooked, cru
ell souls, are hid in beautiful bodies. Let us re.
turn and mock them alive will be happy in
spite of Lord Cardinals and forgetful Queens"
But the persuasive words had no effect She
had evidently determined upon securing his re-
lease, whatever the consequences might be and
after some hesitation, Philip, feeling this, and,
above all, seduced by the exquisite sense of free
dom, acting upon nature made yet more SEN
sitive by i'll health, said:
=" 1 must go, but viii not desert you. 1 viii
see my friends, find means by which you can
be saved, and return to my CELL" He stopped,
imprinted kiss upon the forehead of his poor
little liberator, and in a second had disappeared.
She was alone and from the silent street she
looked up through binding tears to the stars,
as if searching for the happiness so lately fed,
and then slowly entered the prison. Many and
many poor wretch had beat out against those
dreary walls his miserable existence-but new
er before had the prison been such prison as
that moment when receiving its keeper.
Philip returned, but not as he had promised.
The fever he carried away gathered sufficient
strength to PROSTATE him upon his bed, where,
protected and concealed by his friends, many
days were lost-a sad loss, indeed. The first
effort in returning consciousness was inquiry
as to his poor friend, and the information was
of such nature that, regardless of advice and
entreaties he fastened, i'll as he was, first to the
Queen Mother and then to the Old Prison. He
returned too late-the vengeance of the Cardi-
nal had been swift. / hasten over the fearful
scenes so infinitely described in the book, in
which poor Louise Bertole realized her cruel
destiny-and saw not only her own fearful end,
but that of her old father. 1t was chill, dark
when Philip staggered from his carriage to see
a scaffold in the courtyard, and, on rude Ia
BILE in the little Office, two forms covered by a
sheet-the peculiar outline of which but too
plainly indicating the dead beneath.
Philip never returned to prison. The inter
ference of high personages in his behalf and
subsequently the death of the Cardinal, restor-
ed him to liberty, but never to his former SELF
All were surprised at the sober, thoughtful man,
who, from reckless courtier became student
and a philosopher. This is the little romance
of the old Prison;' and let all who visit Paris
procure the book, with its rude details, and,
under the shadow of the frowning witness to
their truth, read to the sorrowful end.
WESTERN AFRICA-The Biblical Repertory
for April contains view of Western Africa"
and it furnishes much valuable information.
The writer divides the country into three grand
divisions, viz: Senegambia, Upper or North
ern Guinea, and Southern or Lower Guinea.
The inhabitants of Western Africa may be
divided into three great families In Senegam-
bia, the principal tribes or families are the Ja-
lofs, the Mandingoes, the Fulahs, and the Susus,
who belong in part to Senegambia, and in part
Northern Guinea.
The principal families in Northern Guinea are
the Vais, the Manou, or Kru, the Kwakwas, or
Avekwom, the Inta, the Dahomey, and the Benin
Those of Southern Guinea are the Pongo, Lo-
ango, Kongo, Angola, and the Azinko families
The inhabitants of Senegambia are distin-
guished from those of Northern and Southern
Guinea by being Mahommedans, and by all
those changes in their social character and con-
dition which that religion ordinary introduces
among those who embrace it. They may be re-
garded as standing higher than the pagan tribes
in point of civilization; and this shows, so far
as this single circumstance goes, that the Afri-
can race are not entirely incapable of improve.