here I am, and this night I shall be
with the Demon; but I should continue the remainder of my story. When
the English travellers returned, they spoke to me with a friendly
tenderness, and something in my appearance and manners had so interested
them in my favour, that the old gentleman presented me with a purse of
guineas. That money enabled me at once to return to Warsaw, where I
consummated the instigation of the Demon."

Such was the tale told me by the unhappy man--wonderful certainly
in its circumstances, but widely different from the terrific chaos
of the popular belief, and simple in its incidents, compared to the
incantations with which the apparitions of the tremendous visitant
were invested by the people.

I would have questioned him more particularly, but our interview was
interrupted by the arrival of the ecclesiastical procession, and I was
obliged to leave the prison. After the clergy, all but one, who remained
with him to the last, had left him, nobody was admitted. The crowd,
however, round the scaffold continued all day to increase, and the bells
to toll. At last the sun set, the guards lighted their torches, and only
the black scaffold and the upturned faces of the multitude were visible
from where I stood. The prison gate was soon after opened; the culprit,
wrapped in a winding sheet, came forth, attended by the municipal
officers, and proceeded with the funereal sound of trumpets to the
dreadful spot where the two executioners, with their arms and throats
bare, lifted a covering from the rack, and took their stations beside
it, holding the handspikes, for turning the rending wheels, like
muskets, on their shoulders. The moment that Mavrovitch mounted the
scaffold, the trumpets and the tolling bells ceased; all was silent,
and he walked with a firm tread towards the engine of torture. The
executioners stepped forward, each took him by the arm. At the same
moment a wild shriek rose; but what ensued is so well known, that
I may spare myself from further recital.--_New Mon. Mag._--(_abridged._)

* * * * *

THE TOPOGRAPHER.

* * * * *

MONMOUTHSHIRE.

(_For the Mirror._)

Soon round us spread the hill and dales
Where Geoffrey spun his magic tales
And call'd them history. The land
Whence Arthur sprung, and all his band
Of gallant knights.

BLOOMFIELD'S BANKS OF WYE.

This county, the inland parts of which