in
his favor. Prayer and penitence might have done much for him; and the
mercy of Heaven was unbounded. They advised him to still call upon God,
and endeavor to secure an interest in the merits of the Saviour.

Faustus assured them that it was all in vain, and that his tragical fate
was inevitable. He led them to their sleeping apartment, and recommended
to them to pass the night as they could, but by no means, whatever they
might happen to hear, to come out of it; as their interference could in no
way be beneficial to him, and might be attended with the most serious
injury to themselves. They lay still, therefore, as he had enjoined them;
but not one of them could close his eyes. Between twelve and one in the
night they heard first a furious storm of wind round all sides of the
house, as if it would have torn away the walls from their foundations.
This no sooner somewhat abated, than a noise was heard of discordant and
violent hissing, as if the house was full of all sorts of venomous
reptiles, but which plainly proceeded from Faustus's chamber. Next they
heard the doctor's room-door vehemently burst open, and cries for help
uttered with dreadful agony, but in a half-suppressed voice, which
presently grew fainter and fainter. Then every thing became still, as if
the everlasting motion of the world was suspended.

When at length it became broad day, the students went in a body to the
doctor's apartment. But he was nowhere to be seen. Only the walls were
found smeared with his blood, and marks as if his brains had been dashed
out. His body was finally discovered at some distance from the house, his
limbs dismembered, and marks of great violence about the features of his
face. The students gathered up the mutilated parts of his body, and
afforded them private burial at the temple of Mars, in the village where
he died.

SOME SMALL POEMS.

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

BY R. H. STODDARD.

A PROLOGUE.

Without, the winds of Winter blow;
Without, the Winter sifts its snow:
Within, the hearths are warm and bright,
And all the chambers full of light,
And we again are gathered here,
To greet the advent of the year.

Pile on the wood, and stir the fires,
And in our souls the sweet desires;
And let us frame a mingled rhyme,
To suit the singers and the time;
With different stops, and keys of art,
In quaint old measures, got by heart.

BY THE SEA.