From this time the Cross continually occurs in history. "It was used not only for the instruction of mankind by the doctrine of the preacher, but for every purpose, political or ecclesiastical; for giving force to oaths; for promulgating of laws, or rather the royal pleasure; for royal contracts of marriage; for the emission of papal bulls; for anathematizing sinners; for benedictions; for exposing of penitents under the censure of the church; for recantations; for the private ends of the ambitious; and for the defaming of those who had incurred the displeasure of crowned heads."

Bishop King preached the last sermon here, of any note, before James I., and his court on Midlent Sunday, 1620. The object of the sermon was the repairing of the cathedral; and the ceremony was conducted with so much magnificence, that the prelate exclaims, in a part of his sermon,—"But will it almost be believed, that a King should come from his court to this crosse, where princes seldom or never come, and that comming to bee in a state, with a kinde of sacred pompe and procession, accompanied with all the faire flowers of his field, and the fairest rose (the Queen) of his owne garden!" The cross was demolished by order of Parliament in 1643, executed by the willing hands of Isaac Pennington, the fanatical Lord Mayor of that year, who died a convicted regicide in the Tower. It stood at the north-east end of St. Paul's Churchyard; a print of the cross, and likewise the shrouds, where the company sat in wet weather, may be seen in Speed's Theatre of Great Britain.

J.R.S

ADA

(For the Mirror.)

She stood in the midst of that gorgeous throng, Her praise was the theme of every tongue; Warriors were there, whose glance of fire Spoke to their foes of vengeance dire, But they were enslaved by beauty's power, And knelt at her shrine in that moonlit bower. Sweet words were breathed in Ada's ear By many a noble cavalier; Maidens with fairy steps were there, Who seemed to float on the ambient air, But none in the mazy dance could move Like Ada, the queen of this bower of love! The moon in her silvery beauty shines On this joyous throng through the lofty pines; Lamps gleaming forth from every tree, All was splendour and revelry; Sweet perfumes were wafted by every breeze From the flowering shrubs and the orange trees, Mingling with sounds which were borne along From the lover's lute and the minstrel's song; Fair Ada's praise was the theme of all, She was the queen of this festival. She left the crowd and wandered on— Where, oh where is the maiden gone? She hears no longer the minstrel's lay, The last sweet notes have died away, Like the low, faint sound of maiden's sigh. When the youth that she loves is standing by. But where, oh where is Ada gone? She is kneeling in a dungeon lone; Her fillet of snowy pearls has now Fall'n from its throne on her whiter brow, And her fair, rich tresses, like floods of gold, Gleam on the floor so damp and cold. Her cheek is pale, but her eye of blue Now wears a bright and more glorious hue; It tells of a maiden's constancy, Of her faith in the hour of adversity; On a pallet of straw in that gloomy cell, Is a captive knight whom she loves so well, That she's left her joyous and splendid bower To dwell with him in his dying hour, To pillow his head on her breast of snow, To kiss the dew from his pallid brow; With smiles to chase the thoughts of gloom Which darken his way to an early tomb, To shed no tear, and to heave no sigh, Though her heart is breaking in agony.

M.A.J

SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY

PITCAIRN'S ISLAND

The Quarterly Review (89) last published, is, indeed, a Reform Number; for all the papers, save one, relate to some species of reform or improvement.—Thus, we have papers on Captain Beechey's recent Voyage to co-operate with the Polar Expeditions—Population and Emigration—the notable Conspiration de Babeuf—the West India Question—and last, though not least, "the Bill" itself. We have endeavoured to adopt from the first paper, some particulars of a spot which bears high interest for every lover of adventure; the reviewer's observations connecting the extracts from Captain Beechey's large work.

His Majesty's Ship Blossom, Captain F.W. Beechey, sailed from England May 19, 1825, and having looked in at the usual stopping places, Teneriffe and Rio de Janeiro, proceeded round the Horn, and touched at Conception and Valparaiso, on the coast of Chili. In a few days the Blossom reached the Easter Island, of Cook. Her next visit was to Pitcairn's Island, which the reviewer thinks "the most interesting point in the whole voyage." We do not proceed in the outline, but "look in" at "the Island." To this spot, as the public have for some years been aware, the Mutineers of the Bounty carried that ship, after they had deprived Capt. Bligh of his command, and turned him adrift in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.5

In the end, only one white man, old Adams, remained alive of the mutineers who had landed. Of these, only one died a natural death; another was killed by accident; six were murdered; and but one remained to tell the tale.

After the greater number of the party had been murdered off, things went on pretty smoothly, till one M'Coy, who had been employed in a distillery in Scotland, tried an experiment with the tea-root, and succeeded in producing a bottle of ardent spirits. This induced one Quintal to 'alter his kettle into a still,' and the natural consequence ensued. Like the philosopher who destroyed himself with his own gunpowder, M'Coy, intoxicated to frenzy, threw himself from a cliff and was killed; and Quintal having lost his wife by accident, demanded the lady of one of his two remaining companions. This modest request being refused, he attempted to murder his countrymen; but they, having discovered his intention, agreed, that as Quintal was no longer a safe member of their community, the sooner he was put out of the way the better. Accordingly, they split his skull with an axe.

Adams and Young were now the sole survivors out of the fifteen males that landed upon the island. Young did not live long.

Adams was thus left the only Englishman on Pitcairn's Island. Being thoroughly tired of mutiny, bloodshed, and irreligion, and deeply sensible of the extent of his own guilt, he resolutely set about the only sound course of repentance, by exhibiting an amended life, and by training up in habits of virtue those helpless beings thrown upon his care for good or for evil.

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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 492, June 4, 1831

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J.R.S

ADA

(For the Mirror.)

M.A.J

SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY

PITCAIRN'S ISLAND

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