And the last, which speaks for itself"Here lyeth the body of the Reverend Mr. ANDREW THOMPSON, who was born at Stonehive, in Scotland, and was Minister of this Parish seven years, and departed this life the 11 of September, 1719, in ye 46 yeare of his age, leaving ye character of a sober religious man." The above is followed on the tomb by a long Latin inscription, which has been so mutilated by some modern Goth, or Goths, that it is impossible to decipher it intelligibly. We could fill pages with interesting memoranda from the history of old parishes in Virginia, but a few more, in relation to the present subject, must close our article at this time. Should this be received with favor, perhaps the writer may make more diligent efforts to rescue, from the perishing records of County Courts, and crumbling stones, and family relics, materiel for the future historian of the Church, to weave into his song of her progress in our "own green forest land," from gloom to glory." A closer inspection. of the records will doubtless enable him to trace an "unbroken succession," of parish ministers from 1621 to the present time. The following, however, is as near as can now be ascertained:-In 1664, Rev. Mr. Mallory; who was succeeded, in 1665, by Rev. Mr. Justinian Aylmere; succeeded, in 1667, by Rev. Mr. Jeremiah Taylor; succeeded, in 1677, by Rev. Mr. John Page, who left the colony about 1687; succeeded, in 1687, by Rev. Mr. Cope Doyley; in 1712, Rev. Mr. Andrew Thompson, who died 1719; in 1731, Rev. Mr. William Fife, who died in 1756; succeeded, in 1756, by Rev. Thomas Warrington, who died 1770; succeeded, in 1771, by Rev. William Selden, who either died, or resigned, in 1783; succeeded, in 1783, by Rev. William Nixon. The vestry-book here is defaced for some years, owing, I presume, to the fact that in the change in the Church, from that of England, to the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States, begun in 1783, consummated in 1787, and the first convention in Philadelphia, July 28, 1789, with Bishops presiding, of our own, this parish did not procure a minister during that period; but the following inscription, on a stone near the east entrance to the church, will show that very soon after the change spoken of above, the parish was blessed with regular rectoral services: "Sacred to the memory of the Rev. JOHN JONES SPOONER, Rector of the Church in Elizabeth City County; whe departed this life September 15, 1799, aged forty-two years." And then to the right of the door entering from the east, another bearing the following: "Departed this life, January 17, 1806, the Rev. BENJAMIN BROWN, Rector of Elizabeth City Parish, aged thirtynine years." On November 17, 1806, the vestry elected the Rev. Robert Seymour Sims, and August 11, 1810, they elected the Rev. George Holson. During the last war with Great Britain (1813), Hampton was sacked, its inhabitants pillaged-one of its aged citizens sick and infirm, wantonly murdered in the arms of his wife--and other crimes committed by ox. The citizens and friends of the church were blessed with the energetic aid of the Rev. Mark L. Chivers, chaplain at Fortress Monroe, who for several years officiated once on each Sabbath in Hampton. It is not saying too much when we assert that mainly through his efforts, the church was resuscitated. The present rector, the writer of this, with pleasure makes this acknowledginent. With the zeal and energy which were brought to bear, the results were most favorable; and on Friday morning, the 8th of January, 1830, a crowd might have been seen wending its way to those venerable walls. A rude staging was erected for the prominent actors, and on that platform knelt a white hireling soldiers, and by brutalized officers, over which the chaste historian must draw a veil. The church of God itself was not spared during the saturnalia of lust and violence. | His temple was profaned, and His altars desecrated. What British ruthlessness had left scathed and prostrate, was soon looked upon with neglect. The moles and the bats held their revels undisturbed within its once hallowed courts, and the "obscene owl nestled and brought forth in the ark of the covenant." The church in which our fathers worshipped, stabled the horse and stalled the The very tombs of the dead, sacred in all lands, became a slaughter ground of the butcher, and an arena for pugilistic contests. A few faithful ones wept when they remem-haired soldier of the cross, the venerable Bishbered Zion, in her day of prosperity, and beheld her in her hour of homeless travail, and to their cry, "How long, oh Lord how long!" the following preamble, accompanying a subscription list, tells the story of her woes, and breathes the language of her returning hope: "Whereas, from a variety of circumstances, the Episcopal Church in the town of Hampton, is in a state of dilapidation, and will ere long moulder into ruins, unless some friendly hand be extended to its relief, and in the opinion of the vestry, the only method that can be pursued to accomplish the laudable design of restoring it to the order in which our forefathers bequeathed it to their children, is to resort to subscription; and they do earnestly solicit pecuniary aid from all its friends in in the full belief, that an appeal will not be made in vain. And hoping that God will put it into the hearts of the people to be benevolently disposed toward our long neglected Zion." This bears date April 28, 1826. op of Virginia, his face radiant with "faith, "And wilt thou, O Eternal God, Then look propitious from thy throne, "Know all men by these presents, that we, Richard Channing Moore, D. D., by Divine permission, Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the Diocese of Virginia, did consecrate to the service of Almighty God, on Friday, January 8th, in the year of our Lord 1830, St. John's Church, in the town of Hampton, Elizabeth City County. In which church the services of the Protestant Episcopal Church are to be performed agreeably A committee of the citizens of Hampton to rubrics in such case made and provided. It is alwas appointed to wait on the venerable Bish- ways to be remembered, that Saint John's Church op Moore, to solicit his advice upon the best thus consecrated and set apart to the worship of manner of repairing the Protestant Episcopal Almighty God, is by the act of consecration thus Church in Hampton, and beg of him his par-lowed uses, and to be considered sacred to the performed, separated from all worldly and unhalticular aid and patronage in carrying into ef- service of the Holy and undivided Trinity. fect the same." The letter below will show how that "old man eloquent," felt on the subject. It is not among the Bishop's pub-fixed my seal. lished letters, and is without date: 66 "MY DEAR BRETHREN:-My long confinement at the north prevented my reception of your letter, until very lately; and the feebleness of my frame, since my return, must apologize to you for any apparent neglect which has attended my reply. It will afford me the greatest pleasure to assist yon with my counsel in the reorganization of your church, and with that purpose in view, I will en deavor to visit Hampton in a short time, of which you shall be duly notified, when we can converse at large on the subject proposed for my consideration. To see that temple repaired in which the former inhabitants of Hampton worshipped God, and to see you placed under the care of a faithful and judicious clergyman, will inspire my mind with the greatest delight. May the Almighty smile on the proposed design, and carry it into full and complete effect. Believe me, gentlemen, very affectionately, your friend and pastor, RICHARD CHANNING MOORE." year above written, subscribed my hand and af"In testimony whereof, I have on the day and [Seal.] RICHARD CHANNING MOORE." The Rev. Mr. Chivers having resigned his afternoon appointment, after officiating for sixteen years, and ministering to them in their day of destitution, the Rev. John P. Bausman was elected Rector in 1843, and resigned in 1845; the Rev. William H. Good was elected in 1845, and continued until the close of 1848; and the parish remained without regular rectoral services, until the 1st of January, 1851, when the writer took charge; since which time an organ (the first one) has been put up, new pews have been added, and money enough obtained to make permanent and comfortable repairs. If the design of the true friends of the church, to make it a temple in which generations to come may worship God in comfort, fail, the fault and the punishment will lie with those who "knew their duty and did it not." BROODING-PLACES ON THE FALKLAND | to take care of themselves. ISLANDS. TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL FROM THE GERMAN. Y the name of "brooding-places," the navi of selected by various sea-fowls, where they in common build their nests, lay their eggs, and bring up their young. Here they assemble in immense masses, and in the laying out and construction of these places, exhibit great caution, judgment, and industry. When a sufficient number have assembled on the shore, they appear first to hold a consultation, and then to set about executing the great purpose for which they have come together. First, they choose out a level spot of sufficient extent, often of four or five acres, near the beach. In this they avoid ground that is too stony, which would be dangerous to their eggs. Next, they deliberate on the plan of their future camp, after which they lay out distinctly a regular parallelogram, offering room enough for the brother and sisterhood, somewhere from one to five acres. One side of the place is bounded by the sea, and is always left open for entrance and exit; the other three sides are inclosed with a wall of stones and roots. The male bird goes to the sea for fish, and when he has satisfied his hunger hurries back and takes the place of the female, while she in turn goes in ing places, they know how to manage it so as not to leave their eggs for a moment uncovered. When, for instance, the male comes back from fishing, he nestles close beside the female and gradually crowds her off the nest with such care as to cover the eggs completely with his feathers without exposing them to the air at all. In this way they guard their eggs against being stolen by the other females, which are so greedy to raise large families that they seize every chance to rob the surrounding nests. The royal penguin is exceedingly cunning in this sort of trick, and never loses an occasion that is offered. In this way it often happens that the brood of this bird, on growing up turns out to be of two or three different species, a sure proof that the parents were no honester than their neighbors. on a parade day. Then all at once, the whole brooding-place is in continuous commotion, a flock of the penguins come back from the sea and waddle rapidly along through the narrow paths, to greet their mates after this brief separation; another company are on the way to get food for themselves or to bring in provisions. At the same time the cove is darkened by an immense cloud of albatrosses, that continually hover above the brooding-place, descending from their excursions or mounting into the air to go upon them. One can look at these birds for hours, and not grow weary of gazing, observing and wondering at their busy social life. It is not only interesting but instructive and even touching to watch from a little distance the life and movements of these broodingplaces. You can then see the birds walking up and down the exterior path or public promThese industrious feathered workers first enade in pairs, or even four, six, or eight toof all remove from the place all obstacles together, looking very like officers promenading their design; they take up the stones with their bills and carry them to the boundaries to compose the wall. Within this wall they build a perfectly smooth and even foot-path some six or eight feet wide, which is used by day as a public promenade, and by night for the back and forward march of the sentinels. After they have in this way completed their embankments on the three landward sides, they lay out the remaining part of the interior into equal little quadrangles, separated from each other by narrow foot-paths, crossing at right angles. In each crossing of these paths an albatross builds his nest, and in the middle of each quadrangle, a penguin, so that every albatross is surrounded by four penguins, and every penguin has albatross on four sides as neighbors. In this way the. whole place is regularly occupied, and only at some distance are places left free for other sea-fowl, such as the green comorant and the so-called Nelly. Though the penguin and albatross live so near and in such intimacy they not only build their nests in very different fashions, but the penguin plunders the nest of its friend whenever it has an opportunity. The nest of the penguin is a simple hollow in the ground, just deep enough to keep its eggs from rolling out, while the albatross raises a little hill of earth, grass, and muscles, eight or ten inches high, with the diameter of a water pail, and builds its nest on the top, whence it looks down on its next neighbors and friends. None of the nests in the entire broodingplace is left vacant an instant until the eggs are hatched, and the young ones old enough VOL. V.-NO. 1.-4 as ARIADNE. WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE L [Scene, part of the island of Naxos. Enter, sundry Dryads, habited fair young maidens adorned with flowers, and bearing in their hands branches of trees.] DRYAD: We shadowy Oceanides, Jove's warders of the island trees, When winds and waves are up at play, With baked and barren floors between. We glance about in mazy quire, But more obscure, in brakes and bowers, We lodge, and are at rest, and see, Nor trail in any morning dew; Nor roam the park, nor tramp the pool Through all the courts of sense applying, With sights, and sounds, and odorous sighing, To the world-wearied soul of man, The gentle universal Pan As now we must: the roots around, Of forests clutch a certain sound Of weary feet; go, sisters, out: Some one is pining, hereabout. II. [Another part of the Island. Enter Ariadne.] Ariadne: Here, in the heart of this sea-moated isle, Rude mannered brooks, unpastured meadow sides, I would confront the strangest things that haunt In horrid shades of brooding desolation: Griffin, or satyr, sphinx, or sybil ape, Or lop-eared demon from the dens of night, Ah me, my Theseus, wherefore art thou gone! Who left that crock of water at my side? That love will sometimes cunning masks put on, So may it be, but my immediate fear Of what my tutor Etion did forewarn me. Oh fond old man! if thou didst know me here, Thou wouldst move heaven and earth to have me home. Much was his care of my uncaring youth, And, with a reverend and considerate wit, He curbed the frolic of my pupilage, We found two weeds that had embraced each other, My pupil sweet, said he, beware of Love: For thou wilt shortly be besieged by him, To expectation of a royal dower. But beware! for, listen what I say, By strong presentments I have moved thy father But trifle not with love, my sportful Theseus. Or open-lidded general charity, The beauty of the soul, which, therein lodged, More valued than the sleek smooth mannered cat, Of wildernesses, she alike subdues Unto the awe of perfect harmony? What else but sweetness tempered all one way, Which when she chooseth to be all herself, Know this, my lord, while thou dost run from me, If the attendant orb withdraw his light; What hast thou done to my poor innocent hand! My quick-heeled slave! my loose ungrateful bird! Know that thou art from this time given o'er, It is most like that thou dost lurk not far, III. Once more, once more, O yet again once more, Oh for a foot as airy as the wing Of the young brooding dove, to overpass On swift commission of my true heart's love, What shall I do? despair? lie down and die? And if I do despair, I quickly die. Avaunt Despair! I will not yet despair. Strong-pinioned Hope, embrace thy wings about me; Oh still bear up and pity Ariadne! Alas! what hope have I but only Theseus, Ah me, my Theseus, whither art thou gone! Oh how shall I, not knowing where thou art, And windowed with a narrow glimpse of heaven. Come sounds of calm that woo my ruffled spirits Yond brook, that, like a child, runs wide astray, Sings and skips on, nor knows its loneliness; A squirrel chatters at a doorless nut: A hammer bird drums on his hollow bark; [Ariadne falls asleep.-Enter, the Dryads, as before. 1st Dryad: Sprinkle out of flower bells Mortal sense entrapping spells; Make no sound On the ground; Strew and lap and lay around. Gnat nor snail Here assail, Beetle, slug, nor spider here, Now descend, Nor depend, Off from any thorny spear. 2d Dryad: So conclude. Whatever seems, We have her in a chain of dreams. 3d Dryad: As fair as foreign! Who is here In disarray of princely gear? Here were a lass whose royal port Might make an awe in Heaven's court; But sorrowing beauty testifies In tears that journey from her eyes, To touches of interior pain; And on her hand a sanguine stain. Zone unloosened from its bourne; Surely some wandering bride of Sorrow. 4th Dryad: So let her sleep, and bid good morrow 1st Dryad: But, sisters, me it doth astound, What maid it is that we have bound, And Bacchus not, nor Ceres found. 2d Dryad: Bacchus has gone to Arcady; The Satyrs teased the vines about, And Bacchus sent a lubber lout, Who lurked, and stole, ere wink of moon, The heedless Amalthea's horn. The oldest swain with longest cane, 3d Dryad: But, cedar-cinctured sister, say, What news has winged our Queen away? 2d Dryad: Ceres has gone to see the feast 3d Dryad: Hark! hark! I hear her rolling car. Our Queen is not so very far. 4th Dryad: Now make your faces long, I ween Here comes our sweet majestic Queen. [Enter Ceres, in likeness of a stately woman, bearing poppies and cars of wheat in her hands, and crowned with a wreath of flowers and berries Cares: What! loose, and chatting here at play, |