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exerted himself. His appearance when he saw what had befallen his son is said to have been beyond description heart-rending.—Sarah Penman who was before peculiarly unfortunate, having lost her husband and son both by violent deaths within two years, was in church with her son, an infirm lad. She was seen in the utmost agony crying "My puir object, my puir laddie," and to rush into the densest part of the crowd to assist him. He escaped with trifling injury, but the unfortunate mother was trampled to death and so dreadfully mangled as only to he recognised by the colour of her gown. The same was the condition of many of the other bodies; and many bore no marks at all of external violence. One woman, had merely a mark on her breast, as if it had been pressed by a heavy iron shod shoe.
The following lines, occasioned by this dreadful catastrophe, are the effusion of a pious and amiable heart, and exhibit poetical powers of no common rate.
But yesterday,
On such a Sabbath, holy, cool, serene,
A Christian flock had met, with pious hearts,
To feast as the disciples of their Saviour,
And eat of the Last Supper, which to many
Was in sad truth the last; and they were fill’d
With holy things, and praised their glorious God;
And ere the sun should set, they came once more
The sacred words of life to hear, and strengthen
The vows of virtue which their hearts had paid.
Sure, they were ripe in faith and strong in hope,
