Mydo, a boy, was brought from Taheite, by an English whaler, and died, kindly cared for, by the Moravians. One morning, he spoke to these friends, as follows:--"You told me my soul could not die, and I have been thinking about it. Last night my body lay on that bed, but I knew nothing of it, for my soul was very far off. My soul was in Taheite. I am sure I saw my mother and my friends, and I saw the trees and dwellings, as I left them. I spoke to the people, and they spoke to me; and yet my body was lying still in this room, all the while. In the morning, I was come again into my body, and was at Mirfield, and Taheite was a great many miles off. Now I understand what you say about my body being put into the earth, and my soul being somewhere else; and I wish to know where it will be, when it can no more return to my body." Such were the humble conceptions of the dying Taheitean boy--let the reader decide for himself what more there may be, under the grandiloquence of Addison-- --------Plato, thou reasonest well. Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction! 'Tis the divinity, that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. No. XCVII. The ashes of the dead are ransacked, not only for hidden treasure, and for interesting relics, but there is a figurative species of raking and scratching, among them, in quest of one's ancestors. This is, too frequently, a periculous experiment; for the searcher sometimes finds his progress--the pleasure of his employment, at least--rudely interrupted, by an offensive stump, which proves to be the relic of the whipping-post, or the gallows.