when within half a mile of the gates, he might still believe himself to be a hundred miles from any habitation: the road stretches away, speckled only by a few mules; there are no carriages; no horsemen ; scarcely even a pedestrian: there is, in fact, not one sign of vicinity to a great city." In what manner the title of the city was first chosen may be hard to say; but we think that the character of the Spaniard sufficiently explains why any change in the external decorations of the chief city of his native land should be so backward. The Prado gives scope to all his wishes. His love for rural scenery is not positively a dead letter; but his inclination for beauty of a different character, be it in the dirtiest and closest garrison, overmasters all his other desires. A Spaniard is essentially a selfish being. So tender is our author of giving offence to the national jealousy, or so delicate are all his sentiments towards the softer sex, that he refused to declare at the first town he visited, whether or not he had seen any pretty face, as an equivocation, he considered, or a decided negative, might involve the reputation for beauty which the majority of the Spanish ladies are reported to possess. "On this subject," says he, “ my feelings were highly excited; but I reserve my judgment upon so interesting a matter, until I have seen the capital." Here he declares himself to have been miserably disappointed, and in our opinion he never quite got the better of the shock. The fan seems to have won upon him far more than the face, and. unlike his countrymen, he apparently always preferred flirting a fan to fanning a flirt. give a specimen, indeed, of those pieces of information which Mr Inglis intends should point out "Spain in 1830," we cannot refrain from reading the following lecture to our fair readers. - Το "As for the fan, its powers are nowhere seen displayed to such advantage as on the Prado. I believe I shall never be able to look at a fan in the hands of any other than a Spanish woman,-certainly no other woman understands the management of it. In her hands it is never one moment at rest,- she throws it open, fans herself, furls it to the right,-opens it again, again fans herself, and furls it to the left, and all with three fingers of one hand. This is absolutely marvellous to one who has been accustomed to see a fan opened with both hands, and furled only on one side. But that I may at once exhaust the subject of fans, let me add, that in the hands of its true mistress, the fan becomes a substitute for language, and an interpreter of etiquette. If a lady perceives that she is an object of attention to some inquisitive and admiring caballero, she has immediate recourse to her fan, that she may convey to him one most important piece of information. If she be married, she fans herself slowly; if still señorita, rapidly. The caballero, therefore, at once ascertains his chances and his risks. This fact I obtained from a Spanish lady of rank in Madrid, the wife of a gentleman in a high official situation. The motion of the fan too, marks distinctly, and with the utmost nicety, the degree of intimacy that subsists between one lady and another. The shake of the fan is the universal acknowledgment of acquaintance; and according as the fan is open or shut, the intimacy is great or small. These are trifling things, yet they are worth telling." There is no doubt that they are to a certain extent, though not, we think, in a developement of the condition of a country, which offers so much for attentive and deep scrutiny, and might repay in the end any attempt to fathom the causes of its disease, and the remedies which might be with safety derived from its situation and character. If Mr Inglis, however, knows himself unable to prosecute such investigations, and feels his province to be less profound, and less broad, it is quite right in him to forbear the effort. More or less expeditiously our author found his way through most of the cities of Spain, still proceeding in a southern direction. The evidence of the bigotry, and superstition of all classes, is positively overwhelming, and when Mr Inglis speaks of the indifference of the people to the restoration of the infernal Inquisition, be only gives way to a very natural thought in exclaiming, that "if they are so, they deserve the curse" more than Madrid, or perhaps than any town in Spain, is subject to this overwhelming dominion of priestcraft, and in Seville, at the same time, the violation of law, in the commission of the most desperate and daily and Seville, nightly murder, exceeds far the same crime any where else. A hospital stands ready at Seville at all hours for the exclusive service of those who may be brought from the streets in a wounded state. In fourteen days, twenty-one persons had been struck by the Andalusian's dagger, and the directory of the hospital thinks it a point of honour to conceal the number of deaths that may ensue in these instances. Now all this is very interesting and to the point, because it does display the source of misgovernment, and reflects a strong light on the main enquiry into the condition of Spain in 1830," and we wish the writer had stuck closer throughout his course to such observations. The Black Mail" which the provincial authorities find it necessary to pay down to the banditti in Biscay, and the very nice distinction between the greater and lesser thieves, "Dii majores et minores"-for the latter are bound by no agreement that binds the former, and owe them no submission except when vanquished in an occasional combat-call the mind back very near home to a condition of society fully as rude, though tempered by a more generous, because more unfettered spirit, as that prevalent to-day in Biscay. We cannot say that we should greatly admire to travel in a diligence which had a captain of banditti for the guard-and should be very suspicious that at the end of the stage he might not be so well satisfied with a couple of shillings as our honest friend on the Perth road. Such an event, however, it seems, is an unfailing guarantee of an unmolested journey, and the "Mail" alone, which will not, from its connexion with government, stoop to a negotiation with outlaws living in defiance of all its authority, is liable to be attacked by, and very often suffers both from great and little robbers. The style in which Mr Inglis narrates all that he has to tell, whether " german to the matter" or trifling, is on the whole very pleasing. He is a bit of an egotist, but you look on his face through a veil, thin though it be. He certainly does not sicken the readers, like Dr Beattie in his journal, with mawkish sentiment, and in general very prudently leaves the mind, after an enumeration of beauties or imposing spectacles, to draw its own conclusions, in accordance with its peculiar habits of thought. With so much to censure, therefore, and so much to approve, we are at a loss how to give any condensed opinion of the excellence of the work before us. We have often in our boyhood been moved to tears at the recital of a nun taking the veil, and we are now very sorry, though not so vehemently affected, that " Derwent Conway" has taken it off. "What's in a name," is very well to come from the lips of a Stoic, but is rather out of place in the expressions of an author. Much that has been looked on with kindness-much that has been passed over alto'gether-while fiction rules the scene even by a slender title, and clothes truth in an attractive garb, must on longer expect that leniency or that carelessness with which it has been hitherto treated. Mr Inglis is now front to front with the public. He has published a work with a name which has undoubtedly excited interest, and a name that under worthy execution entitles it to a place in the memories and on the shelves of politicians and statesmem. This, however, will never be its destination. We can recommend it to the ladies as "pleasant summer apparel" for their thoughts, and we can authorize its attendance in every travelling carriage throughout Spain as an excellent road-book. Upon his noble cousin, Lord Buchan, Mr Inglis lays the burden of his authorship. Rather the noble lord than ourselves. So let the golden key turn once more, and the little green writing-desk be closed-for ever. Jacqueline of Holland. An Historical Tale. By Thomas In three volumes. burn and Bentley. 1831. In some respects, Mr Grattan's new novel is a considerable improvement upon his Heiress of Bruges; in others it scarcely equals that work. The general tone of sentiment is at once more pure and more manly. But for intensity of passion, and a pervading interest, it is far infe rior. The secret of this defect lies in the mistake under which Mr Grattan, with most writers of the day, seems to labour, regarding what it is that interests us in the historical novel. Works of that class are indeed, as they have been somewhat affectedly called, prose epics. There is required in them unity of purpose-power of impress-visible, struggling to urge the animals down the opposite ing the mind of the reader with a sense that all the rich variety of materials, however discordant in their nature, are crushed and fused into one great whole, by a powerful and glowing imagination. But by far the greater number of novel-writers think it sufficient to pick out incidents, and descriptions of clothes and manners peculiar to some age, and string them few and far between oa the endless thread of a dreary rambling story. This has been too much the case with Mr Grattan, whose The book, although it contains many brilliant and powerful passages, is comparatively ineffective as a whole. rescue of some prisoners from the Duke of Burgundy and his attendants, and the consequent destruction of a whole tract of country, are described with great spirit. "Who are yonder men? Are they free Frisons?' aid Philip, still urging his horse, as if to pass back to the straggling soldiers of the advanced guard. Oost's rapid gesture. "Now, now, my sons!' cried Oost to the four men -and simultaneously with his signal they each struck their weapons deep into the already loosened summit of the dyke, and with every stroke a gash was made through which the water hissed and oozed in frightful rapidity. "Well done, bold dyke-diggers!' said he again, and at each renewed stroke which let in destruction upon both him and them he cried-but never loosening hold of Philip and his horse's rein- Well done, Tabbo! Bravely struck, Ubbo! Ha, ha, for Igo of the strong arm! Good, good, young Gosso, my last-born boy! Free Frisons all, for life and death!' “While Philip struggled for escape as if in the last agony, and his frightened followers all fell back in total queline had gained the top of the mound, which crumderout, not one coming to his aid, Van Borselen and Jacbled under their horse's hoofs, and they were a moment "The sons of Oost, the dyke-digger,' replied Vrank, still in a respectful tone, but without making way for the retreating duke. "And where is their fierce father?' said Philip, looking round with an anxious stare. 'Here he is, Philip!' cried Oost, in his loudest and harshest key, and in the low German jargon, the only language he spoke (though he had picked up a smattering of others), springing at the same time from the shrubs which skirted the wood and came close to the road. "Ah! treason! treachery!' exclaimed Philip, at the apparition of this terrible figure; and with these words he dashed forward, endeavouring to burst through the impediments to his flight. But while Oost seized his bridle with a powerful grasp, and held his horse fast with as much ease as a common man might master the struggles of a child, Van Monfoort and Van Diepenholt, promptly seeing the state of things, closed upon the unhappy duke, who thus saw himself completely caught in his own net, and threatened with destruction by the instruments he had wrought with, as if for his own ruin. "What followed was acted with more rapidity than may be traced by pen, told by tongue, or imagined by thought. Sculpture or painting can alone embody the vivid variety of such events, and show forth at once a group of incidents and passions, forming a living combination of all that may interest or agitate the mind. "Away! away! There, there! The wide world is now your own!' halloed Oost, in the peculiar idiom of Friesland, which Van Borselen alone understood, and stretching forth one muscular arm towards the sea. Away, Jacqueline, away, my beloved! echoed Vrank, heading his horse in the direction pointed out by side; but every effort was repelled by the fierce storm gusts which continually forced them back, and threatened to blow them prostrate on the road. The waves now rushed freely in, and the fierce workmen, self-sacrificed, and in their dreadful task, were mid-deep in the water; mud, and sand which poured down the dyke. "Van Monfoort, seeing Jacqueline's perilous situation, thought only of her, but had neither means of succour, nor a notion how to aid her. Van Diepenholt, with a clearer head, and a mind less absorbed by others' danfelt that Van Borselen must have had Oost's authority ger, resolved on an effort to escape from his own. He for the seeming madness of his course. He therefore pressed forward for the place where he and Jacqueline still struggled-Van Monfoort followed instinctively— they forced their horses to scramble up the mound—and just as they reached the top, Van Borselen and Jacqueline having a moment before disappeared beyond, the whole mass came down, swept inwards by the booming sea, which rushed after in one wide, earth-swallowing deluge. "Billow after billow poured surging on, chasing each other with loud roar, like barbarian hordes shouting over the conquest of some fair and fertile land. In less time than fancy can suppose possible for such destruction, a whole district was overflowed. No hill existed to oppose -no rock to mark the depth, or measure the speed of the inundation-but the thirsty soil drank the waves, till, replete and saturated, it flung them up again, thickened, discoloured, and loathsome. Men and cattle were drowned; houses dashed down; trees uptorn; their roots wrenched from their grasp in the deep soil, and huge masses of earth scooped out by the sharp waves, and whirled up to the surface of the seething flood. The horrible rapidity of such a catastrophe in such a country left no time for flight, no place for refuge. Fate struck quick and strong. Within an hour an extent of many square miles was under water, 72 villages were submerged, and full 100,000 human beings had perished. A new sea was formed a whole district blotted from the world's face-and many a voyager now steers his course through the broad waves of the Bisbosch, without even knowing that he sails over a space once fertile and flourishing, a second Atlantis-or casting a glance into the waves, or a thought into time, for the monuments covered by the one, or the thousand associations of history and romance deep buried in the other." The author is undoubtedly a man of high talent, and his work, although unequal, contains a considerable fand of entertainment. THESE delightful volumes throw much light upon our old-our only school of English dramatic poetry. We propose, therefore, to treat of their contents at some length in one, or perhaps more numbers. For the present, however, our readers must content themselves with a mere specimen of the work. We know not how it may strike others, but the following old inventory of stage frippery has awakened within us a train of reflection, in which merriment and sadness are strangely blended: "Most of Henslowe's Inventories were taken on the 10th of March, 1598-9, perhaps in anticipation of the removal of the Lord Admiral's players, from the Curtain and Rose to the Fortune theatre, the project for building which seems, about that date, to have been entertained by Henslowe and Edward Alleyn. The first inventory quoted by Malone, appears to be of 'goods gone and lost,' among which 'Longshank's suit,' Harry the Fifth's doublet,' and his 'velvet gowne,' only require notice. It is succeeded by the following: "The Enventary of the Clownes Sewtes, and Hermettes Sewtes, with dievers other sewtes, as followeth, 1598, the 10 of March. "Item j senetores gowne, j hoode, and 5 senetores capes. Item j sewtte for Nepton, Fierdrackes [fire-drakes] sewtes for Dobe. "Item iiij genesareyes [Janissaries] gownes, and iiij torchberers sewtes. Item iij payer of red strasers, and iij fares [q. Pharaoh's] gowne of buckrome. “' Item iiij Herwodes [q. Herod's or Herald's] cottes, and iij sogers cottes, and j green gown for Maryan. "Item vj grene cottes for Roben Hoode, and iiij knaves sewtes. "Item ij payer of grene hosse, and Andersones sewte, j whitt shepen clocke [cloak]. "Item ij rosset cottes, and j blacke frese cotte, and iij prestes cottes. "Item ij whitt shepherdes cottes, and ij Danes sewtes, and j payer of Danes hosse. 686 Item the Mores lymes, and Hercolles lymes, and Will Sommers sewtte. “Item ij Orlates sewtes, hates and gorgetts, and vij anteckes cootes. ""Item Cathemer sewte, j payer of cloth white stockens, iiij Turckes hedes. 666 Item iiij freyers gownes and iiij hoodes to them, and j fooles coate cape and babell [bawble] and branhowlttes [Brenoralt's] bodeys [bodice] and merlan [Mer 66 6 Item Eves bodeyes [bodice], j pedante trusser, and iij donnes hattes. "Item j payer of yelow cotton sleves, j gostes sewir, and j gostes bodeyes. "Item xviij copes and hattes, Verones sonnes hosse. "Item iij trumpettes and a drum, and a trebel vial, a basse viall, a bandore, a sytteren [gittern], j anshente [ancient], j whitte hatte. "Item j hatte for Robin Hoode, j hobbihorse. ""Item v shertes, and j surpelowes [surplice], i ferdingalles [farthingales]. "Item vj head tiers, j fane, iiij rabatos, ij gyrke trusses. "Item j long sorde.' date, of apparel for the same company, left above in the "This is succeeded by another inventory, of the same tire-house, in the chest ;' which would show that at the theatre referred to, the tire-house was up stairs, and not on a level with the stage. The items are these:"Item my Lord Caffes [q. Caiphas'] gercken and his hoose. "Item j payer of hosse for the Dowlfen [Dauphin "Item j murey lether gyreken, and j white lether gerckin. "Item j black leather gearken, and Nabesathe sewte. "Item j payer of hosse, and a gercken for Valteger. "Item ij leather anteckes cottes with basses for Faye Sermons on various Subjects of Christian Doctrine and We have been much pleased with the contents of this volume. In these days of discordant doctrine and hot controversy upon every topic, in which theological ques station, it is very difficult to bring into the market any tions have with us lately occupied not the least prominent thing that may be a general favourite, and draw to itself a portion at least of the suffrages of all contending par ties. It is not, therefore, the less true, that this is a desirable boon, inasmuch as it may exceed its original aim, by exercising the office of a censor over minds, whost authority and influential faculties have been directed, with an overstrained partiality, to the elucidation and support of a particular argument, which it is their endeavour to lin's] gowne and cape. “Item ij blacke saye gownes, and ij cotton gownes, and j rede saye gowne. "Item j mawe gowne of calleco for the quenet and carnowll [cardinal's] hatte. "Item j rede sewt of cloth for pyge ‡ layed with whitt lace. "Item v payer of hosse for the clowne, and v gerk enes for them. Item iij payer of canvas hosse for asane, ij payer of black strocers. rest on a confirmed basis, to the confusion of their anta jgonists. We are very far from denying that these extreme points of attack and defence are of infinite importance, or that they ought to awaken the warmest interest the same time, while the gaze is thus eagerly and entirely regarding their final settlement in every breast; but, at concentrated on objects," longo intervalla distantia," it may overlook many intermediate positions, of which a due consideration might be serviceable on all hands, and of which a just understanding might tend to soften the virulence, and cancel the duration of the wider warfare. This is not indeed the proper place to enter into a lengthened expression, either of concurrence with, or disappro bation of the disputants, and we gladly seize the oppor tunity to say one or two words in favour of a work, which appears to us to steer clear of the general conten tion, and to offer much matter that should be valuable to the reflection and good-will of all. "I suspect," says Malone, "these were the limbs of Aaron the Moor, in Titus Andronicus, who, in the original play, was probably tortured on the stage. Shakspeare by Boswell, iii, 309." +"There was a play called The Maw, among those enumerated by Heuslowe; perhaps this was a gown for the queen in that per formance." "Perhaps for pyge' we ought to read Page, the hero of the play of Page of Plymouth, an entry which Malone could not understand. In the plot of Frederick and Basilea, an actor, who is called familiarly Pig, played a part, and this might be a dress for him. Malone thought that pyge' meant Psyche-11ot a very happy conjecture." The Rev. Mr Garioch's sermons are among the few which apparently have not suffered by being transferred, after their delivery from the pulpit, to a closer and more tranquil perusal in the closet. The texts on which the reverend writer discourses, include most of the lessons of great moment on practical morality, instilling also, in their developement, that more indefinite spirit of devotion which ought to mould this practice of life, and so to guide its course, that to the most oppressed, the burden of this world may be light, and its yoke easy. The language in which these lessons are conveyed, and the illustrations by which they are enforced, are neither very eloquent nor very novel, but we are not sure that we do not feel a preference for them on this account. They are certainly untainted with any ambition for rhetorical display; and though it is a common saying, that such themes ought to elevate every speaker in their behalf, it is equally true, that it does not lie with the speaker to add any dignity to his theme by mouthing phraseology. This prevalent simplicity of language, however, must not be supposed to deprive it of impression, for it rather invites the mind towards, not exhausting its temper by over-lofty flights, nor giving offence by too humble a descent. It would be wrong, too, we think, to withhold from our favourable judgment of Mr Garioch, that, while his discourses forcibly exhibit the dark and faded picture from its natural brightness of humanity, of which the conviction should never slip from the memory of the ⚫ soul in its aspirations after a higher condition, they are not marked with that fierce and uncompromising sternness of colouring, with which it was so much the fashion among the early reformers, and is even reviving with us, to portray the fallen nature of mankind. It is not the intention of the writer to. conceal, or cast a gloss over, any defect, but he would remonstrate mildly with the offender, and win him in a spirit of love, that may become the message that gave the credentials for such authority. The subject of the first discourse, "The Punishment of Cain," is striking, and treated in a forcible manner. Without positively specifying their superiority, we can recommend the 10th, 11th, and the three concluding sermons, as very favourable examples of the style, both in language and sentiment, of the author. written in rhyme. Think of old Mæonides or Eschylus chafing under such a fetter on their impetuosity! The | language of the gods was never meant to be a jingle of words. To say any thing about the similarity of the proverbs of all countries, would be to insult the commonest reflection, that thinks for a moment on what they are-on the universality of sentiment which they are always intended to convey, drawn from examples, that are the natural growth of the existing constitution of man, independently of colour, climate, or era. Like ourselves, the Greeks are often homely enough in their sayings, and many in the present volume smack rather potently of the broader sallies of Theocritus and Aristophanes; and, as an instance of the influence of locality, the “ Εἴη μοι τὰ μεταξὺ Kogivdou nas Zixvivos," "Be mine whatever is between Corinth and Sicyon," will probably suggest to many of our Edinburgh friends the wish for "As muckle as would lie between this and the Bass." A number of the phrases in the book are, properly speaking, not proverbial, but idiomatic expressions of the language, which, however, ought only to increase its utility, and enhance its value to the scholar. MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. THE MARQUIS OF SALUZZO; THE NEW BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. MARSHAL MONT-JEAN was as respectable a soldier as good King Francis had in his army. It was currently reported in his troop, that he had once been young, although his hair was now grey, and that he had once been alert, although the wounds from sword, lance, and bullet, which cicatrized his body all over, had rendered him fit only for garrison-duty. He was intrusted with an important fortress on the frontiers of Piedmont, for his royal master knew that his stiff and shrivelled body would as little think of budging from before an enemy as the stone and lime he was set to guard. Marshal Mont-Jean had a young wife—a lineal descendant of the noble family of Chateaubriant—a girl in her seventeenth year, of a clear carnated complexion, through which the eloquent blood shone forth at every word she spoke, with dark eyes at once penetrating and On the whole, wherever there are any whose minds are still free from the bustle of dispute, and who can find stronghold in their own convictions, from which they may look without trouble on the clouds that are seem-winning, and with an elastic, buoyant, coquettish sort of ingly hovering over the fancies of so many, and who fur- a gait. Owing to family politics, she had been married Aher desire to reconsider what has often, we dare say, to the marshal before she very well knew what marbeen already revolved in their breasts, embodied in a riage was. Naturally of an affectionate disposition, she quiet, unpresuming, yet impressive shape, we can with loved the tough old soldier-who, imperative and stern perfect sincerity recommend them to the present volume; to all others, was gentle to her as a daughter might have and to those who are still hot in quarrel, yet would not done. Her little thoughts ran more upon her gowns, now and then disdain a medium point of peaceful and un-headtires, and feathers, than any thing else. She would agitated reflection, we can only extend the same counsel. A Dictionary of Modern Greek Proverbs, with an English Translation, &c. By Alexander Negris, Professor of Greek Literature. Edinburgh. Thomas Clark. 1831. We daresay this will be a very useful little book in the hands of the student. It is true we are not convinced of the positive advantages that might result in the acquirement of ancient Greek from a prior acquaintance with its modern dialect, still the many instances of intimate resemblance say something for the partial nature of the change which, in the lapse of ages, the language of Homer and Thucydides has undergone. That time, however, has impaired its pristine fire and majesty, and broken down the full charm of its harmony, is proved, we think, by the fact that, as among the French, all the poems of the modern tongue-even the tragedies-are have had no objections, had it lain in her power, to have but her grief was not exactly heart-breaking. She had and the restraint laid upon her of late by her situation respected him, but love was out of the question ; and with only heightened her desire to exercise it now. all her esteem for the man, and resignation to her fate, Before the party reached Lyons, however, she was there was something unnatural in the union of persons made painfully sensible of her error. She remarked that so widely differing in age. But had she been ever so in the marquis took care to blazon immediately to the whole clined to lament him, she would not have had time. She train, every encouragement she gave him. In private, was under the necessity of transporting herself imme- he assumed a dictatorial tone, arranging who of her dodiately, with all her own and her late husband's retainers,' mestics it were most advisable to retain or dismiss-asto her estates in France, and she had not a single sol left suming that their future union was an event which must in her possession. Her estates were large, but even had undoubtedly happen. His attendants affected to look there been time to await the arrival of money from them, upon her with a peculiarly intelligent expression, and used the times were too unsafe to hazard its transmission. The every artifice to draw from her speeches which might country around her was too mountainous, and its air too favour their master's hopes. “Ah, senora,” said the pure and keen to nourish usurers. Her dresses were of steward, one day, as she was rallying him about some immense value, but there was no ore near who cared for trifle, " these sharp words require a sweetener.”—“Desuch frippery, or could or would advance money upon its pend upon it, good Jaquez,” she replied, “you shall have pledge. The little lady was at her wit's end. as heavy a gold chain as the steward of the best marquis She felt no great alleviation of her troubles, when one in the land, the day of my marriage." She could have day-after wondering for a quarter of an hour what was bit her tongue for vexation, when she saw the old thief the meaning of the tantara of trumpets before the gate, scuttle up to his master, and tell him the story, with a and the clattering of horses' hoofs in the courtyard--the profusion of “nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles." Marquis of Saluzzo was ushered into her presence. He She learned, about the same time, from her female at. was gaily apparelled in a tunic and hose of white silk laced tendants, that they had been prevented from forwarding with silver, and a hat of the same materials, with bushy any intelligence to their friends in France; that her own white plumes waving over his head. This costume com- messengers had been detained, and dispatches addressed municated to his countenance-which rivalled 'in colour to her intercepted. She saw now that the wily Italian the feet of a duck that has all day been wading in the was closing his meshes around her. She had looked upon mud_a yet more repulsive expression. The young widow him as a fool, a creature out of whom she could extract thought-when she saw the portly belly come swagging amusement and advantage, and shake him off—as lighdy into the hall beffore its owner, and the worshipful mar- as the flower the refreshing dewdrop, when the western quis panting after it, with a multitude of ungainly bows breeze begins to blow. She found that the lowest order —that she had never seen any thing half so hideous. of minds possess most practical cunning. She was fret Her visitor came at once to the point, for he was none ted and anxious. His train outnumbered hers, which of those who are troubled with a fastidious delicacy. He consisted, moreover, chiefly of her female attendants. had learned the situation of embarrassment in which She was, however, of too gay and confident a disposition the marshal bad left his lady, and came to inform her, to remain long uneasy. They were now approaching that he was himself on the road to Paris, whither, if she Lyons, and in the city he would not dare to detain her would favour him with her company, and join her train person by force. Her few men-at-arms were hardy sol. of attendants with his, he would defray her expenses. djers, and implicitly to be relied upon. He urged her acceptance of his proffered aid with gurru- Arrived in the hostelrie, she made an excuse for relous and indelicate importunity, fixing his gooseberry eyes tiring early. The window of her apartment opened upon upon her, with an attempt to look languishing. Nay, in the Rhone. She sat, her head buried in her hands, the pride of his heart, he let her know that already many striving, but in vain, to determine upon some line of suitors were mustering to urge their claims to the hand of conduct. The door opened, and her favourite tirewothe wealthy widow of Mont Jean, the heiress apparent man introduced a young gentleman, richly, but not of the noble house of Chateaubriant, and that he was gaudily equipped, of martial bearing. “ A messenger, not without hopes of insinuating himself into her good my lady, from your cousin Vieilleville.” The messenger graces during their journey. In our days, it would be bore a letter, in which the Sieur de Vieilleville informed thought indelicate for a woman in the lady's situation to her that it was currently reported in Paris she had proaccept an essential service from so blunt a knight: but, mised her hand to the Marquis of Saluzzo, and that the in those days, the fair sex were not so particular. There king, for political considerations, was intent upon the was danger even then of being inveigled; but Marie was match ; that he, however, could not for a moment believe young, lighthearted, undaunted, and fond of a joke. She her so inconsiderate, and that he was at hand with a body knew not enough of the world to be aware of the use an of sixty gens-d'armes to free her. artful man might take of such a journey, to render ap- The lady recognised at once the rude craft of Saluzzo pearances against her, should she finally repulse his ad- in the reports to which her cousin alluder'. She trem Lastly, there was no choice left her : the new bled at the thought of the king seconding the wishes of commandant was daily expected, and she could not raise her unknightly suitor, but she rejoiced that the full ex. a maravedi. tent of her danger bad only been laid open to her at the The marquis and his fair companion were, by their moment that certain aid presented itself. Vieilleville style of travelling, and the want of other company, kept was one of those straightforward daring persons, who, close together during great part of the journey. He was having neither fear nor dishonesty in their character, constantly by her bridle on the ro:ad, he was ready with always pursue the direct road to their object. It was the proffer of his services whenever she dismounted, be well known that he had often opposed the king in bis sat by her at the board_most frequently spread under darling projects, yet without losing his favour ; for Franthe shadow of some branchy tree. Marie gradually got cis knew that thoughts of self never stained Vieilleville. reconciled to his appearance, and although she could not The proudest nobles of France, the princes of the blood, respect a man, who in his incessant prattling gave tokens did not disdain to seek his countenance and protection, only of a proud, foolish, and selfish mind, she learned to although he was yet but a lientenant of gendarmerie take pleasure in the unconscious manner in which he and a simple ht-not even a member of the order. displayed his character. His attem.pts to express his love, With tumultuous joy Marie addressed to her cousin a too, were endless as ludicrous, and Marie was not the warm letter of thanks for his confidence in the propriety person to shrink from a little coqu etry, more particularly of her conduct. Love for a man of Saluzzo's character when the object afforded her at the same time matter for was out of the question. As for the king's deep-laid a hearty laugh. She had a natural talent for coquetting, schemes, she had been sacrificed wheu a child to political vances. |