plished. All thoughts of piety, and all concern for the immortal future, vanished together. But, O! how, in less than a year, was the gaudy deception exploded! The fascinating and gay L Mwas prostrated by a fever that bade defiance to medical skill. The approach of death was unequivocal; and the countenance of every attendant fell, as if they had heard the flight of his arrow. The glazing eye was dim in hopelessness; and yet there seemed a something in its expiring rays that told reproof, and tenderness, and terror, in the same glance. And that voice-its tone was decided, but sepulchral still—“My father! last year I would have sought the Redeemer. Fa-ther-your child is--" Eternity heard the remainder of the sentence, for it was not uttered in time. The wretched survivor now saw before him the fruit of a disorder, whose seed had been sown when his delighted look followed the steps of his idol in the maze of a dance. O, how often, when I have witnessed the earthly wisdom of a parent banishing the thoughts of eternity, have I dwelt on that expression, which seemed the last reflection from a season of departed hope : "Last year I would have sought the Redeemer !"

THE SISTER.

THE DUCHESS D'ALENCON.

MARGUERITE, Duchess d'Alençon, entertained towards her brother, Francis the First, King of France, an affection so devoted that it overlooked all peril.

"When that monarch was detained a prisoner at the court of Charles the Fifth, of Spain, Marguerite applied to the Emperor for a safe conduct, and, having obtained it, set out for Madrid, with the intention of consoling her brother in his captivity, and endeavouring to procure his freedom. Upon her arrival there, she found Francis so dangerously ill that his life was despaired of; and while he thus suffered the double affliction of disease and captivity, Marguerite was the only solace of the royal prisoner. Charles had given the Duchess a very friendly reception at his court, and had even promised that Francis should be set at liberty on recovering from his illness; but as the king's health daily improved, and Charles's fears of losing his prisoner and his ransom decreased, his determination to keep him in captivity increased in proportion. Marguerite, perceiving this, endeavoured to form an acquaintance with the Queen of Portugal, who was destined for Francis' bride; but the wary Emperor frustrated this design, by inducing his sister to make a pil

grimage to Guadaloupe, which occupied the whole period of the Duchess's stay in Spain. She also addressed herself to Bourbon, who, it appears, would not have been sorry to make his marriage with her the means of restoring him to his country and estates; but Bourbon's influence at the Spanish court was nothing. She did not attempt to discourage any hopes he might have formed on this head, and her beauty and intellectual charms had given her so great a power over Bourbon, that he revealed to her all he knew of the Emperor's secret designs. Charles, who suspected the intelligence between them, had formed a scheme worthy of his intriguing mind. The Duchess's passport had been made out for two months; but the friendly manner in which she had been received, was well calculated to make her forget that that period was drawing fast to its conclusion, and that it was necessary to renew it in order to provide for her own personal safety. Charles intended to let that period expire, and then to have taken advantage of her neglect, to make her share in her brother's captivity. The confidence which Marguerite reposed in his honour would have crowned his scheme with success, but for an intimation which Bourbon, who had learned the treachery that the Emperor meditated, conveyed to her. With the utmost precipitation, she ordered her escort; and having taken leave of her brother, and secured some papers which he had committed to her charge, she departed from Madrid. Notwithstanding the severity of the win

ter, which had just set in, she traversed Spain with such expedition, as to reach the frontier of Navarre one hour before the period of her safe conduct had expired."

BETY AMBOS VON ZWEIBRUCKEN.

MRS. JAMESON, in her "Sketches of Art, Literature, and Character in Germany," relates the following story, containing a most extraordinary and affecting example of sisterly affection :

I was travelling from Weimar to Frankfort, and had stopped at a little town, one or two stages beyond Fulda; I was standing at the window of the inn which was opposite the post-house, and looking at a crowd of travellers who had just been disgorged from a huge Eilwagen, or post-coach, which was standing there. Among them was one female, who, before I was aware, fixed my attention. Although closely enveloped in a winter dress, from head to foot, her height, and the easy decision with which she moved, showed that her figure was fine and well-proportioned; and, as the wind blew aside her black veil, I had a glimpse of features which still further excited my curiosity. I had time to consider her as she alighted and walked over to the inn alone. She entered at once the room in which I was; summoned the waiter, whom she addressed in a good-humoured, but rather familiar style, and ordered breakfast. While this was preparing, she threw off her travelling accoutrements; first, a dark cloak, richly lined with fur; one or two

shawls; a sort of pelisse, or rather surtout, reaching to the knees, with long, loose sleeves, such as you may see in the prints of Tartar or Muscovite costumes; this was made of beautiful Indian shawl, lined with blue silk, and trimmed with sables; under these splendid and multifarious coverings she wore a dress of deep mourning. Her figure, when displayed, excited my admiration—it was one of the most perfect I ever beheld. Her feet, hands, and head were small in proportion to her figure; her face was not so striking-it was pretty, rather than handsome; her small mouth closed firmly, so as to give a marked and singular expression of resolution and decision to a physiognomy otherwise frank and good-humoured. Her eyes, also small, were of a dark hazel, bright, and with long blonde eyelashes. Her abundant fair hair was plaited in several bands, and fastened on the top of her head, in the fashion of the German peasant girls. Her voice would have been deemed rather high-pitched for 66 ears polite," but it was not deficient in melody; and, though her expression was grave, and even sad, upon our first encounter, I soon found that mirth, and not sadness, was the natural character of her mind, as of her countenance. When anything ridiculous occurred, she burst at once in a laugh-such a merry, musical peal, that it was impossible not to sympathize in it. Her whole appearance and manner gave me the idea of a farmer's buxom daughter :-nothing could be more distinct from our notions of the lady-like, yet nothing