pecting that he might be imposed upon by the ingenuity of some of the numerous guests who were then visiting in the same house ;-Lord Londonderry proceeded towards the figure. It retreated before him. As he slowly advanced, the form, with equal paces, slowly retired. It entered the vast arch of the capacious chimney, and then sunk into the earth. Lord L. returned to his bed; but not to rest. His mind was harassed by the consideration of the extraordinary event which had occurred to him. Was it real?-was it the work of imagination? -was it the result of imposture ?-It was all incomprehensible. He resolved in the morning not to mention the appearance till he should have well observed the manners and the countenances of the family: he was conscious that, if any deception had been practised, its authors would be too delighted with their success to conceal the vanity of their triumph. When the guests assembled at the breakfast-table, the eye of Lord Londonderry searched in vain for those latent smiles-those cunning looks-that silent communication between the parties-by which the authors and abettors of such domestic conspiracies are generally betrayed. Every thing apparently proceeded in its ordinary course. The conversation flowed rapidly along from the subjects afforded at the moment, without any of the constraint which marks a party intent upon some secret and more interesting argument, and endeavouring to afford an opportunity for its introduction. At last the hero of the tale found himself compelled to mention the occurrences of the night. It was most extraordinary-he feared that he should not be credited: and then, after all due preparation, the story was related. Those among his auditors who, like himself, were strangers and visiters in the house, were certain that some delusion must have been

practised. The family alone seemed perfectly composed and calm. At last, the gentleman whom Lord Londonderry was visiting, interrupted their various surmises on the subject by saying: The circumstance which you have just recounted must naturally appear most extraordinary to those who have not long been inmates of my dwelling, and are not conversant with the legends connected with my family; to those who are, the event which has happened will only serve as the corroboration of an old tradition that long has been related of the apartment in which you slept. You have seen the Radiant Boy; and it is an omen of prosperous fortunes; I would rather that this subject should no more be mentioned."

RECENT LETTERS ON SPAIN.

We have been told upon good authority, (and were it not indiscreet we could mention the parties,) of a literary gentleman who offered his publisher a new work on Spain."Have you resided long in Spain?"" I have the intention of residing there six or eight months," replied the traveller. "Your work," said the Bookseller," will, no doubt, be more correct by comparing your intended remarks with former notes; yet, in suffering the moment to pass when the imagination is struck with the novelty of things, the power of observing is weakened, and the narration becomes tame. I should therefore prefer your observations as they were struck off at a heat, during your first visit."-" But, my dear sir, they are not yet written, and you misunderstood me, if you thought I had ever been in Spain. I said, that I meant to go there for something less than a year;-which is about

the time I spent in France and Italy, and you know that in less than that period my Travels have gone through three editions. Why then not try my hand on Spain?— Since her late revolution, no country is more interesting to the public curiosity." Having resided some time in Spain, we thought ourselves competent to do justice both to the author and to the readers of this intended work; but as the year has nearly elapsed, and we have heard no more of it, it is to be supposed that the bargain was never concluded. We had thus lost all hope of comparing our own observations on the past state of Spain, with those of others on its recent situation. This opportunity, however, is unexpectedly afforded us by a small volume of Letters, recently written in Italian, printed in Spain, and addressed to an Englishwoman, Lady J. H.*; whom we have seen here filling our sex with despair by her beauty, and hers by her wit, without their having as yet given her the title of a blue; though, happily for those who hunt after matter for ridicule, and unhappily for us, she incurs the danger of returning en bleu from her European tour. As we do not know where to write for this lady's permission to insert her name at full length, our readers must be contented with the initials.

The recommendation of the Publisher not to damp the first effusions of the imagination by a too-scrupulous revision, although contrary to the rules of orthodox criticism, is nevertheless worthy of attention, as being founded on professional experience; and he must have known at the same time, that the project of travelling to compile a volume, was precisely the way to repress every sally of the imagination. The letters before us are evidently the result of first impressions, and the

*Sei mesi in Ispagna, Lettere di G. Pecchio a Lady J. H.

writer, far from having travelled with the purpose of making a book, informs us that he had no intention of quitting Switzerland, until his friend Señor B., the celebrated Spanish minister, having been recalled by the Liberals, from his long exile, to take a leading part in the administration, offered him a seat in his carriage, and thus he found himself by a sort of enchantment, transported to Spain. On arriving at Irun (5th May, 1821), and scarcely descended from the carriage, five or six persons-police magistrates and small proprietors of the town-flung themselves eagerly into the embraces of the minister. "Happy augury," exclaims the author, "for a country where the prime minister is still a man!" In the different villages through which they passed, the masters of the post, the alcaldi, and yeomanry, displayed the same ardent and natural frankness in their salutations. Without seeming discomposed by the presence of a great man, they placed themselves at his side, lighted their cigars at his; and, in the warmth of discourse, slapped him on the shoulder. "But in all this freedom of manner," observes our traveller, "there was nothing like impertinence." In his opinion "the Spaniard has as much, and, perhaps, more, of personal dignity than the Englishman, although he does not bespatter the king's coachman with mud, nor smash the windows of the minister." Spanish pride is unlike the vanity of the French, the pompous contempt of the German baron, or the feudal ferocity of the Russian. It is not exercised by one class against another, nor does it exist in any caste, but in the whole. The grandees, the ministers, and the royal family, are affable and popular. The people alone are proud; and thus what is a defect in the individual becomes a virtue in the nation. In the provinces there is not that immense chasm between the

habits of the higher and lower classes which exist with us. There is not that sort of conventional life amongst the rich, although Spain has her ridiculous side: her royal blood, and trees of genealogy more numerous, perhaps, than her fruit-trees; but the race of people of bon-ton is very rare, if it exists at all. In spite of the wide difference of birth and titles, the less men are accustomed to the want of superfluities, the less inequality do we find amongst them. The mantle, the olla-podrida, the cigar, the bull-fight, &c., being habits common to all Spaniards, place the peasant and the grandee on the same level. The Spaniard is often described as enveloped to the eyes in his mantle, with a savage scowl, and moody, as if his time was spent in meditating vengeance on a rival. This picture borders on the caricature; for though vengeance with him is both a gratification and a duty, since the public contempt falls on every one who leaves an insult unavenged, yet it is not his natural occupation. The Castilian, folded to the eyes, and standing silent in the street for hours without yawning, seems rather like a man independent of human affairs and events-who, without despising any, is careless of all. Neither orders, nor embroidered habits, nor splendid uniforms attract his glance,-the fair sex alone excites his curiosity and receives his homage. "We passed through four provinces with two elegant carriages, of a' form unusual in Spain; but not a single peasant suspended his labour to look at us. I complained of this indifference, but was told that Wellington himself, when he entered Spain preceded by victory, experienced the same neglect."

On reaching Bribesca, our traveller's habits got the better of his arguments in favour of frugality, when the innkeeper furnished their table "with a soup which