very foolish to you but if you only knew how a poor recluse sighs to utter the thoughts which oppress her. When I am alone I converse with these flowers and these clusters of tapestry, and it appears to me that they understand me better than my grave and serious father and mother."

"Juana!" cried Montefiore, interrupting her, while he seized both her hands, and kissed them with a transport which flashed in his eyes, was read in his gestures, and heard in his accents, 'speak to me as to a husband, as to your other self; I have suffered all that you have suffered; there is no need of many words for us to understand the past, but no language can ever express the happiness in store for us. Place your hand upon my heart-feel how it beats. Let us promise before heaven, that sees and hears us, to be true to each other all our life. Come, take this ring-give me yours."

"Give you my ring !" she cried with alarm; "but it came from our holy father at Rome, and was placed on my finger, in my infancy, by a very grand and beautiful lady who brought me up, put me in this house, and told me always to keep it."

"Juana, do you not love me, then?" "Oh!" she said "take it. If you have it, it is the same thing."

She held the ring out tremblingly, and pressed it between her fingers, while she looked at him with a clear and piercing gaze. For this ring was herself, and in surrendering it, she gave herself with it.

"Oh, my Juana," said Montefiore, clasping her in his arms, "he must be a monster who would deceive youI must love you to eternity

Juana was absorbed in reverie. Montefiore thought within himself that, in this first interview, it would be hazardous to attempt anything which might injure so young and pure a creature, whose imprudence arose from her virtue and innocence. He trusted to his features, to his beauty, whose influence he well knew, and to the simple marriage of the ring, the most magnificent of unions, the slightest and yet the most binding of ceremonies, the wedding of the heart. He knew that Juana's vivid imagination would be his best auxiliary during the rest of the night, and through the next day. Therefore, he restrained himself to be as respectful as he was tender, and

with this idea, strengthened by his passion and the emotions Juana inspired him, he was caressing and honeyed in his tones. He embarked the girl's fancy in all the projects of a new existence, painted the world in the most seducing colours, discoursed with her upon those household details which are so pleasing to young girls, and entering into those agreements which give a consistency and a reality to love. Then having fixed the hour for their next night's interview, he left Juana happy but changed. The pure and holy Juana no longer existed. In the last glance she threw upon him, in her graceful movement to bend her brow to her lover's lips, there was already more of passion than it is permitted to girls to avow. Her solitude, her wearisomeness, and her work, which were all contrary to her disposition and temper, had brought this about. To have kept her prudent and virtuous she should have been habituated by degrees to the world, or have been concealed entirely from it.

"To-morrow will seem very long to me," said she, receiving on her forehead a kiss, which was still chaste. "But do, I beg you, stay as long as you can in the hall, and talk loud, that I may hear your voice for it fills my heart."

Three nights afterward, Montefiore, instead of retiring to his own apartment, entered into Juana's in order to take leave of her for a few days, under pretence of an order of departure which he said he had received from Maréchal Suchet, who then commanded in Tarragona.

Juana, like a true Spaniard and Italian, with the blood and passion of both in her veins and heart, was transported by his boldness, which was imputed to the fervency of his love.

To realise the stolen pleasures of illicit indulgence in the pure and innocent joys of wedlock; to hide her own husband behind her own bed-curtains; to deceive her adopted father and mother, and in the event of being discovered, proudly to say to them—" I am the marchioness of Montefiore !" -this was a real excitement for a young and romantic girl, who for three years had dreamed of nothing but love, and love environed with perils.

The tapestried door fell back upon them, and its curtain was a veil to their happiness and enjoyment.

It was about nine o'clock, and the merchant and his wife recited their evening prayers; when, suddenly, the sound of a carriage drawn by several horses disturbed the quiet street; hurried knocks were heard at the shop-door, and the servant flew to open it.

In two bounds, rather than steps, a woman rushed into the old hall, magnificently attired, although she had alighted from a travelling carriage all covered with the mud of a thousand roads. She had traversed Italy, France, and Spain. It was Marana! that Marana, who, in spite of her six-and-thirty years, and her dissolute life, was still in all the splendour of that belta folgorante-(that lightning flash of beauty-the superb compliment created for her by her passionate Milanese adorers)—that Marana, who, although she was the avowed mistress of a king, had quitted Naples, its feasts, and its skies, at the very apogee of her existence of gold, of sonnets, of perfumes, and of silk, the same instant she heard from her royal lover the events in Spain, and the siege of Tar

ragona.

"To Tarragona; I must be in Tarragona before its capture; I will be in Tarragona in ten days!"

And without another thought of a court, or a crown, she had arrived in Tarragona, furthered in her rapid course by that which is like an imperial fireman, gold, by whose influence she dashed through the French empire, with the velocity and brilliancy of a musket flash. There is neither time nor space to a mother; she forebodes everything; and has her mind's eye fixed upon her child though poles intervene.

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'My child! my child!" shrieked Marana.

At that voice, that hurried entrance, and the sight of that small-footed queen of beauty, the prayer-book fell from the hands of Perez and his wife; for her voice sounded like thunder, and her eyes gleamed with the flashes of lightning. "She is there," the merchant calmly replied, after a pause, during which he recovered from the emotion which the hurried arrival, the eager look, and voice of Marana had caused him. "She is there," he repeated, pointing to her little closet.

"Oh heaven! crush me now with thy wrath, at this moment, if it so pleases thee," cried Marana, falling quite exhausted and lifeless in an arm chair.

The high colour, excited by her anxiety, suddenly departed from her cheeks. She had strength to support her sufferings, but she sunk under the excess of joy. "Yet," she inquired, "how can it be? Was not Tarragona taken by storm?"

"Undoubtedly,” replied Perez. "But when you see me alive, methinks the question is needless. Must they not have killed me to reach Juana?"

At this answer, the courtesan seized Perez's rough hand, and kissed it, while she dashed away the tears which rushed to her eyes.

"Kind Perez," she said at length. "But have you had no soldiers quartered on you?"

"Only one," answered the Spaniard, "and luckily he is one of the most honourable of men, formerly in the Spanish service, an Italian, who detests Bonaparte as he does the demon; he is married, and scarcely notices anything. He rises very late, and retires early. At present he is in bad health.”

"An Italian.

What is his name?"

"The Captain Montefiore"Then it cannot be the Marquis of Montefiore?"

"The same, senora.'
"Has he seen Juana?"

"No," answered Donna Lagounia.

"You are mistaken, wife," interrupted Perez. "The marquis only caught a glimpse of her for an instant, it is true; but he must certainly have seen her on that evening when she entered while we were at supper."

"Ah! then I must see my daughter this minute." "She

"Nothing easier," said Perez. is now asleep. But if she has locked the door, we shall have to wake her."

In rising to get his pass-key, the merchant's eyes were raised fortuitously to the lofty window. There, in the circle of light thrown upon the black wall of the inner court, from the oval window of Juana's closet, he perceived the outline of a groupe, which until the graceful Canova's days no sculptor had ever conceived. The Spaniard turned round, and said to Marana, "I know not where this key has been put.”

"But you are very pale," she re

"You shall know why," he screamed,

seizing his poniard, striking violently on Juana's door, and calling, "Juana, open, open !"

His tone expressed the very extremity of despair, and froze up the hearts of the two women. But Juana did not open, because it took her some time to conceal Montefiore. She knew nothing of what was going on in the hall, the double door curtains deadening the sounds.

"Madame, I lied, when I said I knew not where the key was. Here it is," said he, taking it from a drawer. "But it is useless. Juana's key is in the lock, and her door is fastened. Wife, we are deceived," said he turning to her. "There is a man in Juana's room."

"By my hopes of salvation, it cannot be!" said she.

"Swear not at all, Donna Lagounia. Our honour is gone, and this woman- ." He pointed to Marana, who had risen, but stood motionless, paralysed by the words he had uttered. "This woman has a right to despise us. She saved our life, and redeemed our fortune and our reputation, and all we have done is to take care of her money! Open immediately, Juana, or I will break down the door!"

And his voice, increasing in violence, resounded from cellar to garret; but he was composed, resolute, and stern. He knew that he held the life of Montefiore in his hands, and had made up his mind to wash away his sorrow and remorse with every drop of the Italian's blood.

"Begone, depart, leave me alone here !" exclaimed Marana, leaping with the elasticity of a tiger upon Perez, and wrenching the dagger from his hands. "Perez, leave me," resumed she with tranquillity, "you, your wife, your apprentice, and your servant. There will be a murder here, and you might all be shot by the French. Have nothing to do with this business; it concerns me only. Between my daughter and myself there is only heaven; but this man belongs to me, and nothing on earth shall save him from my hands. Go, go all of ye; I pardon you all. I see that this girl is a Marana. You, your religion, your probity, and your honour were powerless to contend against my blood that is in her."

The door was flung open; and, at the sight of her daughter, Marana forgot everything. Perez, making a sign to his wife, stood at his post. Like an old Spaniard, implacable when the point of

honour was in question, he determined to assist in revenging the deceived mother.

Juana, lightly clothed, with the light in her hand beaming softly on her white dress, stood calm and serene in the middle of the room, and asked, "what was wanted with her."

Marana could not suppress a slight shudder; "Perez," she inquired, "is there any other door to this closet?" Perez shook his head negatively.

She then stepped forward into the room-"Juana, I am your mother, and your judge, and you have placed yourself in the only situation in which I can disclose myself to you. You have descended to me, when I wished to elevate you to heaven-and oh! how deep you have fallen! You have a lover with you?"

"Madame, no one should, or can, be found here but my husband," she answered firmly. "I am the Marchioness of Montefiore."

Marana trembled. "Then there are two of you," said Perez, in his stern tone. "He told me he was already married."

"Montefiore, my heart's treasure!" cried the young girl, tearing away the curtains, and showing the officer-" come, these people are dishonouring you!"

The Italian was pale and spiritless; he saw the dagger in Marana's hand; and this was not the first time he had met her. With one bound he darted through the door, and shouted with a voice of thunder-"To the rescue! to the rescue! they are murdering a FrenchSoldiers of the sixth of the line, bring Captain Diard here, to the rescue of his friend!"

man.

Perez had seized the marquis, and had thrust his large hand into his mouth as a gag, when the courtesan stopped him, and said: "Hold him fast, but let him scream. Now open all the doors, fling them wide open, and then get you all gone, I repeat. As for you," she said, turning to Montefiore, "shout and call for assistance . . but the instant I hear the soldiers' footsteps, I plunge this blade in your heart. Are you married?"

"No, madame," replied Montefiore, wishing to gain time. "I can marry your daughter."

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My noble Montefiore!" said Juana, clapping her hands in transport.

"Then why did you attempt to escape, and call for assistance?" demanded the Spaniard.

Juana said nothing, but she wrung her hands, and flung herself into her arm chair.

At this moment a noise was heard in the street, easily discernible through the profound silence that prevailed in the hall.

A soldier of the sixth regiment of the line, crossing the street, by chance, when 'Montefiore called for assistance, ran and informed Diard of the circumstance. The quartermaster, who, luckily for himself, as it afterwards turned out, had returned home, immediately hastened to Perez's, attended by a few friends.

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Why did I try to escape?" repeated Montefiore, hearing his friend's voice. "I have told you the truth! Diard! Diard!" he shouted at the utmost stretch of his voice.

But at a sign from his master, who was resolved that the marquis should not escape, the apprentice shut the door, and the soldiers were some time in forcing it open. Before they made their appearance, Marana struck at the guilty Italian with her poniard; but her rage and agitation prevented her taking an exact aim, and the blade glanced off from Montefiore's epaulette. Still she had given so much strength to the blow, that he fell at Juana's feet.

Marana leaped upon hlm; and, not to fail in her second attempt, she held him by the throat, kept him down with a vigorous arm, held the dagger to his heart as if to measure the distance, and then raised it aloft to strike.

"I am free, and I will marry her!

I swear it, by heaven, by my mother, by all that's holy in earth and sky! I am single-I will marry her on my word of honour!" shrieked the struggling wretch, biting the courtesan's arm, and striving to extricate himself from her grasp.

"Kill him, mother," said Juana"kill him out of my sight. He is too cowardly and base; and I will not have him for a husband, were he ten times as handsome."

"Ah! I have recovered my daughter!" exclaimed the mother.

"What is going on here?" inquired the quartermaster, as he entered.

"They want to assassinate me on account of this girl, who pretends that I am her lover. She led me into a trap, and now they want to make me marry against my will."

"And can you decline?" said Diard, struck by the sublimity of Juana's beauty, enhanced by the indignation, scorn, and hatred which inspired her. "Really, you are very difficult to please! If she wants a husband she need not go far-I am here! But, pray put up your weapons, good people!"

Marana took the Italian by the collar, lifted him up, and whispered to him

"If I forgive you, you may thank your last words. But remember, if you ever slander my daughter, we shall meet again. What is her present fortune?" demanded she of Perez.

"She has two hundred thousand dollars, madame," answered he.

"That shall not be all, sir," added she, addressing herself to Diard. “Pray, sir, who and what are you? You may retire, sir," she said, turning contemptuously to the marquis, who, when he heard the money mentioned, came forward, saying, “I really am single————”

But a withering glance from Juana checked him, and he withdrew.

"Alas! sir," said the young girl to Diard, "I thank you, and admire your generosity. But my spouse is in heaven, it is the Saviour of us all. To-morrow I shall enter the convent of

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'Juana, my Juana, be silent," cried her mother, imploringly, and pressing her to her bosom. "Who are you, sir?" she again inquired of the Provençal.

"At present," said he, "I am only a quartermaster in the sixth regiment of the line. But, for such a woman, I feel the heart to become a maréchal of France. My name is Pierre-François

"Ah, you are an honest man, and that's enough," interrupted Marana. "If you can make yourself agreeable to the Signora Juana de Manchini, you may both be happy."

"Juana," continued she, in a serious tone, "you will become the wife of this brave and worthy man, and the greatest happiness I can wish you is, that we may never see each other again," and her tears flowed abundantly. "Poor child-you might have been happy in your cell-more than you think. Let it be your business that she has never cause to regret it," concluded she, as she bowed to her future son-in-law, and quitted the apartment.

RUTH.

A MELLOW light is streaming through
The gothic arch of green,
The leaves are hung with stars of dew,
That gem the sylvan scene;
The red-bird in his woodland nest
Repeats his song of praise,
But I am wandering, all unblest,
And dream of other days.

The voice that shamed the red-bird's note,
The music of the morn,

Whose early anthem used to float
Among the tasselled corn;
The voice-a melody to all-

Which breathed the words of truth

Is hushed beneath the silent pall
That hides the form of Ruth.

The woodland brook that murmurs by, Sings sweetly as of yore;

same principle that some hate others for virtues which they do not themselves possess. Thou art the worst of tyrants! Thine assumptions are intolerable! Thou measurest a man's morals-thou formest the standard of his intellect.

Dear money, former of friendships, giver of confidence, how like a dear departed friend do I mourn thy memory! How do I pass in review the joyous moments I have held with thee! Did my tongue stammer when I would have poured out my soul before some fair goddess of my idolatry? a thought of thee lent eloquence to my lips! Did youthful follies threaten me with retributive justice? thy music could soften the rage of watchmen, and turn their clubs accursed into wands of protection. Alas! alas ! our connexion is ended. Thou hast made unto thyself wings, and flown away. This empty purse, and this tattered wallet, both of which have been, by thy presence, distended like aldermen, are now sad mementoes that I am alone! They are now like unto some poor consumptive wretch, thin, spare, and attenuated.

And now, without thee, do I wander abroad on the earth, like a shadow of my former greatness! I am alone! I have felt the true solitude of crowds! Do I, attracted by nasal influences, incline my lank frame to ordinaries or eating-houses, and, with abundant modesty, ask for diminutive plates of provender, the waiter passeth his impudent eyes over my seedy coat, and asketh for thee, my absent friend. In vain do I put on the look of insulted dignity. The creature is inexorable. Do I pluck up assurance, and enter the shop of a tailor, with a bold order for new apparel, Mr. Snip informs me with an emphasis, that such "is the lowest cash price," and that "we never

Its ripples, is no more ;

And dark and gloomy spread around
The scenes I loved in youth,
For they have laid in holy ground
My lost, my lovely Ruth.

MONEY.

BY A POOR WRETCH WITHOUT A PENNY.

On, root of all evil ! Whether thou comest in the shape of a sovereign or bank-note, still art thou an unmitigated nuisance. I hate thee, money, on the

Why I put on a forced air of hesitation, and say, "Mr. Snip, I will look further, for I think I can obtain the articles cheaper. Then I leave the shop with glances disconsolate on my garments, and hie me to my garret to rub them up, under the vain hope that my outward man may be somewhat altered in appearance. Alas! former rubbings and brushings have rendered this impossible.

Money ! Cheering sound! Men toil, fight, bleed, cheat, die for thee ! Thou subtile thing, what potency is in thy name! How shall I bring my thoughts to order while I write about