tained little resistance was to be expected. The whole muster of domestics did not exceed seven or eight, of whom one half were infirm old soldiers, and the other country clowns. Of ammunition and provisions there were plenty, it is true, and there was a well-garrisoned fort at no great distance; but it was no easy matter to send to it for men, nor very probable they would be obtained if sought. In this dilemma madame was almost distracted: the oppression she had condemned others for resisting now came home to herself, and she at once execrated the Russians as the most infamous wretches in existence, for plundering and destroying an unoffending family. Her agitation was increased by the state of Ephene's health, to which she feared this calamity would give a finishing stroke, though she was told that excitement might not be injurious by her new Hygeian oracle. (For she had, in high dudgeon, discarded Doctor Kropoff for his inability.) She cried like a child. "Oh what shall I do?" she said; "what am I to do? to think that we must turn out, my poor sick girl and all, and give up our home to a pack of plundering ruffians—it is very hard!" But Ephene's spirit seemed to rise instead of being additionally depressed; she roused herself to animation and activity; her eye lightened, and her cheek flushed, as she exclaimed, "Dearest mother, repress this agitation; we will not leave our home; my father's castle shall be kept for my father's countrymen, and if that be impossible, it shall fall, and we will perish in its ruins-but we will hold out awhile, only do not be disheartened." This young creature now actually took upon herself the management of the defence, which she directed with extraordinary discretion; but the deficiency of men was so great a drawback, that she began to scheme how to procure some from the fort. She consulted on this point the most intelligent of her troop-an old man, who performed the office of butler in the family, and who all his best years had served under her father. He assured her of the excellence of her plan, but confessed his doubt whether it could be compassed. "For ye see

they're not willing to let the men out of the garrison; and, besides, how are we to get out of the castle to ask for them? and moreover, who can be spared on such an errand? I trow there's quite few enough on the battlements as it is."

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'Oh, do not trouble yourself about that," said Ephene: "I will undertake to find a messenger."

Ay, my dear young lady, you will find any of us, I hope, ready to go for you; but I mean, what is the castle to do in the mean time? I'll set off myself, my lady, if you like; for it's a journey I should hardly choose anybody less seasoned than I am to undertake. It is a matter of two leagues over the snow, and through the rascally foragers, which is worse; for my head and body will soon part company, if they get a peep of me; and I must of necessity start in the night, to give them the slip, if possible. So I'll prepare to be off to-night."

"No," replied the gouvernante, “I will find some one of less consequence in the defence, to which you and the other men must give all your exertions."

Ephene then wrote an energetic address to the commander of the garrison, describing her situation and imploring assistance; she next sought a bearer in her brother Stanislaus, whom she selected as being a diminutive person, not readily descried, and agile in eluding observation, wellacquainted with the route, and easily spared from the castle. But he met the proposal with trembling and tears, protesting his terror was such that he could not undertake so hazardous an embassy. This want of heroism roused his sister's indignation, and she reproached his effeminacy. He scarcely heard her reproaches; his sense of them was lost in horror lest she should send out any one with the letter such a night as was then drawing on. "Never mind about others," said Ephene, scornfully; "I do not require you to go out in the snow. Go and sleep, effeminate child, and rest safely-until, indeed, the invading despot fires the roof over your head; then you will, no doubt, think your life worth running for."

Leaving him to his cogitations, she

revolved in her mind who else could be dispensed with to bear her message. But there was none without his post, and that a critical and important one; so that she came to the determination of devoting herself to the task, without the knowledge of anybody. Accordingly she pretended to postpone the despatch for that night, and, making such additional arrangements for present security as she could, she said that, feeling indisposed she would rest until the morning, and desired she might not be disturbed. Madame was heartily satisfied with her intention, and congratulated her upon taking some heed to her health at last, observing that it was of much more consequence than the defence of the castle, and she wished they had only some kind of dwelling to retire to, and then the Russians should be welcome to the castle.

But

Ephene, well pleased at her success in deception, retired, as to her room. Poor madame's repose would have been rather more broken than it was, had she known the kind of repose in which her daughter passed the night. The summer was over, and the nights were bitterly cold; moreover, Ephene had much reason to fear she would lose the way in the dark, as she had been but very seldom to the place where the fortress was situated. this did not deter her; she was so enthusiastic in her cause that her personal safety was wholly absent from her mind. The only thought she gave to herself was so far as she was connected with Eugene; to whom, indeed, at intervals, her heart turned with a sickening feeling of disappointment. "He never loved me, or he might have spared me this," was her reverie. "Surely, surely, with his influence, he might have obtained the exemption of our castle. Would I not have given my life to save the smallest thing to him? and when a word only from him would have preserved to my poor mother what he knew was her only home, might he not have afforded it? No-there is no reason that he should. I am not an object of interest to him, and I am deservedly punished for presuming to fancy he could regard me with a feeling in any

An hour or two before midnight she stole out at a low postern, and hastened resolutely, though cautiously, forward. She had proceeded no great distance, when she heard the voices of a party of Russians, whereupon she ran a long way aside, trembling lest her steps in the snow should betray her, and laid herself down behind a hillock until they should have passed. The darkness, however, prevented their observing the tracks, and she again set forward unmolested. After many similar risks, she arrived at her destination, where, with much difficulty, she obtained an interview with the commander. She had not premeditated what she would say, but fluency and energy directed her speech, which so acted upon the officer that he promised twenty-five men should be instantly sent up to the castle. He desired her to remain where she was for the present, representing that she would be more secure; but she would not for a moment listen to the proposal. So she set off again, accompanied by her escort, and some time before day-break returned from her successful embassy. How madame and Stanislaus stared, and how the men on the battlements shouted, may be conceived. The final defeat of the besiegers now appeared probable, and Ephene shared her post with the offi cer who commanded the auxiliaries.

Among the topics of conversation, when indeed an interval occurred which permitted that indulgence, Russia and the Russians of course stood foremost. It was therefore without much difficulty that Ephene found an opportunity of carelessly enquiring after the young General Iriarte. The officer expressed no small degree of surprise at her being ignorant that he

had many months since fallen a sacrifice to an unaccountable lenity which he had testified, endeavouring to deter the autocrat from his ravages in Poland. For a brilliant victory Iriarte had obtained over a Prussian force, he had received the especial favour of the autocrat, who, with other unparalleled privileges, bade him ask what reward, what spoil, he would, and it should not be refused. Eugene, faithful to his word, immediately petitioned for a cessation of that relentless oppression towards Poland which had hitherto characterized Russia in the contest. The autocrat broke his promise; the barbarity of his ravages was, if possible, increased; and Eugene, displaced from renown and caresses, lost at once his object and his life.

The tale was told to Ephene in few words, and awakened feelings not to be expressed. She was not aware that hope had mingled with her love, until now that she found its place assumed by despair. By an instantaneous revulsion in her heart, Poland seemed to lose its value to her, because it had in such a manner cost the life of him whom she loved better, though she would not believe it. When, however, the power of reasoning returned, her devotion to her country was enhanced by the consideration that he had loved and pitied it. And, amidst all her sorrow, and the maddening self-reproach with which she felt, "This is what my love has brought upon him!" a gleam of gratification arose with the thought that such a spirit as she considered his, should fix its affection on her.

To detail the siege of the castle is not my intention; it is sufficient to say that, after all, the defenders lost it, not, indeed, by surrender, but by fire. Scarcely was one stone left upon another. The inmates did not perish in it, but most of them found as dreadful a death at the hands of the invaders. More experienced and better equipped generals than Ephene could not redeem Poland, and the heroine's visions faded, her hopes were blighted, and her exertions paralysed. The besieger, however, treated her generously; free and honourable departure to the garrison was offered

her, on condition she went unaccompanied, save by her maid, a deaf and dumb girl, who, consequently, was incapacitated for all manoeuvres-such was the similitude into which, for his safety, she had transformed her unaspiring brother. She apparently agreed to the stipulation, but far was she from intending to avail herself of it. With the imperative manner she had lately assumed, and by which madame was overawed, she employed a stratagem, novel in Poland, although more than once successfully resorted to in other countries; she disguised her mother as herself, and, making Stanislaus attend her, she sent them both in safety to the garrison. Then, assuming the dress and manner of her mother, for whom, had Ephene betrayed herself, there would have been no hope of escape, she remained in the flaming castle, and perished.

THE EASTERN GIRL.

When the doctrines of Mahommed had begun to spread through the East with astonishing rapidity, promulgated by those powerful and persuasive missionaries, fire and sword, Abu-Bekr, seated upon a throne whose influence he was determined to extend, gallantly resolved to spread the terror of his fame throughout the world. The popularity of the new faith drew to his standard innumerable throngs of warlike spirits, so that in a brief space all the wild chivalry of the East was enlisted under his banner. The crescent whose sole support was, but a few years back, the feeble hand of a flying impostor, now glittered upon many a minaret, and cast its baleful rays to the westward, as if pointing out the path of conquest. The Christian world at first regarded the movements of the Oriental tribes with scorn; but a series of splendid vic tories, won by Arabian prowess, and following each other with magical celerity, at length awakened their fear -a sensation by no means uncommon, since the ravages of Goth and Hun in Italy and Greece. The Greeks made desperate efforts to check the progress of the Saracens, but their feeble arms

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availed but little against the fiery valour of their enemies, whose doctrine of fatalism alone rendered them almost invincible. And then, while the Christians had few leaders of distinction, the generals of Abu-Bekr were renowned in arms and council.

Kaled Ebn Al Waled was surnamed for his bravery and inveterate hostility to the enemies of his faith, the Sword of God. This title alone enabled him to carry terror through the hostile ranks. Accustomed to success, it was with the greatest reluctance that he yielded to the necessity of raising the siege of the city of Damascus, which had long defied his power. The sun was shining with intense brilliancy, in a clear and transparent sky, and there was not a breath of air to relieve the overpowering sultriness, when Kaled, mounted on a splendid war-horse, led the retreat from the celebrated city. Ever and anon he turned an eye of regret upon the walls and towers which had defied his strength, and his bosom heaved beneath his burnished corslet. His gallant steed, too, seemed to share the feelings of his master, for instead of caracoling along the sand, as was his wont, displaying the fiery temper and elasticity of limb which belong to his priceless breed, for he descended from the black mare of Mahommed- the gallant steed, I say, plodded along with drooping crest, sinking fetlockdeep in the loose soil at every step he took. It had been the intention of Kaled to bring up the rear, the most dangerous post in a retreat, but he had been compelled by his associates to head the van. It was only the consciousness that he was hastening to a scene of danger and glory, that induced the Saracen warrior to resign his original post.

The second division of the army was commanded by Derah Ebn Al Azwar, a fierce warrior, possessed of great strength and invincible courage, and one of the best horsemen in the host. He rode a wonderful black mare, a ferocious and powerful animal, which would permit none but Derah to mount her. The warrior carried in his hand an iron-headed lance of prodigious length, and as, like his leader, he cast backward glances at the towers

of Damascus, his swarthy visage grew black with rage, and he shook his deadly weapon aloft, and rising in his stirrup, muttered between his teeth some fearful vow or imprecation.

The rear of the army was commanded by a good and faithful soldier, Abu Obeidah. In the centre of this division was the most precious portion of the whole, a bevy of lovely ladies, with a throng of female attendants, all well mounted. The principal among them was Caulah, sister of the savage Derah, Her figure, tall and graceful, possessed all that voluptuous fulness so highly prized by Oriental lovers. Her hair was of raven darkness, and descended like a veil upon her shoulders, resting lovingly upon one of the most beautiful bosoms in the world. The waist, which was encompassed by a slender zone, brilliant with gems, was small and delicate; in short, a critical observer could hardly have found or fancied a fault in her appearance. But though voluptuous and soft, she possessed a spirit as fiery as the clime in which she had grown up to womanhood. When urged to accept a safe situation. in the van, she replied that she wished to be the last to leave the field of danger, and even chid her brother, though it was only in obedience to the orders of Kaled, that he rode so much in advance of the post of danger.

The van and the centre of the army were now several leagues from Damascus, when Abu Obeidah, unwilling to weary the ladies whom he guarded, by a forced march, ordered a halt by a cool fountain, which welled up beneath the shadow of a circle of palms, and there pitched a number of pavilions for the accommodation of the females. While the latter were enjoying a brief repose, the horses were freed from their accoutrements, and rejoiced in their release from spur and bridle. Even Abu Obeidah forgot his usual vigilance. At this time, when the Saracen army was completely off its guard, the garrison of Damascus sallied forth, conducted by a wily Greek, and fell upon their enemies beside the fountain. A most desperate battle was fought. Abu Obeidah, mounted on a horse without saddle or bridle, hurled javelin after javelin at

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the Christians, raising the pealing cry of Allah Akbar! Even Caulah lent her voice to the tumult, and reminded the dying combatants of the delights of Paradise. Vainly however, did the Eastern warriors fight. They were slain with the sword, or pierced with the lance, and their heart's blood dyed the waters of the fountain. Many a noble horse rolled in the sand in the death agony, and many galloped, riderless, across the plain. Caulah, seeing that defeat was certain, tore off her veil and gave it to a Saracen. 'Haslan," said she "bear this on the point of thy lance, and ride to my brother, Derah Ebn Al Azwar. He will know that I part with it only in sore extremity. Bid him ride to the rescue with five hundred lances at his back. Away!" Swift as the wind the Eastern warrior flew upon his mission. A javelin, hurled by the hand of a Damascene, pierced his corslet, and inflicted a mortal wound; but still the veil fluttered on the lance, and the horse strained in a furious gallop on his path. The battle was over. The waters of the fountain were turbid and discoloured. A few warriors gasped dying on the brink, and all around wore gory tokens of the fight: dinted shields, cloven helmets, blades which had proved faithless to their hilts, and the bodies of men and steeds from which the life had just departed.

The victorious leader drew up his rein as he surveyed the scene with a haughty smile, and then wiping his sword upon his horse's mane, he returned it to his scabbard and dismounted. Kneeling on the brink of the fountain, he scooped some water in the hollow of his hands, and cleansed them of some dark red stains that proved the active part he had taken in the battle. He then took a cross from his bosom and kissed it with a show of devotion. Replacing it, he rose, raised his helmet from his brow, and smoothed his long dark locks. Then approaching a tent, distinguished from the rest by a glimmering crescent, he bowed his head and entered.

"By Saint Anthony!" exclaimed the Christian warrior, "a goodly dame. Fair lady, be under no apprehension of danger. I am come, in good faith, to sooth you, nay more, to convert you.

Pity it were that Sathanas should have a prey so fair." So saying, he approached with the intention of laying his hand upon Caulah ; but with a look of ineffable scorn she stepped back and motioned him away, and the warrior, daunt. ed, retreated in his turn.

"Prithee, my heathen damsel !" said the soldier, "is there to be war betwixt me and thee?"

"War!" replied Caulah.

"Nothing but playful contention, I trust!" rejoined the warrior; but he was interrupted by a messenger who called him from the tent.

"Ophiru! maidens !" cried Caulah, as soon as he had gone, "arouse and hear me. Say shall we, the daughters of the faithful, children of the Prophet's followers, become the handmaidens and mistresses of these vile Greeks? I know not what you think; but for my own part, I prefer death to slavery. And the maidens answered with one voice, "Death!”

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'Say you so?" cried Caulah; "then neither death nor shame shall be your portion. Look! before the tent there is a heap of spears. Quick! Arm yourselves! My arm, unused to wield a warlike weapon, shall be the first to snatch at arms. Follow me!"

The intrepid virgin led the way from the tent, and snatched a spear from the pile. The other maidens followed her example. Astonished at this act, the Greek leader, who beheld it from afar, hastened to the spot and demanded the meaning.

"Back! on your life!" cried Caulah, levelling a spear against his breast. The soldier started back in real fear.

"Lady!" said he, "what means this?"

"It is for me to ask," replied Caulah. "But now you were all fondness, all passion. Why do you not hasten to my feet? I could speedily place you there. What a warrior, and afraid of a poor weak woman !"'

"By Heaven!" cried the Christian, "I admire your spirit; but lay down your arms.

"Never!" was the answer. "What! lay down our arms? now, alas! the only defence to our virtue; for Christian honour and Christian courtesy are but names !"