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you behold with exultation such trophies as these? Were not the Burgundians your brethren of humanity? Why should not the remains of these thirty thousand Burgundians have been watered with your tears, committed with decent solemnity to the earth, and dishonoured with no other monument, than that on a simple funeral structure should have been inscribed, in honour of the conquerors, this brief, memorial :- Here fought the Swiss for their country: they record their victory, but they mingle tears with their songs of triumph.'--Oh!" continued his lordship, “had you, men of Switzerland, done this, then might your glory have been pure, and your triumph fitted to command the sympathy of every generous heart; but hide, oh! hide this monument of barbarous ferocity in triumph ; and when you boast of the proud name of Switzer, remember there is one yet far more honourable—that of man!”

Previously to Lord Edward's tour in Switzerland, he had resided in France, and for a sufficient time to form the most pure and fixed attachment for Pamela, the natural daughter of the Duke of Orleans, afterwards surnamed Egalité. The attachment was an imprudent one; and the duke, dreading its termination, sent Pamela out of the kingdom, instructing the governess to whom he confided her,' to place her at a convent in Switzerland, and after her noviciate to see her made a permanent sister of the nunnery. The place of her retreat was kept a profound secret, nor could all the ingenuity and research of his lordship discover any thing more than the broad fact above stated.

The frequent agitation and abstraction of Lord Edward's mind, convinced me that he had a silent sorrow there which he wished to conceal, or of which he feared the discorery. Whatever it was I respected it, and perhaps never should have known its nature, had it not been that, after several days' travelling, our undirected steps brought us to the convent of Vilvere. The deep toned-bell, and the vestured saints that attended the shrine within the grating, announced the hour of orisons to be

We entered the chapel just as the curtain was drawn from the front of the vestal gallery. It had before concealed the nuns from the observation of the spectators below, and now one of these lovely victims attracted much of the public attention. A veil of the purest white, which swept with graceful folds to the ground, fell from her head ; a crown of thorns encircled her brow. Trembling with tears, her soft eyes shone like the moon before a storm ; now bright, now dark, now dim. She seemed an angel at the shrine ; and as with pious rapture she kissed the cross, the solemn organ pealed to the skies, and filled the mind with the delusions of a dream.

near.

The scene now changed, and we had a nearer view of this in teresting object. She was conducted to an altar in the chapel, which was covered with cloth of the blackest hue. She knelther gentle bosom heaved—the lily usurped her cheek. The sigh expressed by piety, spoke resignation to her fate. The expect, ing crowd gazed on the maid, and a moan escaped from every breast. From this we learned, that for the sweet victim the shrine was thus decked out. She rose from prayer; with tremulous voice was about to make the vows by which she would have engaged herself to quit the world for ever, and live immured within the cloister's shade, when Lord Edward approached the base of the altar, and snatching from her hands the scroll from which she intended to recite her vows, the dove-like eyes of Pamela now viewed for the first time in Switzerland her Lord Edward's face. The parchment was torn, and the happy Fitzgerald pressed the trembling Pamela to his tender breast. Pale terror overspread the face of the abbess. It reigned a moment, and was chased by one loud burst of vengeance. “Go to thy cell, and hide thee there," cried she to the affrighted victim ; but all pitied and admired the pair, ear, nestly wishing to know their story. Besides, the holy benedice țion was not given—the last solemn vow not taken. What was the abbess to do? Violence she durst not use. She strove for speech, but it was in vain. Pamela appealed to the people, and declared she was about to take the veil trough tyranny, not by choice; that she was betrothed to Lord Edward, and had no other desire than that of leaving the convent and giving him her hand.

The times was favourable to the lovers, for the discipline of the convents was much relaxed. The abbess was soon brought to her senses, and a handsome bribe from Lord Edward procured him access to her parlour, where he saw his beloved Pamela when he pleased, and where he negociated with her father that treaty which effected his marriage with the object of his affections, thus allying him to the royal house of France:

THE MAID OF ST. MARINO.

AN HISTORICAL LEGEND.

(Continued from No. 1.)

About this period of her age, an incident which occured in the republic awakened our happy family from their beloved tranquillity, carried distress to the heart of their adopted child, and wrung the particulars of Lucia's introduction to Jaques from his generous heart; which, when known, did not in the least elucidate the obscurity that veiled her birth :-a decrepid soldier appeared before the first Council, to solicit for his residence on their healthy mountain. His figure was noble, and although declining, did not bend beneath the weight of years, but from a lameness here. after to be explained. His eyes sparkled with a lustre which bid defiance to infirmity and incidental occasions. His grizzled locks, retiring from the pale and hollow temple, gave a simple majesty to his expressive countenance, while the modesty of his manner added unusual force to that request the rules of Marino forbade. It caused, notwithstanding, some disquiet to the com munity. It was iniinical to ancient customs, broke in upon their established rights, and threatened an innovation of those laws so many revolving centuries had seen observed; but distress urged its claims, the feelings of pity were secured, and charity did the rest. -Lestrange, for so the veteran called himself, soon became a welcome visitor to Jaques, and an object of much interest to the gentle Lucia.--He spoke of war, and his countenance was illumined with martial ardor-of peace, and a soft melancholy stole over his features ;-but when solicited to talk of himself, or his former sltuation, a tear, a sigh, even a faint blush passed along his cheek, proving the delicacy of that chord which vibrated so painfully to the touch or remembrance of recollected sorrows.Lucia, to whose artless questions he paid a marked attention, saw and respected the reluctance he shewed to answer certain interrogatories. The simplicity of her education (for nothing superfluous was taught in that excellent community) had neither contracted her feelings, or prevented a display of the perfections she inherited from nature; and when spared from those occupations, an indefinable aukwardness made irksome, her chief delight was to ramble along the edges of that vast height which supported the town, accompanied by

Lestrange, whose remarks, amusing, instructive, and elegant, opened a new scene to her ductile mind. She ato tended with wonder and delight to his familiar and beautiful explanation of the brilliant orbs which derived peculiar lustre from the brightness of an Italian atmosphere ; and, while tenderly assisting his feeble steps, felt a pride in the idea that she was in some measure of consequence to his ease. Fifteen months had quickly elapsed in these reciprocal offices of kindness, and the loves of Lucia and Lestrange became good-humouredly proverbial; when, on one particularly serene evening, tempted by an unusual flow of strength and spirits, Lestrange ventured with his lovely eompanion beyond the bounds of Marino. He was deeply engaged in describing the course of the moon, as she gilded the

cypresses which formed a grand avenue to the principal church, when suddenly stopping, and looking into the glen below, which was formed by an inferior mountain, he seemed almost petrified by the appearance of three men, who stood attentively observing him. Lucia turned a fearful look towards her friend, upon hearing him exclaim, · He was betrayed,' and could scarcely support himself; while he, pointing to the men, told her they were deputed to drag him to a shameful and undeserved death. «Yes,' said the venerable man, all is lost, I cannot escape. Ah! horrible. The rack must again be my portion.'--He was proceeding, when Lucia suddenly darted away, and flying to Jaques, told him the circumstance. Endeared by the sanctity of his manners, his former occupation, and the veneration so willingly paid by a reflecting creature to worth, Lestrange found in Jaques a ready friend: he hastened towards the spot pointed out by Lucia, but before he could reach it, met him in the custody of those men from whom he professed to apprehend so much danner, and with painful astonishment beheld them conducting his valued companion to the Council Hall; where, to his utter dismay, he heard the helpless prisoner accused of a horrid murder, committed some years since, attended by circumstances of peculiar cruelty, on suspicion of which he had endured the second degree of torture, and that his obstinacy had so far surmounted bodily anguish as to be prepared for the third degree; but owing to a mistake in an evidence, the lenity of his judges had permitted

• And on what,' asked the chief magistrate, do you ground your present conviction that he is the criminal ? Alonzo, the person who thus asserted his guilt, hesitated, for Lestrange lifted up his penetrating eye, as if eager to know the motive for such a persecution. "Speak,' he cried, 'was I not acquitted ?' Alonzo took courage: it is not in this court we can bring forward a case of this nature; it is laid before the King of Naples, who has issued his sovereign grant to the heirs of Vanzenza, for seizing you wherever you might be found.' To an information so decisive, Lestrange now opposed the strictest silence, nor could their utmost efforts to draw from him either defence or confession avail ; but when Alonzo argued the necessity of his being again put to the question, which he hinted might then be done, the President arose, and with a composed, yet indignant aspect, stood mute for a moment; then turning to the accusers: It appears,' he cried, that you are strangers to the laws of this republic, or suppose us to be actuated by the barbarous measures of some other communities. Learn, that we do. not arrogate to ourselves the despotic power to inflict punishment before conviction, nor is the penal torture known to us but by name ; at any rate, your request strikes at'our glorious privileges, consequently is an insult.?-Lucia, who had followed her beloved instructor to the hall, nowiunderstood the scope

him to escape.

of his pursuers' infernal designs.

(To be continued.)

DUNLOP IN HIS HISTORY OF FICTION HAS THE

FOLLOWING SHREWD REMARK.

The import duty upon monkeys at the Chatelet of Paris was. fixed by St. Louis with considerable fairness. The Monkey of a traveller who had bought him for his own disport, came in duty free; the monkey of a merchant who had bought him to sell again paid four deniers ; but the monkey of a' minstrel was bound to dance before the custom-house officer, who was directed to accept this display of the talents of the long-tailed figurante in discharge, not only of the monkey-duty but of the duties to which the articles intended for - Jacquot's use would otherwise have been liable. The merry-making couple were long welcomed in hall and bower, until, in process of time, a great change took place in manners: the monkey continued a favourite, but the doors were closed against the minstrel, and his flabel' and dix noveaux' were gradually forgotten.

ANECDOTE OF DR. YOUNG,

One day as Dr. Young was walking in his garden at Welwyn, in company with two ladies,—(one of whom he afterwards married) the servant came to acquaint him a gentleman wished. to speak with him. " Tell hiin," savs the Doctor, “I am too happily engaged to change my situation !” The ladies insisted he should go, as his visitor was a man of rank, his patron, and his friend ; but, as persuasion had no effect, one took him by the right arm, the other by the left, and led him to the garden-gate i when finding resistance in vain, he bowed, laid his hand upon his heart, and in that expressive manner for which he was so remarkable, spoke the following lines :

“ Thus Adam look’d, when from the garden driven;
And thus disputed orders sent from heav'n ;
Like him I go, but yet to go am loth :
Like him I go, for Angels drove us both :
Hard was his fate, bat mine still more unkind;
His Eve went with bim, but mine stays bebind.”

Macpherson, Printer, Russell Court, Covent Garden,

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