bended knee seized, and, while bathing it with tears of joy and gratitude, almost devoured it with kisses. The lady lingered; she raised him from his humble posture and in another moment he felt himself locked in the embrace of his unknown benefactress !

*

The lady, whose kindness renewed life's charter to the grateful Manoel, although considerably above forty, bore a prepossessing appearance, but in his eyes she appeared an angel; it should, however, be recollected, that she was the first of her sex with whom the warm, impassioned boy had conversed, since his expulsion from the paradise of the convent, his raptures, therefore, were natural enough at his period of life.

The following morning's first light saw Don Manoel on his road to the Escurial. On his arrival, he was conducted into a suite of comfortable apartments, amongst the several thousands which this vast pile contains, and informed that horses for exercise were at all times at his command, and that he had but to name his wishes for ought he might require. Two years passed away in this state of uninterrupted pleasure, his tutelar divinity visiting him at intervals. At length, at the end of these two years, it was announced to him that he had been honoured with the appointment of one of the chamberlains of the palace, through the intercession of his patroness, and his immediate appearance at the court of Madrid became necessary. He was accordingly conducted to the capital, and introduced to the Prince of Peace. He trembled with an indefinable feeling of terror as that all-powerful minister scanned with piercing eye his whole person and appearance: his fears, however, vanished, as the prince, with that appearance of warm kindness which he could so well assume, presented him with the massy golden key, and ivory wand, those badges of his courtly office, and directed him to follow in his train to the grand saloon, to kneel before his sovereign and the queen. While endeavouring to collect his agitated senses for the new and dazzling scene in which he had to perform a part, one of the pages of the Duchess of Aa, the name assumed by his patroness, stole beside him, and pressed into his hand a scrap of paper, on which he read

"Prove yourself deserving a queen's affections, Be firm, or perish!"

When at last led into the royal presence, his heart almost burst its mortal bounds, when he beheld, in the person of the queen, his loved, his honoured, his adored protector! The words," Be firm, or perish!" recalled that undaunted courage, of which no man possessed more, and with respectful dignity and self-possession he knelt before his

majesty, to kiss his extended hand. But when he turned towards the queen, the exquisite grace and deep-blushing humility with which he pressed his lips upon her snowy fingers,† and the unequalled elegance with which he made his retiring obeisance, raised a murmur of approbation throughout the crowded and gorgeous apartment.

His future discretion was equal to his good fortune; he never lost a particle of the royal favour by any act of levity; while his policy (must it be added servility?) towards the haughty Godoy, gained his powerful friendship, and he was considered as one of the most devoted creatures of his patronage. It was not until the occasion of the grand bull feast at Cadiz that the jealousy of the prince was roused; not as regarded any remains of passion which the queen might be supposed still to entertain or to inspire, but from the growing favour of the king.

On the third and last day of the festival, an event occurred, which accelerated Don Manoel's fall, although for the moment it placed him on a dazzling elevation.

Towards the close of the sports, a bull, whose fierceness and activity had spread terror in the arena, had for some time reigned undisputed monarch of the circus! One by one all the picadors had been overthrown, and the furious animal trampled about bellowing horrible defiance to any one who should dare to oppose him. The manager was in despair-the spectators impatient-that peculiar clap of the hand, which is the signal of disapprobation, thundered round the vast circle; at this instant the cavalier who stood on the left of the queen' was seen to stoop to his royal mistress's ear, whose nod appeared to give assent to his request. He suddenly disappeared from the royal box, and in a few minutes, the gates of the circus flying open, revealed to the gaze of the astonished multitude the handsome chamberlain in his rich costume, mounted on one of the horses of the guards, his wand of office exchanged for the ponderous lance. He entered the arena with looks of confidence; his fine formed limbs had no protection whatever, he was thus placed at fearful odds with his dread antagonist: cries of "Hay! qui lastima! una sacrifico !”‡ were heard from the females, while the cheering shouts of "Valiente cavellero !"§ burst from the admiring host of male spectators. Don Manoel had just time to take up his position, when the raging animal rushed on him with all his collected fury. An almost universal shriek followed; but

The hand and arm of the Queen Maria Louisa were of such exquisite beauty and symmetry, that she constantly kept one or other arm uncovered to display it.

Ah! what a pity! a sacrifice!
Brave cavalier!

the undismayed cavalier met his fierce assailant with such dreadful precision on his lance's point, as to bury it in an already gaping wound, and send the monster reeling on his haunches, trembling with pain and rage! He however quickly returned to the attack; but his approach was now slow and cautious; at length he made his bound; and at that critical moment, the bandage slipping from the eyes of the cavalier's horse, the affrighted beast wheeling suddenly, fled from his grim assailant; he was already at the verge of the circus, with the horns of the bull in his vitals. Another moment would have been fatal to horse and rider, when the cavalier whirling his spear in the air, brought round its point, and resigning the reins for the instant, wheeling round in his saddle, aimed a deadly thrust at the bull. A lucky chance awaited this desperate effort, the lance's point fixed itself in the nape of the animal's neck, and inflicted a new and horrid wound, which once more forced it to retire. The acclamations were astounding, and shouts of "Basta, basta! no mas, no mas!" resounded from all quarters; but the cavalier, who seemed to have set his life upon the cast, quickly adjusted the bandage over his almost expiring horse's eyes, and adopted the dangerous step of advancing towards the maddened animal, into the very centre of the arena. His horse already tottered; his own silken-bound limbs were steeped in the poor animal's gore; but still untouched in person, firm and undaunted in purpose, he bore himself like a hero! The momentary prayers of thousands were put up for his safety! the panting bull, instead of facing his bold adversary, kept retiring with low and hollow bellowings, pawing the earth, as if collecting his remaining strength. Meanwhile the fixed and darkling eye of the cavalier was never for a moment removed from the lance's point. An awful pause of a few seconds gave a deeper interest to the scene, when on rushed the bull in furious desperation, burying his horns in the chest of the horse he was, however, at the same moment himself fixed on the unerring lance of the bold cavalier! Neither yielded; the bull, exerting all his strength, absolutely raised the horse from the ground, when his rider, throwing forward his entire strength, and giving the full force of his arm to his lance, hurled the bull to the earth, bleeding and subdued! In this last and crowning effort his lance was shivered; and as he waved its fragments over his victorious head, the foundation of the vast building shook with the thunder of applause. He was led in triumph to the gates, where his horse, no longer able to sustain him, resigned his life in the circus. The conquered bull lay gasping on the earth, never more to rise

+ Enough, enough! no more, no more!

the matador, scorning to stain his 'sword with a fallen foe, waved it over his bleeding front, and retired, leaving the dying animal to end his sufferings under the stiletto of one of the attendants of the ring. Thus concluded the Royal Fiesto de Toros of Cadiz in 180-!

At the drawing-room held that night, Don Manoel received from the hands of the king the small cross of Charles III., and the rank of colonel, as the reward of his bravery! His royal mistress in secret presented him with some valuable tokens of her increased admiration; even Godoy affected to rejoice in this sudden tide of prosperity, and his conduct every day led the generous, unsuspicious Don Manoel to reject the advice which those who really loved and respected him suggested.

One evening, in the month of November following the above events, while sitting in his apartment alone, "chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fortune," occasionally striking the chords of his guitar, the door which led into his apartment (and which one person alone had ever entered) silently turned on its hinges; but instead of that being, who to him at least was all gentleness and love, appeared four men, masked and cloaked, with stiletto in hand, who suddenly sprung upon him and thrust a handkerchief into his mouth, proceeded to bind his arms, then placing a bandage over his eyes, they hurried him away, whither he was quite unconscious.

Placed in a roomy carriage with his four conductors, two of whom sat before, and one on each side of him, after half an hour's travelling, the spokesman of the party gave orders for the removal of the bandages from his mouth and eyes, and also the binding of his arms to be relaxed, adding-" Silence or Death!" A little before dawn the coach arrived at its place of destination, which he found was an ancient building situated at the foot of the Guadarama mountains. Here he was ushered into an apartment with only one aperture for light or air, strongly secured by iron gratings: a bedstead, a table, and one chair, were all the furniture it boasted.

Two days passed. On the third day his guard entered and presented a letter, in a well-known hand, on reading which, he pressed it to his lips, and while the big round tear rolled down his manly cheek, he fell on his knees, exclaiming, "Bless her! bless her!" His jailer motioned him to followneed it be told how quickly he obeyed the bint?-in a quarter of an hour he was on the road, and that night at eleven he found himself re-established in his apartments! At midnight he received a visit from one too loving-too much beloved!—who unfolded to his astonished ear a tale of treacheryGodoy, the false Godoy, had doomed him to

ruin! Banishment from Spain, was the only condition on which his royal mistress could obtain a promise of his life; a few brief hours would sever them for ever!-even the moments of this her parting visit were numbered! She hung round his neck her own picture, richly set with large brilliants, and bestowing one long, long and tender embrace, while her falling tears bedewed his face, she tore herself away from the only being she ever loved.†

At an early hour in the morning, Don Manoel received an order to attend the levee of Godoy; on his entrance he was received by that prince of hypocrites with every demonstration of the warmest regard, and complimented by his highness and by his circle of sycophants on his appointment to a command in one of the most remote colonies, with the rank of brigadier-general. The officers of his staff were announced to be in waiting, and it was intimated that his departure for the port of Cadiz must be immediate! His majesty and the queen had left Madrid for Aranjuez, the ceremony of leaving-taking was therefore dispensed with.

Don Manoel seeing it in vain to struggle against his adverse fortune, submitted with the best grace his agonized heart would admit, and with dissembled gratitude and respect bent before his stern oppressor, while his daring soul burned to avenge his wrongs!

*

LIVERY SERVANTS.+

Tom. "I say, Jack, what's the meenin' of them there taxes, what the poor peeple does be so clammoursome about?"

Jack. Ang me, Tom, if I can tell, but I'ze woundy thirsty a'ter that ere salt beef as we took for snack, that I knows; wilt turn in an' take a draught o' summat, an' we'll have a snooze till Jim rings the second bell for dinner.

Dialogue between two livery servants.

In my perambulations along the side of Saint James's Square to day, about five of the clock, I observed upon the steps of a nobleman's house, seven men-servants, part of the "establishment" of the family, waiting in yawning and listless idleness, for I know not what. Fat, well-appointed varlets they were, with powder in their hair, and silk stockings on their legs, their hands in their breeches' pockets, and looking down from the steps upon every poor peripatetic

like myself, as if they had a very especial contempt for all who walked. 1 grasped my horn-tipped staff the faster, and out of this, fell into a train of reflection upon what here followeth for the public edification. The "establishments" of the nobility, and first rate gentry, are exceeding great and sore evils under the sun. Their masters and mistresses know little or nothing about them, except that they cost so much money -it is proper that the servants should look sleek, even as the coach-horses do, and that they should come and go, as their presence or absence is required, and that there should be plenty of them to make a show, and all this happens, and the house steward pays their wages, and the bills for what they eat (an enormous matter), and they are furnished with fine clothes, and there's an end. But there is no thought, as in the olden time, of looking after the ordering of this family of domestics-there is no thought of any other connection between master and servant, than that of the hirer and the hired. No assembling of themselves together daily, or weekly, to join in family prayers, as in the good old days, when I was young; no solicitude, in short, on either side for the real welfare of the other. were not to endanger a good place, the servant would just as soon stand behind the coach at his master's funeral, as at his wedding, because he knows full well, that were he to fall from the back of the said coach, and break his collar-bone, his said master, if he noticed the matter at all, would only damn his awkwardness, and desire him to be taken to some place, and he would pay the expense. This "paying of the expense" stands in place of every thing in this country that used to be deemed worthy of praise and honour. The meanest scoundrel that ever sneaked out of a course of combined cringing and fraud, by which he has gained money, if he but "pay the expense," will find more attention, more respect, more "suit and service," than if, lacking the one thing needful, he had the wisdom of Solomon, the magnanimity of Scipio, and the mildness and piety of that illustrious Hollander Schwardshurdt, whom English churchmen call Philip Melanchthon, and Italian ecclesiastics Ippofilo di Terra Nera.

If it

But this is rather beside the present matter servants who live, as servants in great houses in town do live now-a-days, have no aim but gain, no better ambition than that of continuing to eat and drink well, to lodge well, and to do very little. They form, generally, a considerable company of both sexes in each house; all of them fed to the throat-many of them in the habit of consuming plenty of inflaming liquors; and most of them with abundance of that idleness, which so much encourages the sensual appetites, when the

destruction of the skin on various parts of the body, epidermis of the hands and feet completely removed; nails gone.

IX. Four months and a half.-Almost total saponification of the fat of the face, neck, groins, front of the thighs; commencement of a calcareous incrustation upon the thighs, and a saponification of the anterior part of the brain; most of the skin opaline; loosening and destruction of almost the whole of the scalp; scull bare, beginning to be very friable.

spoke not, but slowly lifted his timid eye to see the first wide flash, and paused to hear the first loud rattle of heaven's artillery shaking the foundations of the everlasting mountains. Then came the swift, white, far-illuminating flash, and its brightness was followed by a denser gloom. It was as though the joint intensity of day and night were compressed into those two brief moments. Then came at last the peal as though an earthquake smote the silence, and the blow stunned, as it were, the mighty heart of the solid globe; and there was a low, wild, whispering, wailing voice, as of many spirits all joining together from every point of heaven-it was the wind; and it died

PROSE +

WITHOUT dwelling on the comparatively unenlightened condition of even the master minds of other days, we propose to turn to the pleasing task of examining the principles by which the desideratum of " rising" has been effected in modern prose literature. As poetry is said to be of a loftier character than prose, so prose that is ambitious of rising should, if possible, soar into poetry. Instead of the common humdrum plain statement of plain fact, or the "how-d'ye-do-pretty-well-thank-ye" intercourse of every-day life, the prose of books, if it would aim at distinction, should abound in words never used, feelings never felt, and descriptions conveyed in a manner in which no human being ever thought of talking to another. We cannot attempt to describe a description-we must give a specimen. What shall it be?-a description of something grand and terrible?—an earthquake?-Not sufficiently familiar. A thunder-storm, then? -Let it be a thunder-storin. Take pen, ink, and paper, and describe as follows:

"It was an awful time, that time before the thunder-storm; it was as though some pale eclipse had dulled and sicklied the fair face of a paralyzed and afflicted world. It was noon, but the murkiness was as that of night. A huge conglomeration of lowering clouds flung down a weight of gloom upon the scene, and nature stood stock still in mute suspense till the congregated vapours should melt away into torrents; and there was a deep, dead, breathless, lifeless, motionless silence; and the raven hushed his hoarse croak in some grim cavern, and the eagle left the dreadful silence of the upper heavens, and all the feathered tribe repressed their voices; and the owl alone would have hooted, it was so dark and still, but fear restrained him; and the cattle lowed not, and the sheep bleated not, and the shepherd

+ Abridged from the New Monthly and London Magazine.-No. CXVI.

and the element of water was let loose to run its rejoicing course-and it rained !"

This style serves very well for descriptions of scenery and natural phenomena, but individuals must be treated in a different manner. Man is not only "animal implume bipes," but he is an animal on whom is hung a large assortment of multifarious habiliments. I would advise all literary tyros, who are desirous of excelling in personal description, to prepare themselves for the task by forming an inventory of all the various parts of dress from head to foot, from hat, bonnet, or turban, to shoe or sandal, and to observe the ascending or descending order in the course of their narration. But example is better than precept, and I therefore venture to recommend to their notice the following passage :"It was a Jew, a man of venerable aspect. His raiment was dark-brown. On his head he wore an old and large-brimmed hat, marked with many a weather-stain. His coat was long, and like its wearer, old, and appeared in some places to have been patched; yet with such care had this nice operation been performed, that the adventitious insertion was with difficulty discernible at the distance of a few paces. His nether integuments were such as might by courtesy be called trousers, but from their shortness we might collect that they had been originally designed for an individual of smaller dimensions. His waistcoat was similar in hue and texture to his coat-of linen there was no outward sign. His stockings were of the darkest worsted; and his shoes, which none of the rival preparations of Warren, Hunt, or Turner, had ever touched, were fastened, not as was usual at this period, by strings, but by large discoloured buckles of antique fashion.

His beard was long and grizzled, and a few lank gray hairs emerged from beneath the covering of his time-worn beaver. In his left hand he bore a pair of old half-boots, made to fit tight round the ancle and to be laced in front, and in his right he firmly grasped the end of a large, dark, and apparently