murmur with the jailers to know why you have broken through the regulations, and brought a lady to the royal prisoner.'

Alas!' cried Aurelia, and can anything part us now?' Moldeschini placed himself close to the Duke and whispered to him, "Though this fatal place to this fair guest is now forbidden ground, and I must take her from you; yet, at night, a dark and safer hour, through a private door, to which we only have access, this young page shall bring your princess to your presence. Depend on me; bnt take heed that you are silent, for there are many dangerous ears around you, and a discovery may cost your loyal servant his head.' The Duke kaew the danger, and thanked him; charged the page, Amiran, to guard his beloved Aurelia safely; and placed a diamond ring on his finger as his reward. But Moldeschini had concerted the following plan. Having, as the Pope's confidential secretary, easy access to the prison of the Inquisition, he was enabled to effect anything which he desired there, and his intention was, when night had hushed all to silence, to convey the fair Aurelia to an apartment he had furnished in the building; she, poor creature, in the fond hope of meeting her dear husband. But this had no part in his plot. At twelve o'clock the page, Amiran, conducted Aurelia to her destination, which was intended as the temporary chamber of Moldeschini himself. Leaving the deceived Aurelia safely locked therein, Amiran was then to lead Joanna Anglica, in her own proper female vestments, to the darkened apartment of the Duke of Saxony. This was accordingly done. The doors were locked; the guardians of the prison retired to repose.

Joanna and Moldeschini were elated that the scheme had so far succeeded: but an event happened which marred all their subtle plot. Two heretics, who had been long confined in one of the prison-rooms, finding an opportunity by a lamp left accidentally in their apartment on this eventful night, determined to set the wood-work of their dungeon on fire, and succeeded in burning down the door of their prison, although they were nearly suffocated in the experiment. The fire soon gained considerable head, blazed up the staircases, bursting throughout the whole range of the Holy Offices.

The Duke of Saxony was at that moment in the most anxious suspense for the approach of his lovely Aurelia. Amiran had led Joanna within his portal. Moldeschini had just entered the chamber wherein Aurelia waited. Surrounded on every side by flames, the Pope, attired in thin female drapery, was soon in frightful jeopardy. Oh!' thought Joan, now would I part with all my keys of Heaven but for one picklock to these iron-gratings. I cannot, dare not burn!'

Soon the ear of the Duke of Saxony was assailed by the piercing screams of Aurelia, and he rushed in the direction, through the door which had been left open by Joanna Anglica in her retreat. By the glare of the flames he saw Moldeschini in the act of bearing away his beloved Aurelia. He hastened towards them. Moldeschini drew his sword; but the Duke flew at him, wrested the weapon from his grasp, and instantly thrust it through his body. Moldeschini fell, and was lost to sight in the burning abyss. The people, alarmed, and attracted by the conflagration, assembled now in numbers, and attempts were made to break open the doors, and raise ladders up to the casements; but in spite of the fire and suffocating smoke, the Duke and his fainting wife were rescued.

In the meantime Joanna Anglica made her way by the private en

trance through which she had been conducted by Amiran. In escaping along a passage, she stumbled over a body: a glaring flame showed that it was the corpse of the page, who had fallen there suffocated. Joanna at length reached the back-street, and endeavoured to proceed in the direction of the pontifical palace; but when she arrived on the road between the Colosseum and the church of St. Clement, she fell. The extraordinary emotions she had endured shook her whole frame. At once terrific pains arose within her; pains at which the proudest as well as the humblest woman trembles. Extended on the bare, cold earth, with a torrent of rain pouring over her, she gave premature birth to a wretched object. There lay mother and child. Here she was shortly after recognized, and on the discovery how shamefully Rome's royal chair had been profaned, the people surrounded the prostrate Joanna, and quickly stoned her to death!

These undoubted facts are recorded; but, in some measure to pacify those who may have different views of faith to ourselves, we firmly believe that there never before were so many lies perpetrated and concentrated in so many printed pages.

SONG.

BY EDWARD KENEALY.

Or all the bright gods that live and love
In regions of sunny beauty above,
Young Cupid's the one for me;
Oh, day and night the boy-god haunts
My heart, dear love, and with witching glance
Sweet visions of Heaven gives me.

The bards sublime of the days of old
Their prettiest legends of love have told
In their golden minstrelsy;

But yet there is one which, while fair eyes
On the poet shower their witcheries,

Can never find credit with me.

These bards pretend that Muses shun
The presence of Cypria's bright-ey'd son,
And fly from his company;

But never shall story as this untrue
Impose on such spirits as you or you

Fair nymph who sittest by me.

The cold, austere and passionless breast
Which Cupid has ne'er with his spells imprest,

Or pierced with his archery,

Oh, never on it will the gentle Nine
The lustre shed of their smiles divine,

Or choose it their home to be.

But hearts that worship the light that lies
And gleams like a god in woman's soft eyes,
Such hearts their shrine shall be ;

And he who her fondest love would win
Must court her by means of those angels twin,
Music and Poesy.

Then twine the cup with a wreath of flowers,

We'll brighten dull life's remaining hours

With rosy revelry!

And ne'er do the moments so happily flit,

As when in the light of thy looks I sit,

And they shine down on me.

THE REVENGE.

FROM THE 'WANDERINGS OF A PAINTER IN ITALY.'

BY. E. V. RIPPINGILLE.

AT the door of an Italian shepherd's hut, or capana, upon a low stone, sat a young man of about five-and-twenty years of age. A dark, sullen, and ferocious expression, mixed with the manifestation of a feeling of a very different kind, was strongly marked upon his face, and shown in the lassitude and position of his body and limbs. He was a short, and rather a strong-made man, with a complexion exceedingly swarthy, and hair intensely black and abundant, covering his cheeks, neck, and breast. His head was uncovered, his hair in disorder, a red night-cap lay at his side, as if carelessly thrown down; his legs and feet were bare, and, saving a pair of blue calzone and a coarse shirt, he was undressed, and looked as if he had just risen from his bed.

There was a person near him, who seemed busily employed, passing backwards and forwards, in and out of the capana. This was a woman of about fifty, who appeared to have been deeply-touched with sorrow, but who had evidently once been exceedingly handsome. She was very tall; and there was a stately movement and character about her, which arrested attention. Her hair and complexion were like those of the young man, who was her son; but, otherwise, there was but little resemblance between them. Her costume was that very commonly worn in Italy: a busta, or close-fitting stay, made of oldfashioned silk brocade or damask, stiffened and ornamented, to which her manichini, or sleeves, were attached at the shoulders with bunches of ribbons, now pendant and faded. She wore a petticoat, thickly plaited, of a dark and very peculiar red; and on her feet the sciocce; her dark and abundant mass of hair, hanging in thick tresses, was looped up, and held together with the spadina, or silver bodkin, in the shape of a sword,—often a perilous weapon in disputes between the dark daughters of Italy.

She appeared to partake of the feelings which were so evidently. betrayed by her son; hers were the same, roused into action, and made subservient to the demands of domestic duties,-a faculty, by the way, possessed in a greater degree by the female than the male sex. She now held in one hand her son's sciocce, and the clothleggings worn with them. These she threw at his feet; she then stepped back into the hut, and returned with his hat, which she put down at his side. After having gone in again, she appeared at the door, bringing the long and terrible knife, half-sheathed, with which the brigands were always armed. After a moment's steady and stern gaze at the young man, who still seemed unconscious of her presence, she said, in a deep and firm voice, 'Gaetano, rouse yourself.'

'Mother,' said the man, slowly raising himself, so as to sit up, 'I don't sleep.'

'Shame upon you, if you did!' was the woman's reply, her eyes flashing, and her colour heightening. 'Sleep,' she muttered, as if speaking to herself, 'no, we can't-we must not sleep; rouse yourself, my boy. There is the sun again, and nothing done. Dress yourself, and once more try your fortune.'

Applying the point of the weapon to her thumb, and feeling along its edge, she said, 'What have you done to your knife, my son?-it ought not to be in this condition. It must be sharpened, Gaetano; you must get it done to-day, for I feel certain you will have occa sion for it before night. Come, bestir yourself; there are your clothes. I'll fetch your cinta (belt), and your jacket, and in a few minutes your meal shall be prepared for you; be quick, dress yourself.'

You forget, mother,' said the young man, I shall not wear my own clothes to-day.'

True, true,' replied the woman; Giobbe is gone to borrow the dress of the cacciatore (sportsman). He promised to return at daybreak, and must be here soon. Begin and take the bands off your hat, and press down the crown; no one will observe it.'

Mother, you are too sanguine,' observed the son; 'perhaps the boy won't get the things, after all.'

'Madonna mia! exclaimed the woman, have confidence and courage.'

cease your doubts, and 'Courage!' echoed the man; 'I don't want courage, mother: I have as much as another, but I never succeed.'

'And never will, while you doubt and hesitate.'

'I don't hesitate,' said the man, somewhat roused and excited. 'I am ready at all times, and, Per Cristo! I don't want the will. Dio buono! have I not waited and watched almost day and night, for the last two months? have not I walked the valleys, and climbed the moun tains early and late? have not I lain hid day after day, and night after night, in the bushes, and in holes, like a wild beast? When have I slept in the capana before? when changed my dress? what have I eaten? and, for how many hours at a time have I fasted? Cold, and wet, and hunger, are not new to me; but, with sorrow and disappoint ment gnawing at my heart, they are hard to bear.' Here the man paused; but, in a moment after, continued, Maladetto! have not I dogged the steps of that huge scoundrel for weeks together, and fol lowed him for many and many a weary mile, without once finding the opportunity I sought? When I have had my gun, he has never separated from his companions; if I had fired, they would have fallen upon me; I could not have escaped. When I was without it, every opportunity was offered me. I might have shot him through the heart: a thousand curses on him!' Then, lowering his voice and his eyes to the ground, he added, 'Attack him singly with the knife-I

dare not!'

The mother of Gaetano, who had taken his hand at that part of his harangue where he spoke of his privations and endurance, here dropped it, and entered the hut.

For a minute the young man stood mute, looking down, as if a feeling of shame oppressed him. Presently he stood erect, his eye bright ened, his nostril dilated, his chest heaved, and, elevating his voice, he called upon the woman to come forth from the hut; and, the moment she made her appearance, he said, in a resolute tone,

son.

'Mother! the murderer of your children dies to-day, or your Per Dio! said he, pointing to the sun, that bright fire shall never shine again upon us both.' Then, turning, as if about to enter the capana, he asked, 'Where is the gun, mother, and the bullets you cast for me; my patroncina, and the powder-flask. By hea

vens! I will eat nothing, nor will I rest or sleep, until that mon

ster'

Here the woman who had listened with apparent satisfaction to the desperate resolve of her son, laid her hand upon his arm, to arrest his attention, stooped down. and looked through an opening of the hut. 'Hush!' said she, here is Giobbe returned; he brings the things. I told you he would get them,' and she hurried forth to meet the boy, who carried a bundle, tied up in a coarse handkerchief.

The boy immediately began to relate what had happened to him, and what had detained him, at the same time searching his pocket for something which the woman had intercepted him to demand, and for which she stood waiting with evident anxiety.

Acci-prete,' said the little fellow, trying another, and pulling aside the guarda machia-the goat-skins that covered his thighs. I know I ought to have it somewhere, if I have not lost it.'

'Lost it!' exclaimed the woman; it were better you had lost yourself!'

'Padrona mia ! muttered the boy, his colour coming up into his face, and looking frightened. I did not say that I had lost it; but this pocket is so deep, and my hands are so-oh, here it is!' said he, smiling, and handing a very small packet of something, wrapped up in a bit of discoloured paper, which the woman took from him with some avidity, and put into her bosom.

Va bene,' she said; now tell us what you were saying.'

The boy followed his mistress into the capana and seated himself by Gaetano, who sat on the side of one of the low beds with which the place was furnished.

I was obliged to hide myself,' he began, as I came along; that made me so late. I saw two or three men of one of the bands, and I knew, if they saw me, they would look to see what I had, and ask me questions about it; so, when I saw them coming, I got into the hollow of a tree, and presently they came and sat down close by me. Wasn't I frightened! They belong to the band of Meo Varrone, I know!'

'What!—who?' exclaimed both mother and son.

To Meo,' replied the boy.

'Lout!' said Gaetano, speaking sharply and earnestly, 'tell me exactly what they said, How was it?'

'Well then,' said the boy, 'the three men whom I first saw there were walking slowly, and talking together. I saw some smoke a little higher up, where the wood is thicker; so I fancy the rest of the band are there. It was just as you come up over the brow of the brown mountain, there are some large old trees and some stones at the foot of them. I got into a tree, and the men sat down on the stones, and went on talking.'

'Well, and then-be quick and tell me,' said Gaetano.

'Well,' continued the boy, 'one of the men asked the other if he thought the proprietor was rich. "We saw him at the fair of Prosede," replied the other, "three days ago, with as many bullocks to sell as are worth thousands and thousands of scudi. He must have money; and I think it will be a good time to take him. He will pay a good ransom."

'Did you hear the proprietor's name?' asked Gaetano.

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