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"At last we arrived at the castle, the entrance of which was denied to every one but Brunor and Danain. One of the most celebrated physicians of the country was sent for, he examined me, and declared, after having reflected for a long time, that my sufferings were caused by some internal fracture, and that my illness would be tedious. This was just what I wanted.

that their absence left Celina sole mistress of her actions. I immediately set off for the castle; I had thirty leagues to travel, and judging that my horse could not support the fatigue of so long a journey, I swore to attack all the knights met, and oblige them to change their coursers with me.


"This manner of acting had succeeded :-I was within four leagues of Celina's dwelling, when, to my misfortune, I met you."

"The amiable Celina, who was to be the only cure to my real wounds, came sometimes to see Clodion, having a deep sigh, here finished me. Brunor seldom quitted her; but once he his recital. Blanchefleur could scarcely refrain did for an instant, and that instant sufficed me from laughing at his adventures. Percival, who to inform her of the stratagein love had inspired || in his youth had been rather volatile, heartily me to put in practice. Celina was at first terrified, forgive the French Prince; and Bliomberis, in but I soon re-assured her, and she assisted me to despair at what he had done, said, while emcarry on my deception, and recompensed me for bracing him, "If you feel yourself sufficiently well to continue your journey, my horse shall repair the injury I have done you. Promise you will bring it back to me in eight days, to the court of king Arthur, and I will confide him to your care. I have myself experienced what it is to live far from those we love."

all the lies I had told.

"In this manner I spent near three months in Brunor's castle, always pretending to be ill, and always receiving attentions from Celina.Alas! habitual happiness rendered us imprudent.

"One morning my beloved mistress was in my chamber, when Danain, Brunor's faithful friend, wishing to enquire after the sick man; and as he thought I might be asleep, he entered with great precaution for fear of awaking me. What was his astonishment when he beheld me wide awake on my knees before Celina, where I had much more the appearance of returning thanks than soliciting her love.

"Whether out of friendship for Brunor, or anger at having been deceived, he drew his sword, and rushed upon me. I soon grasped mine, and we began in my apartment a combat, the more dangerous, as neither of us was clothed in mail. But happy lovers are always successful. Danain fell, covered with blood; I granted him life, after having made him swear, on the word of a knight, that he would not reveal our secret to his friend, and should attribute his wound to some other cause. I engaged myself, at the same time, to depart immediately, and kept my word. After having bidden adieu to Celina, I took leave of Brunor, and quitted his castle, with the intention of paying it another visit, as soon as it could be done unattended with danger. "Several adventures led me to king Camelide's court, where I remained till this morning, when the dwarf belonging to the charming Ce lina brought me a letter from her, which informed me that Danain, cured of his wound, was to-day to depart from the castle, accompanied by Brunor, on a visit to king Perles, and

Clodion embraced his generous conquerorasked his name, and swore that before eight days Ebine should be again in the possession of Bliomberis; and then raising himself with difficulty, he would have mounted the spirited courser, but his fall had bruised him so much, that he never could have effected it, without the assistance of Bliomberis. When once mounted, Prince Clodion, notwithstanding his pains, spurred his horse, and the fleet Ebine, carried him swifter than the wind.

Bliomberis, enchanted to have been able to serve the brother of Felicia, raised the horse Clodion had left; and judging that the poor animal might still be able to carry him as far as Cramalot, which was but a very short distance, he mounted him, and begged Blanchefleur and Percival to slacken their pace. They were within a short league of the town, when they met a knight on foot, who had no sooner eyed Bliomberis, than, grasping his sword, he cried, "I have found you then, and this is the state to which you have reduced my unfortunate horse. Dismount, if you have any honour, and we sha see if chance will befriend you as much as it did this morning." It was in vain that Bliomberis endeavoured to explain the mistake; in vain Percival, who knew this warrior, endeavoured to restrain his wrath; nothing could appease him, and Bliomberis commenced on foot the most ter rible combat he had ever engaged in. [To be continued.].



COUNT TOTTLEBEN, so celebrated in the history of Germany for his numerous adventures, and the strange vicissitudes of his fortune, was once, while a general in the Russian service, on a journey from Warsaw to Petersburgh. Travelling in a light, open chaise, accompanied by a single servant, he was one day overtaken by a violent storm, in the province of Livonia, twelve or fifteen miles from the town where he had intended to pass the night. The season was cold, the evening advanced, and he was himself wet to the skin; the rain contributed to render it still darker. A decent public house, that stood de tached by the road side, very opportunely presented itself to our traveller. He alighted and entered, resolving to set out so much earlier the next morning.

The people of the house seemed very attentive and obliging. He was shewn into a room up stairs that was clean and neat, was promised a good supper; in short, Tottleben had every reason to be satisfied with his accommodations. Accustomed from his youth to a wandering life, he used when in houses of public entertainment to pass very little time in his own apartment, but to associate with the other guests in the public room. There he entered into conversation with every one, whether a foreigner or a native, was affable and even humorous; knew how to give and take a joke; told stories, and listened to those of others; and to this sociable disposition he joined prepossessing manners, and a figure distinguished for manly beauty. He seldom met with a man who was not pleased with his company; and still more rarely with a female who was not, at least secretly, interested in his favour. If she betrayed her sentiments for him, he was ready to take the slightest hint, and to avail himself of every advantage.

On the present occasion he adhered to his usual custom, and passed an hour or more below in the tap-room. He conversed with the host, who had formerly been in the military service, and still more with the hostess, a young, extremely pretty woman, but now pregnant, and near her time. He offered to stand god-father for her first-born; jocosely enquired how her husband behaved; asked how she liked the married state, and predicted that she should have a son, or perhaps two at a birth. In a word he indulged in that kind of chit-chat, which young females of that condition and under such circumstances are fond of hearing, though they may pretend

that, from modesty, they cannot raise their eyes from the floor.


During this conversation a young servant-maid was frequently backward and forward in the same The Count might possibly not have observed her, but she had taken so much the more notice of him. His handsome figure, the vivacity of his conversation, and even the foreign uniform which he wore, delighted her. She could have listened to him for a day together, but would have been still better pleased to converse with him herself. She was besides acquainted wi h a subject that very nearly concerned him; of which it was necessary that he should soon be informed, otherwise it would be too late. His ignorance, his security afflicted her; at the same time her interference was likely to cost her dear. Nevertheless, as often as she looked at him, she thought within herself—" No; he is too amiable!" At length she could refrain no longer, and as she passed him, she pulled him by the coat.

Tottleben perceived it. He looked at the girl, and observed her wink to him, but for what reason he knew not. From the usual vanity of his sex, he was not long, however, before he ascribed her conduct to one, which seemed as though it might have admitted a little farther delay. However, the girl was young, and, in his opinion, not a bad figure, there could be no harm in looking at her, and hearing what she had to say. Accordingly when she had gone away again, he withdrew, under the pretext of taking a little fresh air. She was already waiting for him at the door of the kitchen; she beckoned him to go into the yard; followed him in haste and agitation, and thus addressed him:

"For God's sake, Sir, take care of yourself! You are not among such honest people as you imagine. They know that you have money with you. They intend to-night to rob you not only of that but also of your life, and for this purpose they have already sent for assistance. Be upon your guard; but, for God's sake, do not betray me! If they perceive that I have given you warning it will cost me my life, that I am sure of; but yet I could not, for my soul, suffer such a brave officer and so fine a gentleman to be cut off in his sins."

This address, as may easily be conceived, made a deep impression upon Tottleben. A min of ordinary understanding would immediately have sought the means of escape by flight. Fle, though

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By these and other representations of a similar kind he at length prevailed upon her to accom-, pany him, followed by her husband.

he had but a moment for reflection, was instantly || conjugal protector of her honour along with her. convinced, that every attempt to fly in the night, and in a country to which he was an utter stranger, would be attended with equal, if not greater danger than he would incur by quietly remaining where he was. A presence of mind, almost incredible, inspired him on the spot with a very different idea. The maid was about to retire, when he quickly drew her back by the arm. "One word more, my girl," said he, "Does your master live on good terms with his wife?" "Yes, on the best," was the reply. "Does he really and truly love her?"-"Almost as much as his own life."-" Very well! very well! Now you may go. If I escape, your fortune shall be made. If I die, your warning shall die with me. I will never betray you. But mention not a single word even to my servant."

The girl flew to the kitchen, and the Count returned to the public room. Not a look betrayed him; his tone and temper were just the same as before, or at least so they appeared. He even ordered supper to be laid below, and would not sit down to it except on condition that his kind host and hostess should partake of it with him. He concealed his suspicions beneath the disguise of affability.

After supper, he ordered a servant to bring a box that was still in his carriage. "There is not much in it," said he to the host.

"It con

tains perhaps two hundred rubles, that are to carry me to Petersburgh. I should wish good care to be taken of them, and where can they be safer than in your hands? In eight weeks, when I return, I hope it will be heavier with gold than it is now with silver. Then I shall certainly call here again, and if, as I hope iny little godson has found his way into the world, I will bring a present of at least fifty rubles for him.” This declaration called forth a thousand thanks, and the landlord promised to keep the box all night under his pillow.

He immediately prepared to retire to bed, and the landlord to light him to his chamber. "Do you know, Madam," said Tottleben laughing to his wife," that this lighting is a job which I had much rather you should perform? But joking aside, I am so superstitious as to fancy that I always sleep as well again when a handsome woman shews me my bed as when a man attends me."-At this proposal the woman looked rather strange, and shewed no great inclination to perform the office. The Count still continuing in his jocular strain, put the candle into her hand, and took hold of her arm, observing, that she ought not to refuse the future god-father of her child such a trifling gratification; that motion after supper, especially in her situation, was wholesome for her; and that she might take the

They now entered the chamber. Here Tottleben himself, as soon as he alighted from his carriage, had hung up upon a nail, a double-barrelled carbine, full-charged with ball, and which he always carried with him when he travelled. He took good care not to cast a single look at it before the proper time. But while the woman was setting the candle on a table by the window, when she was just going to wish him good night, he quickly took down the weapon, and stepped still more hastily between the landlord and his wife. In a voice which suddenly passed from jest and laughter, to the sternest tone of command, he cried, "No, my good woman, we are not going to part from each other so abruptly! On this chair, at this table, you must sit down, and pass the night in my company. Your chastity, I swear to you, shall run no risk in that time from me. But on the slightest noise at the door of the chamber, on the least opposition on your part, or any other, on the least attack upon myself, the three balls with which each of these barrels is charged shall dispatch you and your infant at once. This I swear by my hope of sal


The landlord and his wife would sooner have expected the dissolution of nature than such an address. Both were silent for a minute, and then both did all they could. The woman piteously entreated him to permit her to go, threatened to swoon, to fall in labour on the spot, nay even to die; but in vain. The husband was first at a loss to conceive what all this meant; he then had recourse to entreaties and protestations, assuring the Count that he was safe in his house as though he were in Abraham's bosom. At length, finding that nothing availed, he threatened to repel force with force, and to call his people to his assistance. Tottleben's presence of mind did not forsake him. "I have no doubt, Sir," said he, "that you have plenty of people and assistance at hand; but they are not so near as to rescue your wife from death. If but a dog approaches, if but a hand is raised against me, I will blow her brains out. Besides the two barrels of my carbine, I have here a pair of pocket pistols capable of doing excellent service. I may be overpowered, I confess; but at least three or four men shall accompany me, and that charming woman shall go first to show us the way. This is my mode in many public-houses. If you do not like it, take care and let my horses be fed and put to my carriage very early to morrow morning! Now begone without delay. This chamber is to night my apartment."

Villains commonly lose their courage when they have true resolution to deal with such was the case in the present instance. The woman sat down and the man withdrew. In this extraordinary situation the remaining couple passed the night. Tottleben seated at the table, just opposite the hostess, spent the hours in reading and writing as well as he could. At the same time he kept his carbine on his arm, ready to fire, at the least noice that was made in the house. The poor woman immediately trembled like a criminal at the bar, intreating him not to be too hasty, and assuring him that nothing would happen to him. In fact, during the whole night not a foot was heard approaching the chamber of the Count.

her a suitable reward, as soon as the stranger was gone. When Tottleben saw her by day-light and looked at her more narrowly, he observed that she was a delicate, elegant girl. He threw her a full purse. "Take that," said he, " and if you are determined to stay here, buy a husband with it. But if you are afraid to remain with your master, come along with me; I will answer for your success, and I swear that I will provide for you as long as you live." The girl sprang into the carriage, leaving behind every thing she possessed, which probably, indeed, was of no great value. The Count took leave of his fair hostess, begging her not to forget that he was to be godfather. He requested a kiss at parting, and then continued his journey.

He was afterwards informed by his servant, who had slept in the public room, that, about midnight, three robust fellows sof ly entered the house, went into another room, and after a long

again. The girl, who had been almost a year in the house related, that during this time, two strangers who had put up there had disappeared she knew not how.

At the break of day came Tottleben's servant : before he was half way up stairs he called out to let his master know who it was. He brought the box committed the preceding evening to the custody of the landlord, the Count's break-conversation with the landlord, sneaked away fast, and a bill with very moderate charges. The Count presented his fair companion the first cup of coffee, and after she had drunk it, he took the rest quite at his ease. When he was informed that every thing was ready for his departure, he thanked the hostess for her good company, and begged her to favour him with it to his carriage. He then conducted her down stairs as politely as though she were the first lady of the court. At the house-door he stopped and inquired for the servant-maid, whom he had seen the day before, and whom he accurately described. She advanced trembling from a corner. All the suspicions of the landlord had already fallen upon her; already had he (as she afterwards related) pomised,her, and settled upon her a considerable sum. with the most tremendous imprecations, to give

At the next town the Count acquainted the magistrates with the whole affair. Soldiers were immediately dispatched, but they could not, or would not, find either the host or hostess. At the same place Tottleben provided his female deliverer with more decent apparel; she continued his companion, and perhaps something more, to Petersburgh, in which city she lived with him several years. At length, when the seven years' war called him into the field, he married




Ar the Royal Institution, a course of Lectures on the above important subject, has recently been delivered by Mr. Davy. The first being an introduction to the course, nothing particularly useful can be extracted from it. The second treats on the organization of plants. We give the following brief sketch of the whole:

Plants exhibiting life only in their powers of assimilation and reproduction, display a very simple organization. A system of tubes for absorbing nourishment from the soil, and a system of

cellular membranes, for the exposure of their fluids to the influence of the atmosphere, constitute, under different modifications, all their interior organs. The sap rising from the minute fibrils of the roots through the vessels of the sap wood of alburnum, is chemically altered in the leaves; much of its aqueous parts evaporated, and its inflammable products increased: it appears to descend through the vascular system of the bark, and the new parts are produced between the bark and the alburnum.

In the great anatomical division of the organs of plants, the epidermis seems to act as a defence to the living parts. The heartwood serves as the support and mould on which the new productions "are formed; and the pith, scarcely visible except in annual shoots or young trees, is probably useful as a reservoir of moisture, to supply the first wants of the rising plant. The leaves absorb gaseous matter and moisture by their lower surfaces, whilst their upper surfaces perform the functions of transpirations. The flowers are the reproductive parts, the pistils the bases of the seed, the anthers the agents of impregnation.

of the size described by the old writers on garden| ing; and our hopes for new and excellent varieties must rest upon enlightened experiments on seedlings.

In the fourth Lecture the peculiar fluids, or, as they have been called by some physiologists, the secreted fluids of plants, were considered.

The vessels in which they are contained seemed to be cylindrical, and of the largest size belonging to the vegetable system, and distributed through the alburnum as well as the bark.

The resinous, oily, and aromatic matters found in plants, are all probably contained in those vessels.

Mr. Davy pointed out some of the obvious uses of the secreted fluids, both for nourishing and conserving the parts. In seeds, the oily constitutent, which preserves them through the winter, becomes in the spring a part of the food of the plume and radicle. The aroma belonging to flowers, seems intended to preserve the essential and reproductive parts from attacks of insects, to which the volatile oils appear to be peculiarly

The Professor stated, that, though much had been discovered on the subject of the anatomy of plants by Grew, Malpighi, Ray, Linnæus, Mirbel, and Knight, yet still much more remained obscure and unknown. He recommended this department of enquiry as affording ample sources of discovery, and as capable of being prosecuted with facility; requiring no apparatus but the microscope, no extensive preliminary knowledge, but merely an eye to observe, and a hand to deliHe recommended it gencrally to all per-offensive, and even destructive. Multitudes of sons possessing leisure and a taste for philosophical research. He recommended it particularly to the female part of his audience, as fitted to their habits and pursuits, capable of affording much rational amusement, and as an elegant and refined study.


In the third Lecture, the subject was the sap of plants. The difference between the sap in the alburnum, or sap wood, and in the bark, was considered. Mucilaginous and saccharine matter abounds in the sap of the alburnum of most trees and shrubs, and colouring and astringent matters are found in most cases in the sap of the bark. In large trees the sap contains much less solid matter than in shrubs. In the sugar cane the proportion of saccharine and mucilaginous matter to the water is about as one to five; in the sugar maple it is about one to forty of the whole. In the beech, according to M. Vauquelin, it is about one to forty two; and in the clin, one to eighty-eight.

aphides are often seen upon the calyx of the rose, but they never dare to attack the petals, and there are many analogous instances.

The fifth Lecture was principally devoted to the examination of the causes which influence the motion of the sap. The sap rises through the tubes of the alburnum, is modified in the caves, and seems to descend in the bark. Mr. Davy is inclined to refer this motion to physical causes, chiefly to capillary attraction, to expansions and contractions of the vessels from changes of temperature, and to the great evaporation from the leaves.

He seemed to doubt of the presence of irritable contractile power in the fibres of vegetables, and shewed that the other agents were adequate to the effect. He decided against the idea of any circulation in the vegetable system, similar to that occurring in the animal system, in which the heart and arteries are invariably active. And he detailed several instances of the inversion of the

mode of application of external powers.

In the sixth Lecture, water, soils, and the atmosphere were considered, as far as they are connected with the nourishment of plants. Water and the matters in the soil which have once been organized, constitute the great part of their food received by the roots. Mr. Davy detailed the

Mr. Davy mentioned the relation of the different kinds of sap in trees to the subject of engraft-functions of the vessels, by merely changing the ing. Grafts from fruit trees containing a saccha rine sap, will not grow on trees the sap of which is in the slightest degree astringent. In this part of the enquiry, Mr. Knight's observations upon the decay of graf's taken from old trees were made a topic of discussion; and it appeared probable || from the facts, that the graft partakes of the disposition of old age and decay of the parent tree; || experiments of J. de Saussure, which prove that and that though it does not die at the same time by any Talicotian sympathy, yet it cannot by any means be made healthy and vigorous. All the favourite apples of the last century are gradually deteriorating. The golden pippin has not a fourth

the carths found in the ashes of plants, is of the same kind as the earths of the soil in which they grow. He mentioned an original experiment, which seemed to shew that corn would not grow vigorously if wholly deprived of siliceous earth,

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