way, nor stopped or even once swerved from it. He had continued in this manner for more than a mile, when finding himself in the region of a dense population, he bent his course down a retired street, and proceeding but a little way, stopped before a low door to as lowly a dwelling, and unceremoniously entered. On the second floor, which constituted what in these later days we term a garret, partitioned off in a little apartment by themselves, he found his two friends, Lampognano and Visconti. They looked up from their books as he entered somewhat astonished, but giving him their usual hearty welcome, made room for him between them and began their familiar conversation.

me.

"What have I not long since told you!" said Olgiato, interrupting the tameness to which he perceived the conversation fast tending. "Thrice already have we all but agreed upon it, and thrice has my guardian spirit appeared in dreams to me to encourage and forewarn But such a dream as the one from which I have just awoke! Paradise embosomed in the lowest depths of hell! bravery and courage colored with the damnable deceits of treachery and fraud! Oh, God, such a dream! let me never sleep again till our purpose is fully accomplished"—and he pronounced this last with an emphasis that bespoke a heart full of courage and resolution to consummate his desire.

Lampognano turned to Visconti with a wildness of look that betrayed a slight feeling of fear, and for a moment their dark eyes met and they stared in silence on each other. With a sort of convulsiveness Lampognano raised courage at last to speak and demand of Oligato the relation of his fearful dream.

'My dream!" exclaimed he; "call it a dream if you will, but for me it was too pregnant with dreadful reality. First, there stood marshaled around me a body of angels, clad in the white uniform of their heavenly home; each bore a palm in their hands, which they brandished incessantly in the air above me, while the music of their voices fell on my delighted ear like the mellow thrum of the distant serenader's guitar. Again, the heavens were clouded, and my angel company was gone. The thunder roared-lurid gleams of lightning shot forth from their cloudy covert over the serene face of Nature-crowds came and went-distant shouts were heard, which again became wails more piteous than I ever heard. The streets ran blood-corpses formed obstructions to the gateways, and the city shrouded itself in gloom. I was pursued a savage hand clutched at my throat, when I sprang from the prison of my dreams and hastened to inform you of my ther intentions in this matter."

fur

"Ay, tarry with us to-night here," said Visconti, in a tone somewhat subdued from fright; "what we resolve upon none but God may know ; and what we do must be done quickly."

"But," interrupted Lampognano, "have you not heard that Galeazzo on the morrow appears before the people he has forced to idolize him?” "How !" exclaimed Olgiato, "in public! where, and on what occasion? He knoweth not then the grave that is ready to receive him!" "To-morrow he appears in the temple," replied Lampognano, "it being

the great occasion of the festival of St. Stephen. The gateways has he already ordered to be adorned with all the wreaths that can be gathered and made with so short a preparation. And, impious fool as he is, he has given out that the city may come to the temple to see him worship their holy sovereign!"

"Accursed thing of the Devil!" muttered Olgiato, stamping his foot heavily on the floor; "the sun that rises on St. Stephen's festival shall never behold him polluting the sacred altar with his impious hands! The wreath that encircles the arches, under which he may pass, shall hang as the cypress for his funeral drapery. The threshold of that sacred temple shall be to him the threshold to his grave. The minister, who unites in himself all the vices of tyrants from the old Archbishop downwards, should be crushed as the leader of a banditti; and I tell you, comrades, the hours of Galeazzo Sforza are all numbered!"

"But what plan do you propose ?" asked his companions almost at the same moment, and they waited breathless for his reply.

"It is this: as the demon brushes by us in the passage, hang you to his skirts; seize him by the arms and I will answer for the after acts of his life. But act as becomes us all. Thus have fallen those curses to Rome and the world, whose deeds have blackened the page of History, and whose names only swell the roll of fiends incarnate. Who freed Rome from her successive tyrants? oftentimes has it been happily accomplished by the feeble power of Woman, and very often by persons far weaker and lower than our own selves. Courage then, friends! buckle on the armor of bravery, and if our project fails it can go none the worse with us. Who falters now? have our nobler feelings been vainly aroused by the study of the old authors? have you never dreamed that Nero and Caligula were ancestors to our own Galeazzo, and that their end may yet be his? The accursed wish that the Roman People had but one neck, that they might be beheaded at a single blow, we may ourselves employ against the whole body of tyrants, and the present Duke of Milan is the first one to make an example of."

Olgiato, perceiving the effect this outburst of his feelings had upon his companions, suddenly relapsed into silence again, which they by no means felt disposed to break. Fearing to leave them too long to the influence of cool deliberation, he as suddenly broke forth in the bold inquiry, "What! do ye falter and refuse! Will ye endure the scorpion lash of Tyranny submissively, rather than enrol yourselves on the list of your country's preservers? If I have mistaken your mettle then, at least give me a hearty blessing, that I may perform with success what my country so piteously demands."

"No! no!" interrupted both; "brothers in soul at least we are, and the shame, no less than the honor of our deeds, shall fall upon us all!" "Are you ready, then?" asked Olgiato, in a tone that indicated no strong probability of much longer endurance.

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'My hand for my word, that I'll be true," said Lampognano. "And mine also," added Visconti, excitedly; and each clasped the other's hand convulsively.

"at your

"But pledge me this too, ere I rest content," said Olgiato; life's peril, Galeazzo Sforza shall on the morrow atone with death for the crimes his tyrannical power has permitted him to revel in."

"To-morrow," answered they hastily, "these daggers reek with the heart's blood of the only tyrant of Milan!" and they brandished them till they glittered frightfully in the light of the midnight lamp.

"Then we stand pledged! let us commit our cause before we cease to our country's Saint :-Protector of the Tyrant's realm! direct us through the difficulties of our patriotic effort, to a successful issue! and stand ready to receive us in thy arms in Heaven, if the powers of Earth render our labors puny!" and they each crossed themselves thrice with their daggers, looking on them for some time in silent devotion.

As formal and unmeaning as this might seem to many, there was yet visible in its execution the impetuous and noble spirit of the youthful and manly student. What their silent vows were, and how religiously they were observed, the sequel of our story will abundantly show. In no class of individuals is there to be found such lofty feelings of honor --such exalted views of liberty, and such unqualified detestation of all that partakes of meanness of soul, as among students. Such has been the case since Letters began to show their gilded character to men. It was with a devoted Monk, that began that spirit of free inquiry' and extended learning, of which the light of the Reformation and consequent civilization of all Europe was the final result. Benevolence has ever found a happy home with the pious and studious monks of St. Bernard : and of a similar character were those devoted, though somewhat fanatic spirits, that composed the ancient "Holy Brotherhood." And when in our own day the influence of the scholar seems circumscribed within the limits of an Institution or a community, on closer examination we should find that his work ceases not there: the age looks up to his opinion with reverence, and they find it one, not nursed and dandled in the rustling folds of the silken gown, but strongly rooted in the rich, strong soil of ancient learning. The true scholar's influence has ever been wide, unlimited, and he secretly feels that such deserts the world in duty owes him.

The characters before us belonged rightfully to this class. Born and bred in a foreign city, they had removed, for mutual benefit, to the place they now might with propriety call their own, from their long continuation in it. Their souls were rapt up in the fervid and impassionate masters of Greece and Rome, and every sentiment they met with caught as it were their feelings in an instant blaze. But for tyranny, or the least abuse of the precious privileges of power, they had imbibed a wonderful antipathy; the pleasures of liberty, and the disgrace of slavery, the advocates for Roman freedom had fully taught them alternately to admire and detest.

They had scarcely gone through the ceremony which we have described above, when they all sat down, and calmly began to plan the efficient execution of their resolves. Each selected some part of the sacrifice for himself, and in turn consigned to the others what he thought they could best perform. Thus they passed the time till morn

ing, arranging, encouraging, and cautioning. Their purpose was, as Galeazzo entered the temple, before he had proceeded to the holy altar, to seize him by the arms in the midst of the crowd that would surround him, and plunge their daggers, while he was thus helplessly situated, into his heart. They had counted their hazard, and found it insufficient to deter them from their purpose. The rush of the people, they had hoped, would conceal the immediate presence of the murderers, until, seeing the tyrant that had extorted so many groans from them fallen, they should extol the act, and call down perhaps even blessings on the heads of its perpetrators. Thus we leave them together in the silent hours of midnight, awaiting with anxiety the fatal events of the morrow. They did not so much as close their eyes in sleep that night, and the gray of morning found them still there together, equipped for complete enactment of the wonderful dream of Olgiato.

event.

To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.”—MACBETH.

The bells of the city rang merrily on the bright morning of St. Stephen's festival, and the sound of happy voices arose from many a dwelling there. Every thing indicated the approach of some extraordinary The streets had been cleaned with much more than usual care, and arches overhung the entrance to almost every one of them. Even the children, who at other times sauntered idly along, now hastened, as though their presence at the coming scene could add in any way to its sublimity or interest. Near the central part of the city, there were collected around a dwelling, whose noble exterior fully established the higher rank of its occupants, a crowd, already dense, and rapidly becoming more so. About the royal enclosure stood ranged, in the royal armor, a body-guard of forty men, whose helmets and spears glittered brightly in the clear sunlight. From within might be heard the sound of instruments, and the rapid motion of the dancers' feet, that contrasted strikingly with the dead silence that reigned without. Men gazed and stared at each other, as anxiously as if in waiting at a funeral, and but for the sounds of mirth within, such an appearance it would in every wise have presented. After a long delay, the train began to move from the palace of Galeazzo Sforza. Soon he appeared, descending the long flight of marble steps, when the word went round, and prolonged and continued shouts rolled on like the ocean waves, as if they would rend the very air. The procession forms about him, and,

press

with banners floating in the breeze, march to the great temple of worship. Around the chariot of Galeazzo, youth of both sexes scatter bunches of flowers and tender boughs. He seems delighted a smile wreathes his haughty lip, and occasionally he even deigns to wave his sovereign hand to the throng that are threatening to obstruct his progress. The stately music of horns, drums, and other instruments fires the ing crowd with enthusiasm, and the shouts that go up for the royal Duke of Milan, rend the very air. They move slowly through the principal streets of the city, passing under the hundred arches on their march, when the multitude that surrounds the temple suddenly descry them. The massive bell swings on its wheel, sending forth sounds that make the very ground tremble beneath them. The mighty mass of beings move nearer, so that individuals are at last distinguishable. As they approach, they gaze awe stricken on the massy structure before them; above, around and beneath—all forms one noble and astonishing edifice. In the assembly near the entrance of the temple are stationed our three students, Olgiato, Lampognano, and Visconti. Their looks at each other are dark and comprehensive. The throng about the duke's person is immense, and they count on it all as highly favorable to the success of their undertaking. With silent prayers for the result, they continue to exchange their knowing looks with each other, at the same time carefully watching their opportunity.

Galeazzo dismounts and, surrounded by his court satellites with heads uncovered, slowly and pompously walks on to the magnificent temple. The bright sun sheds a mournful effulgence on those bared temples, yet the features they so plainly traced bore the stamp of superlative manliness and courage; and his silver locks, that were so soon to be matted with gore, shook with very reverence. His whole appearance and bearing was noble-fully equal to the haughtiness of his soul. As he proceeds along the splendid walk to the entrance, the foremost on either side drop on their knee, and, by this mark of worshiping servility, acknowledge submission to the reigning prince. Such a humiliating spectacle only serves to inflame to a greater degree the deadly passions of the students; nothing save their cooler judgment restrains them from springing like tigers on their devoted prey. He reaches at last the entrance; as his foot touches the threshold, the sounds of drum, and cymbals, and human voices, burst forth on a sudden, and the astonished multitude gaze upwards from the former object of their praise and admiration, to catch, as it were, the sounds more completely. All now is confusion and excitement. Thousands are rushing forward for admittance, and hundreds more are driving in haste to witness the imposing scene at the altar.

"Be men once now!" whispered Olgiato to his comrades: and Lampognano, making a feint, as if to rush forward with the rest of the throng to the altar, seizes the duke by both arms, while Olgiato and Visconti, springing forward, each plunge their daggers twice in his body.

"Who is traitor here! Protector of Milan! Oh, God!" was all he could faintly utter, and while the death rattle still sounded in his