that it was owing to the chaste and cautious maxims in which she had, as it were, steeped her to the very lips. While the aunt laid this soothing unction to her pride, the niece treasured up the oft-repeated vows of fidelity of the page. But what is the love of restless, roving man? A vagrant stream that dallies for a time with each flower upon its bank, then passes on, and leaves them all in tears. Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more was heard of the page. The pomegranate ripened, the vine yielded up its fruit, the autumnal rains descended in torrents from the mountains; the Sierra Nevada became covered with a snowy mantle, and wintry blasts howled through the halls of the Alhambra-still he came not. The winter passed away. Again the genial spring burst forth with songs and blossoms and zephyr; the snows melted from the mountains, until none remained but on the lofty summit of Nevada, glistening through the sultry summer air. Still nothing was heard of the forgetful page.

Poor Jacinta sits and weeps her time away beside a fountain in the hall.

As the bell in the distant watch-tower of the Alhambra struck the midnight hour, the fountain was again agitated; and bubble-bubble-bubble -it tossed about the waters, until the Moorish female again rose to view. She was young and beautiful; her dress was rich with jewels, and in her hand she held a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and was faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive voice of the apparition, and the sweet expression of her pale, melancholy countenance. 66 Daughter of mortality," said she, "what aileth thee? Why do thy tears trouble my fountain, and thy sighs and plaints disturb the quiet watches of the night?"-" I weep because of the faithlessness of man, and I bemoan my solitary and forsaken state."-" Take comfort; thy sorrows may yet have an end. Thou beholdest a Moorish Princess, who, like thee, was unhappy in her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, won my heart, and would have borne me to his native land and to the bosom of his church. I was a convert in my heart, but I lacked courage equal to my faith, and lingered till too late. For this the evil genii are permitted to have power over me, and I remain enchanted in this tower until some pure Christian will deign to break the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task?"-"I will," replied the damsel, trembling. "Come hither then, and fear not; dip thy hand in the fountain, sprinkle the water over me, and baptise me after the manner of thy faith; so shall the enchantment be dispelled, and my troubled spirit have repose.' The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped her hand into the fountain, collected water in the palm, and sprinkled it over the pale face of the phantom. The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She dropped her silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white arms upon her bosom, and melted from sight, so that it seemed merely as if a shower of dew-drops had fallen into the fountain. Jacinta retired from the hall filled with awe and wonder. She scarcely closed

her eyes that night; but when she awoke at daybreak out of a troubled slumber, the whole appeared to her like a distempered dream. On descending into the hall, however, the truth of the vision was established; for, beside the fountain, she beheld the silver lute glittering in the morning sunshine.

The music of this lute fairly enchants all the hearers, till at length its mistress is sent for to court, to try its influence over the hypochondriac monarch.

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had come over the mind of this sapient and illustrious Bourbon that surpassed all former vagaries. After a long spell of imaginary illness, which set all the strains of Faranelli, and the consultations of a whole orchestra of court fiddlers at defiance, the monarch fairly, in idea, gave up the ghost, and considered himself absolutely dead. This would have been harmless enough, and even convenient both to his queen and courtiers, had he been content to remain in the quietude befitting a dead man;. but to their annoyance he insisted upon having the funeral ceremonies performed over him, and, to their inexpressible perplexity, began to grow impatient and to revile bitterly at them for negligence and disrespect, in leaving him unburied. -What was to be done? To disobey the king's positive commands was monstrous in the eyes of the obsequious courtiers of a punctilious court-but to obey him, and bury him alive, would be downright regicide! In the midst of this fearful dilemma a rumour reached the court of the female minstrel, who was turning the brains of all Andalusia. The queen despatched missions in all haste to summon her to St. Ildefonso, where the court at that time resided. Within a few days, as the queen, with her maids of honour, was walking in those stately gardens, intended, with their avenues, and terraces, and fountains, to eclipse the glories of Versailles, the far-famed minstrel was conducted into her presence. The imperial Elizabetta gazed with surprise at the youthful and unpretending appearance of the little being that had set the world madding. She was in her picturesque Andalusian dress; her silver lute was in her hand, and she stood with modest and downcast eyes, but with a simplicity and freshness of beauty that still bespoke her "the Rose of the Alhambra." As usual, she was accompanied by the ever-vigilant Fredeganda, who gave the whole history of her parentage and descent to the inquiring queen. If the stately Elizabetta had been interested by the appearance of Jacinta, she was still more pleased when she learnt that she was of a meritorious, though impoverished line, and that her father had bravely fallen in the service of the crown.

"If thy powers equal thy renown," said she, "and thou can'st cast forth this evil spirit that possesses thy sovereign, thy fortunes shall henceforth be my care, and honours and wealth attend thee."

Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led the way at once to the apartment of the moody

At first

monarch. Jacinta followed, with downcast eyes, through files of guards and crowds of courtiers. They arrived, at length, at a great chamber hung in black. The windows were closed to exclude the light of day: a number of yellow wax tapers, in silver sconces, diffused a lugubrious light, and dimly revealed the figures of mutes in mourning dresses, and courtiers who glided about with noiseless step and wo-begone visage. On the midst of a funeral bed or bier, his hands folded on his breast, and the tip of his nose just visible, lay extended this would-be-buried monarch. The queen entered the chamber in silence, and, pointing to a footstool in an obscure corner, beckoned to Jacinta to sit down and commence. she touched her lute with a faltering hand, but gathering confidence and animation as she proceeded, drew forth such soft aerial harmony, that all present could scarce believe it mortal. As to the monarch, who had already considered himself in the world of spirits, he set it down for some angelic melody, or the music of the spheres. By degrees the theme was varied, and the voice of the minstrel accompanied the instrument. She poured forth one of the legendary ballads, treating of the ancient glories of the Alhambra, and the achievements of the Moors. Her whole soul entered into the theme, for with the recollection of the Alhambra was associated the story of her love. The funeral chamber resounded with the 、 animating strain. It entered into the gloomy heart of the monarch. He raised his head and gazed around: he sat up on his couch; his eye began to kindle; at length, leaping upon the floor, he called for sword and buckler. The triumph of music, or rather of the enchanted lute, was complete; the demon of melancholy was cast forth, and, as it were, a dead man brought to life. The windows of the apartment were thrown open; the glorious effulgence of Spanish sunshine burst into the late lugubrius chamber; all eyes sought the lovely enchantress; but the lute had fallen from her hand, she had sunk upon the earth, and the next moment was clasped to the bosom of Ruyz de Alarcon. The nuptials of the happy couple were shortly after celebrated with great splendour; but hold-I hear the reader ask, how did Ruyz de Alcaron account for his long neglect? Oh! that was all owing to the opposition of a proud, pragmatical, old father: besides, young people who really like one another, soon come to an amicable understanding, and bury all past grievances when once they meet. But how was the proud, pragmatical old father reconciled to the match? Oh! his scruples were easily overcome by a word or two from the queen, especially as dignities and rewards were showered upon the blooming favourite of royalty. Besides, the lute of Jacinta, you know, possessed a magic power, and could control the most stubborn head and hardest breast. And what came of the enchanted lute? Oh! that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly proves the truth of all this story. That lute remained for some time in the family, but was purloined and carried off, as was supposed, by the great singer Faranelli, in pure

jealousy. At his death it passed into other hands in Italy, who were ignorant of its mystic powers, and melting down the silver, transferred the strings to an old Cremona fiddle. The strings retain something of their magic virtues. A word in the reader's car, but let it go no further-that fiddle is now bewitching the whole world-it is the fiddle of Paganini!

“HELP YOURSELF.)

THE custom of helping oneself has its sanction in the remotest antiquity, and has been continued down to the present day in the highest places, and by those whom it especially behoves to set example to the world. It was clearly never designed that man should regulate his conduct for the good of others, for the first lesson taught to the first of men, was to take care of himself; had it been intended that men should study the good of each other, a number would surely have been simultaneously created for the exercise of the principle, instead of one, who, being alone, was essentially selfish. Adam was all the world to himself. With the addition of Eve, human society commenced; and the fault of our first mother furnishes a grand and terrible example of the mischief of thinking of the benefit of another. Satan suggested to her that Adam should partake of the fruit-an idea, having in it the taint of benevolence, so generally mistaken -whence sin and death came into the world, Had Eve been strictly selfish, she would wisely have kept the apples to herself, and the evil would have been avoided. Had Adam helped himself, he would have had no stomach for the helping of another-and so, on his part, the evil temptation had been obviated.

The help yourself principle has at no time been extinct in society, while it is seen to be a universal law of Nature. The wolf helps himself to the lamb, and the lamb to the grass. No animal assists another, excepting when in the relation of parent to young, when Nature could not dispense with the caprice of benevolence, which in this instance, be it observed, distresses the parties susceptible of the sentiment; for suckling creatures are always in poor condition. Appropriation is the great business of the universe. The institution of property is, on the other hand, artificial.

THE man who tenderly loves his wife will have the greater pleasure in lessening her care and heightening her enjoyment. The professions that he held out to engage her affections were all that language could express; his conduct that of the warmest attachment; can a woman, when she feels an increased cause for that attachment, bear the sad reverse? A Scotch ballad very prettily expresses the pleasure an affectionate wife feels at the approach of her husband :

"His very foot has music in't
When he comes up the stairs."'

THE avenues to learning of all kinds were planned and opened by Lord Bacon. The nature and most intimate recesses of the human mind were explained and unfolded by Locke-and the frame and constitution of the universe by Sir Isaac Newton, in a more perfect manner than ever was done or attempted by human skill, since the foundation of the world.

The senior Peerage on record in the three kingdoms is a Scotch one. The Earldom of Sutherland, now enjoyed by the Marchioness of Stafford, was given by Malcolm II. in 1007.

We do indeed cleave the vast heaven of Truth with a weak and crippled wing: and often we are appalled in our way by a dread sense of the immensity around us, and of the inadequacy of our own strength.

In spite of all the sophistry that has been expended in defence of close-fistedness, says a periodical, the common feeling is correct-that a miser is both a rogue and a fool.

Dentatus fought 120 battles, was 30 times victorious in single combat, and received forty-five wounds in front.

There is this of good in real evils, they deliver us while they last, from the petty despotism of all that were imaginary.

"Oh! say not I have broken the faith, the faith I vowed to thee,

Change was made for all on earth, was it not made for me?
I vowed a vow of faith to thee, by the red rose of June,
I vowed it by the rainbow, and by the silver moon;
The red rose has departed, fresh ones are springing there,
The rainbow's hue has left no trace upon the azure air,
The crescent moon has swollen into a golden round,
The marks of chance and change on each and all are found-
Then say not I have broke the faith, the faith I vowed to
thee,

Change was made for all on earth, was it not made for me?"

A man of sensibility is always either in the attic of ecstacies, or the cellar of sorrow; either jumping with joy, or groaning with grief. But pleasure and pain are like a cucumber-the extremes are good for nothing. I once heard a late minister compared to the same vegetable," For," said the punster, “his ends are bad."

A witness was called upon to testify concerning the reputation of another witness for veracity. -"Why," said he, "I hardly know what to tell you. Mr. sometimes jests and jokes, and then I don't believe him; but when he undertakes to tell any thing for a fact, I believe him about as much as I do the rest of my neighbours."

It is very remarkable that the New Zealanders attribute the creation of man to their three principal deities acting together; thus exhibiting in

their barbarous theology, something like a shadow of the Christian Trinity. What is still more extraordinary is, their tradition respecting the formation of the first woman who, they say, was made of one of the man's ribs; and their general term for bone is hevee, or, as Professor Lee gives it, iwi-a sound bearing a singular resemblance to the Hebrew name of our first mother.

Nobody ventures upon the high sea of public life without becoming sea sick sooner or later.

I do believe

That at our feet the tide of time flows on
In strong and rapid course; nor is one current
Or rippling eddy liker to the rest,

Than is one age unto its predecessor:
Men still are men, the stream is still a stream,
Through every change of changeful tide and time;
And 'tis, I fear, only our partial eye

That lends a brighter sunbeam to the wave

On which we launched our own adventurous bark,

Sleep, like an avaricious publican, forces us to spend with him one half of our lives.

RECIPES.

TO DRY-CLEAN CLOTHES OF ANY COLOUR.

First, examining where the spots of grease are, dip your brush in warm gall, and strike over the greasy places, when the grease will immediately disappear; rinse it off in cold water; dry by the fire, then take sand, such as is bought at the oil shops, and laying your coat flat on a table, strew this sand over it, and knocking your brush on it, beat the sand into the cloth: the sand should be a little damp; then brush it out with a hard brush, and it will bring out all the filth with it. This does also for coach linings and gentlemen's clothes, &c. In the summer time, when the dust gets into clothes, &c. after they have been well shaken and brushed again, pour a drop or two of the oil of olives into the palm of your hand, rub this over your soft brush, strike your coat over with it, and this will brighten the colour if either blue, black, or green.

FOR SULPHURING WOOL, SILKS, STRAW BONNETS, &c.

Put into a chaffing dish some lighted charcoal; put this chaffing dish into a small close room, without a chimney, or into a closet or large box; then pound an ounce or two of brimstone, and strew it on the hot coals. Hang up the articles you would have bleached, make your door fast, and let them hang three hours, or all night, if you have time. This is what is called dry bleaching woollens; all fine coloured woollens should be sulphured in this way previously to their being dyed. Straw bonnets are likewise bleached in the same manner.