"Why, then, let this be the last tear you shed; but give me a pen and ink, and, while I write, do you run and fetch Felippo, the lay brother, who attends my mule and, as for the offices, unless the Padre Geronimo has performed them, they must go undone, for the hour is now past."

Masetto hastily obeyed the canon. The letter was written, and dispatched by Felippo to the Cavalier Novi, who commanded a detachment of the pope's troops, a few leagues distant. First, however, Felippo was ordered to prepare his master's mule and his own, and to lend the better of his two frocks to Masetto, who, having put it on, followed the canon to his own house. A short preparation sufficed to make them ready for the journey which the canon meditated; and giving it out that he was going to the monastery of Santa Maria della Salute upon business with the abbot, he mounted his mule, and followed by Masetto, in the dress of the lay brother, rode gently towards the mountains.

As they journeyed on, the father explained to Masetto his plan, which was to throw themselves in the way of the brigands, and thus discover in the first place where Lissa was kept. They would think the Padre a rich prize; and he knew them too well to apprehend any violence from them, because they would expect to get a large sum of money from him in the way of a ransom, and would willingly release his follower, that he might fetch them the money. This being done, the rest of the enterprise must depend greatly on Masetto's intelligence and skill in bringing up the troops of the Cavalier Novi, whom the Padre's letter had apprized of his design, to the robber's retreat.

Mr. P. an English gentleman, who was always considered the most eccentric of mortals, has lately made a match in Paris in strict accordance with his general character; but, nevertheless, I think it is likely to turn out a happy one. You must, I think, remember his having once bought a house close to Greenwich Park, for the express purpose of

reading La Fontaine's Fables while wandering through it. After some time, however, he found out that Greenwich afforded him no other amusement, and he began to look about for a situation in which he could enjoy this favourite one in addition to others. The Bois de Boulogne presented itself to his imagination, and in less than a week he was settled close to it. As he was one morning strolling along reading in the most retired part of the wood, two gentlemanly young men walked up to him, and saying that they were come there to settle a mortal difference, begged his services to see that all was fair. Of course he asked an explanation, and it appeared that the antagonists were clerks to a notary of high practice that they were both enamoured of the notary's only daughter and came to the ground with a determination to fight till one of them, or rather I should say both of them, fell, as they agreed to discharge their pistols at the same

moment.

"What!" cried P. "fire together, and at a distance that does not leave either of you a chance of surviving! Why, gentlemen, you mean to assassinate each other!"

"Just so," said one of them coolly..

"Call it an assassination if you will," cried the other, "I shall die happy in the certainty that she will never be his."

"But the lady, has she no preference?"

"None sir, she does not even know of our love. It was only yesterday that we came to a knowledge of each other's sentiments, until then we had always been the best of friends."

It was in vain that P. tried to dissuade them from their purpose; they protested that if he would not witness the duel they would fight without a second.

"And pray," cried P. "what is to become of me? You seem to forget that by conniving at an assassination, for it is nothing better, I run the risk of being imprisoned for life."

"No such thing," exclaimed both eagerly, "the affair will be decided in a few moments, there is no one within sight, and the moment it is over, you can get out of the way-"

And leave you both wounded, with the possibility, a very bare one it is true, that with care you might recover. No, gentlemen, I will serve you, if you please, but it shall be on my own conditions. We are now in the beginning of the

long vacation, you shall each go into the country for a month, see your friends, reflect upon your determination, and, if you persevere in it, come to me this day month. Here is my

card: I pledge myself as a man of honor to attend you."

They agreed, and P. went home to rack his brains for some plan to induce them to alter their mind. As he threw the book upon the table, it opened at the fable he had been reading, it was that of the two countrymen, who having found an oyster, and not being able to agree about the division of it, referred the matter to a lawyer who was pass ing he heard the case argued by both parties, and settled the matter by giving each of the countrymen a shell, and swallowing the oyster himself.

:

P. stood lost in thought for a moment, then went out, got himself introduced to the notary, contrived to be invited to dinner on the following day, and found the petite Sophie so much to his taste, that he determined it should not be his fault if he did not swallow the oyster.

The month passed, the rivals returned to claim his promise, "I will attend you in two minutes, if you wish it ; but first do me the favor to read this fable, and allow me to give you an explanation of it." Opening the door of another apartment, he said, as he led a lady forward, "Permit me to present Madame P. to you."

Both appeared for a moment stupified; at length one burst into laughter. "Well, sir," cried he, "you have swallowed the oyster, but where are the shells?" Let me offer you for them my friendship," said the pretty wife. "And mine," added the husband. "In addition," continued he, "I am commissioned by my father-in-law to tell you that he is about to retire from business, and will let you both, if you choose to embark together, have his office on terms that will prove his friendship for you."

The rivals, now no longer such, gratefully accepted the offer, and P. has the pleasure to see that they are likely to turn the shells to a good account, for they are doing remarkably well. He and his pretty little wife seem to be a happy couple.

CHARLES B

Rue St. Dominique, Faubourg St. Germain.

SIR ARTHUR WOODGATE.

A STORY OF THE REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "MAY YOU LIKE IT," &c.

"Thank God! I have rested well," was the answer of the old man as he gently laid his hands upon the head of his fair and youthful grand-daughter. Frances was kneeling at his feet, and meekly receiving the blessing, which, according to the good, grave fashion of the time was his morning salutation to her. "And thank you also, my kind and anxious nurse! How could I do otherwise than recover, with this sweet face always smiling tenderly upon me, and served. ever by these delicate and careful hands!" And speaking thus, he looked fondly in her face, and kissed her, and raised both her small fair hands to his lips. And now tell me on what day your brother Hubert returned home. I cannot see why the doctors should have kept such pleasant news from me, with the fear that it would be at first too much for my slowly returning strength. I feel that such welcome news would have restored me even sooner to health. Go, my child, seek your brother, and bring him back with you. We will all breakfast together this morning. I would fain know more of this dear truant boy; for at present, nearly related as he is, you and I have seen but little of Poor fellow! He hath come back to troublous

him.

times!

Frances Woodgate and her brother Hubert were orphans; their home was then with their grandfather, Sir Arthur Woodgate.

Hubert had returned to England about a week before that morning, at a time when but faint hopes were entertained of the recovery of the aged knight.. Little was indeed known of his character or disposition; for he had been absent from home since the death of his father, a period of five years.

He was an uncertain sort of person, and he returned to England almost as suddenly as he had left it. Frances knew nothing of his intentions, till a tall, handsome man appeared before her, in whom she soon recognized her beloved and long-absent brother.

Pleasant and entertaining as Hubert's society was, Sir Arthur and Frances soon found that his religious opinions were never betrayed by him. He spoke of poetry and painting-the poetry and painting of Italy-with enthusiasm. He seemed, indeed, well acquainted with the politics, the literature, and the fine arts of the day; but when religion was the subject of discourse, although he politely acquiesced in the opinions of those he loved, his manner became cold and abstracted in no common degree.

The old man's health amended visibly, so that he deter mined to attend his parish church, to return thanks to his heavenly Father for his recovery. Frances Woodgate and her brother were desired to accompany their grandfather. Frances was delighted to attend on him; and Hubert went, but half unwillingly. A sermon was preached by a distinguished divine, of the new learning, one well suited to the uncertain and troubled aspect of the times. Frances and most of the congregation were affected even to tears, as the preacher spoke, with an eloquence that went to the heart, of the peculiar and tender care of their heavenly Father towards his children, and how he would never leave them nor forsake them. Once she turned her tearful eyes upon her grandfather, and upon her brother, for whose safety she felt so deep and trembling an anxiety. A smile, it might be a sneer, was on her brother's lip, and her tears flowed faster than before, but the spring from whence they flowed was become bitter.

It was in the spring of the year of our Lord 1539, that Master Hubert Woodgate returned from his five years of foreign travel. The climate of England was not more variable than were the religious opinions which the crafty Herod of those times sent forth from his adulterous and unsanctified heart, calling upon his hapless people to believe them, or to die. That year was distinguished by the passing of the Bill of Six Articles, well named the Bloody Bill, in Parlia

ment.

Frances had been long accustomed to read the Bible daily to her grandfather. Some days had elapsed since the passing of the Bloody Bill. They heard daily, nay hourly, of the arrest of some of those with whom they were acquainted; but she still read the Bible at the usual hour to the old man. Hubert began to betray at times an impatience of temper