my lips-on the evening of yesterday, I crossed the mountain to the monastery of St. Bertrand-my errand thither finished, I returned directly to the valley. Rosalie saw me enter the cottage soon afterwards, a strange outcry recalled me to the door; a mantle spread before the threshold caught my eye; I raised it and discovered a mask within it. The mantle was newly stained with blood! 'consternation seized upon my soul -the next minute I was surrounded by guards, and accused of murder. They produced a weapon I had lost in defending my. self against a ferocious animal; confounded by terror and surprise, I had not power to explain the truth, and loaded with chains and reproaches, I was dragged to the dungeons of the castle. Here my knowledge of the dark transaction ends, and I have only this to add-I may become the victim of circumstance, but I never have been the slave of crime !

Mon. (Smiling ironically.) Plausibly urged-have you no more to offer?

Jul. Truth needs but few words--I have spoken !

Mon. Yet bethink yourself--dare you abide by this wild tale, and brave a sentence on no stronger plea?

Jul. Alas! I have none else to offer.

Mon. You say, on the evening of yesterday, you visited the monastery of St. Bertrand. What was your business there? Jul. With father Nicolo--to engage him to marry Rosalie and myself on the following morning.

Mon. A marriage too!-Well! at what time did you quit the monastery?

Jul. The bell for vesper-service had just ceased to toll.
Mon. By what path did you return to the valley?

Jul. Across the mountain.

Mon. Did you not pass through the wood of olives, where

the dark deed was attempted?

Jul. (Recollecting.) The wood of olives?

Mon. Ha! mark! he hesitates-speak!

Jul. No! my soul scorns to tell a falsehood-I did pass through the wood of olives.

Mon. Aye! and pursuit was close behind. Stefano! you seized the prisoner?

Stef. I did. The bloody weapon bore his name-the mask and mantle were in his hands--confusion in his countenance, and every limb shaking with alarm.

Mon. Enough! heavens! that villainy so monstrous should inhabit with such tender youth! I fain would doubt, and in

despite of reason, hesitate to give my sentence; but conviction glares from every point, and incredulity would now be madness. Not to descant on the absurdity of your defense, a tale too wild for romance itself to sanction, I find from your admission, a damning chain of circumstance that confirms your criminality. The time at which you passed the wood, and the hour of the duke's attack, precisely correspond. Your attachment to Rosalie, presents the motive of your offense; burning with impatient love, knowing vanity to sway the soul of woman, and trusting to win its influence by the bribes of luxury, you sought to rush on fortune by the readiest path, and snatch from the unwary traveler that sudden wealth which honest labor could only by slow degrees obtain. Defeated in the dark attempt, you fled-pursuit was instant-your steps were traced--and at the very door of your cottage, you were seized before the evidences of your guilt could be secreted. Oh! wretched youth, I warn you to confess. Sincerity can be your only claim to

mercy.

Jul. My heart will burst--but I have spoken truth: yes,—— heaven knows that I have spoken truth!

Mon. Then I must execute my duty. Death is my sentence. Jul. Hold!--pronounce it not as yet!

Mon. If you have any further evidence, produce it. Jul. (With despairing energy.) I call on Ludovico ! (Ludovico steps forward with alacrity-Montaldi recoils with visible trepidation.)

Lud. I am here!

Mon: And what can he unfold! only repeat that which we already know-I will not hear him-the evidence is perfectAlb. (Rising with warmth.) Hold !-Montaldi-Ludovico must be heard to the ear of justice, the lightest syllable of proof is precious.

Mon. (Confused.) I stand rebuked-well-Ludovico, depose your evidence!

Lud. Mine was the fortunate arm appointed by heaven to rescue the duke-I fought with the assassin, and drove him beyond the trees into the open lawn-I there distinctly marked his figure, and from the difference in the height alone, I solemnly aver Julian cannot be the person.

Mon. This is no proof-the eye might easily be deceivedI cannot withhold my sentence longer

Lud. I have further matter to advance. Just before the ruffian fled, he received a wound across his right hand-the

moonlight directed my blow, and showed me that the cut was deep and dangerous. Julian's fingers bear no such mark.

Mon. (Evincing great emotion, and involuntarily drawing his glove closer over his hand.) A wound-mere fable—

Lud. Nay, more the same blow struck from off one of the assassin's fingers, a jewel; it glittered as it fell: I snatched it from the grass-I thrust it within my bosom, and have ever since preserved it next my heart: I now produce it-'tis here -a ring-an amethyst set with brilliants!

Alb. (Rising hastily.) What say you? an amethyst set with brilliants! even such I gave Montaldi. Let me view it !(As Ludovico advances to present the ring to the duke, Montaldi rushes with frantic impetuosity between, and attempts to seize it.)

Mon. Slave! resign the ring!

Lud. I will yield my life sooner!

Mon. Wretch! I will rend thy frame to atoms! (They struggle with violence, Montaldi snatches at the ring, Ludovico catches his hand and tears off the glove-the wound appears.)

Lud. Oh! God! murder is unmasked the bloody mark is here! Montaldi is the assassin! (All rush forward in astonishment-Julian drops upon his knee in mute thanksgiving.) Mon. Shame! madness! hell!

Alb. Eternal providence! Montaldi a murderer!

Mon. Aye! accuse, and curse! idiots! dupes! I heed you not. I can but die! triumph not, Alberti-I trample on thee still! (Draws a pogniard and attempts to destroy himself-the weapon is wrested from his hand by the guards.)

Alb. Fiend! thy power to sin is past.

Mon. (Delirious with passion.) Ha! ha! ha! my brain scorches, and my veins run with fire! disgraced, dishonored! oh! madness! I cannot bear it-save me-oh! (Falls insensible into the arms of attendants.)

Alb. Wretched man! bear him to his chamber-his punishment be hereafter. (Montaldi is carried off.)

Jul. Oh! my joy is too full for words!

Amb. My noble boy!

Vin. Rosalie shall reward him.

Alb. Yes, they are children of virtue! their happiness shall be my future care. Let this day, through each returning year, become a festival, on my domain. Heaven, with peculiar favor, has marked it for its own, and taught us, by the simple moral of this hour, that howsoever in darkness guilt may veil

its malefactions from the eye of man, an omniscient Judge will penetrate each hidden sin, and still, with never-failing justice, confound the vicious, and protect the good!

Jul.

The peasant boy, redeemed from fate,

Must here for mercy sue,

He dares not trust decrees of state,
Till ratified by you.

Alb. Then gentles! prithee grant our prayer,
Nor cloud the dawning joy,
"Not guilty!" by your hands declare,
And save the peasant boy!

XIX-FROM DAMON AND PYTHIAS.-Shiel.

PHILISTIUS DIONYSIUS DAMOCLES-DAMON-SENATORS

PROCLES-SOLDIERS.

First Senator. So soon warned back again!
Dionysius. So soon, good fathers.

My last despatches here set forth, that scarce
I had amassed and formed our gallant legions,
When, as by magic, word of the precaution
Was spirited to their camp-and on the word,
These Carthagenians took their second thought,
And so fell back.

Philistius. I do submit to you,
That out of this so happy consequence
Of Dionysius's movement on the citadel,
Not only is his pardon for the act

Freely drawn forth, but we are called upon
Our thanks most manifestly to express
For such a noble service.

Dion. Good Philistius,

I am a soldier; yours and the state's servant,
And claim no notice for my duty done
Beyond the doing it-and the best thanks
I merit, or can have, lie in the issue

Which has most happily resulted.

The work which of this enterprise thou hast made,
Proves that our citadel, and its resources,

Have been misused and never so controlled
And ordered for our good, as by thyself;-
Therefore retain it, govern and direct it.-
Would the whole state were like the citadel!
In hot and angry times like these, we want
Even such a man.

Dam. I, from my heart, assent to
And second this proposal.

Dion. Most reverend fathers

Dam. We pray thee silence, noble Dionysius!
All here do know what your great modesty
Will urge you to submit-but I will raise

This envious veil wherein you shroud yourself.
It is the time to speak; our country's danger
Calls loudly for some measure at our hands,
Prompt and decisive.

Damon. (Without.) Thou most lowly minion!
I'll have thee whipped for it, and by the head
Made less even than thou art. (Enter Damon.)
Phil. Who breaks so rude and clamorously in
To scare our grave deliberations?

Damon. A senator!-First let me ask you why Upon my way here to sit down with you,

I have encountered in the open streets,
Nay, at the very threshold of your doors,
Soldiers and satellites arrayed and marshaled

With their swords out? Why have I been obstructed
By an armed bandit in my peaceful walk here,
To take my rightful seat in the senate house?
Why has a ruffian soldier privilege

To hold his weapon to my throat? A tainted,
Disgraced, and abject traitor, Procles?

Who

Dared place the soldiers round the senate house!
Phil. I pray you, fathers, let not this rash man
Disturb the grave and full consideration
Of the important matter touching which
We spoke ere he rushed in.

Dam. I did require