was lamenting one day, before the king, this great desideratum throughout all Europe, when the king, who was a queerish sort of man, says to him-"Why, I have a professor of signs in the northernmost college in my dominions, viz. at Aberdeen; but it is a great way off, perhaps 600 miles."-" Were it 10,000 leagues off I shall see him," says the ambassador, "and am determined to set out in two or three days." The king saw he had committed himself, and writes, or causes to be written, to the university of Aberdeen, stating the case, and desiring the professors to put him off some way, or make the best of him. The ambassador arrives, is received with great solemnity; but soon began to inquire which of them had the honour to be professor of signs? and being told that the professor was absent in the Highlands, and would not return nobody could say when. Says the ambassador," I will wait his return, though it were twelve months." Seeing that this would not do, and that they had to entertain him at a great expense all the while, they contrived a stratagem. There was one Geordy, a butcher, blind of an eye, a droll fellow, with much wit and roguery about him.He is got told the story, and instructed to be a professor of signs; but not to speak on pain of death.Geordy undertakes it. The ambassador is now told that the professor of signs would be at home next day, at which he rejoiced greatly. Geordy is gowned, wigged, and placed in a chair of state in a room of the college, all the professors and the ambassador being in an adjoining room. The ambassador is now shown into Geordy's room, and left to converse with him as well as he could, the whole professors waiting the issue with fear and trembling. The ambassador holds up one of his fingers to Geordy; Geordy holds up two of his. The ambassador holds up three; Geordy clenches his fist and looks stern. The ambassador then takes an orange from his pocket, and holds it up; Geordy takes a piece of barleycake from his pocket, and holds that up. After which the ambassador bows to him, and retires to the other professors, who anxiously inquired his opinion of their

brother. "He is a perfect miracle," says the ambassador; "I would not give him for the wealth of the Indies!"—"Well," say the professors, "to descend to particulars."-"Why," said the ambassador, "I first held up one finger, denoting that there is one God; he held up two, signifying that these are the Father and Son; I held up three, meaning the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; he clenched his fist, to say that these three are one. I then took out an orange, signifying the goodness of God, who gives his creatures not only the necessaries but the luxuries of life; upon which the wonderful man presented a piece of bread, showing that it was the staff of life, and preferable to every luxury." The professors were glad that matters had turned out so well; so having got quit of the ambassador, they next got Geordy, to hear his version of the signs. "Well, Geordy, how have you come on, and what do you think of yon man?" "The rascal!" says Geordy, "what did he do first, think ye? He held up one finger, as much as to say you have only one eye! Then I held up two, meaning that my one eye was perhaps as good as both his. Then the fellow held up three of his fingers, to say that there were but three eyes between us; and then I was so mad at the scoundrel that I steeked my neive, and was to come a whack on the side of his head, and would ha' done it too, but for your sakes. Then the rascal did not stop with his provocation here; but forsooth takes out an orange, as much as to say, your poor beggarly cold country cannot produce that! I showed him a whang of a bear bannock, meaning that I didna' care a farthing for him nor his trash neither, as lang's I ha' this! But by a' that's guid," concluded Geordy, "I'm angry yet that I didna' thrash the hide o' the scoundrel!"-So much for signs, or two ways of telling a story.

ROSALBA, A SICILIAN TALE.

FROM THE FRENCH OF CHEV. DE FLORIAN.

SINCE that it has become the custom in our France to philosophize, and for every one to meddle with reasoning, and to disbelieve all that cannot be proved to be true, magic and many other things have fallen greatly in estimation. Charms, philtres, and enchantments, so celebrated of old, and so dreaded by our ancestors, have nearly lost all their credit. The gipsies who tell fortunes, and the dealers in spells, are ridiculed; no one visits now the old women who predict from the cards; and even those more skilful practitioners, who read the future in the white of an egg or the grounds of coffee, are contemptuously laughed at.-Others may laugh; for my part, I do not. Without bringing forward here a crowd of histories, which are attested by a thousand witnesses, I every day see events happen which prove to me the truth of magic.-For example, when two lovers, whom absence, persecution, and obstacles of all kinds, have served but to render more dear to each other, have at length, by their continued constancy, succeeded in tying the hymeneal knot, and then, all at once, mutually disgusted, they become unfaithful at the very moment when fidelity is a duty,-will any one say that there is nothing of magic in the case? When a broken-hearted widow, ready to die of grief on the tomb of her husband, and who makes her friends fear that her despair will at last wholly deprive her of her senses, is in a moment restored to reason by the sight of a handsome young man, and that, drying up the tears in which she was drowned, she puts into the hands of her consoler, her fortune, of which he takes good care, and her happiness, about which he cares nothing,-is it not evident that this must be the effect of some magical potion? There can be no doubt of it; and a hundred similar instances may be cited in support of my assertion. Besides,

Spain, Italy, and Sicily, still have a tribunal, whose business it is severely to punish magicians; an additional proof that their art is not so chimerical as some would induce us to believe. A judgment, too, may be formed upon this head, from the following very true anecdote, which I had from those who were eye-witnesses of the fact.

Rosalba was born at Palermo, of an illustrious and powerful family. Fortune did much for her; nature did still more. From her infancy, her growing beauty, her grace, her sweetness, her sense, made her the idol of a father, of whom she was the only child. The most careful education, the most able masters, unfolded the talents which Heaven had bestowed upon Rosalba. At the age of fourteen she already eclipsed all the Sicilian beauties; she understood and spoke the language of Racine, that of Pope, that of Cervantes, and even somewhat of that of Gessner; she made verses which she showed only to her father, but which would have delighted others than her father; she sung the airs of Leo, with a voice more affecting than that of the famous Faustina; and when she accompanied herself on the harp, the cardinals and prelates who had the best taste in music unanimously agreed that Rosalba could not be surpassed by the angels of heaven.

To so many charms, and so many accomplishments, Rosalba joined a fortune of a hundred thousand ducats a year. It may easily be believed that she was sought after by the first nobles of Sicily. The old Count de Scanzano, her father, wise enough to know that a splendid marriage is not always a happy one, took especial care not to look merely to the titles and riches of those who aspired to the hand of his daughter. He would not favour any one of them in particular; but confining himself to admitting them to the concerts and balls which he frequently gave, this good parent allowed Rosalba to remain absolute mistress of her choice.

Rosalba was long undecided. She was naturally tender, lively, impassioned like a Sicilian; but she was

only sixteen, and her heart, which already began to speak, had not yet declared itself for any one. Her eyes, however, had singled out the young Duke of Castellamare. A tall and graceful stature, a handsome figure, wit, valour, a great name, and the age of nineteen, gave the duke the advantage over rivals wiser than himself. Deprived of his parents when he was in the cradle, the liberty which he had prematurely enjoyed might serve as an apology for the deviations of impetuous youth. Besides, those deviations were not known, and the Count de Scanzano, who at first had disliked to see him seeking the hand of Rosalba, no sooner heard that he was preferred, than he himself preferred him. He first spoke of the duke; he bestowed on him a warm panegyric; and on this occasion, as he had long been accustomed to do, he gave his daughter such advice as he perceived would be most pleasing for her to follow.

The marriage was soon concluded. The Count de Scanzano celebrated it by magnificent entertainments. The young duchess was introduced at the court of the viceroy, of which she became the fairest ornament.Nothing was talked of but her charms; and the duke was universally envied. The blissful Rosalba gave herself up to the pleasures of every kind, which employed and varied all her moments. Young, beautiful, rich, adored, she saw before her a long career of felicity. Her hus band lived but to love her; and her old father, transported with joy, loudly returned thanks to Heaven, embraced his son-in-law, gazed on his daughter, and congratulated himself on the certainty of his quitting existence before any event could occur to disturb the happiness which he felt.

Six months after the marriage that happiness no longer existed. The duke, led astray by his dangerous friends, the corrupters of his youth, once more gave himself up to those lamentable pleasures which he had quitted, but not renounced. He abandoned his wife, for the sake of worthless rivals. At first he carefully concealed the outrages which he offered to love; but