They proceeded to search every place where it was possible any body could have concealed himself. 66 They must have escaped," at length exclaimed Alfonso, casting his eyes round the room, when his sword, which he had endea voured to sieze in the dark, met his view; it was lying on the floor, not far from the bed. He took it up and examined it; the point was tinged with blood but newly shed, and the place near which it lay was dyed with the same crimson colour. "Look here, Sancho,' said Alfonso; 66 you will now be convinced that I have had no dream." It immediately occurred to Gonzalo that they might find out something by tracing the spots of blood; but to their astonishment and disappointment it was confined to one place. They were, therefore, not enabled to make any discovery of this mystery; but no doubt was entertained in their minds that the young Count's sword had been the instrument for perpetrating some atrocious deed. The Count Tassini, father of the young Alfonso, at the decease of his father, who was then about twenty-three years of age, found a large fortune at his disposal, and being the elder brother, succeeded to the title. He married a young lady, to whom he had, for some time, been attached. Her parents possessed considerable property, which he inherited at their death. The ancient Castle of Orcani had belonged to the Count's family for centuries, and had recently undergone a thorough repair. age. The Countess had had but two children, one of whom died at a very early Alfonso had already attained the age of fifteen, and was greatly idolized by his parents: he was brave, generous, and benevolent, and was sincerely beloved by all who knew him for the gentleness of his disposition and goodness of heart. About this time Francisco, a younger brother of the Count Tassini, returned from the army, having been abroad many years. He was precisely the reverse of his brother in every respect. The Count was all that was amiable, and felt himself peculiarly happy when promoting the felicity of his fellow-creatures; whilst, on the other hand, there was nothing that Francisco would pause to execute, however diabolical, he might have in view. He took up his abode at Orcani, and intimated that he should probably stay about a month, as he shortly intended to rejoin his regiment. Tassini had never seen him since the death of his father, and was ignorant of the real character of his brother. He accordingly introduced him to the Countess, when what was Francisco's astonishment at beholding the very same lady to whom, under an assumed title, he paid his addresses eighteen years before! He had then endeavoured, by every art he could devise, to prepossess her in his favour; and at length applied to her father for his consent to their union. The old man referred him to his daughter, telling him, that if she had fixed her affections upon him, his concurrence to the match should not be wanting, and that he had but one wish to see his child happy. Francisco accordingly had a private interview with the young lady: he urged his suit with all that insinuating art which is so natural to the Italian; but contrary to his expectations, she told him that her heart was already engaged, and that she could never be his. This rejection exasperated him greatly, and he contrived a plot to carry her off by force. One evening an opportunity presented itself, and she was suddenly seized and conveyed into a carriage in which was Francisco, who drove off at a furious rate. father, however, was soon after apprised of the circumstance, and he summoned his servants to attend him; horses were instantly saddled, and they hastened after Francisco, and at length came up with the carriage, which they succeeded in stopping. Francisco, finding himself thus unexpectedly foiled, resolved to be revenged on the young lady's father, whom he espied a little distance from him he seized a pistol and fired-the ball missed him, but unfortunately lodged in the breast of one of his servants, who fell lifeless to the ground. Francisco darted out of the carriage, seized his horse, and, aided by the darkness of the night, and the confusion that the rest were in, escaped. The young lady was found in a state of insensibility. Every endeavour was afterwards made to discover the retreat of Francisco, and bring him to justice; but he had effectually eluded the vigilance of those who went in quest of him. : Her Tassini had for many years endeavoured to learn what had become of his brother; and his sudden visit to the castle greatly surprised him. It was fortunate, however, that the Countess did not recognise him. Francisco, who had never liked his brother, now found that it was he who had been his rival: this idea haunted his imagination, and the greatest hatred filled his bosom. He reflected that by the death of the Count's family all their property (which he knew was very considerable) would belong to him. These circumstances combined, stimulated him to plan the destruction of the whole family; but though so habituated to every species of villany, he could not conceive how it could be carried into execution without incurring suspicion. He at length fixed the day for his departure from the castle; the Count had tried every means in his power, but in vain, to induce him to quit the army and reside with them; and he had taken leave but a short time before this story commences. Gonzalo deemed it advisable to acquaint his master, without delay, of what happened; upon which the Count instantly rose, and several servants were summoned to attend him. He first proceeded to Alfonso's chamber, where he was himself an eye-witness of what is before related; and afterwards went down stairs, when it was discovered that the Castle had been robbed of the plate, and almost every portable article of value. It was ascertained how the robbers had gained admittance the great massive bolts that secured the outer door must have been withdrawn. This led the Count to suspect that somebody had been concealed within for the purpose of letting in his companions; and after picking the lock of the hall door, which was found open, they had thus easily gained access to every part of the castle. But the ingenuity with which they had effected the robbery-their having carefully avoided entering the bed-chambers, or alarming the servants, and having ransacked every other apartment-were convincing proofs it could not have been done so dexterously by strangers. The report of the robbery soon spread far and wide, and the friends of the Count hastened to the castle to give him their advice and assistance. Their exertions were indefatigable in scouring the country round about all persons who excited any suspicion were detained and examined, and large rewards were offered for the discovery of the marauders. Nearly a week had passed away, during which every effort had been made, but nothing farther transpired, to bring the thieves to justice. On the sixth day after the robbery, a servant brought the Count a scrap of paper that had been found under the door on opening it in the morning, on which was written the following: "COUNT TASSINI,-When we deprived you of your property, you did not consider that we left you your life-so be quiet, or we shall soon pay you another visit." The neighbourhood of Orcani had for some time been reported to have been infested with banditti, and what tended greatly to strengthen these reports, was the frequent depredations that had been committed. These circumstances, and more particularly the late transactions at the castle, threw the family into the greatest consternation, which determined the Count to quit as soon as he could provide himself with another residence. He had lately heard that a villa, about fifteen leagues distant was to be let, and he made up his mind to go and see it, his friends promising him to remain at the castle with the Countess during his absence for a few days. He accordingly departed one morning, taking with him Masetti, and three other servants on horseback, well prepared to repel any attack that might be made upon him. Nothing of consequence occurred to him on his journey, and he arrived safe at the place of his destination in the evening. The following day, he went to the villa, which upon inspection he found exactly suited him, and after agreeing with the owner of it, he pursued his journey homeward, having transacted his business to his entire satisfaction. The Count fully expected to have reached the castle the same night, but it grew suddenly dark, and fearing that he had missed the way, he desired one of his attendants to make inquiry of a person, whom they could but just discern, riding a little distance before them. The man informed them, that, if they continued to follow him, they would be right, as he himself was going their way. But a storm coming on, the Count and his servants were compelled to alight at a small cottage which they had then come to, and solicit a shelter. whom they had accosted on the road, likewise followed their example. The only inhabitants were an old man and his son, who set before them some bread and fruit, and wine, and then conducted their horses to an outhouse. The person Tassini, on casting his eyes towards the stranger, was struck with awe at his appearance his person, which was rather tall, was enveloped in a long dark cloakhis beard and mustaches very long and black his countenance of the most deadly hue, which produced a striking contrast to his beard and dress-indeed, his whole appearance was the most terrific. He did not enter into any conversation, but maintained a most gloomy silence. The storm still continuing unabated, the old man offered to accommodate the Count with a bed in an adjoining room, but he refused, saying he should depart by break of day. The same offer was then made to the stranger, who accepted of it, and retired. When they were alone, Tassini could not help remarking to his servants his suspicions of this man, and intimated that he did not consider it to be quite safe to be under the same roof with him. "You need not, Sir," said Masetti," be under any apprehension, we are well armed, and have nothing to fear." This assurance of his favourite servant at once satisfied the Count, and he considered himself perfectly safe. Near midnight the stranger softly entered the room, and finding all quiet, he first examined the Count, and afterwards his servants, who seemed to be asleep he drew a dagger from under his cloak, and again approaches Tassinihis arm was already uplifted to plunge it in his bosom-when Masetti seized a pistol and fired-the weapon dropped powerless from his hand, and he fell down apparently lifeless. To be concluded in our next. CRUMBS OF COMFORTS FOR "THOSE IN ADVERSITY. (For the Mirror.) wise and courageous; emboldens the timid, and puts the modest to the necessity of trying their skill: it awes the opulent, and makes the fallen industrious! Much may be said in favour of adversity: "the worst of it is, it has no friends."-Shakspeare, in his "As you like it," says "Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head." And again in the play of Henry VI. our great Poet says "Let me embrace these sour adversities; For wise men say, it is the wisest course." HENRY VI. Rousseau says, "Reason requires us to support adversity with patience, and not increase its weight by useless complaints; not to esteem human things beyond their value; nor exhaust in bewailing our misfortunes, the strength we should exert to soften them; and, lastly, to recollect sometimes that it is impossible for man to foresee the future, and know himself sufficiently to judge whether what has happened be a blessing or a misfortune." "He that never was acquainted with adversity, has seen the world but on one side, and is ignorent of half the scenes of nature," says Seneca. Thou chiefest good! Bestow'd by Heaven, but seldom understood." P. T. W TO AN ALTERED LOVER I will not now recall the hour, We part---another's heart receives thee, SENECA, in his Morals, justly says, "There is no state of life so miserable, but there are in it remissions, diversions, nay, and delights too; such is the benignity of nature towards us, even in the severest accidents of human life. There were no living if adversity should hold on as it begins, and keep up the force of the first impression. Calamity tries virtue, as fire does gold. How many casualties and difficulties are there that we dread as insupportable mischiefs; which upon farther thoughts, we find to be mercies and benefits. Sometimes a calamity turns to our advantage; and great ruins have made way to great glories. It is only in adverse fortune, and in bad times, Then, wilt thou think on her who leaves thee, that we find great examples. Mucius thought himself happier with his hand in the flame, than if it had been kissed by his mistress. Fabricius took more pleasure in eating the roots of his own planting, than in all the delicacies of luxury and expense. The more struggle with our necessities, we draw the knot the harder, and the worse it is with us: and the more the bird flaps and flutters in the snare, the sooner she is caught so that the best way is to submit and be still, under this double consideration, that the proceedings of God are unquestionable, and his decrees not to be resisted." : we Some writer has observed, that " Adversity exasperates fools, and dejects cowards it draws out the faculties of the Whose life, whose heart and soul were thine No other love can e'er efface it ; And lost! Oh, say! who can replace it? Can never quite forget, or hate thee. Are lines, the hand of Time shall spare Of darkness, or despair been thine, FRANCISOA JANET'S LETTER TO THE ED (For the Mirror.) It doth not appear to me that curiosity, our sex's foible and their only fault, is altogether liable to the latter exception If harmlessly exercised. In truth, then, I among many others are on the tip-toe of anxiety to know who and what thou art; for be what thou wilt, "thou com'st in such a questionable shape that I will speak to thee." Much do I feel disposed to enrol thee among my sex; for, lustrous as this age is in female beauty and prolific in acquirement, who dare undervalue those charms a MIRROR even is proud of reflecting? who shall presume to infer otherwise, simply from the numerous ephemerals of the day (among which yours, thanks to its able conduct, has stoutly upheld the championry) being conducted by the self-created lords of the creation ? Its title its host of male contributors-its chaste and brightly intellectual character-all suggest the idea of an editress and one, too, to whom I would right willingly extend the hand of fellowship; but, oh, what fear doth blanch my cheek, lest the reverse should prove the fact; how would my virgin modesty shrink appalled at the bare idea of thus confidently addressing a whiskerandos! It cannot be; the fire of genius mantles over your glittering pages, decking them with gems of hues too precious to be excited by other than an idolized goddess. All of them eager candidates for "wreathed smiles," eyeing each the other askance with gallant daring, and wielding their pens with tempered zeal and candour in honourable contention for excellence; this is at it should be. Our silent coterie of blues leave the red coats to boarding-school misses and ungovernable hoydens, maintaining that 66 none but the wise deserve the fair," and feeling assured that, as human nature is constituted, wisdom does not exclude bravery, though the latter quality is often devoid of wisdom. Not, however, wishing to derogate from the " pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war;" nevertheless they have their share of merit; and, conscious of the all-pervading influence of a gay exterior even among my own sex, I am disposed to be more indulgent towards that foible in the butterflies of the lordly race. How I should delight to glance my eye over the array of talent reflected in your MIRROR; do, dear Editress, quickly make your election, that we of the forlorn hope may brighten in the prospect of sharing in the spoils. When the soul saddens into disappointinent, it becomes less fastidious; and to soften the edge of disappointment our club have resolved to pour in a neatly addressed fire on the instant, provided, of course, you charitably lend your fostering aid, which we are not so unreasonable as to expect until your own object is attained. I have a solitary pleasure in idealizing your soul-stirring suitors; and foremost in the phalanx I place the redoubtable "P. T. W." whose murderous pen hath already immolated the inoffensive months of Anno 23; and who is, perhaps, now, ere their last glimmering taper hath expired in its socket, planning new campaigns, and, like a wary general, is marshalling and disciplining his prolific brain for fresh encounters, and consequent triumphs of surpassing brilliance. In my mind's eye he is a brisk dapper powdered gent., ripe for the sickle of matrimony, and longing to be gathered to the harvest. If my memory fails not, he is a veteran in the lists, for methinks his prowess is abundantly heralded already. Then the braw chick "Edgar," strappan youth frae the border, strongly tinctured with the spark divine: we will not say he smells o' the lamp, the phrase is somewhat fusty. The perfection of art is its consonance with nature; and he has happily attained that matured perfection which steals wille nille traceless to the heart. 66 F-r-y;" shall I waste a feather from my quiver? the designation smells of" the Poultry," and eulogy might be "sending coals to Newcastle," for our sex have a mortal aversion to feeding each other's vanity. We intuitively detect personation, however adroitly managed; and are apt to exclaim, even of those who wear the breeches, "right woman i' faith after all." 66 tt." A sudden awe restrains my pen. One star is felt to be a host within itself; but when two shine in one sphere, their astounding influence not merely disproves the ambitious axiom so long admitted, but threatens utter oblivion to any rash mortal who should presume to interpose. What do I say? sure my vision deceived me. Sweet Éditress, pardon my wanderings; I mistook the gentle youth. In recompense I fain would say, if you the prize disdain, "Give me the daggers." What has become of sprightly "Tim ?" Sweet little "Tobykin," a fellow of infinite jest! Where be his quips and quiddities now? In good sooth we can't spare him. I dare not repeat half the agreeable things I hear they'd gar him rin wud mad wi' joy, sae dearly is he prized by the sonsie lascies. As for "Beta," (ominous name,) if his forte really is a word and a blow, we hope we shall be privileged to choose for ourselves, for none of us have any relish for fistic operations. We should be delighted to glance at "Utopia's" scheme of matrimony; to us spinsters new lights on the subject are ever acceptable. As for "A. B. C." we can get him by heart at any time. More anon, if agreeable, from your zealous friend JANET. MORE MISTAKES IN THE SCOTCH NOVELS. (To the Editor of the Mirror.) SIR,-In your Sixty-fourth Number is a note from Peter Tomkins, in which he complains of a mistake made by the author of the Scotch Novels. The one he has pointed out in Kenilworth, is similar to another which I remember having noticed in Ivanhoe. It occurs in that part where Rebecca is shut up in the castle of Front de Bœuf. Not having the novel at hand, I cannot tell what page, nor repeat the words. But she is represented in the first instance to be unable to secure herself against intruders, by there being no inner bolt to the door of the apartment and in a subsequent passage, to have secured herself by fastening one which was attached to it. 66 In St. Ronan's Well, are two other contradictions. Speaking of Lady Penelope Penfeather, the author says: The rank and fortune of the lady, her pretensions to beauty, as well as talent, (though the former was something faded) and the consequence which she arrogated to herself as a woman of fashion, drew round her painters, poets, and philosophers, &c. Vol. I. p. 67-8. Again: "She was the daughter of an Earl, possessed a shewy person, and features which might be called handsome in youth, though now rather too much prononcés to render the term proper." Ibid. 124. Whilst he afterwards adds: "Notwithstanding the depredations which time had made on a countenance which had never been distinguished for beauty, she (Lady P.) seemed desirous to top the part of the beautiful daughter of Egeus." Vol. II. page 178. Mowbray thus addresses himself to Micklewham: "I got that affected slut, Lady Binks's maid, to tell me what her mistress had set her mind on, and she is to wear a Grecian habit forsooth. But here's the rub there's only one shawl in Edinburgh that is worth showing off in that shawl must be had for Clara.-Send instantly and secure it, for as Lady Binks writes by to-morrow's post, your order can go by to-night's mail." Vol. II. p. 117. Clara afterwards, in a conversation with her brother, says, "The shawl had been bespoken on her (Lady Penelope's) account, or very nearly soshe showed me the tradesman's letter, only some agent of yours had come in between with the ready money." Vol. II. page 229. And again, it is stated: "He, (Mowbray) himself, had been the first to interfere with, and defeat her Ladyship's (Ladyship Penelope's) designs on the garment in question." Ibid. 250. To these contradictions you have added the following in your abridgement of the work. You first 66 say, and under the same roof (the Manse) does Clara also meet with her unhappy lover;" and then you continue: "We have no means of knowing whether she actually sought Tyrrel, but her next appearance was alone by the side of her unfortunate lover (at Mrs. Margaret Dod's)." The latter is agreeable to the Novels the former is not-both cannot be true. OCULUS. P.S. I cannot understand what P. T. means by concluding his note with "deWhat beauty was there in the black or scribing any thing otherwise beautiful." white eye-brows of the impostor? Miscellanies. THE FAIR OF MAKARIEFF. NEAR the banks of the Wolga, on the confines of Europe and Asia, this fair is held, and the miserable village, for a month, partakes of all the festivities of a great metropolis: the richest commodities are brought here. The following is an account of a bargain for shawls :-The conclusion of a bargain for shawls always takes place before witnesses. Having been asked to attend in that capacity, I went to the fair with the purchaser, the other witnesses, and a broker, who was an Armenian. We stopped at an unfinished stone house, without a roof, and were ushered into a kind of cellar; though it was the abode of an extremely rich Hindoo, it had no other furniture than eighty elegant packages, piled one upon the other against the wall. Parcels of the most valuable shawls are sold, without the purchaser seeing any more than the outside of them; he neither unfolds nor examines them, and yet he is perfectly acquainted with every shawl by means of a descriptive catalogue, which the Armenian broker with much diffi |