the dawn approaches, it is time to have done." "Not before your Majesty has granted my petition," said Rautzan, again advancing the parchment, which he had folded carefully, to conceal the writing from the piercing eye of Marie Julia: "time presses, Sire; remember your promise." "What does that paper contain?" inquired the Queen. "A permission to see the prisoner for the last time." A smile of triumph lit up the features of Marie Julia. Christian, bewildered between these two counsellors, one of whom sued for a life, while the other with equal earnestness demanded the punishment of death, scarcely knew what either asked. He tried in vain to free his hand from the firm grasp of Marie Julia, and from time to time he cast imploring looks towards Rautzan. His step-mother, impatient at the delay, seized a pen and placed it between the King's fingers. Dreading a renewal of her violence, he suffered her to place his hand as she pleased, and, abandoning it entirely to her guidance, he signed the fatal warrant. Then, with a violent struggle, having disengaged it from her grasp, he abandoned his hand once more to the guidance of Rautzan, and wrote his name beneath the order for the liberation of the prisoner. Each next endeavoured to seize the parchment the other so anxiously sought to possess. The hands of the Queen and of Rautzan encountered those of the weak and half-terrified King, who started, and by a mechanical movement grasped the two papers firmly, crumpling both between his hands. Marie Julia was not, however, a woman to be daunted by the respect she owed her sovereign; she snatched the per violently from him. Having opened it, to make herself certain of its identity, and finding that she was not mistaken, an exclamation escaped her lips. pa "What is the matter, Madam ?" enquired the King. "Nothing! your Majesty's hand trembled, it appears; that is all. Now the document is in form, and I shall myself see to its execution in the course of a few hours." "Here, my friend," said Christian, handing the second paper to Rautzan. The Count seized it eagerly, kissed his sovereign's hand, and quitted the apart ment. The Queen-mother pulled the bellWesland entered. "Lead the King to his chamber," said she; "but let him not go to bed." She then quitted the room; and at the door meeting an officer of the guards, she desired him to send her one of his soldiers instantly. 66 "Peters," said she, as the man appeared, "I know you, and I promise you my protection if you execute the order I am about to give you faithfully. The Count de Rautzan has just quitted the palace; he cannot be far distant; follow him, watch his movements, and bring me an exact account of them." "Your orders, Madame, shall be obeyed," said the soldier, as he hastened to execute his commission. Although the Count proceeded towards the citadel with breathless haste, Peters had not much difficulty in overtaking him; for at that hour the streets of Copenhagen being deserted, the footsteps of a passenger were heard at a distance. As he proceeded, Rautzan reflected upon the means he would employ to conduct the prisoner to a place of safety. The surest method that presented itself to his imagination was to embark with him, while it was yet dark, in one of the canalboats, and put out to sea as speedily as possible, and land on the coast of Sweden. The only thing to be feared was that the piercing eye of the boatman might detect Struensée beneath the folds of the cloak in which he would be enveloped. But gold might still triumph over this obstacle. As to himself, he knew that exile would be the price of his devotedness; but he was resigned to sacrifice his honors, although he sighed when he reflected that at his age he must bid his country an eternal farewell. Full of these intentions, he presented himself at the post of the citadel, and passed on, saying he was entrusted with an important message from the King to the Governor. Von Hoben, who united in his person to the title of Governor of the Citadel that of Military Commander of Copenhagen, was already up, and occupied with the preparations for the fatal day. On the visit of the Count being announced to him, the veteran hastened to receive his guest. Rautzau placed the order in his hand, and, without speaking, watched attentively, to see if any expres "You, Count?" "Certainly; be quick." Von Hoben muttered something between his teeth that Rautzan did not he he bowed, and quitted the room. As soon as Rautzan found himself alone, he gave way to the most unfeigned satisfaction on the success of his plan. The old officer seemed to have no suspicion whatever on the subject, and thus far the stratagem had succeeded. He had already pictured to himself the joy of his friend at finding himself free, one hour before that appointed for him to die." a Twice had the clock of the citadel tolled the hour since Rautzan had parted from the Governor. The sun had already illumined the eastern horizon; the bustle of the inhabitants passing and repassing in the streets of Copenhagen was increasing at every moment, and flight would be attended with difficulty and danger, nay, perhaps, become altogether impossible. Suspense became agony. The Count paced backwards and forwards in the utmost impatience, seeking to explain this inconceivable delay. To have acquainted Struensée with the plan for his escape was impossible: would he, then, unknowingly reject the only means by which he might be saved? Absorbed by this new idea, Rautzan called a soldier, and desired him to seek his commander. The moment Von Hoben appeared :"I wait, Sir-I wait," said Rautzan, out of humour. "I could not have expected such haste on the part of the Count de Rautzan,” said Von Hoben. "There is no question about me, Sir," Von Hoben placed the paper in the hands of Rautzan,-it was the death-warrant ! Rautzan uttered a wild cry of the deepest despair, as he struck his forehead violently with his hand. At once he comprehended the King's error, his own, the dissimulation of the wicked Marie Julia, who had feigned to have the warrant in her possession. A thousand times he cursed his own heedless, mad precipitation. What was now to be done? He would return to the King; he would sue-entreat-pray-importune him,-at all risks he would obtain another signature. But was there time? He still hoped,-he would fly. Rautzan entreated the astonished governor to delay the execution as long as possible, and, without losing another instant, he flew towards the palace of Christianburgh. The greatest agitation prevailed in the palace. He went straight to the King's apartment-it was vacant. He next went in pursuit of Marie Julia,-she was not to be found. He sought Wesland-he was also absent. He made inquiries, and learnt that, after a short interview with Peters, Marie Julia had forced the King into her carriage, and had carried him off. "A horse cried Rautzan-another instant saw him in pursuit of the fugitives, whom he was informed had taken the road to Fredericksburgh." VIRTUE is a tender plant, which, without much watchfulness, will never flourish in human nature. In our first parents the very seeds of it were fatally blasted, and the climate of this world is far more uncongenial to it than that of Paradise. If, then, in natures so PURE and innocent as were theirs, it failed to grow up to perfection and maturity, it cannot without unceasing vigilance prosper in a soil so stubborn and unfruitful, and choked with weeds so bad and innumerable. USUALLY CALLED PETRARCH'S LAURA. To illustrate an authentic Portrait by Giotto, accompanying the present Number. Le nom de Laure est immortel; mais sa vie fuit elle heureuse?-Levesque. And love he sung-the soul's stolen visit made: The name of Laura is immortal, but was her life happy? is the question demanded by Levesque, a French author of the last century, who has bestowed no little time and research in tracing every fact that can be gathered relative to this celebrated beauty and her lover. What Laura's thoughts and feelings were on the subject of the ardent and enduring passion with which she inspired the heart of the most celebrated and gifted man of her era, never was known, and never will be till the secrets of all hearts are discovered. The only person, indeed, who could have solved the mystery,-she alone who could have answered the question-is silent. And whether Laura did or not occasionally give a sigh of regret and think of the chains that bound her in a somewhat rigorous domestic subjection, can only be guessed at by conjecture. It appears proba ble that Laura accepted the literary adoration of her Italian lover with a sort of passive complaisance; that she received each new poem that was to perpetuate her name and celebrate her charms throughout civilised Europe with quiet satisfaction, and would read them, or cause them to be read to herfor Petrarch expressly declares that she was unlearned-and that she would then turn all her thoughts to the management of her numerous family of infant children and her household, without any romantic commiseration for the agonies so pathetically described by him to be his portion. It is not a very easy thing for by-standers to draw conclusions from the demeanour of a woman towards the man she loves. There is a secret satisfaction, well known to womankind, in puzzling impertinent inquisitors in such cases. All that is known is, that the most guarded coolness was alone apparent in the manners of Laura whenever she chanced to meet Petrarch. His life was spent in watching for opportunities of beholding the object of his passion; yet when they saw each other they seldom spoke, and, in all probability, Petrarch never had a private interview with Laura in his life, or even the opportunity of addressing her in the lan guage of passion, other than in his sonnets and odes, which, perhaps, were regarded by the beautiful matron merely as poetical fictions. In the times of Petrarch and Laura there was an intimate union between Italy and the South of France. Pope Clement the Fifth, a Gascon by birth, withdrew his court to Avignon from Rome, which latter was rent by murderous factions. The divisions between the parties espousing the cause of the Pope, or the Emperor of Germany, raged in every one of the free and beautiful trading cities of Italy. The Guelphs upheld the arbitrary power of the Emperor, who himself chose to name the Popes, and to consider himself as suzerain of Italy. This power the German Emperors have striven for, perpetually, since the days of Charlemagne, and they have finally, in the nineteenth century, secured it. The Gibelines, on the contrary, upheld the free election of the Popes, and the independence of Italy. We find all the noble-minded and highlytalented Italians of the latter partyDante, Petrarch, and his father, were Gibelines. But there is in Italian history the utmost perplexity about these two factions. This confusion is occasioned by the Guelphs sometimes adhering to the Pope. But when the reader has clearly ascertained whether the Pope was nominated by the Emperors, or freely elected, the difficulty vanishes. If, indeed, the Pope was thrust into the chair by the German power, the Gibelines opposed him. At last each party elected a Pope-one reigned at Avignon, while many antipopes succeeded each other at Rome, who were murdered or deposed by the raging factions with as much celerity as were some of the Roman Emperors of old. Florence ever bore a most active part in these dissensions; and when the Guelphs obtained the ascendancy, the father of Petrarch, a Florentine noble of the Gibeline party, was forced to retire from his native city, with his family, to Arezzo, a little country town in Tuscany, where Francisco, the poet, was born, the 20th of June, |