be obeyed. Rise, then, and do not waste your "Never before have I played in such noble last moments in a useless struggle. Speak to company-but at least I shall not be without the duke, my lord bishop! Exhort him to sub-witnesses that once in my life I have beaten Don mit to his fate." The answer of Ruy Lopez was prompt and decisive; for, seizing the ax that was lying on the block, and whirling it over his head, he exclaimed, "Stand back! for, by heaven, the duke shall finish this game!" At this unexpected demonstration of the bishop, Calavarez started back, and almost fell over his assistants, who, brandishing their swords, were about to rush upon the prisoner, when Ruy Lopez, who appeared suddenly metamorphosed into Hercules, threw down his heavy oaken stool upon the floor, exclaiming "The first of you that passes this boundary fixed by the church is a dead man. Courage! noble duke. To work again. There are but three of these miscreants. Your lordship's last wish shall be accomplished, were my life to be the forfeit. And you, wretches-woe to him who dares to lay his hand upon a bishop of his church! Accursed be he forever-cut off from the flock of the faithful in this world, to be a howling demon in the other! Down with your swords, and respect the anointed of the Lord ?" Ruy Lopez continued, in a jargon of Spanish and Latin, to fulminate anathemas, maledictions, and threats of excommunication, which, at that time, had such influence upon the mass of the people The effect of this interposition was immediate; for the assistants stood motionless, and Calavarez began to think that to kill a bishop without a special order from the king might expose him to great peril in this world, to say nothing of the next. "I will go his majesty," said he. Lopez." And he turned to his game with a smile, but it was a smile of bitter sadness, as though he despised the triumph he had gained. As to the bishop, he kept firm grasp of the handle of the ax, muttering, "If I were sure that the duke and I could get out of this den of tigers, I would not be long breaking the heads of all three." A DISCOVERY. If the three hours had passed but slowly in the prisoner's cell, their flight had not been more rapid at the court of King Philip. The monarch had continued to play with his favorite, Don Ramirez de Biscay; and the nobles, obliged by the rules of etiquette to remain standing, and unable to leave under any pretext, appeared sinking under a fatigue, rendered still greater by the weight of their armor. Don Tarrasez, with half-closed eyes, stood motionless, resembling one of those statues cased in iron, ornamenting Gothic halls. The young D'Ossuna, almost worn out with weariness and sorrow, was leaning against a marble pillar. And King Philip, pacing up and down with hasty steps, paused occasionally to listen for some distant noise. At one time he stopped to examine the hour-glass, at another, with that mingling of superstitious feeling apparently as inconsistent with some points of his character as it was with that of Louis the Eleventh, he knelt before an image of the Virgin, placed on a pedestal of porphyry brought from the ruins of the Alhambra― and implored her to pardon him for the bloody deed that was now accomplishing. All was as silent as in the palace of Azrael, the Angel of Death; for no one, however high or exalted his "Go to the devil!" replied the bishop, still rank, dared to speak without the permission of standing on the defensive. The executioner did not know what to do. Did he go to announce this news to Philip, who was expecting the head of the traitor, he only exposed himself to the consequences of his fury. The odds were not enough in his favor to make him certain of the result of an attempt at force, for the strength of Ruy Lopez was by no means to be despised-and as to the duke, desperation would only add to his well-known prowess. He ended by adopting what appeared to him the wisest decision: he would wait. "Will you pledge your word to close the game in half an hour?" he demanded. "I pledge you my honor," replied the duke. "Agreed, then," said the executioner. "Play away." his sovereign. No sooner had the last grain of sand announced that the fatal hour had arrived, than the king joyfully exclaimed "The traitor's hour has come !" A low murmur ran through the assembly. "The time has expired," replied Philip; "and with it, Count de Biscay, your enemy is no more. He has fallen like the leaves of the olive-tree before the blast." "My enemy, sire?" exclaimed Don Ramirez, affecting surprise. "Yes, count," replied Philip. "Why repeat our words? Were you not the rival of Don Guzman in the affection of Donna Estella-and can rivals be friends? In truth, though we have not spoken of that at our council, our royal word is pledged; Donna Estella shall be yours! Yours The truce thus concluded, the players resumed are her beauty and her vast domains. Thus, their places and their game. Calavarez, who was also a chess-player, became, in spite of himself, interested in the moves, and the attendants, keeping their eyes upon the duke, seemed to say-"You and the game must end together!" Don Guzman gave one glance around him, and then coolly said count, when you hear tell of the ingratitude of sovereigns, you can say, we at least have not forgotten the true friend of the king and of Spain, who discovered the conspiracy and correspond ence of Don Guzman with France." There was more of uneasiness in the countenance and manner of Don Ramirez than such gracious words from the lips of royalty seemed calculated to excite, and it was with downcast threw himself between the victim and the exeyes, as if shrinking from such public approval, he answered "Sire, it was with much repugnance I fulfilled a painful duty-" He could not say more: his embarrassment seemed to increase. Tarrasez coughed, and as D'Ossuna's gauntleted hand sought the hilt of his sword, he mentally ejaculated-"Before this man calls Donna Estella his, I will follow my noble cousin to the grave. Let me but see tomorrow's dawn, and I will avenge him." The king continued: "Your zeal and devotedness, Don Ramirez, shall be rewarded. The saviour of our throne, and, perhaps, of our dynasty, merits no insignificant reward. This morning we commanded you to prepare with our high chancellor the letters patent which will give you the rank of Duke and Governor of Valencia. Are these papers ready to be signed?" Was it remorse that made Don Ramirez tremble for the moment, and draw back involuntarily? The king made a movement of impatience, and the count drew with some precipitation a roll of parchment from his bosom, and kneeling, presented it to the king, who received it, saying: "To sign these letters patent shall be our first public act to-day. Treason has been already punished by the executioner-it is time for the monarch to reward his faithful servant." As the king unrolled the parchment, a scroll fell from it on the ground. With an involuntary cry, Don Ramirez sprang forward to seize it, but at a sign from the king, a page picked it up, and it was already in the hands of the king. Another moment, and the monarch's face gloomed wrathfully, his eye flashed fire, and he furiously exclaimed: "Holy Virgin, what is this!" MORE THAN ONE CHECKMATED. The game of chess was now over. Don Guzman had beaten Ruy Lopez-his triumph was complete, and he rose, saying to Calavarez "I am ready to meet the wishes of my king, as becomes one who has never swerved from his allegiance to him. My God, may this deed of foul injustice fall only upon him who has been the instigator of it, but may my blood never call down vengeance upon my king. I blame him not for my untimely fate." The executioner was now preparing the block, while Ruy Lopez, kneeling in a corner, and hiding his face in his 'mantle, recited the Office for the Dying. Calavarez laid his hand on the duke's shoulder to remove his ruff. Don Guzman drew back. "Touch not a Guzman with aught belonging to thee, save this ax!" said he, and tearing off the collar, he placed his head upon the block. "Now strike," added he; "I am ready!" The executioner raised the ax, and all would have been over, when shouts, and the noise of hasty steps, and a confused murmur of voices, arrested the arm of Calavarez. ecutioner. "We are in time !" "Is he alive ?" exclaimed Tarrasez. "He is safe!" cried D'Ossuna. "My dearest friend and cousin, I had not hoped ever to see you again. God would not suffer the innocent to perish for the guilty. His holy name be praised!" "God be praised!" exclaimed all present, and among them all, and above them all, was heard Don Ruy Lopez. "You have indeed arrived in time-dear friend," said Don Guzman to his cousin, "for now, I have not strength left to die." He fainted on the block-the revulsion was too mighty. Ruy Lopez sprang to his side, and raising him in his arms, bore him to the royal saloon. The nobles followed, and when Don Guzman was restored to consciousness, he beheld all his friends thronging around him, with congratulations, which the presence of the monarch scarcely restrained. To Don Guzman, it all seemed a dream. One moment with his head on the block, and the next in the royal saloon. He had yet to learn, that Don Ramirez, agitated by secret remorse, and flurried by the impatience of the monarch, had, with the letters patent, the royal signature to which was to crown all his ambitious hopes, drawn from his bosom a document, fatal alike to those hopes and to himself. That paper contained indications not only of a plot to ruin Don Guzman, but of treasonable designs against the sovereign, sufficient to arouse the king's suspicions, and further inquiry soon extorted confession from the lips of the traitor himself. He was instantly committed to the tender mercies of Calavarez, who, this time, was given to understand, that his own head must answer for any delay in executing the royal mandate. Need we say that Don Guzman's deliverance was hailed with joy by the whole court, and even the stern monarch himself condescended to express his satisfaction that his favorite had escaped. "It is our royal desire," he said, "that henceforth, to perpetuate the remembrance of your almost miraculous escape, that you bear in your escutcheon a silver ax on an azure chessboard. It is also our royal will and pleasure that Donna Estella shall be your bride, and that your nuptials be solemnized in this our palace of the Escurial." Then, turning to Ruy Lopez, he added, “I am sure the church has found a good servant in her new bishop. As a mark of our royal favor, we bestow upon you a scarlet robe enriched with diamonds, to wear on the day of your consecration. You well deserve this at my hands, for your game of chess with Don Guzman." "Sire," replied Ruy Lopez, "for the first time in my life, I need no consolation for being checkmated." 66 The king smiled-so did the court. Now, my lords," added Philip, we invite The door was flung open, and D'Ossuna you to our royal banquet. Let covers for Dor. at the table with ourself. Your arm, Don Guz Guzman and for the Bishop of Segovia be placed | vates opportunities—a laborious, pains-taking man, whose life has been a career of labor, of diligent self-improvement, of assiduous cultivation of knowledge. The idea of the Crystal Palace, as Mr. Paxton himself has shown, in a man HOW MEN RISE IN THE WORLD. FEW things that happen in the world are the lecture before the Society of Arts, was slowly result of accident. Law governs all; there is even a law of Chances and Probabilities, which has been elaborated by Laplace, Quetelet, and others, and applied by practical men to such purposes as life insurance, insurances against fire, shipwreck, and so on. Many things which happen daily, and which are usually attributed to chance, occur with such regularity that, where the field of observation is large, they can almost be calculated upon as certainties. and patiently elaborated by experiments extending over many years; and the Exhibition of 1851 merely afforded him the opportunity of putting forward his idea-the right thing at the right time-and the result is what we have seen. If opportunities do not fortuitously occur, then the man of earnest purpose proceeds to make them for himself. He looks for helps every where; there are many roads into Nature; and if determined to find a path, a man need not have to wait long. He turns all accidents to account, and makes them promote his purpose. Dr. Lee, professor of Hebrew at Cambridge, pursued his trade of a bricklayer up to twenty-eight years of age, and was first led to study Hebrew by becoming interested in a Hebrew Bible, which fell in his way when engaged in the repairs of a synagogue; but before this time he had been engaged in the culture of his intellect, devoting all his spare hours and much of his nights to the study of Latin and Greek. Ferguson, the astronomer, cultivated the opportunity afforded him by the nights occupied by him in watching the flocks on the Highland hills, of studying astronomy in the heavens; and the sheep-skin in which he wrapped himself, became him as well as the gown of the Oxford Professor. Osgood, the American painter, when a boy, was deprived by an austere relative, of the use of pencils and paper; but he set to work and practiced drawing on the sand of the river side. Gifford, late editor of the Quarterly Review, worked his first problems in mathematics, when a cobbler's apprentice, upon small scraps of leather, which he beat smooth for the purpose. Bloomfield, the author of the "Farmer's Boy," wrote his first poems on the same material with an awl. Bewick first practiced his genius on the cottagewalls of his native village, which he covered with his sketches in chalk. Rittenhouse, the astronomer, calculated eclipses on the plowhandle. Benjamin West, the painter, made his first brushes out of the cat's tail. But we do not propose now to follow out this idea, interesting though it would be; we would deal with the matter of "accident" in another light-that of self-culture. When a man has risen from a humble to a lofty position in life, carved his name deep into the core of the world, or fallen upon some sudden discovery with which his name is identified in all time coming, his rise, his work, his discovery is very often attributed to "accident." The fall of the apple is often quoted as the accident by which Newton discovered the law of gravitation; and the convulsed frog's legs, first observed by Galvani, are in like manner quoted as an instance of accidental discovery. But nothing can be more unfounded; Newton had been studying in retirement the laws of matter and motion, and his head was full, and his brain beating with the toil of thinking on the subject, when the apple fell. The train was already laid long before, and the significance of the apple's fall was suddenly apprehended as only genius could apprehend it; and the discovery, which had long before been elaborating, suddenly burst on the philosopher's sight. So with Galvani, Jenner, Franklin, Watt, Davy, and all other philosophers; their discoveries were invariably the result of patient labor, of long study, and of earnest investigation. They worked their way by steps, feeling for the right road like the blind man, and always trying carefully the firmness of the new ground before venturing upon it. Genius of the very highest kind never trusts to accident, but is indefatigable in labor. Buffon has said of genius, "It is patience." Some one It is not accident, then, that helps a man on else has called it “intense purpose;" and another, in the world, but purpose and persistent indus"hard work." Newton himself used to declare, try. These make a man sharp to discern opthat whatever service he had done to the public portunities, and to use them. To the sluggish was not owing to extraordinary sagacity, but and the purposeless, the happiest opportunities solely to industry and patient thought Genius, avail nothing-they pass them by with indifferhowever, turns to account all accidents-call ence, seeing no meaning in them. Successful them rather by their right name, opportunities. men achieve and perform, because they have the The history of successful men proves that it was purpose to do so. They "scorn delights, and the habit of cultivating opportunities-of taking live laborious days." They labor with hand and advantage of opportunities-which helped them head. Difficulties serve only to draw forth the to success-which, indeed, secured success. energies of their character, and often their highTake the Crystal Palace as an instance; was it est pleasure is in grappling with and overcoming a sudden idea-an inspiration of genius-flash- them. Difficulties are the tutors and monitors ing upon one who, though no architect, must at of men, placed in their path for their best discileast have been something of a poet? Not at pline and development. Push through, then ' all; its contriver was simply a man who culti-strength will grow with repeated effort. Doubtless Professor Faraday had difficulties | our own soul have imprinted worth on it, will to encounter, in working his way up from the grow dear to us." carpenter's bench to the highest rank as a scien- Let us have the honesty and the wisdom to do tific chemist and philosopher. And Dr. Kitto the duty that lies nearest us; and assuredly the had his difficulties to overcome, in reaching his first is the culture of ourselves. If we can not present lofty position as one of the best of our accomplish much, we can at least do our best. Biblical critics; deaf from a very early age, he We can cultivate such powers as have been was for some time indebted to the poor-rates for given to us. We may not have the ten talents, his subsistence, having composed his first essays but if we have only the one, let us bring it out "in a workhouse." And Hugh Miller, the au- and use it, not go bury it in the earth like the thor of "The Old Red Sandstone," had difficul- unworthy man in the parable. "If there be one ties to grapple with, in the stone-quarry in Crom- thing on earth," said Dr. Arnold," which is truly arty, out of which he raised himself to a position admirable, it is to see God's wisdom blessing an of eminent honor and usefulness. And George inferiority of natural powers, when they have Stephenson too, who was a trapper-boy in a coal- been honestly, truly, and zealously cultivated.” pit, had difficulties to encounter, perhaps greater Let us strike into the true path, and keep there, than them all; but, like a true and strong man, working on hopefully, patiently, and resolutely bravely surmounted and triumphed over them.-not cured aside by temptation, nor putting "What!" said John Hunter, the first of En-off the work from day to day by vain resolutions glish surgeons, originally a carpenter, "Is there to do things that are never done; but Do, with a man whom difficulties dishearten, who bends all our might, what the hand findeth to do; and to the storm? He will do little. Is there one we may safely leave the issues in the hands of who will conquer? That kind of man never Supreme Beneficence; for doubtless the rewards fails." of well-doing will come in their due season. Man must be his own helper. He must cultivate his own nature. No man can do this for him. No institution can do it. Possibly a man may get another to do his work for him, but not to do his thinking for him. A man's best help is in himself-in his own heart, his own soul, his own resolute purpose. The battle can not be fought by proxy. A man's mind may be roused by another, and his desire to improve and advance himself excited by another; but he must mould his own stuff, quarry his own nature, make his own character. What if a man fails in one effort? Let him try again! Let him try hard, try often, and he can not fail ultimately to succeed. No man can tell what he can do until he tries, and tries with resolution. Difficulties often fall away of themselves, before a determination to overcome them. 'There is something in resolution," says Walker, in the Original, "which has an influence beyond itself, and it marches on like a mighty lord among its slaves. All is prostration where it appears. When bent on good, it is almost the noblest attribute of man; when on evil, the most dangerous. It is only by habitual resolution, that men succeed to any great extent-mere impulses are not sufficient." ONE THE BROTHERS. NE fine spring day in 1831, I was walking, accompanied by a physician, in the gardens belonging to the celebrated Lunatic Asylum near Paris, conducted by Dr. B. At the turn o. an alley I suddenly found myself close to an old man, on whose arm leaned a youth, apparently about twenty years of age. The countenance of the first wore an expression of profound sadness, while the young man's eye gleamed with the wild strange fire of madness. The aged man saluted me with silent courtesy, but the younger ran to me, seized my hand, and exclaimed, "A glorious day, monsieur; the scaf fold is ready on the Plaza Bemposta! Do you see the crowds assembled? And look! chained on yonder cart, that woman with the pale and savage face; that is Queen Carlotta, the wife of Juan VI., the mother of Don Miguel. 'Tis now thy turn to die, tigress! thy turn to bow beneath the ax, and redden the scaffold with thy blood! But adieu," he added, addressing me, "they are waiting for me-they call me! I am the queen's executioner!" I turned toward the old man, but he only shook his head and sighed; then I questioned the physician who accompanied me. "That young man," he said, "is one of the most interesting cases we have; his history is a strange one." My curiosity was now excited, and I begged of my companion to satisfy it. Some are scared from the diligent practice of self-culture and self-help, because they find their progress to be slow. They are in despair, because, having planted their acorn, they do not see it grow up into an oak at once. These must cultivate the virtue of patience—one of the quietest but most valuable of human virtues. They must be satisfied to do their true work, and wait the issues thereof. "How much," says Carlyle, grows every where, if we do but wait! Through the swamps one will shape causeways, force purifying drains; we will learn to thread the rocky inaccessibilities, and beaten tracks, worn smooth "You may, certainly," replied my friend, bowby mere traveling human feet, will form them-ing, and then began: "In the year 1823, one selves. Not a difficulty but can transfigure it- of the first families in Portugal inhabited an old self into a triumph; not even a deformity, but if castle not far from Coimbra. The Marquis de 66 "May I, without indiscretion, listen also?" asked a tall man, with a sad and gloomy countenance, who now approached us, and who, as I learned afterward, was under Dr. B's care for a serious affection of the heart. San Payo, the head of this house had played an important part in the revolution which, for a short time, removed from the throne Juan VI. and his imperious queen, Carlotta. The attempt, however, having been finally frustrated, the men who had made it fell victims to their temerity, and the marquis, disgraced and distrusted by the reigning powers, was forced to live in his castle, as it were in exile. His wife and his two sons accompanied him thither; the eldest of these, named Manoel, was fifteen years of age, and of en ardent, excitable temperament; his brother, Tacinto, two years younger, was of a tender, melancholy, dreamy disposition. The minds of both were fully nurtured in the political views which had ruined their father's fortunes, both by his conversation and the instructions imparted to them at the college of Coimbra. That city had become the centre of the Cors' revolutionary operations, and the University had not escaped the contagious excitement of the times. The students organized the plan of a new insurrection, and at their head was Manoel; the contest, however, proved an unequal one-a charge of cavalry, a few volleys of shot and shell, two hundred corpses on the field, and all was over. Manoel was taken, and thrown into the prison of Oporto. The rebels were divided into three classes; the first, and least guilty, were condemned to perpetual confinement, the second to transportation, and the third to death; among the latter was Manoel. No allowance was made for his youth and inexperience, for among his judges was the Duca d'Arenas, a former rival of the marquis, first in love and then in ambition, whose cowardly malicious spirit sought to strike the father through the son." "Next morning the condcmned cart left the prison of Oporto; it contained the two brothers, for Donna Carlotta, with an incredible refinement of cruelty, had ordered that Jacinto should be present at the execution. I shall not try to describe the last scene of this fearful drama; when Manoel bowed his head, Jacinto started upright; and when the fatal blow had fallen, he crouched down on the scaffold; a smile parted his lipshe was struck with madness! Concealed among the crowd, the marquis had witnessed all, but no external emotion betrayed his award agony; his tearless eyes were fixed on the ax which had hewn down the noblest branch of his house. As to the marchioness, her woe was also silent: eight days afterward, she was found dead, with her eyes fixed on Manoel's portrait. The marquis, after a time, went to England with Jacinto, where he was during a year and a half under medical treatment, but without benefit. Afterward, they went to Germany, and there, finding science equally powerless, the marquis at length resolved to place his son under the care of Dr. B-; he is now in a fair way to recover." "Are you sure of that!" asked the stranger eagerly. "I have every reason to believe it." We walked toward the house, and again saw Jacinto; he was seated on a grass-plat, leaning forward, with his face buried in his hands. His father was near him, grave, silent, and anxiouslooking as before. The stranger followed us, and, as he came near, the eyes of Jacinto were raised, and fixed on him with a wild bright look Suddenly the youth started up, and shrieked, "the Duke d'Arenas!" Then he fell senseless Here the stranger, who was listening attentive- on the ground. ly, gave a visible start. "Imagine," resumed the doctor, "what must have been the anguish of the poor parents, and of Jacinto. The boy's energies were roused by his mighty grief; he hastened to the palace of Bemposta, and went straight to the hall, where the queen was giving audience to her favorite d'Arenas. When Jacinto crossed the threshold, he paused; a woman was before him-a cold and haughty woman. No trace of pity or of softness lingered on her features, or beamed in her piercing eyes; no, her heart was ice, her face iron. 666 At the unwonted sound the old man thought that intellect and memory had returned to his child, and, forgetting that his enemy, the mur derer of his eldest son, stood before him, he exclaimed, "Oh! thank God he is saved "" "He is lost," said the doctor, sadly. A few moments of awful silence followed; all eyes were fixed on Jacinto, whose mouth was open, and whose eyes were fixed on vacancy. The sudden shock had rendered him a hopeless idiot. The Duke d'Arenas looked at the marquis with an earnest supplicating expression; and then, “** Pardon, madam!' cried the boy, falling on falling on his knees before him, exclaimed, “ Par his knees. don me, I have suffered!" "I curse thee! Duke d'Arenas." "Behold me at thy feet, Marquis de San Payo!" "Begone!" cried the old man, sternly; "there are between us the corpses of my wife and of my eldest son, besides this other ruin, whose de struction you have just achieved; I am now childless ?" The Duke d'Arenas fixed on the marquis a look so filled with sorrow and despair, that it might have sufficed to satisfy his vengeance. "And I," he said, bending his head, "can never again know repose, except in the grave?" |