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soner was led forth, no longer in that uniform which had proved so fatal, but habited in the flowing tunic and vest of his native place; this, however, did not conceal the hasty ravages of sorrow on his young frame, hitherto firm though slight, but now devoid of elasticity as he mournfully stepped towards the doomed square. For the first time he raised his head, and looking towards heaven, was soon lost in mental prayer; then murmurs at his extreme beauty came from the crowd, and while their anxiety was at its most painful height, a peasant girl pressed in front of the line, setting down a lovely boy, who joyously bounded towards the condemned, exclaiming, “ Mamma! my own Mamma again!”
That sound caused an electric change in the bearing of the prisoner, whose abstracted thoughts were recalled to earth by nature's soft bonds; the long, long embrace, the hysteric maternal cry of “my Boy! my Boy!” proved to the spectators that the unerring perception of affection had exceeded theirs, and taught the infant boy to discover, in the disguised prisoner, his own loved mother, whose life he had thus preserved !
Having failed in all her appeals for pardon, Anastásoula had effected her entrance into the fort, disguised so that even the prisoner did not recognize her; and, professing to be an agent of his wife's, had prevailed on him to escape, and conceal himself on board Vernon's yacht, where, she added, his family would join him. He effected all she had well arranged by faithful agents; but he little thought that his heart's treasure was to be the price of his deliverance; he had even experienced a half-reproachful regret that Anastásoula had not risked a personal interview, to cheer him for his perilous undertaking ;-SO seldom does man divine the devotion of woman, or guess the ecstasy arising from self-sacrifice for an idolized object, intense in proportion to the extent of what she has relinquished; for the woman who adores, there is but one hopeless suffering, the desolating conviction of having lost the heart which has cast its spells over her first affections.
Ektatos Koliopulos, on learning the exchange, and concluding the rebel was beyond his reach, withdrew from the manifestations of popular feeling; and the heroic Anastásoula was borne nearly lifeless to our house. Her alabaster skin had been stained to the deep tint of her husband's, and the resemblance made complete by the sacrifice of her luxuriant tresses, so that nothing but childhood's instinct could have discovered her. We soon after received a private intimation, from the cautious Ektatos, that he had commuted the sentence of death, for instant banishment from Ypsarà; and having no ties there, we hastily broke up our establishment, carrying away our Greek friends, whom we left to retirement and affection at Tenedos.
Our English party were at Corfu in 1833, when the Governor gave an entertainment to the young Otho, on his route to take possession of his new kingdom. I had the honour of waltzing with this good-natured, plain, flatfleatured, Moorish-looking Prince (whom I found, like myself, much fonder of dancing than politics, and who, whatever sort of king he may be, is one of the best waltzing partners in Europe, which is much more agreeable); I took an opportunity to relate the foregoing trait of his new nation; and, as I felt that no waltz-loving prince could refuse a petition while dancing to “The Notre-dame,” I made mine in such effective terms, that I had the pleasure, soon afterwards, of adding a bright ornament to his court in the fascinating Anastásoula, the devoted young GREEK WIFE.
ON THE MARRIAGE
BY MR. RICHARD MONCTON MILNES.
LADY! to decorate thy marriage morn
Rare gems and flowers and lofty songs are brought ;
Thou the plain utt’rance of a poet's thought,
Thou art about to change for that which stands
Writ on the proudest work* that mortal hands
Britain's best blood and beauty ever new,
Beauty of mind.-May the cool northern dew Still rest upon thy leaves, transplanted flower !
Mingling thy English nature, pure and true, With the bright growth of each Italian hour.
* St. Pater's.
Rome, May 11th, 1835
BY THE LADY E, S. WORTLEY.
COME to me from the Spirit-land !
Half of my soul! gone on before Thou shouldest not leave me thus to stand
Shivering on life's tempestuous shore ! Part of my thoughts to me are lost,
Part of my powers and feelings gone ; And I am weak and whirlwind-tossed,
And sad, and weary, and alone! My soul is rent in twain-in twain,
My thoughts are loose as shaken sand; I feel a weight, I feel a pain,
Come-lead me to the Spirit-hand !
BY LORD JOHN MANNERS.
Bless') is he who ne'er repines
'Gainst his glorious Maker's will ; Who through sickness, pain, and death,
Grounds his hope on Heaven still! As the sun in winter's time,
Though he cannot shine so bright
Send a pleasing mellow light ;
Though its brightest glory's o’er,
Which, though fainter, pleases more.
THE MODEL AND HER AVE MARIA,
THE TALE OF A ROMAN IMPROVISATORE.
TRANSLATED BY LORD A. CONYNGHAM,
Glory be to the Virgin Mary, holy mother of the child Jesus !
With her blessing, we will this day devoutly meditate upon a story that I have read in an old book of piety, and which a very learned abbot has affirmed to me to be perfectly true.
Learn, my good friends and listeners, each of whom for a bajocchi shall hear a most astonishing story, that will strengthen his faith,—that there are countries in the cold northern regions, where neither the olive nor the bay tree flourish, and that are barren and desolate. One of these countries is Germany, the birth-place of that herecism, which has spread far and wide ; and has only spared our blessed Italy, from its being under the special protection of God's most holy Vice-Regent upon
rth. Beware, therefore, of wishing to visit foreign lands, for there the Italian pines away, finding neither his wine, his songs, or his religion, and dies miserably.
Many wretched heretics from that country find their way over the Alps, and even manage to reach our Papal city, they give out that they are travelling for improvement, or for the study of the fine arts, of which our city is the cradle and the palace ! these are false pretences; of what use would be their artist's skill, when returned to their own country? to that country which is so dreadfully cold, that you are forced to remain within doors; where