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for rats, and the poor man was more puzzled than ever. The matter assumed rather a serious aspect, and he determined to write to his wife, forbidding her arrival until she heard farther from him. All the day long, his brain was racked by conjectures as to the species of creatures that had disturbed his quiet. Fifty times did he conclude that it was perhaps a trick, and as often did he abandon that notion as improbable; but then he could not account for his not being able to see the authors of the tracks; and forthwith he resolved on another project. He had given up every idea that rats could have made such a noise or tracks so large, but he determined to try if a few rat traps could solve the mystery. Accordingly, he procured six, which were all that he could get; and on the fourth night carefully set them in a row on one of the steps of the stairs, he was sure of

MISCELLANIES.

MARRIAGE.

Marriage is to a woman at once the happiest and the saddest event of her life; it is the promise of future bliss, raised on the death of all present enjoyment. She quits her home, her parents, her companions, her occupations, her amusements, every thing on which she has hitherto depended for comfort, for affection, for kindness, for pleasure. The parents by whose advice she has been guided, the sister to whom she has dared impart

every embryo thought and feeling, the brother who has played with her, by turns the counsellor and the counselled; and the younger children, to whom she has hitherto been the mother and the playmate, all are to be forsaken at one are to be for fell stroke; every former tie is loosened, the spring of every hope and action is to be changed; and yet she flies with joy into the untrodden path before her. Buoyed up by the confidence of requited love, she bids a fond and grateful adieu to the life that is past, and turns with excited hopes and joyous anticipation of the happiness to come. Then woe to the man who can blight such fair hope who can treacherously lure such a heart from its peaceful enjoyment, and the watchful protection at home who can, cowardlike, break the illusions that have won her, and destroy the confidence which love had inspired. Woe to him who has

too early withdrawn the tender disci

from the props and stays of moral discipline in which she has been nurtured, and yet makes no effort to supply their place; for on him be the responsibility

errors- -on him who has first

taught he
her, by his example, to grow

careless of her duty, and then exposed
her with a weakened spirit, and unsatis-
fied heart, to the wide storms and the
wily temptations of the world.

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two equinoxes!the suits are four,
answering to the four seasons. Their
emblems formerly were, and still are, in
Spain-for the heart, a cap, the emblem
of winter; the spade, an acorn, the
emblem of autumn; the club, a trefoil,
the emblem of summer; the diamond,
a rose, the emblem of spring.
twelve court cards answer to the twelve
months, and were formerly depicted as
the signs of the Zodiac. The fifty-two
cards answer to the number of weeks in
the year. The thirteen cards in each
suit, to the number of weeks in a lunar
quarter. The aggregate of the pips,
calculated in the following manner,
amount to the number of days in a
year:-

The number of each suit

By four

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THE BRIGANDS OF THE ABRUZZI. breasts, and, in others, blackening the

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chin and cheeks with close raven curls.

"I swear," cried the first, "I heard him treading in yonder slope, among the loose stones, some of which rolled off the precipice and went leaping down into the stream."

"Thou art a fool, Leonardo," cried another. "I tell thee, no single traveller would venture up these steeps; no human foot, except it be of some Austrian spy, or some ferocious bandit like us, or some prowling fool like thee, would break the silence of these wilds."

"If I am a fool, Antonio, thou art a fool and a bully to boot," rejoined Leonardo, sullenly. "Since thou buriedst thy dagger in the heart of that Austrian stranger last week, and rifled him of his bag of ducats, there is no enduring thee. I tell thee I heard the fall of a step yonder; an' thou think'st me a fool, get thee back to the cave, and get ye_back all, and I promise, when I return, I will not be alone."

"A share of the eggs, Leonardo," said a third, "when thou hast robbed

the poor pheasant's nest; but take care the angry bird hurt not thine eyes." "Hush!" whispered Leonardo. The robbers crouched down among the branches.

A carbine, which had been slung over the ruffian's shoulder, clanked against the chain by which it had been suspended.

A deep silence ensued.

Then a step was distinctly heard striding among the stones, and a voice of some richness, and, with a true feeling for music, arose, in a pretty air,

"Oh, I have erred;

I laid my hand upon the nest,
(Tita, I sigh to sing the rest)

Of the wrong bird."

A sound like that of cocking a musket from the rock which overhung the young vocalist's head, attracted his eyes to that point, and he could just hear the whispered dialogue.

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Fool, let go my hand.” "Nay, Leonardo, I tell thee"Let go my hand, I say." "But it is only a single"By the heart of Bacchus, an' thou hangest on my arm, I will strike thee with my dagger."

"And I tell thee, thou cold-blooded ruffian," said the other voice, in a more undisguised tone, "if thou talk'st to me of daggers, I will hurl thee from this rock. Nay, now, good Leonardo

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A short struggle ensued. The report of a carbine, a shout, an oath from the robbers, and a groan from the traveller, who had fallen at fulllength on the ground, were answered by the cries of a flock of startled crows, that took flight, screaming at this ominous, though not unfrequent interruption to their repose.

When the brigands had turned the body over, there was a loud coarse laugh. "He has swallowed thy bullet, Leonardo," cried one; "for I see no mark of it about his body."

"The target-firing has put him to sleep," said another; "he will awake presently."

"I do think thou hast missed thy mark, Leonardo," said Antonio, as the savage robber sought plunder in vain from his victim, finding little else than a portfolio of sketches. "The heart of no true brigand beats in thy bosom, for thou art bloodthirsty as a savage beast; but, by St. John, as thy soul is fierce, so thine eye is false, and thy hand unsteady; for, ha, ha, ha! thy bird is but stunned, and nas in him the wherewithal to pay thee

back in thy own coin. See! ha, ha, ha! he rises and scowls at thee with good emphasis; a handsome boy, too.

,,

Another hoarse laugh rolled over the cliff, as the way-laid traveller slowly rose, and, with sullen glances into the faces of the banditti, rested his piercing black eyes, at length, upon those of Leonardo. The stranger was a youth of nineteen or twenty, of a graceful and manly figure, with luxuriant curls covering his head and shoulders, and a face full of expression, though now clouded by fear and anger.

"Who art thou?" said Leonardo.

"A native of these parts," was the reply, "who thought poverty, and hatred of priests and tyrants, might have saved him from the bullet of such as ye." Thy profession?"

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My portfolio shews it." "Then let thy lips name it," cried another deep voice, abruptly.

"By the mass," cried the stranger, answering the keen frown of the last speaker with a goodnatured and winning smile, " ye set on a poor painter, as if he were a fat cardinal. I pray ye, gentlemen, use me kindly and I hope ye will, for you would get little for the trouble of using me ill."

"Art thou rich or poor?"

"The Lord love thee, man, I feed on berries."

"And hast thou no one to pay a ransom?"

"Thou art a wag," said the handsome stranger, laughing, and the rough, fiercelooking men, with their striking attire, attitudes, and faces, gathered round, unconsciously moved to merriment, and interested by the kind of kindred hardihood and fearlessness, as well as the original manner and prompt conversation of their prisoner.

"Thou art a wag, my friend," repeated the captive.

"A rough one, though," rejoined the interrogator. "It was I who winged the bullet at thy heart but now; and I have another ready, to punish the impertinence of thy tongue, as well as the intrusion of thy steps. Canst thou pay me a ransom, I say?"

"The devil a carline. I am a friendless painter, not in love with the world, nor favoured by fortune. An' thou kill me, it will be but a waste of powder; an' thou keepest me prisoner, a waste of bread. In either case thou wilt do an injury to the fine arts, among which thy profession ranks high."

"I believe thou sayest a lie, friend,"

said another, "There is that in thy words and manner, which speaks thee better than thy calling."

"Indeed, good sir, you flatter." "And such flattery thou lovest not, I dare swear. What wilt thou give to save thy neck?"

"I have nothing but thanks, which you shall have to any amount, and thou mayst moreover be sure that the payment will be prompt, and that the coin will not be counterfeit."

"What has led thy steps here, amidst the solitudes of the Abruzzi," said Leonardo, who from some latent association, or the inherent ferocity of a nature gloomy, cruel and delighting in acts dark and atrocious, appeared from the first to conceive hatred against the unfortunate, and to be fatally bent on his destruction. "A truant disposition like thine own," replied the other.

"Say rather the disposition of a spy," cried Leonardo, approaching him, and clenching his brawny fist in his face, while his white teeth shone through his sneering lips and raven beard.

"I tell ye what, comrades," continued the ruffian," you may like the amusement of every wandering varlet's society, and believe the tale of every designing traitor, but on my faith, I would keep no terms with these wretches. Let this prating caitiff die for his pains."

"Leonardo," cried Antonio, "I have called thee a fool; in troth, thou art a villain as well. I protest against thy barbarity. Our Captain, Leopoldo, thou know'st, holds different opinions; if he returns not from Catalina soon enough to prevent thy crime, he will return soon enough to punish it."

"Preach to woman, weak boy, thou, and he with thee; and talk of punishment when thou hast the means. Comrades, this man is no painter, believe me, he is but some spy, who for a reward has ventured to seek out our abodes in this lowly character, and who doubtless would smile to see all our heads adorning the front of the Palazzo Reale at Naples. Remember the fate of Campanelli! betrayed by such a disguised traitor to torture and death-I give my voice for his death! what say you, shall he live or die?"

"Let him die," cried another wretch; "tie him to a tree, and let us plant a brace of bullets in his heart. Dash out his brains with the breech of thy carbine. Bind him hand and foot, and hurl him from yonder cliff: a leap of three thousand feet, will give him an appetite for his supper in

As these fearful alternatives flew from lip to lip, the stranger, whose dashing boldness, although founded on a naturally fearless heart, had been half put on to meet the occasion, and secure good treatment by striking in with the rough bravado of the robbers' character, turned pale. His broad hat was knocked fiercely from his forehead and lay upon the turf, and two strong men seized him by the throat, and dragged him toward the dreadful crag, which the wretch had pointed out as the fitting scene for him to finish for ever his mortal career. The artist looked around for the only one among the brigands who had shewn any sparks of feeling. He had disappeared.

"The blessed Virgin protect me," he cried, in a low tone of inexpressible anguish; "the blessed Virgin protect me, for I am a lost man!"

She sat in the entrance of the cave, upon a broken rock. A magnificent woman, of a lovely, yet audacious appearance. Her person commanding and dignified, yet graceful-her face melancholy, yet beautiful and majestic; her raven hair was parted with the utmost simplicity over her forehead, and a pair of eyes that should have lighted the halls of an emperor. You saw in an instant, the splendid character which the waves of tumultuous fortune had cast in a robber's cave, and upon a robber's bosom. In Egypt, she would have been a Cleopatra among the gypsies, a Meg-Merrilies

in England, a Mrs. Siddons-in the un- . fortunate land of the Neapolitan, condemned by the iron-hand of fate to be what the other only acted-a wild, high, brilliant woman-treading amidst spoils and blood in the lovely forests and upon the midnight cliff-a brigand's wife, but still a woman-without the pale of society-yet with the gentlest of human hearts beating in her bosom. She put on fierceness, as a language in which alone her wishes could be understood, and her humanity seconded.

Antonio rushed in breathless. "What now, Antonio?-thy masterspeak quick !"

She rose like a tigress, sprang forward, and pierced with her great awakened eyes into the soul of the robber.

"No, nothing of him, except thathis laws are broken-Leonardo-"

The messenger panted again for breath.

"Leonardo! that villain's heart I read with ease-he is a rebel, and would bring revolution and civil war even here among our peaceful band. He aims at

sole empire; what of him? Now thou hast breathed again."

"He has snared a single traveller, and by this time, I fear, has hurled him headlong from Monte Gargano."

"His wanton eruelty will rouse the whole country," cried the angry woman, striding rapidly toward the cliff, as if to prevent, if possible, the consummation of the deed. "Yet is he powerful among the men who warm in the absence of Leopoldo, and follow him as a chief-ha! by the holy Virgin, look! They are grouped up yonder against the sky, on the very edge of the beetling precipice. They have not yet sealed the poor wretch's fate; see, the victim is bound, and the circle opens; Leonardo and Pisani have grasped the victim; now they stoop to gather their strength God-death what-ho! Leonardovillains-rebel-I will have thee flayedLeonardo, ho!"

The ruffians roughly dragged the poor painter to the fearful scene. He who has looked from the pinnacle of an Italian mountain, has beheld a sight perhaps magnificent beyond parallel. The clearness of the atmosphere, the depth of the sky, the blueness of the placid Mediterranean, the levels of gorgeous and luxuriant vegetation which rise in the hills, the beds of fresh and verdant loveliness which lie embosomed in the vales, vast tracts of lemons and oranges sparkling and waving in the sun, and a river, not of water, but of sand, winding in many broad and graceful bends by wood and hill, by rock and garden, beneath impending towns and ruined castles, and under the arches of bridges broadly built of many stones. Never was a scene more wonderfully splendid, than that on which the affrighted painter cast his eyes in that awful moment. They drew him within a few feet of the edge, where he was bound, amid fierce jeers and eager impatience, for the wretches loved the excitement of such a scene.

"Hast thou said thy pater-noster, painter?" said one.

"Hast thou confessed thy sins?" asked another.

"Hast thou told thy beads?" demanded a third.

In the love of Madonna, friends, do not put me to this cruel death."

"Thou art late in thy application," said Leonardo; when the brigand's thirst for blood is up, he must have the draught, cost what it may."

They drew him to the edge, and Leonardo deliberately motioning the strong

est of the party to assist him, the two seized him by the feet and shoulders, the former of which, as well as his hands, were closely bound, and lifted him over the brink. He closed his eyes with a convulsive shudder- one or two entreaties were choked in his throat.

"Farewell, painter," cried the ferocious Leonardo, "a pleasant journey to thee; it is a long one, but thou wilt not be long on the way.”

(

Another moment, and the world had lost the best paintings which ever graced the walls of its galleries and palaces, when the shout of Madalena, from below, arrested the brutal arm of Leonardo.

"Per dio!" he said, "Madalena! there will be breakers a-head.”.

"Diavolo," cried the rest; "if the old beldame had staid away a minute more."

But they could not decently finish their atrocious deed, without paying her the respect of waiting for her first to come. up, although the temptation of flinging a man three thousand feet off a precipice was almost too powerful to be resisted.

Madalena mounted the acclivity; she knew their natures well, and, though her horror and impatience had, the moment before, found vent in threats and revilings, she had calmed herself now to a steadier mood.

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"Knaves," she said, "do ye these things alone? Should ye not, in the absence of your chieftain, do me the poor honour of inviting me to your amuse- * ments ?"

"You are welcome," growled Leonardo, fiercely, with the air of a hungry dog, whose bone has been just wrenched from between his teeth by superior force; "although uninvited, you are welcome."

"But who is this wretch, the doomed victim of your displeasure-what!"

She placed her finger on his forehead, to steady his palsied and ghastly features, while his languid limbs hung nerveless in their tight bands.

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Why, by the Virgin, this is a boy young-unarmed-helpless — bound;" and she took between her thumb and finger a fold of his worn garment; “poor, too-and, perhaps, an outcast and a victim like yourselves."

"Ay, and the first word he spoke,' exclaimed one of the band, "was a hatred and defiance to priests and tyrants.”

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Why, Leonardo, this is low game this is an insignificant prey-this is a victim rather for a woman's arm, or, rather, her eyes."

"I understand no jest, fair lady. This slave is, in all our belief, a spy→→

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