my eye lighted upon a casket covered with emeralds and brilliants which I had given to my beloved bride on the day of our espousals.

I threw myself upon it, crying, "Beautiful Isabela! Ah! where art thou? Where art thou mourning over my grief, as I mourn over thine?"

She, who lay sunk down in the depths of her white couch, at hearing these words darted up from it, and flinging her arms round me, embraced me.

I knew her as our lips met; and full of a thousand joys, we sat talking over the past, forgetful of all present.

And first, I asked what had become of the wicked captain.

"Oh, he!" she said, "when I told my father what he had done, he sent and had him put to death.

"And now," she continued, "did I not tell you that time would reveal to you all about my history? For now that you have seen who and where I am, there is little left to tell. While I was yet little more than a child, my father would have married me against my inclination to a prince of Scotland; and I, knowing his intention, went out from the palace in the night, disguised, upon a swift mare, and when I had ridden a long way, I came to the sea-coast. I found a ship into which, thoughtless child, I sought refuge, only caring to get away from the prince of Scotland.

"But they were corsairs who manned the vessel; and they carried me off with them to Tunis, where you found me, and set me free from that terrible suffering."

While we were talking, the king came up; and as I was yet musing on the marvellous direction of Providence, by which the lot had fallen on me, rather than another, to come on the embassage to the palace, without which I had been like never again to have met my bride, it fell into my mind that I had yet the letter to give to his Majesty, which having reached to him, he read thus aloud :

"That I rest in holy ground, my soul at peace, is due to thee; therefore, when the perfidious captain threw thee into the deep sea, I was there; I provided the plank which carried thee to shore; I was the hermit that received and nourished thee; I was captain of the ship that brought thee to Ireland. And now live long with thy good spouse, and rest after many misfortunes, even as I rest in the eternal habitations."

Then I knew that it was the soul of him I buried at Tunis that had thus befriended me.

Not very long after this the king died, and all the people acclaimed me as their sovereign, where I have been reigning ever since, full of happiness and glory.

EL CONDE FERNAN GONZALEZ.

ONDE FERNAN GONZALEZ was a bold lance. Restless as brave; when not engaged in chasing the Moors, he kept his appetite for noble exploits whetted with the dangers of the chase.

One day, the furious course of a wild boar, and his own impetuosity in the pursuit, led him far away from his companions, and the hills and leafy oaks of Lara soon hid him from sight. On went the boar, and on went the Conde after him, till, in the thickest of the forest, the brute took refuge in a hermit's cell long deserted and forgotten, and overgrown with ivy. The trees grew so close round the spot, that the horse could not go through for the low interlacing branches, so Gonzalez dismounted, taking his sword in his hand, and wrapping his cloak round his arm by way of shield'. Cutting his way through to the low doorway, he found the

1 A common practice of Spaniards, even in street fights, to the present day.

boar lying panting at the foot of a little altar which was there.

The good Count would not hurt the animal under such circumstances, so he put up his sword into the sheath, and, before he turned to go, knelt to offer up a prayer upon the sacred spot.

Suddenly, as he knelt, there appeared before him a vision of the former inhabitant of the place. He was a venerable man, dressed in white, with bald head and a long grey beard, his feet were bare and he leant upon a crook.

"Good Conde Fernan Gonzales," he said, "Behold, the King Almanzor is even now preparing to come out to meet thee. Now, go out and give him battle, and be of good heart; for though thou shalt be badly wounded, and the infidels shall spill much of thy blood, yet shall a hundred of them fall for one of thine. God guard thee, Conde, and that which thou shalt do this day shall resound throughout all Spain. But this sign must come to pass first; and when it is fulfilled do not lose courage, for all that are with thee shall be stricken with fear and ready to flee away; but only stand thou fast, and the day shall be given thee. After that shall come days of peace; and a good wife shall be given thee, who shall be called Sancha. And now return to Lara, for thy people are seeking thee

2 A formidable leader of the Moors in Spain of the tenth and eleventh centuries.

with fear and anxiety; and when these things come to pass, remember the hermit who foretold them."

Then, without answering him a word, the good Count rose from his knees, and, mounting his horse, rode back to Lara. There he found his people, all running hither and thither in search. of him. But he, without telling them what had befallen, ranged them in order of battle, and went out to meet King Almanzor.

Thus they went their way, and sure enough they were none too soon; for even, as the hermit had said, King Almanzor was on his way to meet him. When the followers of Gonzalez saw the host that was marching towards them, they were stricken with fear, for they were but a handful. But Gonzalez, seeing their disorder, turned and said to them, "It is a shame, noble Castillan knights, to flee at sight of an infidel host; for who is there that can stand against our banner and our arms? At them! my friends, at them! Let there be not one of us wanting!"

With that he set spurs to his charger, and rode into the midst of the Moors; and he did so valiantly, that all his followers dashed into them with like impetuosity, and none could stand before them; and for one of them that was slain, a hundred of the infidels lay stretched upon the ground. But the good Conde was wounded, and his blood was poured out upon the ground; yet they pushed