had got over the first fears; but, watching him. anxiously, he observed, as he at length turned away, that he had his eyes closed.

Indignant that his son should not have as robust courage as the peasant boys of the village, and still more that he should not be in a condition to enjoy his favourite structure, Juan de Herrera, unable to master his irritation, loaded the boy with reproaches; and Andres slunk away, grieved at having distressed his father, yet unable to summon courage sufficient to satisfy his wishes.

Some days after this, the consecration of the church took place, and the municipal functionaries invited the architect and his son to a banquet on the occasion, at which were assembled all the notabilities of the place, as well as many from neighbouring villages, and even from Madrid. Juan de Herrera deemed, with more zeal than judgment, that this would be a favourable opportunity for curing his son of his weakness, and to effect this narrated to the company the circumstance stated above.

"Father, it was a passing folly," cried the boy, burning with shame; "give me an opportunity, and I will show you that I do not deserve your opinion,"

There was a pause, for the boy spoke with such thrilling earnestness that the smile of derision which had been raised at his expense died away from every lip.

"The galera' has just brought down the cross and ball for the summit of the steeple," continued Andres; "let me go up and place it, and I shall have had the merit of crowning your work."

"You will never dare it!" answered Juan de Herrera contemptuously.

"Let me show you I am not so bad," pleaded Andres.

"Bear in mind, boy, that if your courage fails when you get to that height it will cost you your life."

"Don't be afraid; my courage will not be wanting," replied Andres.

"Be it so then," rejoined Juan de Herrera ; "to-morrow you shall show what you are worth," and he clasped the boy's hand to encourage him in his courageous resolution, and all round the table applauded his pluck.

The next morning found all who were at the banquet, and many more whose curiosity the report of the story had excited, gathered in the plaza round the Church of Coveña. There at the foot of the steeple lay shining the huge cross and ball, newly clad with gilding and bound with strong ropes, by means of which it was to be hoisted over the ready adjusted pulleys into its place.

1 A large covered waggon drawn by mules, in which luggage and passengers were conveyed together in Spain. Still in use in out-of-the-way places.

"If you don't feel up to the mark, you had better give in, even now!" whispered Juan de Herrera, under the porch. "It is still time; and, mind, it is no easy task!"

"My head is quite steady," answered Andres, piqued to find his father still doubted his daring; and, his head erect, without waiting to hear another word of warning, he commenced the ascent of the spiral stair at a rapid pace.

Not altogether free from uneasiness, Juan de Herrera went out to watch the result from the stone cross in the centre of the plaza. The whole crowd was nearly as breathless and anxious as the father, but before two minutes had clapsed Andres was seen emerging from behind one of the pinnacles of a platform, level with the beam on which the bell had been hung a few days before.

A shudder seized the throng, for some one whispered that he had heard the bell sound as the youth passed by, and the rest took up the words and repeated under their breath with superstitious terror, "La campana ha tocado á muerto"!"

Herrera, meantime, stood leaning against the cross a little way from the crowd, and too much absorbed to catch the report. He seemed quite tranquil and had heard no sound.

Most probably the lad had touched the clapper as he passed it.

2 The bell tolled a death knell.

Meantime Andres was steadily mounting a stepladder placed on the roof by which the final stage was to be reached, and from the steps was engaged in arranging the support that was to receive the ball.

The workmen below were drawing the pulleys, and the ornament had nearly reached the summit; as it rose, Andres had to mount two steps more. He raised his foot, but his courage failed.

"My son is lost, for he hesitates!" cried the terror-stricken father, in a hoarse voice.

The multitude took up the cry; but, simultaneously with its utterance, the luckless boy was precipitated to the ground, dashing against one of the buttresses as he fell.

Juan de Herrera, adds the tradition, was never seen to smile again.

One day he went up to the top of the lantern of St. Lorenzo of the Escorial, and gazed over towards Coveña. It seemed to him that he saw two fiery eyes glaring upon him from the steeple which had once been his pride.

Eight days after he was found a corpse. It was the anniversary of the death of his son.

ANOTHER FAIR MAID OF

ZARAGOZA.

HE title of the courageous maid who helped to defend the walls of her native Zaragoza

against the assault of the French invaders, has already become a household word among us. The troubles of the early part of Queen Isabella's reign elicited another instance of feminine constancy, which has likewise received its tribute of local celebration, though exhibited in a more confined and womanly sphere.

Two sisters, Jacinta and Isabella, lived in Zaragoza with their brother, Don Froilan. Among their acquaintance were two intimate friends, Don Pablo and Don Matias, who both held commissions in the National Militia. Don Matias was a handsome, generous young man, and a general favourite, but also somewhat light-hearted and unscrupulous. Don Pablo, on the other hand, was of a more solid, thoughtful character, rather respected after long acquaintance than liked at first sight. Now