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personage” which was upon the waters of the river said to the prophet, “Go thy way, Daniel: for the words are closed up and sealed, till the time of the end” (Dan. xii. 9.); and Isaiah speaks of an obscure prophecy, as “the words of a book that is sealed.” (Isaiah xxix. 11.)

The seal of a king was sometimes, as a mark of special favour, imprinted with ink or some other coloured material on the forehead or face of a person appointed to some especial dignity. Thus we read in the Gospel of St. John “Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you; for him hath God the Father sealed.” (John vi. 27.) To this use of the seal there is a more remarkable allusion in the Book of Revelations: “And I saw another angel ascending from the east, having the seal of the living God: and he cried with a loud voice to the four angels, to whom it was given to hurt the earth and the sea, saying Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads.” (Rev vii. 2, 3.)

Amulets, fetiches, and other instruments of idolatry, were frequently made of glass or porcelain; and hence, in the second commandment, the prohibition is general, “thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image,” after which comes the special prohibition of images, “nor the likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath.” These small images, which were supposed to act as charms, were great temptations to idolatry, and we find that when Jacob fled secretly from Laban's house, that his favourite wife Rachel stole her father's domestic images, which must have been of small size from the ease with which they were concealed. “Now Rachel had taken the images and put them in the camel's furniture, and sat upon them. And Laban searched all the tent, but found them not.” (Gen. xxxi. 34). It was probably to prevent this perversion of the glass manufacture, that the inspired lawgiver of the Hebrews did not make use of glass ornaments in the tabernacle, and that no effort was made to introduce the process into Judea.


If I were to pray for a taste which should stand me in stead under every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss, and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. I speak of it, of course, only as a worldly advantage, and not in the slightest degree as superseding or derogating from the higher office and surer and stronger panoply of religious principles—but as a taste, an instrument and a mode of pleasurable gratification. Give a man this taste, and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly fail of making a happy man, unless, indeed, you put into his hands a most perverse selection of books. You place him in contact with the best society in every period of history— with the wisest, the wittiest—with the tenderest, the bravest, and the purest characters who have adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of all nations—a contemporary of all ages. The world has been created for him. It is hardly possible but the character should take a higher and better tone from the constant habit of associating in thought with a class of thinkers, to say the least of it, above the average of humanity. It is morally impossible but that the manners should take a tinge of good breeding and civilization from having constantly before one's eyes the way in which the best-bred and the best-informed men have talked and conducted themselves in their intercourse with each other. There is a gentle, but perfectly irresistible coercion in a habit of reading well directed, over the whole tenour of a man's character and conduct, which is not the less effectual because it works insensibly, and because it is really the last thing he dreams of. i. civilizes the conduct of men, and suffers them not to remain barbarous.-SIR John



WHEN a young person, who has enjoyed the benefits of a liberal education, instead of leading a life of indolence, dissipation, or vice, employs himself in studying the marks of infinite wisdom and goodness which are manifested in every part of the visible creation, we know not which we ought most to congratulate, the public or the individual.

Self-taught naturalists are often found to make no little progress in knowledge, and to strike out many new lights, by the mere aid of original genius and patient application. But the well-educated youth engages with these pursuits with peculiar advantage. He takes more comprehensive views, is able to consult a greater variety of authors; and, from the early habits of his mind, is more accurate and more methodical in all his investigations. The world at large, therefore, cannot fail to be benefited by his labours; and the value of the enjoyments which at the same time he secures to himself, is beyond all calculation. No tedious, vacant hour ever makes him wish for he knows not what— complain, he knows not why. Never does a restless impatience at having nothing to do, compel him to seek a momentary stimulus to his dormant powers in the tumultuous pleasures of the intoxicating cup, or the agitating suspense of the game of chance. Whether he be at home or abroad, in every different clime, and in every season of the year, universal nature is before him, and invites him to a banquet richly replenished with whatever can invigorate his understanding, or gratify his mental taste. The earth on which he treads, the air in which he moves, the sea along the margin of which he walks, all teem with objects to keep his attention perpetually awake, excite him to healthful activity, and charm him with an ever-varying succession of the beautiful, the wonderful, the useful, and the new. And if, in conformity with the direct tendency of such occupations, he rises from the creature to the Creator, and considers the duties which naturally result from his own situation and rank in this vast system of being, he will derive as much satisfaction from the anticipation of the future, as from the experience of the present, and the re collection of the past.

The mind of the pious naturalist is always cheerful, always animated with the noblest and most benign feelings. Every repeated observation, every unexpected discovery, directs his thoughts to the great Source of all order, and all good; and harmonizes all his faculties with the general voice of nature. - . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The men Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, With His conceptions; act upon His plan, And form to His the relish of their souls.



We are obliged to these duties of humanity, upon account of common interest, benefit, and advantage. The welfare and safety, the honour and reputation, the pleasure and quiet of our lives are concerned, in our loving correspond ence with all men.

For so uncertain is our condition, so obnoxious are we to manifold necessities, that there is no man, whose good will we may not need, whose good word may not stand us stead, whose helpful endeavour may not sometimes oblige us.

The great Pompey, the glorious triumpher over nations, and admired darling of fortune, was beholden at last to a slave for the composing his ashes, and celebrating his funeral obsequies. The honour of the greatest men depends on the estimation of the least, and the good will of the meanest peasant is a brighter ornament to the fortune, a greater accession to the grandeur of a prince, than the most radiant gem in his royal diadem.

It is but reasonable, therefore, if we desire to live securely, comfortably, and quietly, that by all honest means we should endeavour to purchase the good will of all men, and provoke no man's enmity needlessly; since any man's love may be useful, and every man's hatred is dangerous. —Is AAc BARRow.

LIFE's evening, we may rest assured, will take its character from the day which has preceded it; and if we would close our career in the comfort of religious hope, we must prepare for it by early and continuous religious habit.— SHUTTLEworth. -


The first attempt at the construction of Permanent Pens, appears to have consisted in arming the nibs of Turkey-quill pens with metallic points or nibs. As the friction of the quill pen upon the paper, and the softening produced by the ink, are the causes which wear away the nibs of ordinary pens, it is obvious that metal is better calculated to withstand these two influences than quill. But although the metallic mibs greatly increased the durability of the pen, it was at the expense of the elasticity of the quill; and since the durability of the metallic-nibbed pen was not adequate to its additional cost over the common quill pen, this method was soon abandoned. In our “History of the Quill Pen," we have given a mode of cutting up the quill in the direction of its length, (as practised by Mr. Bramah,) whereby a great many pens could be formed out of one barrel. The object of this process was to prevent pen-mending, an operation which most writers feel to be an infliction. Pens have been made, from time to time, out of horn and tortoise and other shells. These pens were of course more expensive than common quills, and nearly all of them more durable. Nibs have even been formed, somewhat successfully, of precious stones, the advantage of which is, that they are subject to no wear and corrosion. In 1823 Messrs. Hawkins and Mordan employed horn and tortoise-shell, which were cut into nibs, and softened in boiling water; small pieces of diamond, ruby, and other precious stones were then embedded into them by pressure. In this way were insured durability and great elasticity. In order to give stability to the nib, thin pieces of gold, or other metal, were affixed to the tortoise-shell. Pens somewhat similar were formed by Mr. Doughty; his nibs were rubies set in fine gold. With these pens a person could write as finely as with a crow-quill, or as firmly as with a swanquill, or the two modes might be combined. These pens possessed considerable elasticity, and by their means an uniform manuscript, unattainable by means of ordinary pens, could be produced. Pens of this construction have been in constant use for upwards of six years, and at the end of that time exhibited no signs of wear, they were as perfect then as ever. In using them, however, care is necessary to preserve the nibs from contact with hard bodies; they require occasional washing with a brush in soap and water. Mr. Doughty states that, although they are costly at first, yet, in the end, they will be found economic, on account of their permanency. To prevent injury to the points, in the act of dipping this pen into an inkstand, Mr. Doughty lines the interior of his elegant ink-stands with India-rubber, or places a bottle of that material within the stand to contain the ink. Dr. Wollaston also constructed pens from two flat slips of gold, placed angularly side by side, and which were tipped with the metal rhodium ; others have employed the metal iridium ; but these pens have been abandoned on account of their expense, and the great care necessary to their preservation. These pens were, however, very durable, though not equal to the ruby nibs. Many of the pens to which we have alluded, were sadly deficient in that indispensable quality, elasticity. To supply a remedy to this defect, it was proposed to place springs on the backs of such pens, sliding backwards and forwards, to vary the elasticity according to the different hands required in writing. This plan was somewhat successful, but a great objection

THE History of STEEL PENs.

was, that the ink drying upon the pen, in a great measure neutralized the action of the spring. Metallic pens appear to have been introduced into various semimaries, from time to time as rarities, among writing materials; they were given as prizes, rewards for merit, &c. But the first mention that we find of steel pens for writing, is in 1803, when Mr. Wise constructed barrel-pens of steel, mounted in a bone case for convenience of carrying in the pocket. These pens were very dear, and produced to their inventor but a scanty income. For many years, however, Wise's pens were the only steel pens that could be had, and by means of great activity in “pushing a sale” of them, they were to be had at almost every stationer's shop in the kingdom. About twelve years ago, the celebrated Perryan pens first appeared. Mr. Perry may be regarded in the light of a great improver; many of his pens are ingenious and original in construction. He arranges his pens into genera and species, advertises their beauties and their merits in prose and rhyme, and has thus, not altogether undeservedly, acquired fame and renown, and, we doubt not, profit, to which, years ago, a mere pen-maker would not have aspired. Mr. Perry first overcame the rigidity complained of in steel pens generally, by introducing apertures between the shoulder and the point of the pen; thus transferring the elasticity of the pen to a position below instead of above the shoulder. This was the object of his patent of 1830. In 1832 further improvements suggested to him the propriety of seeking a second patent, which he obtained for a pen now bearing the odd cognomen of “The Double Patent Perryan Pen.” Perry’s “Regulating Spring Pen” is furnished with a sliding spring, which increases or diminishes its flexibility, according as it is placed farther from or nearer to the point. In another case, Mr. Perry employs a thread of India-rubber round the nibs of his pens, the yielding of which allows the points to open in proportion to the pressure. One of the most extensive manufacturers of steel pens is Mr. Joseph Gillott, of Birmingham. This gentleman employs three hundred pairs of hands, and consumes fifty tons of steel annually. Now one ton of steel is sufficient to make about two millions of pens; hence this manufacturer alone furnishes about one hundred millions of pens annually. The kind of pen made by Mr. Gillott is similar to the original pen by Wise. The improvement of the modern maker consists in employing metal of a better quality, and in a thinner and more elastic state; in making the slit shorter, and in carefully attending to the finish and temper of the metal. These improvements have been attended with such a reduction in price, that a gross is now sold for very little more than was formerly charged for one of Wise's pens. The common “Three-slit Pen” has long been, and still is, a favourite with steel pen writers. Its peculiarity consists in having a slit on each side of the cemtral slit, the elasticity being thereby much increased. The nibs of all pens increase in breadth by use, so that steel, as well as quill pens, require mending, or rejecting for a new one. The difference is a question of time, for while a quill pen will increase in breadth in an hour, the steel pen may be used for many days without the necessity of mending or rejection. But steel pens may be mended by means of a fine file or an oil-stone, by which the nibs can be brought to points sufficiently acute for the purposes of the writer; but the present low price of steel pens renders it very questionable, whether the time employed in mending them would not be thrown away. WIr. Gillott has taken out a patent for an improved pen, the object of which is to remedy the defect complained of, that the nibs increase in breadth by use. In the new pen, the nibs are made parallel-sided for about one-eighth of an inch long, the remaining portion being cut in the usual curved manner, so that one-eighth of an inch may be worn away without increasing the breadth of the nibs. We have not used any of these pens, but it occurs to us, that by the above means the equable opening and closing of the nib during writing cannot be insured, that the ink would not flow down in sufficient quantity, and that unless the pen were held in one particular direction, the equal wearing away of the nibs would not occur. We should rather fear that the pen would often act the part of a chisel, and dig into the paper instead of moving over its surface; but these objections are offered without ever having used the pen which suggests them. The oblique position in which the pen is held induced Messrs. Mordan and Brockeden, in 1831, to make their oblique pens, in order that the two sides of the nib should bear equally on the paper. The form of this pen is that of a bird's head and bill; the slit, or mouth of the bird, is the part employed in writing, and this slit is inclined, at an angle of 35°, to the general direction of the pen. They hold a great deal of ink, and their use is pleasant to the writer. Other pens, called Lunar Pens, have been adopted. Their under surface being large and concave, a great portion of ink is taken up by them, and thus the writer's time is economized. Mr. Gowland has invented a pen with an additional nib, called the “Three-nibbed Slit Pen.” The additional nib is formed by cutting it out of the shank, and turning it back over the nibs. This pen is manufactured by Mordan, as also “ Mordan's Counter-oblique Pen.” Both these pens hold much ink, and the awkward appearance of obliquity in the bird's-head pen is removed, while, at the same time, the oblique effects are preserved. There are many other forms of steel pens, which we need not stop to describe, since the examples already given will afford to the reader a sufficiently accurate idea of their forms and uses. We proceed, therefore, to perhaps the most interesting portion of this article, viz., the processes by which steel pens are manufactured. The steel with which the pens are made is rolled into very thin plates; it is then cut into slips, about four inches broad and three feet long, then annealed for fourteen hours, and again submitted to the roller; the thickness of these bands is not more than 1; ath of an inch. The bands are then passed under a stamping-press, and pieces of the proper size for the pens are cut out with great rapidity. These pieces are called blanks, or flats, and are so cut out, that the fibres of the steel shall run in the direction of the length of the pen. The blanks are now submitted to the action of a hardened steel punch and matrix, of the exact size and shape of the pen, and which are attached to a powerful fly-press. The pens are then softened by being put into an iron box containing tallow ; this box is placed in a furnace and equally heated. When the box is withdrawn, the pens are emptied upon hot ashes and covered with the same, and so allowed to cool gradually; by this means they are sufficiently soft for the subsequent processes. They are then marked for the slits; this is done by means of an extremely fine-edged chisel, brought down separately upon each pen, and so admirably adjusted that two-thirds only of the substance of the pen is cut through. The edge of this chisel is finer than any razor, but much harder, because it

will perform its office for a whole day without renewing its edge; this superior quality is given to the steel by hammering it for several hours. This is an important fact, and seems to have been discovered by the pen-makers. When the other slits and openings have been made, and the maker's name stamped, the next operation is called dishing, by which the proper shape is given to the pens by means of a metallic punch and die, accurately fitting each other, the two being the exact form of the pen. The pens are now hardened by being heated to redness, and being then plunged into cold oil, which must be at least three feet deep. The oil in a few weeks loses its properties and becomes charred. The next operation is cleaning and polishing; this is effected by a very curious machine. It consists of a tin cylinder, eight or nine inches in diameter, and three feet long, with a hole in the middle of its length, for putting in and taking out the pens, which hole is covered by a lid. This cylinder is hung on joints at each end to cranks, formed one on each of two axles furnished with a fly-wheel, and one of them with a handle. As this latter is turned, the cylinder is thrown up and down and backwards and forwards, and the pens are agitated in a manner similar to materials shaken in a bag. This motion is continued for eight hours, when many thousands of pens, by rubbing against each other, are found to be entirely deprived of any roughness which might have otherwise existed on them, and which, though invisible to the eye, might offer serious impediments to free writing. They are now tempered by being placed on a furnace-plate, and as soon as they have acquired a bright blue colour they are removed; this colour indicates the best temper for the pens, and is due to a thin film of oxide formed on the surface; were they heated in vacuo, or in any medium containing no oxygen, the blue colour would not appear. The last operation consists in cracking the slits, which is done by pressing the nibs suddenly with a pair of pincers; the slit, which was cut only two-thirds through, then suddenly opens. It is calculated that the total quantity of steel employed in this manufacture, amounts to 120 tons per annum, from which upwards of 200,000,000 of pens are produced. There is, however, a considerable waste of material in this branch of art. The pieces of steel cut out of the pens cannot be applied to any use; it is so thin that it cannot be welded, and it cannot be meited, because it takes fire and burns, in consequence of access of air between the thin pieces. It is a cheering statement, that in spite of the immense consumption of steel pens, the demand for quills has not abated, but, on the contrary, is on the increase. This is to be accounted for by considering that, within the last few years, population has greatly increased, and that by the diffusion of the refining influence of education, that class of persons now can write which twenty years ago was altogether illiterate. Besides this, the Continent and America are supplied by us with steel pens. When first introduced, they were as high as 8s. per gross, then they fell to 4s., and now they are manufactured at Birmingham at so low a price as four-pence per gross . As yet, it appears that the only branch of trade that has suffered by the introduction of steel pens is the cutlery trade: pen-knives are in less requisition than formerly.


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PART THE SECON D. JULY 8th.-The morning of Monday had scarcely dawned, when licentious bodies of rioters appeared parading the streets, renewing the scenes of the former day with tenfold violence. In this, as in every other instance of a popular outbreak, it was found that the disposition to riot, like every other evil principle, is greatly strengthened by indulgence, and that the calamities of licentiousness accumulate with frightful rapidity. The Duke of Arcos resolved to negotiate, and he employed a Neapolitan nobleman, the Duke of Matalone, whom he held at the time as a prisoner in the castle, to act as his mediator with the insurgents. No more puzzling question could be put to the Neapolitans, than to ask what was the substance of their demands. The expectations of a mob are always vague, and hence they insist upon impossibilities. The leaders of the insurrection demanded not only the abolition of all imposts, but the production of a charter, written, as they said, in letters of gold, and granted by the Emperor Charles the Fifth, to the citizens of Naples. No such document had ever existed, but nothing short of a miracle could convince the multitude of their delusion. Masaniello averred that it had been supernaturally described to Vol. XII.


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him, and this declaration rendered further evidence superfluous. The viceroy under these circumstances endeavoured to palm on the populace a forged document similar to that which they required. There had not been sufficient time to give such a fraud even a chance of success; it was at once detected, and popular indignation was directed against the Duke of Matalone. The fiercer insurgents seized on his person, loaded him with chains, and dragged him to prison. Masaniello's malady had been aggravated by a sleepless night; he incited his followers to fresh acts of violence, and begun to display a fierce hatred of the nobility and gentry. With his sanction, the houses of all who were regarded as enemies to the people, were gutted and destroyed; his followers, the lowest and most licentious of the Lazzaroni, paraded the streets with boat-hooks to drag the gentlemen from their horses, and inspired such terror, that the appearance of one of them was sufficient to clear a crowded street. The very women joined in these excesses, with muskets on their shoulders, swords by their sides, and daggers in the folds of their dress; and even the children were made to bear their part in the national frenzy. A second night of revolution closed in, and the o of the tyranny of a mob were traced in characters of blood and flame on the once lovely city of Naples. July 9th.—The excesses of the former days were renewed with fresh violence. Masaniello led a body of his followers against the steeple and church of St. Lorenzo, which had been garrisoned by a company of Spanish soldiers, who were too few to offer any effective resistance. Henceforth, the church of St. Lorenzo became the chief focus of the insurrection, and its great bell was used to sound the tocsin, whenever Masaniello and his successors deemed it necessary to summon an assembly of the people. In the evening of the day, the viceroy made a new effort to open a negotiation with the insurgents, employing as his ambassador Cardinal Felomarino, Archbishop of Naples, who was rather a favourite with the populace. He persuaded the people and their leaders that he had full power to arrange all the points of difference, and he produced copies of the charters granted by Ferdinand the Catholic, and Charles the Fifth. Though these documents contained nothing like the stipulations ignorantly expected by the multitude, they were received with satisfaction, and the night was passed more peacefully than either of the preceding. July 10th.-The expectations of peace to which the cardinal's embassy had given rise, were disappointed by a new series of events. Large parties of banditti, which had long infested the kingdom of Naples, flocked to the capital, and were gladly received by Masaniello. To one of these criminals, by name Perrone, he intrusted the charge of the prisoners. But the Duke of Matalone found little difficulty in persuading the bandit to become a traitor to the popular cause, and to join with another bandit, named Palombe, in a plot for the assassination of Masaniello. As a preliminary, the duke was permitted to make his escape, and he took good care to remove himself to a safe distance. Masaniello summoned a general assembly, to deliberate on the proposals made by the cardinal; an immense multitude thronged into the square appointed for the meeting; but the appearance of five hundred banditti, armed to the teeth, well mounted, and acting in concert, excited some alarm. They rode forward to the place where Masaniello stood; some exclamations from the crowd excited his alarm, and he commanded the bandits to dismount. Instead of obeying the order, seven of them discharged their carbines at him, but though his shirt was burned by the gunpowder, not a ball struck him. The enraged mob immediately assailed the bandits; thirty of them fell at the very first discharge, and the rest sought shelter in a church, trusting that the Neapolitans, who are proverbial for superstition, would respect the sanctuary. But in the terrible excitement of popular fury, religion ceases to curb violence, and superstition is of course still more inefficacious. The enraged multitudes forced the gates, the work of butchery went on in the sacred precincts, the floor was flooded with blood, wretches were slaughtered while they grasped the altar, and the images of the Virgin and the Saints were stained with the gore of the victims. A few were reserved for a worse fate; they were tortured to force a confession; cords were drawn round their thumbs, and tightened until blood spouted from the nails; the heads of others were subjected to similar compression until their eyes were starting from the sockets: they confessed the plot that had been laid for the murder of Masaniello, and the intention of their masters to fall upon the mob during the confusion that must necessarily result from the loss


of the popular leader. All agreed that the Duke of Matalone and his brother, Don Joseph Caraffa, were the contrivers of the conspiracy; but some, probably in the vain hope of preserving their lives, added many other horrors, declaring that a plot had been laid for undermining the place of assembly, and blowing all the insurgents together into the air. These revelations scarcely delayed their fate, as each told all he was supposed to know, he was hewn down, beheaded, and mutilated in barbarous triumph. The assembly still continued its meeting; Masaniello, guarded by the most ferocious of the Lazzaroni, bearing on pikes the gory heads of the slain banditti, harangued the multitude, exaggerating the dangers from which he and they had escaped, and calling for vengeance on the whole body of the nobles. Horrid outcries rent the air as he concluded; a party instantly departed in search of the duke and his brother, while others, in anticipation of their capture, hastily prepared a wooden scaffold; the bleeding bodies of those who had been slain were tied to the tails of horses and dragged through the streets; the fishermen, the Lazzaroni, and hordes of degraded women, incensed by fury, mutilated the senseless carcasses, while children wallowed in the blood, and seemed to take a premature delight in slaughter. Matalone escaped his pursuers, but Caraffa was taken and dragged towards the square. His captors could not delay their eagerness for his blood, and, before he reached the scaffold, a butcher struck off his head with a blow of a cleaver. When intelligence of this event reached Masaniello, he ascended the scaffold, still in his sailor's dress, with a drawn sword in his hand, and exclaimed, “Bring here the head of the traitor.” His orders were obeyed, and the furious demagogue insulted and spurned the corpse of the unfortunate nobleman, until his own followers could not conceal their feelings of disgust. During this dreadful day the Neapolitan clergy kept the churches open, covered the altars with the ornaments used in the services for the dead, offered up prayers for peace, and repeated the service of their church called “supplications for the passing soul,” usually recited for persons at the point of death. Even this spectacle failed to produce the intended effect; murderers with their weapons of slaughter, incendiaries waving their blazing torces, stopped at the gates of the churches as they passed, uncovered their heads, knelt for a few moments to go through the mummery of devotion, and then went on their way to continue the work of destruction. July 11th.-The Duke of Arcos was far from breaking off the negotiations in consequence of the preceding horrors. Cardinal Felomarino again presented himself as a mediator; Masaniello, who was unable to write, dictated to his secretaries certain conditions for peace, principally insisting on the total abolition of taxes, and full indemnity for all who had engaged in the insurrection. When the articles were prepared, they were read to the people in the church of the Carmelites, and received with loud acclamation. Cardinal Felomarino then proposed that Masaniello should accompany him to the Spanish governor; the proposition was adopted, and the demagogue exchanged his sailor's dress for a superb robe of silver tissue. He then mounted a splendid charger, richly caprisoned, and, accompanied by a vast multitude, proceeded to the viceroy. The Duke of Arcos, though imbued with a double portion of Spanish pride, received the imperious fisherman with the utmost respect, and treated him as if he had been the first of the grandees. The courtly ceremonies were tedious; they were pro

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