him that his face was rigid, sallow, and bloodless as that of the corpse on which he gazed. But he himself felt nothing of this. Not a sentence that was spoken was lost upon his ear. He did not even tremble, and a slight anxiety for his personal safety was the only sentiment of which he was perceptibly conscious. It seemed as if the great passion, like an engine embarrassed in its action, had been suddenly struck motionless, even while the impelling principle remained in active force.

"At this moment the hounds opened in a chopping concert, and Hardress, starting from his position of rigid calmness, extended his arms, and burst into a passion of wild fear. The hounds! the hounds!' he exclaimed; 'keep off the dogs? They will tear her if you let them pass! Will ye suffer the dogs to tear her? There is no fear,' said the coroner, fixing a keen and practised eye upon him. Aye, but there is, Sir, by your leave,' cried Hardress. Do you hear them now? Do you hear that yell for blood? I tell you I hate that horrid cry. It is enough to make the heart of a Christian burst. Who put the hounds upon that horrid scent, that false scent?-I am going mad, I think. I say, Sir, do you hear that yelling now? Will you tell me now there is no fear? Stand close, and hide me-her, I mean.' 'I think there is none whatever,' said the coroner, probing him. And I tell you,' cried Hardress, grasping his whip, and abandoning himself to an almost delirious excess of rage, I tell you there is. If this ground should open before me, and I should hear the hounds of Satan yelling upwards from the deep, it could not freeze me with a greater fear.'"

The ruffian Danny, under the pretence of guiding the victim to a place of security, had drowned her. He is apprehended, but escapes through the interference of Hardress, and promises to leave the country. The wedding-day is appointed, and, on the previous evening, Hardress, walking out with his intended bride, meets Danny, who, with the indifference peculiar to his race, has dared the very front of danger. Hardress seises him in an agony of rage, and dashes him to the earth. This insult irritates the villain: he goes to a magistrate, confesses his guilt, and informs against Hardress, who is taken in the midst of the bridal festivities at his mother's house. The guilt of instigation to murder not being proved against him, his doom is merely transportation. The fate of such a brutal character excites no compassion.

VOL. X.

THE CASTILIAN,

by the Author of Gomez Arias. ACQUAINTED with the national feelings and manners of Spain, in different ages, don Telesforo de Trueba y Cosio has again made his talent and knowlege subservient to the amusement and instruction of his British protectors. He mingles, as he did in his former work, romance with history, and, by the frequency of his dialogues, infuses a dramatic air into the narrative.

The period which he has chosen for illustration is the reign of Peter the Cruel, who, being expelled by an illegitimate brother, was assisted in the recovery of his throne by our Edward, the Black Prince. Thus was exhibited a temporary union of English and Spanish feeling, resembling that which led, in our time, to the expulsion of the French from Spain.

He

The exiled king is brought forward with an air of dignity, amidst circumstances apparently humiliating." The Castilian, Ferran de Castro, hastening toward the spot where the king was awaiting him, descried the fisherman's shed, and, upon approaching the place, he was startled by a sharp shrill whistling. He advanced cautiously: his anxiety, however, was soon dissipated, for he met none but friends; two men were patroling before the little entrance of the humble dwelling, which they immediately allowed him to enter upon recognising his person. Ferran was not a little amazed at the picture which now presented itself. found Don Pedro sitting on a wooden bench, and very tranquilly eating some fried fish, which a tall muscular girl, a complete gypsy, was assiduously preparing for his royal appetite. No expression of sadness, or dejection, was discernible on his brow, but a sense of dignity and pride seemed to uphold his spirits, even in his present reduced state. His handsome features appeared calm, but ill assorted with the stormy passions that raged within his breast. Still there was nothing feigned in the appetite and recklessness with which he swallowed the humble fare set before him. Around the hut stood the old fisherman and his sons, watching every movement of their royal master. They were armed, as was the king, who kept his sword drawn by his side. This, together with two or three different wea pons that hung round his girdle, and the coarse dress in which he was attired, gave the appearance of a mountain bandit to

R

him, who but a few days before had been the sovereign of Castile. Indeed, the place where the caprice of fortune as well as his own errors had compelled him now to seek refuge, corresponded well with his present personal appearance. It was a slight, low, miserable hovel, illumined by the glimmer of a single lamp, and rendered doubly untenantable by the thousand apertures through which the wind made the most unceremonious entrance. The whole of the furniture consisted of the solitary little table and stool, both occupied by the king, and a crazy bench by the fire. The fire, too, from the peculiar construction of the chimney, had the advantage of dispersing its own smoke for the benefit of the guests, not a single whiff being squandered away in the air above; all which, together with the strong smell of oil that proceeded from the iron fryingpan, so cleverly handled by the fisherman's daughter, contributed to give no agreeable impressions to Ferran, as he entered the obscure and miserable tenement."

Edward and his gallant officers are engaged at the festive board, when application is made for their speedy assistance."The Black Prince had just pledged the last toast to the honour of England, and was about to rise from the convivial board, when Sir Robert Knolles detained him by demanding, 'How long, please your highness, will this our idle mood continue? in default of practice, the valor of a soldier is apt to become as rusty as his weapon.' Be of good cheer, Sir Robert,' returned the prince; we cannot alter the course of things; but the adventurous knight may always find occasion to show his gallantry and prowess in foreign fields, if he be so gallantly minded.' 'Ay, by St. George,' replied Sir Robert; and I sorely repent of not following the example of Sir Hugh Calverley, and the free companions who have achieved such deeds, and acquired such rich booty in Spain.'-'Shame!' cried the noble Sir John Chandos, reddening up; when was it thought seemly to hear an English knight deplore and repine at the loss of booty? Beshrew my heart, if, among the fine deeds of Sir Hugh Calverley, his expedition into Castile shall call down the meed of praise!' 'Ay!' said Sir William Felton; the more so, when we consider he is engaged in the cause of an usurper, to dethrone his liege and lawful king.-Right, Sir William,' observed the Black Prince, with approy.

ing looks: 'besides, is there not something in bad keeping, thus to become the allies of our natural foes? I marvel me how Sir Hugh can agree with Sir Bertrand Du-guesclin. Eh! sirs, those free companions, as they term themselves, ought in mere justice to take another title; for that of freebooters, methinks, would better become them.' 'Gramercy, Sir prince!' cried Sir Robert, with a sardonic smile, if the compliment is leveled at my poor deserts.'-Sir Knight,' replied the prince, although Sir Robert Knolles should feel offended at a just observation, yet never shall Edward of Wales forbear censure where he thinks it merited. What, sir, have we not every day new complaints of depredations and injustice against the companions?-and who, by St. George, is to redress these wrongs?-or are we to shut our eyes and ears to the cries of justice, to suit the good pleasure of these marauders?' "At this moment, an attendant came to announce that a Spanish cavalier had a communication of a private nature to impart to the prince; upon this, the knights withdrew, and the prince commanded the messenger into his presence. Without any ceremony, the stran ger was ushered in. He was a man of very prepossessing and lofty demeanor, though clad in an uncouth and lowly guise. With an expression of humility, blended with noble pride, he made a profound obeisance, and, presenting a roll of papers, said, 'Most noble prince! I come from my lord and master, Don Pedro, the king of Castile, now a fugitive from his dominions, to seek, in his behalf, the protection of the noble and valiant knights of England. From these papers you will learn more fully the purport of my mission.' The prince received Ferran de Castro (for such was the stranger,) most graciously; and, taking the offered papers, he glanced over their contents with visible interest; then turning to De Castro, 'You are welcome to us,' he said, from our cousin of Castile. Hard times these, Sir Spaniard! From this document I see that Don Pedro has been roughly used. What means of assistance can he count upon ?'-' None, sir, none,' replied Ferran, mournfully, but the generous sympathy of true knights, who will boldly assert the cause of loyalty and justice against wicked usurpation. An unnatural brother, and a faction of nobles and clergy, supported by foreign allies, have hurled their sovereign from the throne. He is now compelled to fly from his

kingdom, deserted by all his liege subjects and sworn vassals; half a dozen cavaliers, myself included, constitute his whole retinue.'-Sir Ferran, your fidelity looks well,' replied the prince. I grieve that the Castilians should have forgotten a virtue, for which they have always been so much vaunted. However, we will consider the grievances of our cousin, and devise means to assist him in his trouble. Du-guesclin is, in good sooth, a puissant and a formidable knight, and the power of Trastamara is acknowleged in Castile; yet, with the help of God and my good sword, we shall speedily see whether rebellion and usurpation shall triumph in your land.'-'Noble sir,' cried Ferran, joyfully, may Heaven reward your generous disposition!'' Sir Castihian,' replied the prince, 'to protect the wronged and chastise the oppressor, is a duty imposed on a true knight; and such would I willingly profess myself to be. Moreover, I think it a sacred cause, and all that I can do shall be done forthwith in favor of Don Pedro. Yet, first, I must consult the lords of my father's court, for it is only with their aid and approbation that I can hope for success: you will stay as our guest, and in brief space an answer will be given."-The answer, we may observe, was in the affirmative.

Of the author's vivacity in framing conversations, a good specimen follows.Some English officers, and a party of Spanish peasants, proceeded to a farmhouse, where they found it desirable to make a meal and procure a trusty guide, by dint of gold and threats, promises and blows. A little urchin, who was rolling in the dirt, no sooner perceived the warlike display approaching the peaceful habitations, than, with visible affright, he ran to give the alarm. Presently all the inmates made their appearance, evincing in their dull countenances the mingled sensations of fear and astonishment. Two strapping fellows opened their wide mouths, and, fixing their large eyes on the strangers, stood as if reflecting whether to scamper away or await the pleasure of the terrible guests. There was a dark goodlooking woman spinning, with two chubby brats, while an elderly shrewd-looking man stood at some distance, apparently neither amazed nor frightened at the approach of the martial visitors. Sir Robert Knolles dismounting, said, "Be not afraid; we come not to harm you; but, if you make a movement to escape, or if I dis

cern any treacherous design amongst you, by St. George! look well to yourselves, for this battle-axe is not of the lightest.'He stopped, and, in sooth, he had said sufficiently to convince his auditors of the strength of his reasoning, for they looked the very picture of conviction. They stood fixed to the ground, keeping their eyes directed toward the instrument which Sir Robert wielded with such admirable ease and satisfaction. And now,' resumed the knight, prepare to answer the questions that shall be made, without the least prevarication, for lying, my good friends, is a most vile propensity, and I am likely to visit harshly those who resort to it. You, our ancient,' he added, turning to the elder peasant, 'seem to be the head of the family; so we cannot obtain information from a better source. To whom do these possessions belong?''To whom do these belong!' repeated the peasant, looking wise, and scratching his head for a suitable answer: 'why, to whom should they belong?-I am master here. None of your tricks,' replied the knight; I caution you to beware of prevarication, which I abominate as much as downright falsehood. Who is your lord? Now answer, before I enforce my answer upon your capacious scull.'-The peasant cast a look on the battle-axe. 'Oh, Virgen Santa! who is my lord, you mean? I first was a retainer of Don Garcia Ornesa; but he is now dead. He was a gallant cavalier. Few ricos homes were more kind-hearted toward his vasallos than Don Garcia.' Silence, prater!' cried Sir Robert; 'here is a precious dog, who thinks to cajole me with a long-winded history about his master! Now, answer directly, and to the purpose; to whom do this house and land belong?'-There was something in the determined voice and manner of the knight, that convinced the peasant of the impropriety of delaying a direct reply; so he sullenly answered, They belong to Don Lope de Horozco."

Very well,' said Sir Robert, addressing Sir William Felton, who had now come up with the rest of the party, 'Don Lope de Horozco is one of the most zealous partisans of Don Enrique; so, in all conscience, we may make free with his property, and leave him to settle accounts with these boors. Hallo, friends! these pasturages and messuages seem to be most plentifully stocked. Now, I shall be moderate in my demands. Go and see that as many oxen, and sheep, and poultry, are killed forthwith, as will serve

to feed four hundred and fifty gallant men with very good appetites.''Valame el Senor cried the peasant astonished, 'four hundred and fifty men!'- Exactly,' returned Sir Robert, in a bantering tone. 'And if you have any doubt, good friend, I shall allow you to count them; after which you must make the best speed possible. No, stop; methinks I might as well ease you of the trouble-some of my good archers will do the job with greater expedition.'

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Upon this, some of the free companions, who adhered so well to the spirit of their name, began to ransack the several out-houses, and a scene of whimsical confusion ensued. Oxen began to bellow, sheep to bleat, curs to bark; the whole kingdom of the poultry, with their haughty monarch at its head, began to send forth bitter lamentations. Indeed, the peaceful tenants of the various departments of the farm, scared at the appearance of the murder-looking invaders, began in concert to enter a protest against their proceedings. But it was all to no purpose. In spite of the clamor of the victims, and the dismal looks of the human inmates of the farm, the free companions went briskly to work: no mercy, no compassion was shown. Ruefully the labrador and his family looked on the fearful spectacle, but ventured upon no other means of exhibiting their sorrow, than pious exclamations to all the inhabitants of heaven!

"The free companions, meantime, continued their operations, without troubling themselves about the various exclamations which they from time to time elicited. Huge fires were soon kindled; and here again the visage of the host acquired an additional grimace; for the free gentry made quite as free with the straw and timber of the farm, as they had before done with the quadrupeds and fowls. By these means an abundant, if not a delicate dinner, was prepared in promptu, to which all the party sat down with unusual alacrity. They soon grew convivial, and began to bandy jokes in great hilarity of spirits. Now, friends,' said Sir Robert to the peasants, we can do nothing less than invite you to partake of the cheer. Come, come, be merry and social.'

.

"This invitation was answered only by a deep growl from the ancient, and with heavy sighs from the younger portion.'Nay, Sir Robert,' said Sir William Felton, whose gravity of character and goodness of nature greatly exceeded his companion's; let the poor fellows alone.

Why, were they to eat of this fare, I am sure they would suffer indigestion; for, however good a feast may be, a man is apt to lose his appetite, when invited under circumstances like the present.'

"The work of demolition was carried on very actively, seasoned by sundry jokes, each of which was answered by a mental curse from the forced spectators of the scene. Honest people,' now said Sir Robert, 'to what party do you belong? Answer plainly. Party!' quoth the farmer, bless your honour, I can't understand you-we know nothing of par ties. Ay! by my honor, 1 see you are a sly dog whom do you like, Don Pedro, or Don Enrique? Now, that at least cannot be above your comprehension-to which side are you friendly?—This was an awkward question: there was peril in the guess; and the worthies began to look at each other in a miserable plight.—‘Answer quickly!' said Sir Robert: 'to which party are you attached ?'-To neither!" sheepishly replied one of the young lads. -To neither? Heaven forgive you!' exclaimed the knight with warmth. Do you mean to play the fool with me?'-'Oh, no!' said the brother alarmed, 'Antonio is un innocente-he knows not what he says.''Well, that plea shall hold him excused: then you, who are no doubt the sharp one of the family, answer me.'-'Si, Senor!' said the lad.-'Whom do you favor, Don Pedro, or Don Enrique?'-' Both!,' replied the bumpkin, undauntedly, and well satisfied.—' Both! Now, Sir William, what think you of these clod-poles ?- Valgame San Pedro,' interposed the father. My good Caballero, don't mind the boys-what do they understand of wars, and cavaliers, and kings? Heaven bless them, they are as ignorant as little children.'-' Oh, very well-then mayhap you will be able to give a better answer, my master; tell me then, to whose party do you belong?'To yours!' was the confident reply.—. Rascal!' cried Sir Robert, don't think to impose upon me.'—' Impose upon you! Blessed be St. John,' exclaimed the peasant; that I, miserable man, should list to do aught so hazardous! sure you belong to one of the two great parties, my good Caballeros?'-"Yes!' but I greatly desire to learn of thee which that is, seeing that you belong to it?'-' Heaven defend us!' ejaculated the boor, with a stupid stare-Don't you know your own party? sure you must be making merry with a poor man.'-' A shrewd dog,' said

Sir William Felton; 'let him go in peace.' -With all my heart,' replied Sir Robert; but his beef and poultry are too good to escape so easily; so we must do honor to the fare, by taking a small supply.''

A great portion of the interest attached to this romance depends on the character and adventures of Ferran de Castro, a knight of high principles and untarnished honor, and a faithful adherent to Pedro through all his misfortunes. He is betrothed to a high-minded lady, who returns his attachment with a fond devotion, being bound by the firmest of all ties by which the heart of a virtuous woman can be secured,—the admiration of her lover's character. He has a rival in the opposite party, a man by no means to be despised, either on account of the claim which a former intimacy with Costanza gives him to her hand, or of his personal qualifications, or the power with which the success in arms of the party he had espoused had invested him. The ungrateful king also becomes enamored of the charms of the noble lady, and thwarts the desires of his over-faithful attendant. The division of motive engendered by these circumstances in the conduct of the Castilian, his resolute fidelity to his sovereign, and his anxiety for the possession and safety of the lady, through all the perils which arise, materially enhance the attractions of the story.

PORTUGAL ILLUSTRATED, by the Rev. W. M. Kinsey, B. Ď.

We did not take any notice of this survey of Portugal on its first appearance, because its novelty was not sufficiently striking: but, on glancing at the second edition, we observe some important appendages, particularly a letter on the rise and progress of Portuguese literature. This is rather a sketch than a complete or regular dissertation; but it is curious and interesting.

"No language, perhaps, in Europe (says Mr. Kinsey) can trace to an earlier date vestiges of its poetry and general literature, than the Portuguese. Fragments of lyric poems, coeval with the infancy of the monarchy, and of still remoter date, are preserved, and regarded with peculiar interest. Such, for instance, are those by Egas Moniz, the companion and friend of Alphonso I., and the song preserved by the celebrated chronicler, Bernardo de

Brito, the date of which may be referred to the times of the first kings of Oviedo, some centuries previous to the establishment of Portuguese independence. In addition to these interesting monuments of antiquity, there are others handed down by tradition only, and which claim to be of a period equally remote. We allude to the popular songs or romances, which from time immemorial have been current among the lower orders of the people, the language of which, though corrupted, evinces clearly their high antiquity. An interesting piece of this kind has been restored by Almeida Garret, and has been recently published by him in the introduction to his elegant poem of Adozinda. This traditionary romance is entitled Bernal and Violante, and possessing, as it does, all the peculiar features which distinguish the poetical effusions of the troubadours and feudal minstrels, it would certainly meet with a favourable reception in England, were it versified by some magic hand, like that of Sir Walter Scott. "Nearly all the primitive monuments of Portuguese literature consist of lovesongs and ballads in the Galician dialect. The troubadours of Provence cannot boast of greater antiquity; nor are there to be found in their collections romances of equal beauty and simplicity with the chacras of the Portuguese. With the exception of the traditionary songs of the north, and the spirit-stirring effusions of the Scalds, we know of no poetical pieces which might dispute priority of date with those of the ancient minstrels of Portugal, save, perhaps, some of the Welsh poems, and early fragments of Irish poetry.

Though as yet little moulded into form, the Portuguese language commenced, even in the first ages of the monarchy, to assume a vigour of character, and to give early evidence of its future capabilities. La Harpe affirms, that the first chivalrous romance which was ever published in any of the living lauguages of Europe is decidedly of Portuguese origin, namely, that of the celebrated Amadis de Gaul, by Vasco de Lobeira. Under the fostering care of the sovereigns of Portugal, the language made rapid strides to perfection, already enumerating its minstrels, its chroniclers, and writers of romance, until at length, during the reign of Emmanuel, it possessed its regular historians and poets, and, what is more, its dramatic poets. Gomes d'Azara, Fernam Lopes, Rezende, and afterwards Barros, surnamed the Livy of Portugal,