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the knight, that you are now at our mercy, and that your cruelties have been such as to justify any violence offered to your person. The deaths of Blanche, Don Fadrique, and so many other victims -'--'Sir Bertrand,' cried Pedro impatiently, I came not here to listen to remonstrances and uncourteous rebukes : I am under no obligation to account for what I may have done in my kingdom. This, however, will I tell you, that the traitorous brother, and the other victims whom you deplore, might have been alive had they not revolted against their king; and as for Blanche, you yourself, Sir Bertrand, and your crew, may claim some part in her death. It was the aid you afforded the rebels that gave them power. Now I charge you, as you are a true knight, to fulfil those promises in virtue of which I have been brought into your presence.'

"Don Pedro delivered these words in a manly and resolute tone, and fixing his eyes intently on Sir Bertrand, seemed, by his angry looks, to reproach him with his dilatoriness. At this instant, the canvas that covered the back of the tent was suddenly drawn aside, and a troop of cava. liers, completely armed, entered the place. They were French knights; but Pedro appeared in no way disconcerted; on the contrary, he supposed they had come in order to fulfil the agreement. Now, Sirs,' he said, confidently, it is high time for us to depart.-No one uttered a word: but, soon after, a knight detached himself from the rest of the party, and came toward Du-guesclin. It was Trastamara; but, whether from a sensation of terror, or from some other cause, he remained still, and appeared as if rooted to the ground. He cast an anxious look around, and seemed as if he failed to recognise his brother. Pedro, nothing daunted by the sudden appearance of his rival, stood in stern tranquillity, awaiting what this visit might portend. It was then that one of the knights cried out to Trastamara, pointing to the king-My liege, behold your enemy-and your prisoner!'

"Don Pedro cast a ferocious look, and in a threatening and decided voice cried, "Yes, I am he.'-Don Enrique sprang upon him, and with a sudden thrust stabbed him in the face with a poignard. The king, with a shout of mingled anguish and indignation, closed upon his rival. They now wrestled with equal

It was a ter

animosity and resolution. rific sight, an unnatural contest-they were kings and brothers, and the prize of their contest was a throne. A sudden thrill of horror seemed to deprive the spectators of the power of interference; no one attempted to separate the infuriate foes. Trastamara endeavoured to inflict another wound, but the armour of the king baffled his intention. Besides, he was so closely locked in the fierce em brace of his rival, that he was now obliged to exert every effort to keep his position, so as not to allow himself to be over

powered. Meantime the deep gash

which he had inflicted on the face of Don Pedro, bled profusely, and it was mournful to behold the two rancorous brothers thus bathed in their common blood. The pain of the wound, and the sense of injury, powerfully seconded the gigantic exertions of the king, although his situation seemed desperate. The faithful Ferran witnessed the conflict with agony yet, as they were equally matched, and no one of the knights had offered to interfere, a feeling of chivalry prevented him from assisting the king.

"After a struggle of a few minutes, Pedro overthrew his rival, and fell upon him across a bench.-' Traitor!' he cried fiercely, 'I am thy king, and thy superior; yea, even as a man.'-The attendants now trembled for the consequences; the more so, as Pedro, animated by his success, and stung to madness at the sight of the blood that flowed from his wound, had completely mastered Enrique. In this alarming crisis, Sir Bertrand cried out to the by-standers, What, Sirs, will you see your master butchered before your eyes? Will you tamely behold the scene?'-The hint was immediately taken, and the count of Rochebreton, who was nearest to the prostrate foes, now seized Pedro by the legs and turned him over, by which means Trastamara got uppermost, and in his turn pinned his foe to the ground. At the same time, Sir Bertrand cried, 'I neither make king, nor mar king.'

"The Castilian, as soon as he beheld this treacherous transaction, drew his weapon and darted against the count, but was prevented from either assisting the king or wreaking his vengeance upon the Frenchman. The spectators closed upon him, and succeeded in disarming him, but not before he had inflicted a mortal wound on the foremost.

"Meantime, Enrique, with perfect security, plunged again his dagger, already reeking with gore, into the neck of his unfortunate brother; the blood, black and foaming, spurted violently, and stained his countenance, while Pedro, unable to defend himself, but no ways daunted by this frightful scene, ferociously fixed his eyes upon the fratricide, and in a loud and phrensied voice cried out, Traitorous fiend! abominable bastard! this is well, and, more than all, bespeaks thy base and dastard soul. I curse thee, and I de spise thee thou shalt mount my throne, but it is by treachery alone; in open field thou could'st not match me. I die, but I feel one consolation. Ay-I had vanquished thee I had brought thee to that lowly ground where thy traitorous body ought long since to have been rotting. I fall by treason-the curse of Heaven upon you! Undaunted I have lived-and fearless I die. Ferran, my good Castilian, farewell; and, as thou valuest thy murdered master, neverHe could speak no more; a dizziness came over him, and his eyes were covered with the film of death, One strong momentary convulsion shook his frame, and then, uttering a dismal groan, he expired."

HUNGARIAN TALES. 3 vols. 1829.

These tales are not the fabrications of a closet scribbler who never quitted his own country; for we understand that they are the productions of a lady who passed some time in Hungary, examined the country with the eye of curiosity, and attentively observed the manners of the people. The longest story is that of Cassian, which is said to be true. It is wrought up with considerable talent, and in some parts with great force, but is too gloomy and melancholy. The Tzigany or Gypsy is almost equally interesting; but we object to its unhappy termination. The Ferry on the Danube is a spirited sketch, and the Balsam-Seller of Thurotzer is also a striking piece.

Of the Tavernicus, which seems to demand more particular notice, the plot may thus be given. That officer, who is empowered by Joseph II. to redress grievances in Hungary, arrives incognito at the chief inn of Dorogh. He finds the host in great trouble at his rent being raised to an extent which he has sworn not to submit to, by the chapter of Gran. This inn-keeper has a daughter,

VOL. X.

named Suzsi, one of the most charmingly drawn characters we have met with for a very long time. She loves, and is loved by, her father's kellermeister: he is once or twice called waiter, but we are ready to exclaim, "No waiter, but a knighttemplar!" He takes it into his head, on the slightest grounds, to be jealous of the mysterious traveler. The Tavernicus pities Suzsi's despair about her father's removal, and promises her that he will prevent it, on condition that she will be secret until his return toward Vienna in a few weeks. In the mean time, Franz Westermann, her lover, becomes more outrageously jealous, and his strange behaviour begins to prey upon her health. Her father grows sour and surly; odious intruding lovers try to take advantage of the quarrel between her and Franz; until, at last, knowing that these evils depend upon a word, she determines to act ;and she persuades her old godfather to take her to Buda. She there sees the Tavernicus, who introduces her to the archduchess, gives her a new lease of the inn at the old rent, loads her with presents, and sends her back, with god-papa Blaschka, whose head is turned for ever by the notice taken of him by the giggling maids of honor of her imperial highness. After her return, all is cleared up, and the lovers are married.

The filial affection of Suzsi is pleasingly described by the fair writer.-Speaking to Blaschka on the topic of her father's alarm, she says, "You may perceive how sore my father is becoming on this subject. But it is not when he is irritated, and speaks as he did to-night, that I am grieved for him, neighbour Johann; it is when I hear him moaning and lamenting the livelong night, and can distinguish through the boarded partition, that he calls on my poor mother's name, and those of my brothers and sisters, telling them that he shall be driven forth in his old age to abide in a strange home, far from the grave-yard of Dorogh!-Then what can I do but weep in my turn, and feel that I would give up every thing to induce him to comply with the terms of their reverences, or, dismissing all his cares, settle at once in the town of Buda, within sight of his own vineyards.While thou, Suzsi, with Franz for thy mate, would'st take his place at the Blaue Igel, (Blue Hedge-hog)-observed her godfather reproachfully.-- Now Heaven forgive you for the thought,' exclaimed Suzsi, blushing with indignation. For

2 A

well might you know,-you, my friend Blaschka, who have watched me from my baby-days, that, even if the Palatine would make me a court lady, to flaunt in brocade at the palace, I would not leave my father alone in his grayheaded years. And why do I wish him to remain here, rather than retire to the city, but that Franz with his book-learning, and his civil speech, and ready welcome to the gentry who frequent the inn, can do him better service than as a vintager, in which capacity all his scholarship would not render him stronger or more active than a common laborer.'-'So-so, interrupted Blaschka, striving to deprecate her wrath, I believe thee, girl.'-'Leave my father!' continued poor Suzsi, almost in tears, leave my dear kind old father, -no! not for the mines of Lipto,-not to be queen over Hungary! Well spoken, and bravely felt,' said a strange voice from beside the stove. And Johann and Suzsi, looking toward the spot, perceived that, during their discourse, a stranger had entered the saal,-a tall, well-looking young man, in a somewhat rusty riding-cloak and cap.

"The stranger had scarcely seated himself before his repast, when a band of zigeuner, having noticed the lights

still burning in the saal, entered without invitation, and established themselves in the back-ground, for the performance of one of their singular concerts. A dulcimer, two violins, a monochord, and a bass, were the instruments employed,all of their own manufacture; and without the least knowlege of counterpoint, or of music as a science, they contrived to maintain a very decent degree of harmony, each in turn improvisating a variation upon the motivo sustained by the others, a beautiful and characteristic national melody. On the conclusion of their concerted piece, old Matthias, who was vain of his daughter's talents and sweet voice, desired one of the violinists to repeat alone the accompaniment of the same air, which he called upon Suzsi to sing in her best manner, for the entertainment of his guest. The young girl, unused to disobey, came forward without delay or affectation, and, save that she held the corner of her plaited apron for support and countenance, without any remarkable shew of timidity. Her voice was sweet and touching; and, after breathing a prelude whose tripled notes closely resembled the call of a quail, she proceeded to sing the following hymn.

mustachios with a demonstration of mental martyrdom which Kean might have envied."

The uneasiness of the poor girl, when her civility to the stranger is misinterpreted, is noticed in strong terms."How darkly comes the first grievous cloud of suspicion over the fair heaven of youthful love!-With what profound disunion may a word,-a look,-an inference,-sever the ties of confiding affection, those sweet and holy bonds which, of all human impulses, appear the worthiest of immortality! The peevishness of an idle hour will overcome the remembrance of years of untiring patience and exclusive devotion; and, like the son of Thetis, Love himself is doomed to perish by a puerile wound, however bravely he may have resisted fiercer attacks, however strong his buckler may have proved against a more heroic enemy.

The

"Poor Suzsi was the humble child of the landlord of a country inn; but so gently, so purely had run the current of her young existence,-so solely devoted was her kind heart to the duties of a tender daughter and a Christian maiden, that her claims to commiseration appear to me nowise inferior to those of a more classic or more courtly heroine. heart is of no degree; and I doubt, indeed, whether one or the other could have been more sensible to the value of an honest man's warm affections, or could have drooped with more heart-stricken affliction under the evil interpretation of a wayward and jealous lover. Her's was not a tearful sorrow; but it was deep, and tender, and overcoming. Her days went laggingly along; her very existence appeared to have acquired a new character. She began to think that it might be endurable to abandon Dorogh and its green pastures, since Dorogh could wear so dull and joyless a seeming. The house was full of discordant noises; the air seemed to hang heavily upon her, when,

Like an unrighteous and unburied ghost, She wander'd up and down those long arcades. The paths of the village looked dusty and uninviting when her restless heart prompted her to wander forth; and all the uses of this world seemed as flat and unprofitable to Suzsi, as they have done to every victim of discontent from the days of Hamlet until now. A thorn was in her heart;-a struggling pain haunted her

parched throat,-the tears came quivering importunately over her eyes, and never more painfully than when striving to assume a tone of merriment with her father's guests, in the vain hope of disguising the secret anguish of her feelings."

A scene at the palace of Buda is rather more lively." Blaschka followed Suzsi into a chamber of which two splendidlyliveried attendants held open the foldingdoors, just as a voice within, which appeared unaccountably familiar to his ears, exclaimed to his companion, Suzsi! my flower of Dorogh! you must have thought that I had forgotten you ;-I have not so far wronged my conscience. Even in the press of weighty affairs committed to my charge, your own have not been neglected.'—‘And you, too, my Demosthenes of the speise-saal-my Mirabeau of Hungarian sans-culottisme,—how hath gone the world with you, since we drained a measure together at the Blue Hedgehog?' continued the young Tavernicus, toward Blaschka, whose great eyes were fixed in utter consternation upon a vast mirror that reflected the whole interior of the gorgeous chamber. How fares it now? What, dumb-speechless altogether! You, in whose reproof was wisdom,-in whose rhetoric was conviction?'-' Johann Blaschka himself,' faltered the old man aghast, while his distended eyes were riveted upon the reflection of his own shape in the mirror before him. Suzsi, meanwhile, had advanced toward the writing-table by which the Tavernicus was seated; and having humbly kissed his hand, and thanked him for his honorable remembrance, she proceeded to acquaint him with the sorrow and humiliating suspicions to which she had been exposed in her faithful preservation of his secret. 'Noble Sir!' said she, smiling through her tears, I trust you may never know such grief as that which has made my cheek so pale, and my heart so heavy, since I was last honored by your lordship's countenance. me, nothing less than this would have emboldened me to trespass on your goodness, that I might crave permission to explain the truth to-to-my father, and to'-'My father's daughter's jealous lover? Why, Suzsi, I should be extremely sorry that one tear of thine had been wasted to secure my incognito. Here is the lease; I fought a good fight with my worthy friends the canons to carry my point;-a bloodier battle, per

Trust

haps, hath not chanced in Hungary betwixt priest and layman, since the fatal field of Mohacz saw seven bishops left stiff and stark upon its turf. But no matter. The chapter of Gran hath added, at my instigation, another life to the renewal of the lease; and it is granted in the name of Suzsi Westermann, my dear girl!'

The contrast is well displayed between the feelings of the maiden and her godfather, excited by the sights and occurrences at the courtly mansion.-"Suzsi had made her lowliest parting acknowlegements, had spoken her grateful farewell to her generous patron, the Tavernicus;-had even reached the outer court of the palace on her return homewards, before her companion had sufficiently recovered from his saisissement to breathe one word in utterance of his amazement. During their visit to the Palatine's princely abode, the heart of the young girl had been awakened to sentiments of deeper interest than those of mere vulgar admiration. Her duty to her father, her devotion to her lover, her care for her own fair fame,-all were involved in the momentous change of her destiny. She was gratified triumphant-clear from shame; -could she be interested at such a time by gilded cornices or inlaid floors? could the splendors of a royal dwelling, or the flowing state of an imperial presence, disturb the gentle current of her heartfelt gratitude and joy? Not so old Blaschka. His wonderment, when indeed it found leisure to expand itself in words, dwelt ever on the dazzling and inexplicable magnificence which had burst upon his bewildered senses; and maugre the untrim shagginess of the national capote in which he was enveloped, -maugre the rustiness of the flapped beaver, and still more in despite of the uncollected mass of shapeless features it overshadowed, Johann descended the hill toward the suburb of Wasserthal, with an elevation of head and trippingness of step which argued something of the self-delusions of Malvolio. The spirit of feminine mischief had indeed besieged the brains of the reverend elder. The giggling courtesy with which the court damsels had greeted his grotesque person and untutored demeanor, had proved as flattering to his perceptions as 'a more favorable notice; and the hyperbolical fiend which vexed the man,' prompted him to talk of nothing but ladies.'"'

RECENT TRAVELS IN EGYPT. THE ambition of the French govern ment has induced it, at various times, to cast a longing eye toward Egypt: but, although the country was for a time possessed by the banditti who followed Napoleon to its shores, and who committed horrible ravages, while they pretended to civilise and enlighten the natives, the base invaders were driven from it by the united efforts of the English and the Turks. At present, the French do not appear to be aiming at the conquest of the country, because they are aware that they have little chance of success; but their sovereign has sent a party of scientific men and antiquaries to examine its products and survey its wonders. A considerable time must elapse before the complete result of the investigation will be known to the public; but many letters have already been received, some of which are curious and interesting.

The pasha of Egypt is by no means unfriendly to the objects of the expedition. He said to some of the adventurers, that he had nothing so much at heart as the improvement of the condition of his people, by giving them a taste for the arts and sciences, particularly for those in which the results were so apparent as to carry conviction to their minds. He stated that he had frequently encouraged persons to come to him from France and England for the purpose of improving the manufactures which were under his own control, but that their suggestions had not answered his expectations. To one of M. Champollion's companions, who had been intimately acquainted with Belzoni, he said that he had a great respect for that individual when living, and that, only a month before he had heard of his death, he had written to invite him to visit Alexandria, for the purpose of conferring upon him an appointment as inspector of hydraulic machinery and superintendant of various processes.

M. Le-Normand seems to have been highly gratified with his survey of various curiosities at Beni-Hassan. He says, "In the sides of a large ravine many small rooms were cut. I observed several doors curiously decorated, and two rows of columns of an enormous size; and, as I proceeded, I was convinced, by the large religious bas-reliefs which I saw on a wall, that the edifice formerly constituted a temple, dedicated to Bu