They still use the Greek rite at marriage. There are two crowns prepared for the bride and bridegroom, which, after being blessed, are placed on their heads, and then on the pillows of the bed. The armed Pyrrhic dance, they say, is still known to them under the name of Albanese, or Zamico. These Albanians settled in the kingdom of Naples in the fifteenth century, at the time that their own country was overrun by the Turks, preferring to be exiles rather than give up the religion of their fathers. They at that time belonged to the Greek Church; but it is long since they submitted to the authority of the Pope, and I do not hear that any force was used to bring about the change.

I regretted that the day was now fast drawing to a close, as it prevented any further intercourse with the inhabitants of Vena. I hurried away, and reached Maida after sunset, only too happy if I had been allowed to retire to rest; but I had yet to undergo the fatiguing honour of dining in company with the principal people of Maida. After they dispersed I had still to arrange for my next day's journey, and I found these brigands again start up as a bugbear. Every where they seem to abound, rendering life here little enjoyable. The distances, too, between the villages I find to be too great to allow of my continuing on foot, and I must therefore hire a mule and muleteer. On this I have determined; but would you believe it, that the judge knew no one on whose fidelity he could depend, or who might not give information to parties, who would waylay me? To obviate this as far as possible, it was arranged that I should have a muleteer for next day, without telling him the direction in which I should proceed; and this is what has been determined on.

AUSTRIA.

[The following Sonnet is from the pen of a noble author whose contributions to poetical literature, and whose graceful translations, have more than once appeared in the columns of the N. M. M.]

AUSTRIA! thy plumes, which once the world o'erspread,

Are tarnished now and torn; the Northern Bird,
Prussia's Black Eagle, hath his flight transferred

To provinces which own thee for their head,
Heaping their plains with dying and with dead.
And German Unity is now the word
With which a faithless enemy hath stirred
Brave hearts and hands to follow where he led.
Fine phrase! but such was never wanting yet
To gild the path of conquest, and disguise
The tangled web of dark conspiracies
And lust of power-witness th' example set
In bygone days, of Europe's agonies,
Long strife of nations, and their dying cries
The sport of warring Kings, miscalled the great.

R.

THE TEMPTED AND THE TEMPTERS.

CHAPTER I.

LADY BELLA.

"BUT, my own sweet Bella, I will work and labour for you. I will strive as few men have before striven. I will buckle to at work in right earnest. I am supposed to have talent. I have energy, and strength, and youth, and ought to have plenty of interest, if my friends will but exert themselves for me. If I have not sufficient income now, I soon shall have, to support you in the comfort you properly expect to enjoy."

These words were spoken by a remarkably fine, good-looking young man, every lineament of whose features bore the stamp of aristocratic birth. His countenance, too, was pleasing, from its amiable expression, its frankness, and intelligence; altogether, he was a very attractive and fascinating youth. So thought many young ladies besides Lady Isabella de Bertrand, at whose feet he was now seated, while she reclined on a luxurious sofa at an open window which looked out over Hyde Park, now green and glowing in the bright sunlight of a fine spring morning. Lady Bella was one of the many daughters of an Irish peer, the Earl of Talermaine, who, by his electioneering contests, his profuse domestic expenditure, his careless, ignorant, or roguish agents, and an occasional visit to the gaming-table, in the vain hope of making a sum to supply his immediate wants, had so injured his property that he was a now a needy man, his estates rack-rented, and his tenants poor and discontented. Still, he and Lady Talermaine agreed that it was absolutely necessary to get their numerous daughters well married as soon as possible, and that could not be done in Ireland, for the men of property and position who knew the state of the earl's affairs stood rather aloof from him; there were, indeed, not many young marrying men among them fit to mate with his daughters. The screw was therefore once more applied to the tenants and the title-deeds, a fresh mortgage was effected, and a sum raised sufficient to enable the family to come over to London, and to cut a dash for another season. A handsome house was engaged, servants, and carriages, and horses hired; and, which was of more consequence, a list of all the wealthy bachelors and widowers, old and young, who could be heard of, made out; the Peerage and Baronetage were carefully looked over, nor was the list of the county families neglected, while a selection was also made from those of the bankers, brewers, merchants, and manufacturers known to have acquired wealth and influence. Every possible means were to be taken to become acquainted with those fortunate gentlemen, and to attract them to the house, and, when once there, to engage their affections and their hands. Lady Talermaine was the originator of the scheme, and well able by her talents and experience to conduct a campaign of the character she had marked out. She was herself the daughter of a needy Irish noble, and had been brought up in a school well calculated to fit her for the life she was now compelled to lead.

She had, indeed, been somewhat taken in by the earl, whom she supposed to be possessed of unbounded wealth. It was only when tradesmen paid no attention to her orders, or requested cash payment, or observed that the earl was already deeply in their debt, that she became aware of the state of affairs. Had she known them beforehand, she certainly would not have given him her hand; but she was a wise woman, and, as she could not get out of the scrape, she determined to make the best of matters. In truth, when she was in spirits, she rather liked the excitement of getting out of the difficulties in which they were constantly placed; she delighted in scheming and plotting, and it must be confessed that she even felt a satisfaction in obtaining goods from tradesmen, not on false pretences, but for which she knew perfectly that it was very improbable they would ever get paid. She was, notwithstanding these little peculiarities, a very agreeable, pleasant person in society, and, if not particularly well read, she generally knew what was going on in the world. She was a general favourite; men liked her because she was seemingly unaffected and natural, and women because she was goodnatured and courteous, and assumed nothing on account of her rank. There was no doubt that she was a very clever woman, managed everything as she thought best, and made her husband, who was weak, and vain, and frivolous, do whatever she wished. The earl was not considered a vicious or bad man; he was tolerably good natured, and would not willingly have been guilty of what he would have looked upon as a political crime or an ungentlemanly action; at the same time, as he had a very small amount of moral principle to guide him, it was impossible to say what he would not have done had sufficient temptation come in his way. His sons were in the army or navy, not remarkable for much besides their good looks and an inveterate habit of getting into scrapes. His five daughters were at home, unmarried. They were all handsome girls-the eldest rather showy than refined; but the three youngest were graceful, elegant creatures, of whom decidedly Isabella, the youngest but one, was the most beautiful. Her countenance had a sweet, gentle expression, which her elder sisters wanted; but then, on looking from her to her father, there was a strong resemblance, and those who knew him best would have argued that she, too, was wanting in that firmness and decision of character, the non-possession of which had so much contributed to his ruin. Still, many a woman goes through life, and does not suffer materially from the want of those qualities which are so essential to the well-doing and well-being of a man. She also had enjoyed an advantage not possessed by her sisters—she had lived for many years with a brother of her mother, or rather with his wife, who had indeed really brought her up a most excellent, sensible woman, and from her she had received sound principles and right ideas, which she too, probably, would never have gained at home. On the death of her aunt, which had occurred a year before, she had returned to her father's house. Her elder sisters sneered at her notions, but she had hitherto kept on her course, and had laboured indefatigably in an endeavour to instil them into the mind of her youngest sister, Mary, and not without some success. Still, a year's residence at that critical time of her life had been far from beneficial to Bella herself. She must

either have been thoroughly disgusted with her mother and her elder sisters, listening as she had to do to all their worldly plans and projects, or have gradually learned to look with a very lenient eye on the principles they professed, if she did not rather gradually imbibe them. Bella was not formed for a heroine, nor was she a person likely to bear persecution for conscience' sake; besides, her sisters seldom sneered at her notions before her face, and her mother always professed to feel the greatest respect for them, hoping, at a convenient opportunity, to turn them to account. She had discovered that through those which really guided her she could not always manage her elder daughters, but she hoped that by means of Bella's, which were so different, she might manage her with greater ease. She was a woman of the world, and knew human nature; but whether by the success of her schemes she was likely to secure her child's happiness, was another question, which she did not think of asking herself.

CHAPTER II.

LADY BELLA's lover.

WE left a young gentleman sitting at the feet of Lady Isabella de Bertrand. It was a position many other young gentlemen besides Lord Eustace Warren would gladly have occupied, who were possessed of far greater worldly advantages in a pecuniary point of view than he could boast of. He had gained the position, and hoped and intended, with all the ardour of a young, fearless, uncontaminated heart, to keep it. He was the son of a duke, and therefore her equal in rank. He had taken high honours at the university. He had high principles, noble aspirations, knew himself to be universally liked and courted; he felt his powers, and had every reason to believe that he should obtain the success he desired; but there was a terrible drawback, which, however, he did not feel; though he was a duke's son, he was one of the youngest of several sons of a poor duke, and his allowance increased, though it already was by the result of his own labour, was little more than sufficient to enable him to hold an independent position among his equals in society.

He had met Lady Isabella the first day of her arrival in London, not altogether as a stranger, though, for he had heard of her from a relation, the sister of the lady who had brought her up. He knew, consequently, her character and disposition, and that of her mother and sisters. He was struck with her from the first moment they met. Every hour that he spent in her society served to increase his admiration and to add strength to his affection. She was his first love, and he gave the rein to his feelings as a young, enthusiastic, generous-hearted, noble-minded man does for a girl whom he believes worthy of his admiration. His first impulsive thought, too, was how he could the most quickly rescue her from the contaminating influences by which he at once saw that she was surrounded.

"Terrible to let her remain among those people," he said to himself. "Their notions and manners must be so thoroughly uncongenial to her; for, although they are her relations, she cannot fail to be disgusted

with their faults; but by degrees, as they become more familiar, she may learn to look on them with indifference, though she never-no, that is impossible-can become like them."

Poor Lord Eustace! He knew he fancied something of the world already, but he did not know to what depths of depravity the young and beautiful, and once innocent, can sink-down, down-till a hell of horror, and anguish, and despair and vain regrets, is found yawning wide beneath their feet, from which few, sadly few, are ever rescued.

Lady Bella looked tenderly into her handsome lover's face. "I am sure you would, I know you would," she replied to his passionate appeal. "I care not for luxuries, or state, or any of the things wealth can give; and I would joyfully, thankfully share your lot, whatever that may be, and I am sure that it cannot become one to be pitied; but, my dear Eustace, before we came to London, mamma made me promise that I would not agree to marry any one without her and papa's full consent, and from what I have found out in the last two or three days, I fear that they will not willingly allow me to marry you, though I am perfectly ready to promise you that I will not marry anybody else."

"No, that you shall not do, my own sweet Bella; though, to see you another's, would break my heart," exclaimed Lord Eustace, with his characteristic generosity. "But I will not, I dare not, think of such a thing; and surely your father and mother would not let me come here, as I have been doing, and be constantly with you, if they had any reason to disapprove of our union. They cannot for a moment suppose that I do not love you deeply, and wish to marry you. My own kind father will do all he can for me, and so will my eldest brother, and I know that the old lady I told you of will leave me some hundreds a year, it may be two or more thousands, I do not know, and I am sure that I do not wish her to leave the world for my sake. I dare say that I shall some day be wealthy without any exertion on my part, though, for the present, I must depend chiefly on my own energies for supplying my wants, and I own that I feel very proud at the thoughts of doing so.

Lady Bella bent down her head and kissed her lover's brow. "I know you do, my own noble, generous Eustace," she said, with a voice full of tenderness. Then she added, in a tone of sadness,

"But you do not know papa and mamma. It is painful to me to speak of them. Still, I must tell you, that when you first came here, they fancied that you were the second son of the Marquis of Dorville, who is himself, as you know, supposed to be enormously wealthy, and whose second son has also had a large fortune lately left him, while the eldest is said to be very sickly. You were therefore looked upon as a most desirable parti-I believe that is the term-for poor me. I knew nothing whatever of that other Eustace Warren. I was not even aware that there was such a person in existence. It therefore came down on me like a fearful thunderbolt when I discovered that you were not the person whose attentions mamma wished to encourage; still more so when I heard them planning the best way of getting rid of you. Oh! pardon me, dear Eustace, for saying this; still I must tell you the truth, that you, that we together, may take steps to