stranger rushed to the spot from whence the sound proceeded, and Rinaldo, darting from the tree, instantly stood before him. "Ah!" exclaimed Spalzano-for it was the noble Sicilian himself," does my eyes tell me rightly? is it thee infernal wretch, and is this another victim to thy unhallowed and fiendlike spirit? Villian! you aimed at my life once, you shall have it now, or I'll have thine."

He instantly rushed upon Rinaldo, and grappling together, both fell to the earth. Spalzano had the advantage over his adversary and had nearly overcome him, when Giulio came behind unseen and plunged his stiletto in the heart of the Count, who with a groan fell to the earth. A fiend-like smile beamed upon the countenance of Rinaldo as he gazed upon his prostrate victim, and seizing Giulio's weapon he plunged it several times into his victim's breast to make 66 assurance doubly sure."

This tragic scene occupied but a few minutes, during which time Rosalvina was in a swoon. Rinaldo wished to remove her from the spot, that she might not discover her lover's fate, but in the act of removing her she recovered reason sufficient to recognise the corpse beside her. With a frantic shriek she threw herself on Spalzano's body, and when Rinaldo raised her he found her spirit had fled to join that of her betrothed in those realms where the wicked and wretched author of these events could never hope to enter.

Maddened with rage, Rinaldo vented curses and imprecations on all around, and even Giulio came in for a share of his abuse. At length. in a fit of phrensy, he rushed from the spot, and vanished like a flash of lightning from the sight of his companion.

Left by himself, Giulio knew not what course to pursue. To return to his old comrades he could not, he had deserted, and to be discovered by them would be a certainty of losing his life. To take to a course of honesty was also impossible, for he had been too long leagued with dishonest courses. To make any discovery of the bodies which might lead to profit was impossible, for he knew not to what family either one belonged, although he knew they were both of noble extraction. After considering some time, he resolved on seeking the nearest village, and giving information that he had discovered two murdered bodies in the forest. This he

did, and the next day both Rosalvina and Spalzano were recognized and borne to their ancient homes. Giulio knew nothing, and could tell nothing beyond having found them in the forest: this was all that could be elicited from him.

It long remained a matter of mystery with the Sicilians in that part of the country how Rosalvina had become habited in male attire. This would never have been unravelled but through Rinaldo, who, after the death of Rosalvina, threw himself into a monastery, where he lingered a few years and died, leaving behind him a written confession of his crimes, which has furnished the greater portion of this narrative.

Spalzano, although left for dead by the banditti on Rinaldo's first attack, was discovered in time to be cured of his wounds, but the loss of Rosalvina affected him so much that he had fallen into a melancholy mood, from which his friends could not rouse him. At times he would wander forth the whole day without any apparant object in his course. It was evident his mental faculties were impaired, and it was in one of these abstracted wanderings that he fell in with the last fatal event of his life.

SUSANNA CLEVELAND.

Along the base of the Grampians lie hills of minor note, the resort of game of various kinds, who feed on the succulent and aromatic herbage, which vegetates, in wild exuberance, in almost every part. Here and there, indeed, the surfaceview is diversified by the dark brown heather raising its fibrous sprigs, upon the tops of which the timid deer may sometimes be seen to browze. On the sides of these hills, the aged Highlander attends a scanty and straggling flock of sheep and goats; while, perhaps, in some dun nook of the dell beneath, his rough and hardy sons, with their associates, club round the reeking peat, and with suspicious care watch the "illicit" dribbling of their simmering still.

The salubrity of the air, the picturesque and stupendous scenery, together with the abundance of wild fowl and other game here to be met with, have been, during the autumn months, attractions for the fashionable world time out of mind, who fly thither from the whirling tedium of a town life, L. 29. 2.

Y

to indulge in the less sophisticated sports of this romantic country.

Among the fashionables who visited these green vales and high-hanging rocks, in the autumn of 1824, was the young and accomplished Henry Lockhart; he was the nucleus, as it were, round which gathered less distinguished visitors. Cloyed by fulsome adulation, the "easy tax" almost constantly paid to high rank, he went out with his fowling piece; less intent on killing game, than on viewing the freaks of nature by which he was surrounded; he pursued his walk along a winding glen, on each side of which the pendent crags rose fearfully grand; the drooping branches of the birch which grew in the interstices, nodded to the "midway air," while the limpid drops oozing from the rock above, formed themselves into numberless rills, which meandered in soft murmurs adown its rugged sides. Emotions of the pleasurable kind, of which the youthful and benevolent are alone susceptible, rose in Henry's mind; he threw himself on the green sward, and gave way to his feelings. "Happy,” said he, "thrice happy, simple inhabitants of these humble vales; far from the giddy haunts of those deemed refined, ye taste not their hollow, gilded pleasures; ye know nothing of the fastidious and enervating round of amusements, called fashionable; each day unfolds to you the same artless scenes, and finally ye go down to a mature grave, without once having dreamt of the unreal wants of luxury."

As Henry mused, wild warbling sounds broke in sweetest symphony upon his ears; suddenly the querulous notes would die away, and anon would they again strike upon his ravished senses, blended in the breeze as it wafted across the glen. Lightly he trod the green turf in the direction whence he thought the sounds proceeded; turning round a craggy promontory, he obtained, unnoticed, a full view of the object of his search-a female, lovely as an angel; she sat on the bank of a rippling brook, with the pure water of which she occasionally laved her bright forehead; a fanciful wreath, composed of heart's-ease and hare-bells, encircled her temples; her dark silken hair hung in beautiful tresses on either side of her neck, and descending, half concealed the fullblown beauties of a bosom fair as the lily. Henry gazed on her as she sat; the big tear, like a pure gem, started from

SUSANNA CLEVELAND.

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her suffusing eye, while she, with obvious emotion looked on a small miniature which was suspended from her bust. "Oh, vile thirst for gambling!" said she, agitated, and then buried the picture deep in her breast. Henry was overcome, and he respectfully advanced to her; she saw him approach, and seemed eager to shun him. "Beautiful innocence!" said he, I would not hurt thee for the world." Oh, no," said she, "by these tears I can see that your heart is all gentleness: my father taught me also to weep for another's woe; but I am not always sad, except when I see the pale countenance and the scale clouded eye of my father far beyond where the faries dance; oh, then my eyes, too, grow dim, and my heart grows dim, and I wander far and wide to reach the tremulous ray of the Aurora Borealis delusive hope! does the rude assassin still spare your father?" My father still lives," said Henry. "Oh, then, you must be happy! A father's tender hand can never softly press down these eyelids, when my broken spirit shall have winged its way. No

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Again o'er the bourne

He'll never return,

Oh! to him, through ether, I'd fly."

These last words were sung to a tune so querelous, that Henry felt wholly unmanned; he ventured to take hold of her soft and delicately-formed hand; he raised it to his lips, and steeped it in tears. In this attitude were they, when Henry's attention was attracted by the figure of an elderly gentleman in black, who, from his hurried manner, seemed eager to join them on his nearer approach, Henry recognized in his person the pastor of the adjoining parish; he looked in anger at Henry, and unceremoniously made him quit his hold of that hand which he had pressed with so much ardour. "Sir," said Henry, "your age, your profession, and, by heavens! more than either, a tender regard for the feelings of that lady alone, protect you from the effects of my displeasure." Softly youth, softly," said the pastor; "for your threats J care not; my arm may be less vigorous than yours, and my words, too, may be less honied; but I have been taught, that the tender regard of the gay libertine is too often cruel." " And I, too," said Henry, "have somewhere read of a zeal without knowledge.” The pastor was silent.

"Libertinism," continued Henry, "is not always the consequent on gaiety; and with a detestation, perhaps, still stronger than yours, should I view the masked deceiver of purity and innocence." Susan," said the pastor, let the wild flowers blow till to-morrow, meantime we will return to the Manse, and you, sir, may, perhaps, do us the honor to accompany us thither." "Mest gladly, sir," said Henry. When they had reached the Manse, Susan was handed to her apartment. "That innocent half wit," said the pastor, "is the daughter of a deceased brother of mine; five years ago he fell a victim to the revenge of a foreigner, with whom he had been engaged at play at one of the fashionable gaming houses at Montpelier, whither he had gone with his daughter; his premature death has so worked upon her mind, as to produce those aberrations which you have observed; gentle treatment and time, we are told, can alone bind her broken heart."

In his subsequent visits at the Manse, Henry became a decided favorite of the pastor and his family, and he never leaves them without a promise to visit them again.

LOVE.

None, without hope, e'er lov'd the brightest fair;
But love can hope, where reason can despair.

SIR GEORGE L

J. D.