upon my spirits-this is providentially removed, and I trust that I shall not disgrace the mother, who has so kindly acknowledged me, or the dear girl who has honoured this faulty person with her attachment.

My mother and Clara thanked me when I had concluded my narrative, and we remained until a late hour entering upon family affairs, and planning for the future. My mother informed me that upon the estates she had only a life interest, as they were entailed, and would revert to a cousin ; but that she had laid by a considerable sum of money, intending it as a dowry for my Clara, and that she hoped to increase it before she died. As I was anxious to quit Seville, where I feared daily discovery, I proposed that we should retire to the estate near Carthagena, by which not only a considerable expence would be saved, but I should feel more happy in the company of Clara and herself. My mother and my intended gladly consented to the proposal, not only for the above reasons, but because she was aware that the questions which might be asked about me would tend to the injury of her character. In less than a fortnight the establishment at Seville was broken up, and we retired to the country, where I was made happy by the possession of my Clara. I now considered myself as secure from any discovery, and although I had led a life of duplicity, meant by future good conduct to atone for the past. Whether Donna Celia was my mother or not, I felt towards her as if she was, and after some time from habit considered it as an established fact. My Clara was as kind and endearing as I could desire, and for five years I was as happy as I could wish. But it was not to last; I was to be punished for my deceit. My marriage with Clara, and the mystery attached to my birth, which was kept secret, had irritated the heir of the estate, who had been in hopes, by marrying Clara himself, to secure the personal as well as the real property. We occasionally met, but we met with rancour in our hearts, for I resented his behaviour towards me. Fearful of discovery, I had never paid any attention to music since my marriage; I had always pretended that I could not sing. Even my wife was not aware of my talent; and although latterly I had no fear of the kind, yet as I had always stated my inability, I did not choose to bring forth a talent, the reason for concealing which I could not explain, even to my wife and mother, without acknowledging the deception of which I had been guilty. It happened that one evening at a large party I met my cousin, the heir of the entailed estates. We were very joyous and merry, and had drank a good deal more than usual. The wine was powerful, and had taken effect upon most of us. Singing was introduced, and the night passed merrily away, more visitors occasionally dropping in. My cousin was much elated with wine, and made several ill-natured remarks, which were meant for me. I took no notice for some time, but as he continued, I answered with such spirit, as to arouse his indignation. My own blood boiled, but the interference of mutual friends pacified us for the time; and we renewed our applications to the bottle. My cousin was called upon for a song-he had a fine voice, and considerable execution, and was much applauded.

"Now, then," said he, in an ironical tone, "perhaps Don Pedro will oblige the company; although perhaps the real way to oblige them will be by not attempting that of which he is not capable.'

"

Stung with this sarcasm, and flushed with wine, I forgot my prudence. Snatching the guitar from him, after a prelude which created the greatest astonishment of all present, I commenced one of my most successful airs I sang it in my best style, and it electrified the whole party. Shouts proclaimed my victory, and the defeat of my relative. Some embraced me in their enthusiasm, and all loudly encored; but as soon as there was a moment's silence, I heard a voice behind me observe-"Either that is the monk Anselmo's voice, or the devil's."

I started at the words, and turned round to the speaker, but he had mingled with the crowd, and I could not discover who it was.

I per

ceived that my relative had followed him on; and I now cursed my own imprudence. As soon as I could, I made my escape from the company, and returned home. As I afterwards found out, my relative had immediately communicated with the person who had made the observation. He was one of the priests who knew me at Seville. From him, my cousin gained the information that brother Anselmo had left the convent about five years ago, and not having returned, it was thought that an accident had happened to him. But a discovery had since been made, which led them to suppose, that brother Anselmo had, for some time, been carrying on a system of deception. You may remember I stated, that when I resumed my worldly apparel to introduce myself as the son of Donna Celia, I changed the dress at my lodgings. I locked up my friar's dress and the false tonsure in the chest, intending to have returned, and destroyed it; but I quite forgot it, and left Seville with the key of my lodgings in my pocket. The landlord waited until his rent was due, when, not hearing any thing of me, he broke open the door and found the chest. This he opened, and discovered the false tonsure and friar's gown. Knowing the monastic order to which it belonged, and suspecting some mischief, he took it to our convent, and all the habits of the monks being numbered in the inside, it was immediately recognized as mine: the false tonsure also betrayed that I must have been breaking through the rules of my order, and the most rigorous search after me was made for some time without success. Possessed of this information, my vindictive relative repaired to Seville to ascertain the exact date of my quitting the convent, and found that it was about a fortnight previous to Donna Celia having quitted Seville. He then repaired to the landlord for further information. The landlord stated that the lodgings had been taken by a monk, for his brother, who had occupied them. He described the brother's person, which exactly corresponded with mine; and my relation was convinced that the monk Anselmo and Don Pedro were one and the same person. He immediately gave notice to the Inquisition. In the mean time, I was in the greatest consternation. I felt that I should be discovered, and reflected upon my conduct. I had lately abjured all deceit, and had each day gained a step in the path of virtue. I acknowledged with bitterness, that I deserved all that threatened me, and that sooner or later, vice will meet with its reward. Had I at first made known my situation to Donna Celia, she would have had interest enough, (believing me to be her son), to have obtained a dispensation of my vows. I then might have boldly faced the world-but one act of duplicity required another to support it, and thus had I entangled myself in a snare, by which I was to be entrapped at last. But it was not for myself that I cared; it was for my wife whom I doted on--for my mother, (or supposed mother), to whom it would be the bitterness of death. The thoughts of rendering others miserable as well as myself drove me to distraction— and how to act I knew not.

After much reflection, I resolved as a last resource, to throw myself upon the generosity of my adversary; for although inimical to me, he bore a high character as a Spanish cavalier. I desired to be informed the moment that he returned from Seville; and when the intelligence came, I immediately repaired to his house, and requested an audience. I was admitted, when Don Alvarez, for that was his name, addressed me. "You wish to speak with me, Don Pedro-there are others at your house by this time, who wish to speak with you."

I guessed that he meant the officers of the Inquisition, but pretending not to understand the remark, I answered him: "Don Alvarez, the enmity that you have invariably shown towards me has, I am sure, proceeded from the affront, which you consider that your noble family has received, by your cousin having formed an alliance with one of unknown parentage. I have long borne with your pointed insults, out of respect for her who gave me birth; I am now about to throw myself upon your

generosity, and probably when I inform you, that I am the unhappy issue of the early amour of Donna Celia, (which of course you have heard of), I may then claim your compassion, if not your friendship, from having at least some of the same noble blood in my veins."

"I was not indeed aware of it," replied Don Alvarez, with agitation ; "I would to heaven you had confided in me before."

"Perhaps it would have been better," replied I, "but permit me to prove my assertions." I then stated my having been the friar Anselmo, the discovery of my birth by accident, and the steps which I had taken. "I am aware," continued I," that I have been much to blame, but my love for Donna Clara made me regardless of consequences. Your unfortunate enmity induced me, in an unguarded moment, to expose myself, and it will probably end in my destruction."

"I acknowledge the truth of your remark, and that no power can save you. I lament it, Don Pedro; but what is done cannot be undone. Even now the officers of the Inquisition are at your house." As he uttered these words, a loud knocking at the door announced that they had followed me. "This must not be, Don Pedro," said Don Alvarez, "step this way." He opened a pannel, and desired me to go in-and he hardly had time to shut it before the officers came into the room.

“You have him here, Don Alvarez, have you not?" enquired the chief. "No, unfortunately," replied he, "I tried to detain him, but suspecting some discovery he forced his way out, sword in hand, and has gone I do not know in what direction; but he cannot be far-saddle all the horses in my stable and pursue the sacrilegious wretch. I would sacrifice half my wordly wealth, that he should not escape my vengeance."

As Don Alvarez was the informant, and uttered these words with the apparent violence of rage, the inquisitors had no suspicion, but hastened to comply with his request. As soon as they had departed, he opened

the pannel and let me out.

"So far, Don Pedro, have I proved the sincerity of my assertion; but now, what remains to be done?"

"But one thing, Don Alvarez, to conceal the truth from my poor wife and mother. I could bear it all with firmness, but for them," (and I fell on a sofa and burst into tears). Don Alvarez was much affected.

"Oh, Don Pedro! it is too late now, or I should say, 'What a warning this ought to be to us-that honesty is the best policy.' Had you communicated to me the mystery of your birth, this never would have occurred. Instead of having been your persecutor, I should have been your friend. What can I do?"

"Kill me, Don Alvarez," replied I, baring my breast, "and I will bless you for the deed. My death may afflict them, but they will recover from their grief in time; but to know that I am murdered by the Inquisition, as a sacrilegious impostor, will bring them to their grave, with shame and mortification."

"Your observation is correct, but kill you I must not. I will, however, so far comply with your wishes, that I will bear the news of your death, and their hatred of the deed, rather than the family should be disgraced." He then went to his scrutoire, and taking out a bag of 1000 pistoles "This is all the money that I have at present-it will serve you for some time. Put on one of my servant's dresses, and I will accompany you to a sea-port and secure your safety before I leave you. I will then state, that I met you in a fair duel, and will bribe the officers of the Inquisition to hold their tongues about the circumstances which have been communicated."

The advice was good and I agreed to it; following him as a servant, I arrived safely at Carthagena, whence I took a passage for New Spain. We sailed, and before we were clear of the Straits of Gibraltar, we were attacked by one of the cruisers of the state. We fought desperately, but were overpowered by numbers, and they took possession after we

had lost more than half of our crew. They brought us into this port, where, with the rest, I was sold as a slave.

"which I trust has

Such is my history," ended the Spaniard, afforded some amusement to your sublime Highness." The immediate answer of the Pacha was a loud yawn.

"Shukur Allah! Praise be to God, you have done talking. I do not understand much about it," continued the Pacha, turning round to Mustapha, "but how can we expect a good story from an unbelieving dog of a Christian ?"

"Wallah thaib! Well said, by Allah!" replied Mustapha ; "who was Lokman, that they talk of his wisdom? Are not these words of more value than strung pearls?"

“What was the name of the country?" demanded the Pacha. "Spain, your sublime Highness; the infidel tribes which you allow to remain there, are employed in cultivating the olive for true believers."

"Very true," rejoined the Pacha; "I remember now. Let the Kafir taste of our bounty. Give him two pieces of gold, and allow him to depart."

May the shadow of your sublime Highness never be less," said the Spaniard. "I have here a manuscript which I received from an ancient monk of our order when at the point of death. At the time of my capture it was thrown on one side, and I preserved it as curious. It refers to the first discovery of an island. As your Highness is pleased to be amused with stories, it may be worth while to have it translated." The Dominican then handed from his breast a discoloured piece of parchment.

"Very good," replied the Pacha, rising. "Mustapha! let it be put into Arabic by the Greek slave, who shall read it to us some evening when we have no story-tellers."

"Be Chesm! Upon my eyes be it," replied Mustapha, bowing low, as the Pacha retired to his harem.

(To be continued.)

PLAGUE OF 1665.

AMONG the manuscripts of Sir Hans Sloane, preserved in the British Museum, is one entitled "AOIMOгPAQIA, an Experimental Relation of the Plague, principally as it appeared in 1665, by William Boghurst, Apothecary, in St. Giles's in the Fields."-Ms. Sloan. 349. It is a thin quarto volume, and was intended for publication by its author as a General Treatise on the Disease. It contains numerous particulars, however, which at a moment when pestileuce is depopulating some parts of Europe, may have an interest, more especially as it details facts which fell under the personal notice of the writer. De Foe's Journal of the Plague, published in 1722, as most readers are aware, was a pure fiction.

Speaking of the "Evil Signs or Presages of the Plague," the writer says, "Among these were spots of different colours, hiccough, vomiting, carbuncles or buboes, shortness of breath, stoppage of urine, drowsiness and thirstiness, contraction of the jaws, and large and ex

tended tumors. Almost all that caught the disease with fear, died with tokens in two or three days. About the beginning, most men got the disease with fuddling, surfeiting, over-heating themselves, and disorderly living.

Tokens appeared not much till about the middle of June, and carbuncles not till the latter end of July, but were very rife in the fall about September and October, and seized most on old people, adult choleric and melancholy people, and generally on dry and lean bodies. Children had none.

If very hot weather followed a shower of rain, the disease increased.

Those that married in the heat of this disease (if they had not had it before) almost all fell into it in a week or a fortnight after it, both in city and country, of which most died, especially the men.

Black men of thin and lean constitutions were heavy laden with this disease, and died, all that I saw, in two or three days. People of the best complexions and merry dispositions had least of the disease; and if they had it, fared the best under it. Pregnant females fared miserably. Strength of constitution was no safety. Death made the strongest assault upon strong bodies. All that I saw, that were let blood in the disease, if they had been sick two, three, four, five days, or more, died the same day. More of the good died than of the bad; more men than women; and more of dull complexions than fair.

In the summer before the Plague, in 1664, there was such a multitude of flies, that they lined the insides of houses; and if any thread or string did hang down in any place, it was presently thick set with flies like a rope of onions, and swarms of ants covered the high-ways, that you might have taken a handfull at a time. Also the small-pox was so rife in our parish, that betwixt the church and the pound in St. Giles's, which is not above six score paces, above forty families had the small-pox.

This Plague was ushered in with seven months' dry weather and westerly winds.

The Plague put itself forth in St. Giles's, St. Clement's, St. Paul's, Covent-garden, and St. Martin's, these three or four years, as I have been informed by the people themselves who had it in their houses in these parishes.

The Plague fell first upon the highest grounds; for our parish is the highest ground about London, and the best air, yet was first ininfected. Highgate, Hampstead, and Acton also, all shared in it.

Many people, after a violent sweat, or taking a strong cordial, presently had the tokens come out; so that every nurse could say, cochineal was a fine thing to bring out the tokens.

Those that died of the Plague, died a very easy death generally: first, because it was speedy; secondly, because they died without convulsions. They did but of a sudden fetch their breath a little thick and short, and were presently gone. So that I have heard "how much am I bound to God, who takes me away by such an easy death!

some say,

One friend growing melancholy for another, was one main cause of its going through a family, especially when they were shut up, which bred a sad apprehension and consternation on their spirits.