DON ALVARO,

A SPANISH TALE.

TWO years having been occupied in my travels, during which time I had traversed Switzerland, Germany, and France, I resolved to return to Spain, my native country. I had fixed the day for my departure, when I received letters which informed me of the death of an uncle who resided at Milan; and as he had made me his heir, it was necessary that I should repair to that place. This event changed my resolutions, and I directed my course towards Italy. Not far from the end of my journey, thinking to lessen the fatigue, I determined to proceed some miles by water, and ordered the muleteer, who had hitherto conducted me, to await my arrival at a small village to which I directed him, and promised to join him in a few days.

Men of his class are neither punctual nor delicate, and but seldom faithful to their promises.On arriving at the appointed spot I neither found him nor his mules, nor the coach which he had promised to keep in readiness.

I

would have supplied his place, but the village did not afford any vehicle in which I could continue my journey. I had then no alternative but to proceed on foot along the plains of Lombardy. I walked for a whole day; night came on; I was excessively fatigued and still at some miles distance from the spot where I expected to find an asylum, when I perceived a well dressed man following the same path as myself; his thoughtful air and melancholy countenance, gave him the appearance of deep meditation. I could not refrain approaching nearer to examine his features; he seemed about twenty-eight or thirty; his form was elegant, and his face, though very pale and shaded by the deepest gloom, possessed an expression which warmly interested me, and which once must have been very handsome. beholding me he stopped, and af ter having gazed on me for some minutes, he said Signior, are you not a Spaniard ?' You are right in your conjecture,' replie I; deceived by a man who to have kept horses and in waiting for me ten' hence, and the

no hope of

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conveyance, I was under the necessity of proceeding on foot to the next village.' 'You are still at some distance from it,' said he, 6 and appear much fatigued.' "I am indeed; and if it is as you say, I fear my strength will fail me.' After having looked at me for some moments in silence, he said: I can offer you a shelter for to-night, if nothing particular obliges you to proceed; I possess a house a few steps from hence, and shall be happy to entertain you.' I was not insensible to his kindness; I thanked him, without however knowing whether to accept or reject this unexpected offer. The deep melancholy in which this man was involved inclined me to refuse his invitation, but extreme fatigue and hunger overcome all my scruples, and I accepted it

'When we had proceeded about a hundred paces, we arrived at the door of a garden, which appeared extensive, though not in good order; at the end of it I perceived

Cavalier,' said their master, 'whom I have met, sups with me, and will pass the night here: go and prepare accordingly.' They all withdrew in silence, and we entered a saloon. Lights were brought, my host presented me a seat, and threw himself on a sofa by my side.

The silence which reigned throughout the mansion, and the taciturnity of its owner, filled me with astonishment, and I must acknowledge that I had some difficulty in divesting myself of a secret apprehension. I already half repented the facility with which I had allowed myself to be conducted to an unknown spot, where all seemed melancholy, dark, and mysterious, when in about half an hour another door opened, and shewed us that supper was served in the adjacent apartment; for the man who opened it, as silent as his master, had announced it.

Although every thing that occurred increased my astonishment,

at first imagined he was going to conduct me; but we left this path to enter a dark alley; here we continued walking on for some time without exchanging a word; at last we came in sight of a handsome house; a pointer now ran joyfully leaping and barking before as to welcome his master.This noise announced our arrival to the servants, several of whom were waiting in the hall. 'This

ourselves at table; I was very hungry, and suspended my reflections in order to satisfy the cravings of my appetite, but in total silence, and my companion, who observed it as strictly as myself, scarcely touched any thing.

Our repast ended, we returned to the saloon; the door was again closed, and having each of us resumed our former seats, my com

panion at length broke silence, and || in a stifled voice, and a tone truly sepulchral, said: How happy, how very happy are those who are born in obscurity, who are unknown to the rest of mankind, and who pass their lives without any one caring who they are, or what becomes of them! they follow their destiny, without suffering reflection to arrest their steps. The mechanic and the husbandman pass their days without any of their moments being embittered by ennui, sorrow, or remorse; and it might be said that they only live because they have been accustomed to do so. But O, how cruelly are those tormented who by their birth, their fortune, or their situation, are exposed to the eyes of a censorious and, too often, unjust world ! They have as many judges of their conduct and actions as there are people more or less inclined to envy, and who take pleasure in injuring and tormenting them. And, alas! how are they judged? They are deceived by appearances, their passions lead them on, and the miserable beings whom they condemn vainly seek to repulse the bitter censures with which they are overwhelmed.'

The longer I listened to him the less I could devise to what his discourse tended; but it banished my fears, and I only beheid in him a man whose mind seemed greatly oppressed with grief. Yourself,' added he, fixing his penetrating

eyes on my face, look upon me in the same light as they : you think me a strange, unaccountable being, but I am only unfortunate.' Do not accuse me,' replied I,' of forming so hasty and frivolous an opinion, or of the same injustice of which you accuse the rest of mankind. Without seeking to penetrate into the various motives by which my fellow-creatures are actuated, I listen to them, and like to conform to their ideas and share their feelings, when I discover goodness and sincerityAre they happy, I rejoice at their satisfaction; are they serious, absent, or even dull, I endeavor to find the means of alleviating their grief.' Then pity me,' replied he: but never may you share the woes which overwhelm me, and do not hope to be able to soften them; they are too dreadful, and will only terminate with my long and miserable existence, when my sufferings shall have sunk me into the tomb. Such is the nature of my misfortunes that I am compelled to hide them from all those who surround me. Persuaded that they are deceived in the conjectures to which my manner of living gives occasion, it is of the greatest importance that I should leave them in their error, and this very error, which on the one hand is so useful to me, covers me with shame. I am a prey to the most cruel despair, no one can guess the cause, and I am forced to con ceal it from the whole world. But

you are a stranger, 1 am unknown to you, we shall perhaps never meet again; it is these various circumstances which have determined me to break a short silence which keeps me on the rack, and to yield to the desire I have of un- || burthening my sorrows to a sensible and compassionate being, who will lend a soothing car to my woes. You have promised to pity me on this I build my hopes. The sensibility awakened by a tale of grief, is a salutary balsam, which does not effect a cure, but which affords a momentary alleviation, and softens the wounds of a lacerated heart."

After a few moments silence, and sighing deeply whilst he wiped his eyes, which were filled with tears, he thus continued-"True felicity does not consist in riches; if it did I should not fail to be happy. I aspired but to one blessing, that of loving and being beloved; ambition never occupied my thoughts from my youth I had been fond of a country life: the tumult and noise of great cities when I became acquainted with them, tended to increase my love of solitude. Though I am a Spaniard, as you have no doubt perceived, this domain, which had long been possessed by my family, was bequeathed to me by a near relation, and having lost my parents, I left my country at nineteen, and took possession of this place, with which I was so much pleased that I resolved, if possible,

here to end my days. I spent several years without any other projects than those of improving my estate, visiting my neighbours, assisting my dependants, and consoling them under soling them under any misfortune. Although I was a great admirer of beauty, and it had the same attractions for me as for youth in general, yet several years insensibly passed without my having the smallest desire of choosing a partuer for life. Perhaps my vivid imagination too highly rated the gift of my heart and the loss of my liberty. But, alas! we cannot escape the will of fate; he who thinks himself the farthest from the dreaded abyss is often gradually proceeding towards it.

Passing one day through the suburbs of Crema, my eyes chanced to fall on a young girl who was seated near an open window, busily employed with her needle. A genteel appearance, a modest though melancholy air, accompanied by a lovely face, made on me one of those lively impressions which are indefinable, and which can never be effaced. Filled with the desire of being better acquainted with her, I learned from the most rigid and indefatigable enquiries, that this lovely girl was not married; that her family, tho' poor, were very respectable: that her father, after having signalized himself in the wars, had brought home no other recompence for his long services than the reputation of a brave officer, and a debilita