I slipt on one side, and went out at the same moment the third of my intended assassins entered.

"Who goes there?" cried this villain in a tremendous voice.

I made no answer but began to run; and it was a quarter after three past midnight before I entered my own house. I cannot describe the conflicting sensations I experienced, when I reflected calmly on this occurrence, and became possessed of reason.

This wicked Countess was really descended from an illustrious family in Naples. She had secret agents in the different gambling houses, who narrowly watched every person who was successful in gambling. If an individual was fortunate, and won much money, one of these spies followed him, perhaps offered him a carriage to conduct him home; or a young female would meet him designedly, though apparently by chance, and, using every artifice, propose to retire to her house. If she prevailed, she brought her victim to the house of the Countess, under vain pretexts. It was certain to be his grave.

I trust that this terrible adventure may serve as an example to men, too confident in themselves; to men without experience, who so thoughtlessly frequent improper houses, without reflection, until they are suddenly surprised, and fall into the hands of females, barbarous and atrocious, who abuse all the charms given by nature to adorn them, and whose sole enjoyment is to destroy the men who unfortunately listen to their seductive arts.

Tired, fatigued, and exhausted, sleep did not interpose to prevent my melancholy reflections. The next day Î arose early in the morning, and hastened with rapidity to the police. I made my report: they took my name and threatened vengeance. They recommended me to keep the affair an inviolable secret. This I promised: and, on the very same day, all the' persons in this abominable house were arrested; but I always regretted they were not made public examples. However, political reasons, and other circumstances, I was informed by the police establishment, had some control over this affair; and whatever punishment was inflicted on these horrid people remained buried in profound secrecy.

It may not be uninteresting to here give a description of the

Countess de Grasse, and her daughter Pauline. The Countess was about fifty years of age. She was a beautiful brunette, had fine lively sparkling eyes, a noble carriage, and majestic deportment. She appeared perfectly familiar with the usages of high life, and was a distinguished person in some fashionable circles where gambling was carried on. It was impos.. sible for one who did not know her, to discover, under her dissimulation and artifice, the perversity of her soul.

Pauline was a lovely girl, shaped like her mother; she was beautifully fair, and about seventeen or eighteen years of age. Her light blue eyes expressed desire and voluptuousness, and there was an archness in her manner, that unveiled the lasciviousness of her soul to those who had leisure to observe her attentively. She was a most seducing creature, and was friendly and polite ;-her fine bosom was enchanting-she affected an air of modesty and mildness, and abounded in fine sentiments; but an attentive observer could easily discover her dissimulation.

THE LAST OF THE CONSTANTINES.

BY THE LATE THOMAS FURLONG,

AUTHOR OF "THE DOOM OF DERENZIE," &c.

In ancient times, when on for Salem's wall,
The avenger came at heaven's mysterious call;
Portents and signs arose on every eye,
Marks were on earth, and meteors in the sky;
Dreams scar'd the old, and visions struck the young,
And every tomb or temple found a tongue :
The dead walk'd forth, the living heard the call,
And if they fell, they fell forewarn'd of all.

Not such the signs that in her hour of gloom,
Came to foretell Byzantium of her doom:
Not such the marks that warn'd her of her fate,
When the besieger thunder'd at her gate;
When every dreary morn's returning light,
Gave but the crescent glittering in her sight;

When, from her towers, in grief she mark'd below,
Myriads of warriors, and in each a foe;
Hordes from all realms in wild barbaric pride,
Loading the lands and swarming on the tide.

Still, though no deep mysterious sign was given,
To speak the anger or the care of heaven;
Though no dread symbol stood expos'd in air,
To lend the last, the firmness of despair;

Even though no spectre, from its gloom beneath,
Stalk'd forth to teach them the contempt of death.

Yet was there one, who in this hour of grief,
Gaz'd round all, reckless, hopeless of relief;
Ere the first straggler at the breach gave way,
Untold, he trac'd the hurrying of decay;
Unwarn'd, he felt that ruin hover'd nigh,—
That strife was vain—and he had but to die;
That the long glories of his race were past,
But his it was to guard them to the last.
This thought-this trial-this sad task was thine,
Injur'd, unaided, martyr'd Constantine.

A DUEL.

FROM THE FRENCH OF M. JOUY. BY W. JERDAN, ESQ.

Men, who are really reasonable, subject even their prejudices to rule.-Montesquieu.

A M. D. Bréant, an old officer, was constantly declaiming against the folly of duelling. A person took it into his head, in order to ascertain the sincerity of his philosophy, to inform him one day, that his son had just received a very serious insult, for which he had the courage not to demand satisfaction. M. Bréant immediately gave the lie in form to him who had invented this story, and was with the greatest difficulty prevented from fighting him. This inconsistency, of which I can recite examples still more recent, is the necessary result of the discordancy existing in this point between manners, morality, and the law. Of all the prejudices now

in direct opposition to the established law, the point of honor is, perhaps, the most ancient, and, I am afraid to say it, that which is the most difficult to be overcome, because it is in some way identified with the national character. Of what importance is it in reality, that the law forbids, under pain of death, that which honor commands under pain of shame, in a warlike nation, where education makes cowardice a crime, and contempt a dreadful punishment.

God forbid that I should wish to become the apologist of a barbarous custom, " of a ferocious prejudice, which places all virtue on the point of the sword;" but leaving the application to it of all the odious names with which moralists have endeavoured to degrade it, I am of opinion, that in the actual state of our society, it is much easier to attack the principle than to avoid its consequences. On this subject, people are willing to think generally with Rousseau, provided they are allowed to act on particular occasions like M. Bréant. Let us, then, acknowledge, that however blameable the practice of duelling may be, it finds a sort of excuse in the delicacy of the sentiments which it supposes to exist, a pretext in the decency and the politeness which it maintains in the world, and a powerful ally in the public opinion which protects it against the punishment of the law. Sanvol, in his Antiquities of Paris, does not trace the origin of this sanguinary custom farther back than to Gondebaud, king of the Burgundians, who, he says, sanctioned the practice of the law Gombette. Other historians attribute its invention to the Franks, our paternal ancestors; but it is certain, that it was peculiar to this nation, as we see in the Life of Louis le Debonnaire, where, it is said, that Bernard demanded to clear himself of the crime imputed to him, by an appeal to arms, more francis solito. Once introduced into France, this custom was not slow in naturalizing itself. Chivalry, which adopted it, made it a fundamental principle of honor, and notwithstanding the severest laws, it could never be entirely extirpated. The ordinances of our kings have had no effect but to add disobedience to the crime they were intended to prevent; and the most illustrious blood has flowed on the scaffold in vain. It is even very remarkable that duels have never been more frequent than they were at those periods when they were most rigorously proscribed. The edict of Henry II. against duelling, issued

in 1547, after the last authorized combat, between Jarnac and La Châtaigneraye, gave, as it were, the character of fashion to that custom which was no longer resorted to as a judicial process. Under the reign of Henry III. this frenzy, in defiance of the severity of the laws, was carried so far, that in allusion to the honors which had been paid by the king in the church of St. Paul, to Caylus and Maugiron, (killed in duel, by D'Entragues and Riberac,) it was customary to say, "I shall have him sculptured in marble," to express "I shall kill him in a duel." Henry the Fourth is reproached with having displayed too much indulgence towards this species of crime; but it has not been remarked, that in his time the examples of it were much less frequent than during the two reigns between which his was placed. Duellists, under Louis XIII. were pursued with all the severity of the law, and an idea may be formed of their number, by an extract of the chancery registers, from which it appears that more than a thousand pardons were granted by Louis XIV. during the first twenty years of his reign.

The famous declaration of 1679, which, for a moment, seemed to abate the duelling frenzy, only served to change the field of battle, which was then removed to the frontiers.

Duels, still more frequent under the reign of Louis XV, became then less fatal; the point of honor obtained its regulating code, in which injuries were divided into two classes, and no longer required the same kind of satisfaction. It was settled that they should continue to fight for nothing, but that they should only kill each other for something, and then was invented that mezzo termine, that combat for first blood, in which, says Rousseau, Affectation is mixed with cruelty, and men are only slain by chance." It is on the subject of the last description of combats, that the author of Eloisa exclaims with that eloquent indignation, which dictated to him, perhaps, the finest pages that have ever been written in any language. "The first blood! Great God! and what wilt thou do with that blood, ferocious monster ?-Wilt thou drink it?” At that period, for the least word, a man was obliged to draw; but it frequently happened, that a single crossing of the swords was considered a sufficient satisfaction for a slight offence. This ridiculous mania did not escape dramatic authors, and supplied Fagan with one of the best scenes of his