"with this brave fellow in security, I can answer for the safety of my town, my saips, and my slaves."

We turn now to a different scene; to Don Juan in his old age. How changed from the happy child under the care of Don Quixada! Life, for him, had had few pleasures; disappointment had pursued him in all his plans of happiness. The death of his secretary, Escovedo, assassinated by his brother Philip, to whom he had sent him with some despatches, had taught him to put no faith in man.

On the 1st of October, 1578, Don Juan, who had been ill for some time, seemed partly recovered. He remarked to his nephew, Farnese, and to some of his generals, who yet remained with him, that this was the anniversary of the day when he was accustomed to celebrate the victories of Lepanto and Tunis.

He soon afterwards expired in convulsions, which gave rise to suspicions of poison, among his friends who witnessed his last moments. Some talked of the cook, while others had seen a man slip into the tent. The boldest accused Don Philip of this crime; but those who spoke in this manner, were those who had seen the dead body of Charles the Fifth.

One day, a poor man, half beggar, half pilgrim, walked through Madrid without stopping, although he seemed overcome with fatigue. As he went out of the gate leading to Henares, he met a cavalcade, of which one of the men was carrying three leather bags. The sentinel at the gate de manded what were the contents of these bags.

The reply was, that they contained the bones of Don John of Austria. When the poor traveller heard these words, he knelt down and demanded permission to kiss the corner of one of the bags.

When the permission was granted, he leaned his one arm on the ground and got up, wiping away his tears, and continued his route.

Thirty-seven years afterwards, in a miserable little room in Madrid, Miguel Cervantes was breathing his last, in the presence of his wife, and a few friends.

The latter part of his life had been as melancholy as his youth. After his ransom by some monks and his return to Spain, he had married. After this, he wrote Galatea, his immortal Don Quixote, and some other works, which spread his fame over all Europe; but which did not suffice to give him bread. He was obliged to minister to the vanity of the Count of Lemos, and dedicate his works to him in order to gain a subsistence. Envy, too, attacked him; critics ridiculed his one arm: and his bookseller told him his verses were good for nothing. In this manner, he spent long, weary years. The fatigues consequent upon the composition of his last novel, Persiles and Sigismunda, brought on a severe illness, from which h

never recovered. On his death-bed he wrote the preface to his work, dedicating it to the Count of Lemos.

"Here," said he, "I have received the rite of extreme unction. There is no more hope for me. All that I regret is, not to have been able to see your excellency once more. This pleasure alone might be of service to me, in the state I am in. But God orders it otherwise: and his will be done. Your excellency will know what have been my last wishes, and that the recollection of your goodness and bounty alone sustains me." This epistle and this novel formed his widow's sole heritage.

The body of Cervantes was buried in the church of the Nuns of the Trinity; his name was not engraven on it. But all Spain is his monu

a

LORENZO DE MEDICIS.

ORENZO DE MEDICIS, surnamed the Great, and the father of letters, was born 1448. He was son of Peter, and the grandson of Cosmo, and he was brother to Julian de Medicis. The great influence which he and his brother exercised in Florence, was viewed with jealousy by Ferdinand IV. of Naples, and by Pope Sixtus IV., and a dreadful

conspiracy was formed against them by the Piazzi, at the base instigation of these two foreign potentates. Julian fell by the dagger of an assassin, while celebrating mass 1478, but Lorenzo, who was then with him, had the good fortune to escape, though wounded, with his life; and such was his popularity, that he was conducted back to his palace by the multitude, in the general acclamations of condolence and of oy. Inheriting the beneficent and honourable qualities of his grandfather, ne devoted himself to the patronage of literature, and was regarded as the

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Mecanas of the age. The Florentines saw with pride their opulent cour tryman selling in one hand the products of the east, and with the othe supporting and guiding the public concerns of the state; at one time giving audience to ambassadors, at another splendidly entertaining merchants, and now relieving the necessities of the poor, exhibiting public shows to the multitude, or adorning his native city with the most splendid buildings, for the purposes both of magnificence and hospitality. These high and meritorious services were not lost in the gratitude of the Florentines; Lorenzo was named chief of their republic, and so mild and equitable was his government, and so respectable his character, that foreign princes often submitted their disputes to his final and impartial decision. Ardent in the cause of science, Lorenzo was surrounded by the learned, the brave, and the ingenious; and to render Florence the emporium of whatever was rare in literature, John Lascaris, a man of classical taste, was sent in the most honourable manner, into the east, to collect the choicest manuscripts to enrich the library. Lorenzo was himself a man of learning. He wrote poetry with success, and his sonnets and songs, in Italian, have often been printed, and are deservedly admired. This illustrious character died 9th of April, 1492, aged forty-four; but though so universally respected and admired, his glory was obscured by his passion for the female sex, and by his great indifference in religious duties. His history has become particularly interesting in the luminous pages of Mr. Roscoe.

LEXANDER POPE was born in Lombard street, London, of Roman Catholic parents, on the 22d of May, 1688. He was, according to Johnson, more willing to show what his father was not, than what he was; but his principal biographers make him the son of a linen-draper, who had grown rich enough to retire from business to Binfield, near Windsor. Alexander was deformed from his birth, and of so delicate a constitution, and such weakness of body, that he constantly wore stays; and when taking the air on the water, had a sedan-chair in the boat, in which he sat with the glasses down. He received the early part of his education at home, and, when about eight, was placed under the care of one Taverner, a Romish priest, who taught him the rudiments of Latin and Greek. His taste for poetry was first excited by the perusal of Ogilby's Homer, and Sandy's Ovid; and, on his removal to school at Twyford, near Winchester, he exercised his talents in verse, by lampooning the master. He was next sent to a school in the vicinity of Hyde Park Corner, whence his occasional visits to the playhouse induced such a fondness for theatrical exhibitions, that he composed a play from Ogilby's Iliad, with some verses of his own intermixed, which was acted by his school-fellows.