cote of Milan--was a fair Bohemian, who, in that age, came to this city, professing great sanctity; but she secretly gave herself out to be the Holy Ghost incarnate, born on the day of Pentecost, and commissioned to make the unholy holy. She made many disciples; all of whom used to assemble by night in a subterranean chamber, beneath the church of St. Marco, at Milan, under pretence of prayer and penance; but when a few forms of mummery were gone through, the lights were extinguished, and their horrible nocturnal orgies ended in promiscuous and indiscriminate adultery.

Wilhelmina died-in all the odour of sanctity, and was buried; and still the same horrible assemblies and crimes, which she had instituted, were continued. The jealousy of a husband, whose wife was one of her wicked proselytes, discovered the truth; and her disciples having made confession of Wilhelmina's pretensions to be the Holy Ghost incarnate, and their belief of her divinity; the bones of the quandom Saint were dragged out of their 'marble cearments,' cast forth with ignominy, and many of her determined proselytes burnt by Inquisition; not, however, for their horrible crimes, but for their obstinate heresies. Those who recanted their errors of belief, were suffered to live; --their sins unwhipped of justice.'

the

But I must leave those musty old stories, to dress. for the fashionable world and the Opera. Thin, however, are now the ranks of fashion at Milan. It is the season of the Villeggiatura, and all the world are in the country; and more especially on the lake of Como, where we go to-morrow, and where, as our few forlorn Italian acquaintance here assure us, every villa is overflowing with company, gaiety, and dissipation.

Thursday Evening.

O Georgiana! I have been thrown into such a state of agitation, that I can scarcely hold my pen ; yet I trust in heaven the alarm will prove groundless. Just as I had finished dressing for dinner, a carriage and four drove into the Court of the Albergo Reale, which, at the first glance, I knew to be Mr. Lindsay's, and not doubting he was in it, I hastily retreated from the window-trembling with emotion at the thoughts of meeting him again after all that had passed-lest in alighting he should look up and see me. In a few minutes

Colonel Cleveland entered the room, with a countenance of consternation, and said, that Mr. Lindsay's carriage had arrived, but without himself, and that he had just seen Watkins, his own man, who was in dreadful alarm about his master, and from whom he learnt that a few days ago, an express had arrived at Geneva from Mr. Lindsay, from some village in the heart of the mountains of the Grisons-ordering him to come on with the carriage to this inn at Milan, where he said he himself should be before it could arrive. But here he has not been heard of, nor is there any letter from him.

But the same express brought a most alarming account respecting him, authenticated by the vil lage magistrate. It appeared, that though ordered to set off immediately-as it was late in the day, this worthy messenger chose to defer his departure till day-break--and in the meantime Mr. Lindsay, who it seems had previously fallen into the hands of banditti, and been rescued by the peasantry, had again voluntarily gone back alone to the haunt of these robbers among the mountains, and had altogether disappeared. Search

had been made for him in vain in all quarters, before the express set off. Watkins dispatched Mr. Lindsay's courier from Geneva back to the place with the returning express, to search for him, and offer an immense reward for his discovery. He also wrote to his friends in England, with an account of his mysterious disappearance; and Colonel Cleveland is at this moment writing to Mr. Heathcote, with a confirmation of these strange and evil tidings. Yet I cannot but believe that he is alive. It is incredible that, having once escaped from a band of robbers, he should again voluntarily throw himself into their power. Besides, had he been murdered, his body would have been found. His assassins would scarcely have encumbered themselves with a corpse, in their flight. It is more probable, either that he is a captive, for whose release they will speedily demand an exorbitant ransom---a practice which, of late, has become very common with the bands of robbers which infest the mountain frontiers of Italy,-or that, instead of having fallen into the hands of banditti, he has gone upon some of those adventurous pedestrian enterprises among the most perilous regions of the Alps,-in which it is marvellous to me he has not already broken his neck. In the meantime, it is impossible not to feel the most acute anxiety respecting his fate; yet I trust and believe he will return in safety; more especially as his absences and disappearances have, of late, been continual. His servant had previously been under the most serious uneasiness respecting his safety, never having heard from him since the time of his appearance at Grindelwald; nor has Mr. Lindsay received a single letter during that period, having left no direction for any to be for

warded to him; so that the letters of Lady Hunlocke and Mr. Breadalbane are, at this moment, in Watkins's possession, with an immense budget besides. Mr. Lindsay, therefore, still thinks of me— if he thinks of me at all-as one of the most depraved and abandoned of my sex.

O Georgiana! you cannot know the agony this conviction causes me. Do not fancy, however, that it arises from any peculiar partiality to Mr. Lindsay. Mr. Lindsay is, and can be nothing to me. It arises solely from regard to my own character. And surely there is no misfortune, to a young woman, equal to feeling that any imputation has been thrown upon her conduct and reputation. Yes, one misery indeed would be still greater that of feeling such an imputation to be merited; but that, I trust, I shall never experience. Much as I value the esteem of others, I value my own still more.

We go to-morrow to spend a few days on the Lake of Como. Watkins has promised to send an express to Colonel Cleveland the moment he receives any tidings of his master. God grant he may soon be heard of!

CHAPTER XL.

A JEST.

A jest a serious end may bring,
A serious thing may end in jest;

Wherefore I hold a jest a thing

That's grave betimes and bad at best.

ANONYMOUS.

LETTER XXXIX.

CAROLINE ST. CLAIR TO MRS. BALCARRIS.

BEHOLD US on the delightful Lake of Como, enjoying at once, by a whimsical coincidence, the most romantic scenery, and the most extravagant dissipation. For this being the season of the Villeggiatura, when the vintage attracts the noble Italians for one month to the country, to look after their interests in the division of the wine with their tenants-rent being generally paid in produce here the villas with which the banks of the Lake of Como are covered, and which, during the delicious months of spring and summer stand empty and deserted, now present an increasing succession of company, fêtes, and amusements; and, in consequence of our letters of introduction, we have the honour of being invited to all these festivities.