137. THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. IRVING. [The palace or castle called the Alhambra, consists of the remains of a very exten alve and ancient pile of buildings in Spain, erected by the Moors when they were relers of the country | 1. I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first tak ing possession of it: a few evenings have produced a thorough change in the scene and in my feelings. The moon, which then was invisible, has gradually gained upon the nights, and now rolls in full splendor above the towers, pouring a flood of temperea light into every court and hall. The garden beneath my window is gently lighted up; the orange and cit ron trees are tipped with silver; the fountain sparkles in the moonbeams; and even the blush of the rose is faintly visible 2. I have sat for hours at my window, inhaling the sweet. ness of the garden, and musing on the checkered features of those whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials around. Sometimes I have issued forth at midnight, when every thing was quiet, and have wandered over the whole building. Who can do justice to a moonlight night in such a climate, and in such a place! 3. The temperature of an Andalusian midnight in summer, is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere: there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirits, an elasticity of frame, that render mere existence enjoyment. The effect of moonlight, too, on the Alhambra, has something like enchantment. Every rent and chasm of time, every mouldering tint and weather-stain disappears; the marble resumes its original whiteness; the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams; the halls are illuminated with a softened radi ance, until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchante palace of an Arabian tale. 4. At such a time, I have ascended to the little pavilion, called the queen's toilet, to enjoy its varied and extensive prospect. To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada would gleam, like silver clonds, against the darker Armament and all the outlines of the mountains would be softened, yet delicately defined. My delight, however, would be to lean over the parapet of the Tecador, and gaze down upon Granada, spread out like a map below me; all buried in deep repose, and its white palaces and convents sleeping, as it were, in the moonshine. 5. Sometimes, I would hear the faint sounds of castanets rom some party of dancers lingering in the Alameda; at >ther times, I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar, and the notes of a single voice rising from some solitary street, and have pictured to myself some youthful cavalier serenading his lady's window-a gallant custom of former days, but now sadly on the decline, except in the remote towns and villages of Spain. 6. Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an hour loitering about the courts and balconies of the castle, enjoying that mixture of reverie and sensation which steal away existence in a southern climate, and it has been almost morning before I have retired to my bed, and been lulled to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa 138. BEST KIND OF REVENGE. CHAMBERS. ROBERT CHAMBERS, born in Peebles, Scotland, in 1802. He and his prother William, have written numerous works in various departments of literature. They are also known as eminent Scotch publishers. 1. SOME years ago, a warehouseman in Manchester, England, published a scurrilous pamphlet, in which he endeavored to hold up the house of Grant Brothers to ridicule.. William Grant remarked upon the occurrence, that the man would live to repent what he had done; and this was conveyed by some tale-bearer to the libeller, who said, "Oh, I suppose he thinks I shall some time or other be in his debt; but I will take good care of that." It happens, however, that a man in business cannot always choose who shall be his creditors. The pam phleteer became a bankrupt, and the brothers held an accept ance of his which had been indorsed to them by the drawer, who had also become a bankrupt. 2. The wantonly-libelled men had thus become creditors of the libeller! They had it in their power to make him repent of his audacity. He could not obtain his certificate without their signature, and without it he could not enter into business again. He had obtained the number of signatures equired by the bankrupt law, except one. It seemed folly to ope that the firm of "the brothers" would supply the deficiency. What! they, who had cruelly been made the laughing-stocks of the public, forget the wrong and favor the wrong-doer? He despaired. But the claims of a wife and children forced him at last to make the application. Humbled by misery, he presented himself at the counting-house of the wronged. 3. Mr. William Grant was there alone, and his first words to the delinquent were, "Shut the door, sir!"-sternly uttered. The door was shut, and the libeller stood trembling before the libelled. He told his tale, and produced his certificate, which was instantly clutched by the injured merchant. "You wrote a pamphlet against us once!" exclaimed Mr. Grant. The supplicant expected to see his parchment thrown into the fire. But this was not its destination. Mr. Grant took a pen, and writing something upon the document, handed it back to the bankrupt. He, poor wretch, expected to see "rogue, scour drel, libeller," inscribed, but there was, in fair round characters, the signature of the firm. 4. “We make it a rule," said Mr. Grant, "never to refuse signing the certificate of an honest tradesman, and we have never heard that you were any thing else." The tears started into the poor man's eyes. "Ah," said Mr. Grant, my say. ing was true. I said you would live to repent writing that pamphlet. I did not mean it as a threat. I only meant that some day you would know us better, and be sorry you had tried to injure us. I see you repent of it now." "I do, I do !" said the grateful man. "I bitterly repent it." "Well, well, my dear fellow, you know us now. How do you get on? What are you going to do?" The poor man stated that he had friends who could assist him when his certificate was obtained. "But how are you off in the mean time?" 5. And the answer was, that, having given up every farthing to his creditors, he had been compelled to stint his family of even common necessaries, that he might be enabled to pay the cost of his certificate. "My dear fellow, this will not do; your family must not suffer. Be kind enough to take this ten-pound note to your wife from me. There, there, my dear fellow! Nay, don't cry; it will be all well with you yet. Keep up your spirits, set to work like a man, and you will raise your head among us yet." The overpowered man endeavored in vain to express his thanks: the swelling in his throat forbade words. He put his handkerchief to his face, and went out of the door crying like a child. 139. WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR? ANON. 1 THY neighbor? It is he whom thou Thy neighbor? "Tis the fainting poor, 2. Thy neighbor? 'Tis that weary man, Thy neighbor? "Tis the heart bereft Of every earthly gem ; Widow and orphan, helpless left; 3. Thy neighbor? Yonder toiling slave, Whene'er thou meet'st a human form 4. Oh! pass not, pass not heedless by ; The breaking heart from misery ; 1. ATTENDED by Paulinus, he entered the great council, requested the advice of his faithful witan, and exposed to them the reasons which induced him to prefer Christianity to the worship of paganism. Coiffi, the high priest of Northumbria, was the first to reply. It might have been expected, that prejudice and interest would have armed him with arguments against the adoption of a foreign creed; but his attachment to paganism had been weakened by repeated disappointments, and he had learnt to despise the gods who had neglected to reward his services. 2 That the religion which he had hitherto taught was useless, he attempted to prove from his own misfortunes; and avowed his resolution to listen to the reasons and examine the doctrine of Paulinus. He was followed by an aged thane, whose discourse offers an interesting picture of the simplicity |