1 .N. ", VOLUME 19. POETRY AND MISCELLANY, TUE RETURNING PESTILENCE. Olt JOUR C. LORD, D. D By river and fountain. By desert and plain, ; , Over vaticy an' mountain I atn coining again To execute Judgment — With terror and anguish nd death in my path In the East I began, • O'er the dark jungles sweeping; In the old Ilindoostan • I'Vas wailing and weeping. From the plagueonnitten city, e'en the Parkins lice And ilunga, corps-burthened, rolls on to theses. On the tlower•eeentrd gale Is the taint of my breath, - Ahd Persian wires wail, For the Angel of Death. to the lend of the rose his shadow bath cart, And ri ven the hopes of their flellftal as lie pawed Then Siberip snows In my passage I crossed, And the death-% nil arose In the regions of frost. For the ice-monarch's mantle was there no defence 'Oainst the touch of the pestilence. Oy the sign of salvation I paused for a- time; From each Chri•num nation Rose voices of crime. Though the symbol was there, the stibstanee was gone To the harvest of death I passed speedily on. Then Russia—the cotd— In my pathway I swept, And in Moskwn the old . • The grey-headed have wept. Who saw, without tears, their palaces tired For Ilia wiloses.onunission at Moscow expired And onward adynnelog, Like a dtrong man from wine, Where the Bonita:mot are &Wing In the land of the Inc. N With the step of a giant, death'. wine-pre:is I tread, Before me the living—behind me the dead. Weep, !Mills of Vienna! howl, Paris and Rome! The gifts of Gehenna Are opening for doom. • The plaguelcart shall wait by your mansions of pride, The rich with the poor to the dark house eliairride. • At the last I shall rail For the star-hannered West, And my barque shall not fail O'er the ocean's broad breast To land me-long dreaded-though ship-mates may steep '.t here o'er the sea-burled, the Mermaidens weep. THE BRIDE OF IPATE, A TALE -or VENICE. .131 r W. GILMORE SIMMS, [i:ortFt.onan.] " Mother," said the stranger, " 1 am here. " '• Yon say not who you aro, " answered the woman •" Nor shall sny, " was the abrupt reply of the stran ger. ..That, you said, Was unnecessary to your art—to the solution of the questions that I asked you." "Surely,!' was the answer. • • My aft, that promises to tell ;he of tho future, would be a sorry fraud could it not declare the present—could it not say who thou art, ss well as what thou Beekest. " " Ha! and thou knowest ! " exclaimed the other, his hand suddenly feeling within the folds of his cloak, as he spoke, as if for a weapon, while his eye glared quickly around pie apartment, as if seeking for a secret enemy. "Nay,\, fear nothing. " said the woman calmly. " I care not to know who thou art. It is not an object of my olu-st, otherwise it would not long remain a secret to me. \ "It is w ell ! mine is a name that must not be spoken fling thehomee of Venice. It would make thyself to qunul couldit thou hear it spoken." Perhaps but mine not- tho heart to quail at- many Nags, unless it be the absolute wrath of Heaven. What the violence or the hate of man could do to this feeble frame, short of death, it hhs already suffered. Thou knoweit but little of human cruelty, young man though thy own,deeds be cruel !" • " How knnwest thou that my deeds are cruel?" was the quick and pasionate demand, while the fornief the kranger suddenly and threateningly advanced. The rrmuan was unmoved. "Saidat'thou not that theme was a name that might tot he spoken in the homes of Viimice 7 Why should thy very nano make the hearts of Venice to quail un le4s (or thy deeds of cruelty and critno 7. But I see fur ther. I see rt in thine eyes that thou art cruel. I hear it in thy voice that thou art criminal. I know, oven now, that thy soul is bout on deeds of violence and blood, tend the very quest that brings thee to me now is less the quest of love than of that wild and selfish passion which to frequently puts on his habit." . , Ha ! speak to me of that ! This damsel, Frances ca Ziani ! ' Tis of her that / would have the speak. Thou %del that she should be mine, yet lo ! her name is written iu tha •' Book of Gold, " and sho is allutod to this man of wealth, this Lillie Barbcrigo." " She will never bo the wife of Ulric Barberigo." "Thou: saidst Aix should be mine, " "Nav ;" I said not that. " • " Hal—but thou heat ! " "No! Anger me not, young man ! I am slower, much slower to anger than thyself—Blower than most of those who still chafe within this Mortal;covering—yet am I mortal like thyself, and not wholly free from such fool ish passions as vex mortality. Chafo me,,i and I will re pulse tho , ,w•ith scorn. Annoy me, and I close upon thee the hook of fate, leaving the to thee blind paths which thy passions have ever moved thee to take. " The stranger muttered something apOlogetically. "Make me no excuses.Tl only ask thee to forbear and solnit. I said not that Francesca Ziani should be thine .t said only that 1 beheld her In thy arms.," • " And what more do I ask " was the exultiogipeech of the stranger, his voice rising into a sort of outburst, which fully declared the ruffian, and the sort of passions by which he was governed.. "If that contents thee, well 1 " sa p -the woman cold ly, her e) o perusing with seeming pilmness the brazen plate upon which the strange chariOers wore inscribed. "That, then, thou ( promisest still 7 " demanded the stranger. " Thou shalt see for thyself, " was the reply. Thus 'peaking the woman slowly arose and brought forth a small chafing-dish, also of brass or copper, not much ,large r than a common plate. This she placed over the brazier, the flame of which quickened by a few smart puffs from a little bellows which lay timid* her. As the ' flame kindled, _ and the sharp, red jots rose like tongues on either aide of the plate, she poured into it something . a gill of a thick tenacious liquid, that looked like, and 'night have been, honey. Above this she brooded fo r a while With her eyes immediately over the, vessel; and the keen car of tile stranger, quickened , by excited cen:iosity; could detect the muttering of her Ups, though the foreign syllables which she employed were entirely beyond his comprehension. Soddenly a thick vapor trent up front the dish. She withdrew it from the bmizer and laid it before her on the table. A few moments sufficed to clear the surface of the vessel, the vapor via ing,end hanging languidly above her head. • .. .. • ... , v‘ ,. ._•:: ":. ..,.. s : I . ..y . ~.._._.. ~.• .. R • .., --., EIE i' o__. S•E It E_lt , • Look now for thys i to the visitor; she he the vessel, thus seem ! would present, orquito The stranger needed ni stoutly over the vessel. delight. I.lf and see I " was her comm elf no: designing a glanco u ng to be quito sure of wh indifferent to the the result. . second summons lie pent and started back with undisgu l claimed. " She droops ! Iher—upon whose breast is it • r asysy in triumph " asked the woman coldly. " It ie she !" he e arm is it that eapports rho lire—who bears h " Is it not threelf 1 "By Hercules, it i: arms ! She is on rny ley ! She speed. wit even as thou !min pro "I promise the both' Written.',' "And when,and ho ! She is mine ! She is in bosom ! I have r her in my l • me to my home ! I see it' isod !" ng.t 1 but show tho only wh v shall this be effected 1" " answered• the woman. "th ate shows what her work is e, but not the manner of the " How. 1 know not withheld from me. an it appears «•hen do " But when Will thi "It mot be oro h • him elio will never in Ile 1" was the question. uiarries with Ulric Barberigo, Mil " And it is appointo of St. Mary's ovo. the ceremony takes p that he weds with her op the That is but a week from hence, ,ace— " ' At Olivolo. " " Ha ! at Olivolo !" passed over the foram, cloak had by this tim: held tho look, and a s scorn rather than any over her shriveled an. " M..ther, " said the be left to fate " and a bright gleam of intollige of the stranger, from which entirely fallen. The wornan light smile, that seemed to de l ( (her emotion, played for a mop sunken lips. stranger," must all these matters " That is as thou w • "But tho eye of a heart - may bejtouched accomplish her tftesign! well fashioned in persi ashamed of the face tl have much skill in' ill most of the youad m) find my way to the d , math her father's p• young woman may be won—her Iso that it may bo easy for fate to 1.. t ,I am young; am indifferently .n and have but little reason V I ) be at God has given me. Besides, I Usk, and can sing as fairly as :u of Venice. What if 1 wero to msel—what if 1 play and sing be 'lace 7 I have disguises, and am 'ous garments; I can—" 1 .ted him. wont to practice in va' The woman interru " Thou mayest do .1 different to the totes Thou haat aeon what am riot permitted to thou haat all that I ca thou wilt. It is doubtless as in hat thou doest. as it will be to zoo. have shown—l can no more. I counsel thee. I am but a voice ; give thee. " The stranger lingo speak, and betrayed b departure. Thus ace and laid it before her action, nor did she a ! , With the sound of hi. the brazen volume of her favorite study, a filly. l i ed still, but the woman ceased to Iv her manner that she desired his Ong, he took a puree from his hosotn She did not seem to nutico tho ain look up untill ho was gotio.— retreating footsteps, eke put aside strangeFcharacters which scorned d her lips slowly parted in solilo- .t, fierce ruffian that thou art in the leldis herself to thy will ! Thou o m den in thy arms but it 'shall d th t single triumph shall e..xtract I . alt's a which are sure to follow on i T 1o li e thine. Thou thinkest that I Iby hallow mask could batile i l eyes t I ad not shown thee thus Much, .n of yet further knowledge--did I was essential to embolden thee to row. Alas ! that in eerving the n saving the innocent from harm. fo in happiness. Poor Francesca, i ilest with neither ! Thou shalt be ride ; shall gain all that thy fond yet gain nothing! Be spared the loathest, yet rest in his arms whom o•fear, and shalt be denied, levet'. ho only embrace which might bring prat least that thy sorrows shall not very,keeness and intensity being thy sery which holds through years like " Ay ! thou exultc assurance that fate shalt, indeed, have t profit the nothing; a. from thoo the last pe the footsteps of a tra know thee not, as if and art hko mino ; b were I not in possessi not see that this lure thy own final overt cause of innocence, we cannot make it s' beloved of three et wccided,oyet be no I Young heart craven), • embraces of him tho -thott !mid most need when niost assured, thee blessings! lie last then long—their security from the m mine Let us leave the -I change the Pcene. at Istria. n region ova Lice, the control of Mous, and subject ticular time, it waft pirates that ever s bloody prows. omen of miser•—let us once more ow pass we to the pirate's domain r which, at the period of our narra-- enice was feeble, exceeding enpri o frequent vicisitudes: - At this par maintained by the fiercest band of •ept the Alediteranean with their IIAPTEII: IV non the galley of the chief glided in is. The challenge of the sentinel the vessel, and she took her place he e two other galleys were at anchor. escended with a rattle; a voice hail ;tip, was answered from stern to stern, flowed. The fierce chief of the pi , the fiercest, strongest, wisest, yet othprs. all devoted to the same fear de in silence to his cabin. - Here, pea a couch, he prepared rather to He had thonghts to keep him wake nd tender joys than his .usual occu re gleaming before his fancy. The iu his floating chamber, but the shapes ono up before his mind's eye not the • It was midnight to the harbor of Ist was answered from side the shore, who Suddenly her sails ed throughout tho and a dcop silence rates; Pietro Barbaf youngest of seven b tut employment, eti throwing himself u rest than to sleep. fa Wild hopes, pations offered, we light burned dimly of his imagination less vividly becalm Thus musing over citing aspect ho fi of the obscurity in which he lay. expectations of most agreeable and ex r ally lapsed away in sleep. aroused from slumber by a rude hand his shoulder. Ile was sudden] that lay heavily o "Who is it?" h "Gamba," was "Thou, brother! "Ay," continue asked of the intruder. ho answer. the intruder, "and here are all o MI 'hereon, come you? I would sleep—l "Indeed! and n am weary. Imu have rent." inch rest, Pietro," said another of the hat of which we complain—that of ••Thou host too brothers. ••It le which we would e eak to thee now." language, brethren! Anawor me— ell awake; am I your captain or not?" fact semi to be foigotten by no ono gh the youngest of our mother's chit e our leader." ""Ha! this is ne pothaps I am not "Thou art—the, but thyself. Tho dren, we made th "For what did command ye?" - "For this, in tr • you this authority coinmand—" "Thy skill—th, "In brief, ye tl , "Then I corn ••• real" • I e this, my brothers, unless that I might h. and this only. did we confer upon Thou haat shown thybelf worthy to courage—thy &nitrides- 1 i ought me beet fitted to command ye!" and ye hence: Leave me and let me but this cannot be.'; was the reply of traders. "We must speakwittrthee erres us, lest thou hear worse thinp . Thou art, indeed. orir captain; etre qualitieslor service, to conduct and e chose thee not that thou ahouldst chosen that enterprises might be active , frequbnt profit." "Nay. brother another of the i while the night with the morrow eon because of counsel ne; but deep! Thou we and might load t. SATURDAY MORNING "Has it not been se?" demanded the chief. - ""For a season._ it was so. and there was no complaint 1: of thee." "Who now complains?" "Thy poople--all:" "And can ye not answer them?" "No! for we ourselves need an anawot! We, too, complain." "Of what complain ye?" "That our enterprises profits us nothing." "Do ye not go forth in the galleys? Lead ye hot, each of you an armed galley? Why is it that your enterprises profits yo nothing?" "Because of the lack of our captain." "And ye can do nothing without"me; and because ye are incapable, I must bait) no leisure for myself." "Nay, something more than this, Pietro. Our enter prises avail us nothing, since you cornmatid thht we no longer trouble the argosies of Venice/ Venice has be come thy favorite. Thou shield st her only, When it is . her merchants only who should give us 'spoil. This, brother, is thy true offence. For this we complain of thee; for this thy people complain of thee. They are impov erished by the new-born love for Venice, and they are angry with thee. Brother, their purpose is to depose thee:" "Ha! and yo—" • day Jautl "We are mon as well as brethren. We cherish no such attachment for Venice as that which seems to fill thy boosom. When the question shall be t a ken in regard to thy office; our voices will bo against thee, unless—" There was a pause. It was broken by the chief. "Well, speak out. What aro your conditions?" - "Unless thou shalt consent to lead us on a great enter- . prise against tho Venitians. Hearken to us, brother Pie tro. Thou hnowest of the annual festival at Olivoto, IMM] TIM when the marriage takes place of all those maido.•s, whose fatnilios aro favorites of the Siir,niory, and whose names are written in the ••Book of Guild" of the Repub.. ME ,The eye of - the pirate chief involuntarily closed at the suggestion, but . his hood nodded affirmatively: The speaker. continued, "It is now but a week when the festival takes place.— On this occasion assemble the • great, the noble and wealthy of the sea city. Thither they bringrall that is gorgeous in their apparel, alt that is precious afhong their ornaments and decorations. Nobility and wealth here strive together which shall mots► gloriously display itself. [lore too, is the beauty of the city—the virgins of Ven ice—the very choice among her flocks. Could there be prize more fortunate? The church of San Pietro di Oils tone permits no armed men within its holy sanctuaries. There are -no apprehensions of peril, the people who gather to the rites are wholly weaponless. They can off er no defence against our assault; nor can this be fore seen? What place more lonely than Oliveto? -Thither shall we repair rho day before the festival, and alteltir ourselves from Scrutiny. At the moment when d i m crowd is greatest, we shall dart upon our prey. We lack wonien; we desire wealth. Shall wo fail in either, when we have in reineinbranee the bold deeds of our ancient faille's, when they look with yearning on the fresh beau ties of the Sabine virgins? These Venetian beauties are our Sabines._ Thou, too, if the bruit of,thy followers do thee no injustice, thou, too, has boon overcome by ono ot these. She will doubtless be present at this festival.— Here, now, thou hest all. Either thou agreest to that which t hy people demand, or the power departs from 'thy keep jog. Fabio becomes our loader." There was a pause. At length the private chief ad dressed his brethren. "Ye have spoken! ye threaten, too! this 'power, of which ye speak, is procions in your eyes. I value it not zeechino; and wort thou to &vows mo to-Morrow, I shoidd be the master dye in another month, dill it pleas* MO to command a pcoplo so capricious. But ihiult not, though I speak to yo in this fashion, that mond. I speak to show ye that I fear you as yo desire; hut did hot your ownVlitalCE with mine own, I filmic] bide tho issue o though it were with knife to knife." "Jt matters pot how thou foolest, or wh, Pietro, so that thou dolt as we demand, us to this spoil?" "I will." ..It is enough. It will prove to thy p ere still the masters of the Lngune—th sold to Venice." "Leave me now." The biethrcn took their departure. yhen they had gone. the chief spoke in brief soliloquy. thns--- ”Verily, there is tho hand of fate in thiS. Methinks I see the history once more, even as I behold it in the 'ma gic liquor of the Spanish Gipsy. Why thought I not of this before, dreaming vainly like an idiot hiy. as much in love with his music as himself, who hopes by tile tinkle of his guitar to win his beauty from the palace of her noble sire, to the obscure retreats of his gondola. These breth ren shall not vox. They are but the crea tures of a fate!" Lot us now return to Olivolo, to the altar-place of the church of - San Pietro di Castella, and rerkiine the pro gress of - that strangely mingled ceremonial—,Mixed sun shine and sadness—which was broken 163 1 the passionate conduct Of Giovanni Gradenigo. We left the poor, crush ed Francesca,Th a state of unconsciousnt ss, in the arms of her sympathizing kindred. For a brief space. the im pression was a painful ono upon the hearts of the vast assembly, but as tho deep organ rolled its ascending an thems, the emotion subsided. The people had assent- bled for pleasure and an agreeable spectacle; and though sympathizing, for a moment, with the patlimic fortuneal of the sundered lovers, quite as earnestly as it is possi ble for mere lookers on to du, they were not to be disap pointed in the objects for which they came. The vari ous shows of the assemblage--the dresses,- tho jewels, the dignitaries, and the beauties—were quito enough to divert the feelings of a populace, rat - all, -times notorious for its levities, from a scene which, however impressive at first, was becoming a little tedious. Sympathies are very good and proper things; butlthe world' seldom suf fers them to occupy too much of its time. ' Our Vene tians did not pretend to be any more humane than the rest of the great \family; and the moment that Francesca had fainted, and Odovarmi had disappeared, the multitude began to'expreas their impatience of any further delay by all tho moans in their possession. There was no longer a motive to resist their desires, and simply reserving the foto of poor Francesca to the last, or until she should suf ficiently recover to be fully conscious of the sacrifice which she was about to make, the ceremonies were be gun:• There was a politiCaipart to, be played by the Doge: in which the people took particular interest: and 1 to behold which. indeed, was the strangest reason of their impatience. The government of Venice, as was remark ed by quaint and witty James !lowa. was a compound thing. mixed of all kinds of governments; , and might be said to be composed of "a grain of monarchy. a dose of democracy., and a dram. if not an mace o f optimaoy .,,— It was in regard to this dose of democracy, that the goy,: ornament, aniehy assigned marriage portions to twelve young maidens, selected from the great body of the peo ple, of throe not sufficiently opulent to secure husbands. r oe find the adequatopeans. , formarriage. _without this Ihelp. To bestow these maiden i upon' their ;oven , . and with them die portions alto* by the' state,' constit u tedthe find. and WO. eyes of the - passe, ihn. mit 4;715?-1 I tole part of the spectacle. The Pogo; out thin_ (*psalm EN j rrowtwann. „ deny your do not. I will do square evenly this struggle, t mcwest thee, hou wilt lead oplo thnt they I t they tiro not CHAPTER V. 1 NOV ,MBER 25, 1848. who was the rice renowned Pietro Candiano. "did his spiriting gon ly." and in a highly edifying manner.-.- The bishop tostuwed his blessings, and confirmed by the religious. th civil rites, which allied the chosen couples. To these sue - .oiled the voluntary' parties, if we may thus preen m upon a distinction between the two chime. which we . yet not sure that we have a right to make. The high- rn and the wealthy couple alter couple. nor approach th• aim to receive the final benediction which Comm tied them to hopes of happiness which It is not in. the ••• or of any priesthood to compel. Nodonbt there was a • rest deal of hotie among the parties, and MEE= idly no reason to suppose that happiness did not follO But there s poor Francesca Ziani. It is now her turn. Uer cruel p • rents remain unsubdued and unsoftened by her deep en. touching sorrows. She is made to rise. to totter forma to the altar. 'scarcely conscious of any thing, excep , perhaps. 'that the worthless. but wealthy. Ulric Beebe Igo Is et her side: Onie more the mournful spectacle re tore+) to the spectators all their bitter feelings. They percei o. they feel. the cruelty of that sacrifice to which her mired are insensible. In vain do they mur mur "shorn •!" In vain does she turn her vacant, wild. but still exp essive eyes, expressive because of their very soulless vie, ncy, to that stern, ambitious Mother, whose bosom no to ger responds to her child with the true ma ternal feelin ! . Hopeless of help from that quarter. she lifts her eye to Heaven, and, no longer listening to the words of th holy man, she surrenders herself only to despair. -Is it Ilea -n that hearkens to her prayer? Is it the benevolent .flice of an angel that bursts the doors of the church at t e very moment when she is called upon to yield that r-aponse which doom her to misery forever?—. TO her earsthe thunders which now shook the church ' were the frut of Heaven's benignant interposition.. The shrieks of women on every hand—the oaths and shouts I ; of fierce and insolent authority — the clamors of men—the struggles 'arid cries of those who seek safety in flight' or I • entreat for mercy—euggeit no other idea to the wretched Francesca, than that oho' hemmed from the embraces of i Ulric Barbe i rige. She 'is only conscioui that, heedless of her, and of the entreaties of her mother , he is the first to endeavor selfishly to save himself by flight. But her escape front Barberigo is only the prelude to other em ; braces. She knows not unhappy child! that she is the object of desire to another, until she finds herself lifted in ithe grasp of Pietro Barbaro the terrible chief of the Istrute pirates. tie anti his brothers have kept their pledges to one another, and they have been successful in their prey. }''heir tiers n followeni have subdued to submission the 'struggles ofl a weaponless multitude, who, with horror and consternation, behold the loveliest of their virgins. 'the it'd wedded among thein, borne away upon the shoal ' dens of the pirates to their warlike galleys. Those who I resist them perish. Resistance was hopeless. The faint -1 ing and shrieking women. like the Sabine damsels. are hurried from the sight of their kinsmen and their lovers, and the Istrute galleys are about to depart with their pre cious freight. Pietro Barber., the chief, stands with one foot upon his vessel's side and the other on the shore.— ' Still insensible, the lovely Francesca lies upon his breast. At this mon Nit the skirts of his cloak is plucked by a I bold,hand. He turns to mo t tho glaneo of the Spanish i 4.11.p.2.3,... 7 75/wi. aJd woman- we bemired' -oyes- that seemed to m ock his triump . even w hit e she appealed h s .d. to it. - '1 .. "Is it ncit even us I told thee—as I showed thee?" was her deniand. . "It is!" i exclaimed the pirate-chief, as he, flung her a purse of goid. ",Thou art a true prophetess. Fate has done her ,w ork!"'[ Ho was g l one; his galley was alrendy.on the deep, and he himself might now ho seen kneeling upon the-deck of the vessel, lionding over his precious conquest, and stri ving to bring back the life into tier cheeks. "Ay. indeed!" murmured the Spanish Gipsy, "thou host had her in thy arms, but think not. reckless robber that thou art, that fate has done its work. The work is but began. Fate has kopt its word to thee ; it is thy weak sense that fancied sho had nothing more to say or do!" Even as she spoke these words, the galleys of Giovan ni Grndenigo were standing for the Laguna of Caorlo. Ile had succeeded , in collectinl i a baud of cavaliers who tacitly yielded him the common . The excitement of ac tion had served, in some men, re, to relieve the distrese under which he auffered. was no longer. the lover, but the man; nor the man rhorely, but the loader of men. Giovanni was endowed for this by nature. His valor was known. It had been tried 'upon the Turk. Now that he was persuaded by the Spanish Gipsy, whom all believed and feared, that a nameless and terrible danger over hung his beloved, which was to be met and baffled only by the course ho was pursireing, his whole person seem ed to be infused by a new spirit. The youth, his corn: panions, wondered to - behold the change. There was no longer a dreaminess and doubt about his words and movements, but all was prompt, energetic, and directly to,the purpose. Giovanni was now the confident and strong man. Enough for him that there was danger. Of this ho no longer ontortainod &fear. Whether the don ger was still supposed to threaten Francesca. was still suggestive of a hope—as the prediction of th!‘ Spanish Gipsy might well warrant—may very well be questioned, ; It was in the very desperation of his hope, perhaps, that , his energies became at once equally well-ordered and in tense. He prompted to their utmost the energies of ' others. Ho impelled all his agencies to:their beet exer lions. Oars and sail were busy without intermission, and soon the effort! of the pursuers were rewarded. A. gen- 1 , dole. bearing a single man. drifted along their path. lie I was a fugitive from Oliveto, who gave them the first do- fioite idea of the foray of-the pirates. His tidings, win; .dered imperfect by his terrors. were still enough ro goad the pursuer.. to new exertions. Fortne favored the pur suit. In their haste the pirate galleys had become en tangled in the laguno. The keen eye of Giovanni was the first to discover them. First ono bark and 'thee an other hove in sight. and soon the whole piratical fleet were made out. as they urged their embarrassed progress through the intricacies of the shallow waiting. " "Courage. bold hearts!" cried Giovanni to his people; "they are ours! We shall soon be upon them. They cannot now eicape us!" The eye of the youthful leader brightened with the ets pectation of • the struggle. His exulting. eager voice de elated the strength and confidence of his soul,arid ed the souls at' nroOnd him. The sturdy oarsman "gore way" with' renewed efforts. The , knights pre pared their. weapons for the conflict. Giovanni signalled the other galleys by which his own was folleived.l "1 antler the red flag of Pietro Barbaro himself. I khow his tiattier: I.ifyot4'galleys'graPple • with therest. Cross theiryath4provent their flight, and bear,dowi. up on the , strongest., Doyour parts, and never fear but we shall deouto." • - • • With these brief instructions; our captaht led the' way with the Venitian galleys.' The conflietwei'at hand: It came. They drew nigh and hailed , the ,eriensy. , The parley was brioirme." The pirates could hope . fer, no inemy..eod they asked none. But fep wordy. according ly: . were exchanged between the parties, aml these were notl i words os peace. • ' • • "..; - • ' "Yield thee to the minty of Bt. Mend" was the , stem summons or 131tOilatoi, to the irite , - , f1ift44e414 'Airy, tits ,Aoo •.PUOS scdriful tigdy ef the phatO. wq# ll , InOtt• I'o4 strike well before Barbaro of Istria suC I I cy I" ,1 ' -With the answer the galleys grappled. The Venitians leapt on board of the pirates with a firy that "was little short of madness . . Their wroth way t rrible. Under the guidance of the fierce Giivanni, they smote *ith an un forgiving vengeance. It was in vain that the Istrutes I I fought as they had been long accus ' med. It needed something more than that( customary valor to meet the fury of their assailants. All of them perished. . Mercy now was neither asked nor given. - N r, as it seemed, did the pltates care to live. when they be eld the full of their fearless leader. lle had crossed wet ons withGiiivan ii ni Gredenigo , in whom he found his;f te. Twice, thrice the sword of the latter drove through the breast of the pirate. Little did his conqueror coal cture the import of the few words the dying chief gasped forth at his feet. his glazed eyes striving to pierce the ,cck. as if seeking some one within. ' 1 "I have indeed, had thee in my ar .. s. but—" There was no more—death finished the sentence! The victory was complete, but Giovanni was wounded. Pietro Barbaro Was a fearful enemy. He was conquered, it is true. but he had made his mark upon his conqueror. lie had bitten _deep before he fell. The victors returned with their spoil. They brough back the captured brides in triumph. •That same eve ning preparations were made to conclude the bridal cer emonies which the morning had seen so fearfully arrest ed. With a einglo exception. the original distribution of the "brides" was persevered in. Tho exception, as we may will suppose, was Francesca Ziani. It we. no longer possible for her unnatural parents to withstand the popidar sentiment. , The Doge himself, Pietro Candiano, was 'particularly active in persuading the mother to submit to what was so evidently the will of destiny. But for tho disereditable baseness and Icowardico of Ulric Bar berigo, it is probable she never +ld have yielded. But his imbecility end unmanly ferret! in the moment of dan ger, had been test) conspicuous. ' Even his enormous wealth could not save him from the shame that fol- lowed:, and however nnwillindh• the parents of Francesca consented that she should become the bride of Giovanui, as the only proper reward for the gallantry which had saved her and so many more frcim shame. But where is Giovanni? His friends have been. dis patched for him; why 'comes he not? Tho maid, now happy beyond her hope. awaits him e at the altar. " And still ho comes not. Let us go back for a moment to titer time of his victory over the pirate chief. Barbaro 'lies before him in the agonies of death. His sword it is which has sent the much dreaded outhav to his last ac, count. 'But he himself is wounded—wounded severely. bat not mortally. by the man whom he . has slain. At this moment he received a blow from the .`sac of one of the brothers of Barbaro. He had strength left Inirely to behold and to shout his victor•. when ho sunk. fainting. upon the deck of the pirate vessel. His further care de volved upon his friend Nicole, who had followed his foot steps closely through all the paths of danger. In a state of stupor he lies upon the conch of Nicole, when tho aged prophetess!, the "Spanish Gipsy." appeared' beside his bed. "He is called," she said. "The Doge demands his presence. They will bestow upon him his bride, Fran cesca Zion'. You must bear hint taither. The surgeon shook his head. "It may arouse him," saidDiicolo. "We can bearbitu thither on a litter, iso that ho shell feel no pain." "It wore somethiog to wake him from this apathy." mimed the surgeon. • "Ile it as thou wilt." Thus grievously wounded, wee the noble Giovanni borne into the midst of the assembly for each member of which he had suffered and dthie so much. The soft mu sic which played\around awakened hint. Ilis eyes un closed to discover the lovely-Frauccc.ca, tearful, but hope ful. bending over him. She declared herself his. The voice of the Doge .confirmed the assurance; and the eye of the dying man brighted into the life of a nr and delightful consciousness. Eagerly he spoke; his voice was but a whisper. "Maki it so, I pray thee, that I may live!" The priest drew nigh with the sacred unction. The marriage service was performed, and the hands of the two were clasped in one. ••Said f not?" demanded an aged woman • who ap proached the moment after the coremoni.d, and whose face was beheld by him whom she addresod.- "Shia' is MEI The youth smiled but made no answer. His hand drew that of Francesca closer. She stooped to his kiss, and whispered to him, but he hoard her not. With the ociousuess of the sweei . treasuro that be had won after sad denial, the sense grew Conscious no longer—the Of the youth were sealed forever. The young, Gio i. the bravest of this Vehitian youth, lay. lifeless in embrace of the scarcely more living Francesca. It sad day after all, in Venice. since its triumph-was nved by so great a loss; but the damsels still declare the lovers were much more blest in this fortune, than they survived for the embrace of others less beloved. The touching and romantic incident upon which this, 14 tale is founded, has been made use of by Mr. Rog lin his poem of "Italy." It is one of those events ich enrich and enliven for romance, the early histories most states and nations that ever arrive at character I civilization. It occurs in the first periods of Veni i story, about 932, under the Doge Candiano 11. I divided my sketch intofice parts, having originally ned a dramatic piece with the same divisions. That ye since thought proper to write this tale in the ner ve and not dramatic farm, is not becatiso of any in eptibility of material to such uses. I still think the story as above given, might easily and success • be'dramatized, giving it a mixed character—that of undo-dramatic opera, and only softening the Close to as tragical de nouement.] COAT such folio that had littl ern. whi Liars hair, THE RULING PASSION SIIRONO IN DEATH. "-WO informed,says the New Orletins Delts,that during the g moments of Gov. MeNtitt,'a person entered the 1 with a newspaper in his band. It was about the l !a . when the election returns were coming iu from Deylvania. The eye of the dying politician as omantary brightness, as his feebly 'voice faintly ar• Med the inquiry, "What's the last news from Penn nia ?'" Before thO answer could be given, tho rist was a : comm. and the spirit of the true Demo had loft the scenes of moral contest. tic' syll qu ca 4 !WILKES AND LIBERTY. "—The Journal of CoMMOYER fishes the following extract from a speech delivered he British House of Commons in Febuary 1774, by t eloquent compion of the rights of man, John I lite. : • In di e great scale of empire, you will decline. I feare it . i . e . llecisisin of this day, "and the Americans will ris to inicperulenre to rch to all the greo4ness of the most renowned Stele ; for they build on the special ba sil of geseratpitldic liberty. If you presist in your reit°, all hope of reconciliation is extinct. The Amer - - icons will triumph, the whole continent of NorM.Auteri ca will,bo dismembered from Great , Britain, and the wdo ach of the_ raised empire will fall. " Six months after this prophetic speech was delivered. Vaginiabecame'independent of the British Crown, nod isqa few months Massachusetts was 4 an independent State. although her capital was in possession of the Br/t -104 troops for a short period thereafter. - The fatitily of Wilkes t. "" cv v .. " kr"Auterieo; and its decendante of the 1211" name are am o ng the most. espectable citizens 'of • . . no, l RuP..4f,hil!,:APF rand nieces YL9W . ": nod to Loid ieffrOy to .Edisboygh , •-; • to him for mor• A green 'nu gives in the New ing as his first experience in the o " I never see any of the animals One night a friend of mine said of okners?" " alai nothin' oho," says I. "It eckon., saya'he, Ica pun man;" "I can take the shine out 'o yo anti !on 'that." " Doty'," Rays he, "we'll bet e and get" •em." We went into what he called ater we aet down, he asked mo h I did'nt know what to my y. and any way he chose. " Waiter!" ho sung out. "Me l begin on, then a stew, and after t Putty soon a fellow with his s before, sot 'doWn a plateful) of nos I that mado me gag to look at 'em. for fear of bein' found out; but . 1 • I brandy to keep them oysters in th I was infor it, as Jonah said' Tel l whale. and had nothin to do but t• My - friend see I looked kinder do - 1 so he ordered in some shampane, spirits and t .uppe stoma friend himse spent ed the The f ■mall said t' come CIRCVMSTANTIAL EVIIiENCE.—.. good many years ago,' two elderly maidens of Aledford ho lived by the Matta Pond, waited formerly upon Jus ce to enter a compliment-against on John T. utter and others. Such conduct as Tanner's they thong t abominable, and ho ought to be taken care of. It w. a shame, so it way,thut tuo respectable . femalds coed not look out of their windows on a morning, withou being shocked at his indecencies. If there was no la. for such outrages they were very sure there ought to be one. Such an exam ple as John Tanner's Was etiOUg to corrupt the city of London—they could tolerate it o longer. With much difficulty and a world of questioni . g, the magistrate at last got front their virginlips the .pecific 'nature of tho grie‘ slice It appeared that Jo' habit of bathing every morning n site side to whore the maidens dn tho inAgastrato. "it appears that t a mile wide and you do not live it. Ido not see how you could that distance, or Indeed, how yo b was man or beast, in the water." replied ono of the spinsters; "wo than a week, and strained our e last Sarah happened to think of taro Empsey's spy-glass, and thi Livia DROPP/NU.—The an account of an amuSing ace where in the region rouhd about chap and a lass wore emplpyed a. the chap was in love with the la a couple of days. the chap. on evening. found another fellow s ing softly up stairs he took his p sparking pair, and placing his hole, looked down upon the ace gave way to fatigue, and he fee began to snore, and the lovers 1 at beholding. a man's faces wher , The lass fainted. Not so her water he throw a little in the mainder whizzing and aplashin man above. A deem) ensued. has ,not been caught napping since. A CuntoSITY.—A 'holt time Kittening, Armstrong County re/ in tho trunk of a hemlock t through the tree neaoy horizont in. The barrel was a little more tl It had a square breech, and tate is also called "hell nituzzled of gun now in cite. cer which hen recollection of the oldest inhabito auco of being an' elegantly finial ing gold, - and breech pin pure oily and how long it has been there, al tion. It must have been lost or commenced its growth ; but how I no one can tell or 'surmise. : The ing from tho number of grains. gun bore but very slight -evid found, the breech was just ab ground, and the muzzle slightly It was loaded with a ball. SOCIAL K11111PEi.13...-410W 11W81 When the world is stark without When cares disturb' thir-brassl around the heart, what joy pith?. We forget theisvorld with all is ti l l with social kindness. That to who has hearts that viberate in —whois cheered by the smiles of tenderness. Let the world b hate and animosity of bad men business--but when he enters cherished circle he forgets all th from his brow. end the sorro worm sympathies of his wife an shadow, and he feels a thrill words ore not adequate to espy e _ger to the joys of social kindnel . YANK= GIRLS OUT Wzgr. the Louisville Journal, 014 the out Weet do very Wile to the ov. tof teaching oatsr peoplesrchildr tuithettirru. - WA ONIM nvE or 13 One. eve of beauty:l/then the I Was on the stream of rut,l To gold converting one by on. The ripples of that might)! Beside me on the Sank was s A Seville girl; with auburn And eyes that might the wort, A wild, bright, wicked, dim She stooped and wrote upon t ' l lust as the loving sun was With such a soil, sinnit,shini You would have sworn 't Her words were three and n . What could Diana's motto , The syreeu wrote upon the P I ! 'Death, not ineolistaney:, I And then her two large, lamp So turned Onituinc, the devi I set the river on tire with sig And was the fool she chose Saint Francis would have By such an eye and such a But one week more, and 1 be As much the woman as/the THE RAW MAT and it wornt long afore it 6 oysters:too; both cum u , ,to pay for, but Settlin' the h. How I got to bed. I and I had the sameroom, If into putty much the san l , e . night performin' tho cat American side and ho pla ll particulars of theiperfor ills we paid at the bar nea rkey about main oysters sit of twin' so awful •smart." BER 28. AIITT. ialquivgr. rivet i altd hair. . bare cheated, and psi', ie •and— lag, g bond. sliver flowing ; One MOM. id eyes take me, o make Inc 1 11 deceived. nand. io.ed le4nd MEM ork Spirit the follow star line: 6111 went to Orleans." o me, •'are you fond 'eh more than any Livia' I ," says I, "aad PIC I ppm, and go right out ,0 roasted-rat," and w I'd take 'em. ii told him I'd take 'em ue a dozen raw to r at, a dozen friod!' lirt tail bangin' down y slimy lookin things. I dassent say a Word. 1 I didn't imbibe tho I:ir places,' it's a pity-- !en he swallowed the swallow and gag.— in in the mouth, and as he said. to raise my • id—it raised the spirits together. I had 'the bill did'nt settle my dleremomber, but my nd ho'd eat and drunk fix as me, So we et of l'.; ! 'igary. I ploy 'cc] the opposite shore., ance was found in the I've never ce. All this you see a Tan i ner . was in the the pond on the oppo ,"Butladies," said pond is at least half ny close to the edge of lentil). John Tanner at t , could tell whether it "Neither could we," were in doubt for more :ecdingly. until at ig te.borrow Cap all clear." CCEEI ondin 'nod. matt ppipmexcial gives e that occurred some that city. It appears' a help at a farm-house ; . Having bean absent returning late Sunday taking hie lass. Creep. I, sition directly over the face over .a stove pipe e. Excitement Snail); asleep. By and byte •oking up were startled a stove pipe should be. trot, bringing a pail of . face and sent the re. into the face of the nd the eaves dropper t the - stove-pipe hole .go there was found at unszavania, a gun Mr. tree, the bowel passing ally, and almest grown han three feet in length. id to the maul°, which differing from any style S been used within the I nt. It had the appear ed article, its sight he r. How it came there, Ire the question for solo- ' oft there before the tree ong before or bywhoqi. ego of.the tree, judg s 110 'yeari and yet the neerSof decay. - When ve the surface -of the imblidded in the earth. is social affection ! t, wo'have light within. It. when sorrows broods era in the circle of lose I nimosities, while blessed tan cannot be 'unhappy ly mpathy with his own affection, and the voice dark and cold—let the :ether about the place of he ark ()Clove, his owe se, end the cloud passes • froin his beers. The d cluldrem, dispel every, joy in his bosom, tbat 'es. Ho ahois a strait -I.s, has not begun to livot 'Prontice complains: he mauls girls who come yof teaching; Instead .o. they. Neon get to touch; Si 7
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