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