The night soon arrived for their departure, and the moon had scarcely risen, when Rinaldo entered her room with a suit of male attire, which he told her it was indispensably necessary she should put on to favor their plan. As three men they should travel with much greater safety through the rude country they had to traverse, and the sort of company they might have to encounter on the way. Her new habiliments were soon on, and, accompanied by Rinaldo, she passed through a long dreary passage, which led to the sentry on duty. The signal was given, and the three, at a quick pace, soon found themselves benighted and entangled in the labyrinth of a forest. As reflection darted upon Rosalvina's mind, she shuddered at the extreme danger of her situation. Without aid or succour in case of need, she was solely in the power of a professed robber, and a disappointed and a rejected suitor. Her mind, however, felt some consolation from the reflection that, as he evidently still hoped to succeed in his suit, he would certainly protect her from harm.

After journeying some distance she found it impossible to proceed, and Rinaldo advised her to repose under the canopy of some branches; at the same time pledging his honor that nothing whatever should injure her. Necessity compelled her to acquiesce, and she laid herself at the foot of a tree to rest her weary limbs, but not to repose. Rinaldo, and Giulio the bandit, sat themselves down beside her, and cheered their spirits with a few drops of brandy, when the latter fell asleep. Rinaldo, a prey to love, and to the workings of a disturbed conscience for the part he had acted, could not close his eyes, but lay planning in his mind how he had best continue his future operations. At length, he determined with all speed to make their way to the castle of her father. The part he had acted could not appear otherwise than good, and fancy painted to his imagination a happy termination to his manœuvres. Thus passed the first night of their journey from the robbers'

cave.

(To be continued.)

EPITAPH

ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY.

Sleep soft in dust,-wait the Almighty's will,
Then rise unchanged, and be an angel still.

KINDNESS.

"Kill her with kindness if you can,"
For in that death she lives;
And like an angel blesses man
That the sweet torment gives:
The sour may frown, th' adept beguile,
'Tis kindness draws a Woman's smile.
Neglect would leave her in distress,
And waste her strength in tears;
The vessels of her hope hard press
To shade her happiest years:
Act the gallant and feeling part,-
'Tis kindness wins a Woman's heart.
Love her, for this is kindness given,
And love her long and true;
That as your happy hearts to heaven
The journey same pursue:

This, and this precious kindness, prove,
And thou shalt conquer Woman's love.

J. R. P.

A SIMILE.

I saw the rose-bud, in young morn's gay hour,
The dew-drop sparkled on its op'ning bloom;
I gaz'd at noon, bright shone the lovely flow'r,
Wafting on zephyr's wings its sweet perfume;
I look'd again, and languid hung its head-

Its brightness gone,-fast hast'ning to decay;
Again I view'd, the beauteous flow'r was dead,
And all its freshness, sweetness, fled away.
Thus, thought I, is it in her soft spring-tide
With woman, when the brightest joys life brings;
Gay-tripping onward, in her youthful pride,
The fairest, sweetest, of created things;

The spoiler comes, and blights her hour of bliss,
From virtue's path allures the hapless fair,
Her sweets dissolve at passion's heated kiss,
Nor one remains to deck her early bier.

J. W. E.

TO CYNTHIA.

BY ROBERT SYDAL.

To meet in the full blaze of beauty,
With rapture to gaze on her charms,
O tell me not coldly of duty,

It expires in my Cynthia's arms.

Oft in absence I've struggled severely,
To banish her thought from my breast,―
To deny that I lov'd her so dearly,-
To forget where so oft I've caress'd.

But when hush'd in my bosom each feeling,
And still'd each remembrance of bliss,
One glance from her eye sweetly stealing,
Calls to mem'ry the warmth of her kiss.

I would live each fond pleasure possessing,
I would cherish each passionate sigh,
I would share with that lov'd-one each blessing,
But, denied those delights, let me die,

RULES TO DISCOVER MARRIED PERSONS.

1. If you see a gentleman and lady disagree on trifling occasions, or correcting each other in company, you may be assured they have tied the matrimonial noose.

2. If you see a silent pair in a hackney or any other coach, lolling carelessly one at each window, without seeming to know they have a companion, the sign is infallible.

3. If you see a lady drop her glove, and a gentleman by the side of her kindly telling her to pick it up, you need not hesitate in forming your opinion; or,

4. If you see a lady presenting a gentleman any thing carelessly, her head inclined another way, and speaking to him with indifference; or,

5. If you meet a couple in the fields, the gentleman twenty yards in advance of the lady, who perhaps is getting over a stile with difficulty, or picking her way through a muddy path ;

or,

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RULES SO DISCOVER MARRIED PERSONS.

6. If you see a lady whose beauty attracts the attention of every gentleman in the room but one, you can have no difficulty in determining their relationship to each other—that one is her husband.

7. If you see a gentleman particularly courteous, obliging, and good-natured, relaxing into smiles, saying smart things, and toying with every pretty woman in the room, excepting one, to whom he appears particularly reserved, cool, and formal, and is unreasonably cross-who that one is nobody can be at a loss to discover.

8. If you see a young or an old couple jarring, checking, and thwarting each other, differing in opinion before the opinion is expressed ;-eternally anticipating and breaking the thread of each other's discourse, yet using kind words, like honey-bubbles floating on vinegar, which soon are overwhelmed by the preponderance of the fluid, they are, to all intents, man and wife. It is impossible to be mistaken.

EVENING PRIMROSES.

Look on those flow'rs, their buds so fair,
When evening's dewy footsteps tread,

Dilate, and in the placid air

Their balmy incense freely shed.

Their goblets sip night's pearly show'r,
But when morn breaks the heavy spells,
Like sprites that fade at morning hour,
They close their golden honied cells.

Enslav'd until returning eve,

They bask not in the sunny beam;
Like fairies, they their couches leave
To revel in the silv'ry stream.

Mark then this flow'r, if care has made
A furrow on thy once-glad brow;
Fair scenes may lurk beneath the shade,
And brighter hours for thee may flow.
Corn-market, Oxford.

J. P.

ANECDOTE OF ELIZABETH, WIFE OF THE PRINCE ROYAL OF PRUSSIA.

This princess, who was afterwards divorced, was brought up at Stettin, and had sent to Lyons for a very beautiful robe, which was directed to her at that town. As an immense duty was laid on foreign stuffs, the custom-house officer detained the robe, till the duty was paid. The princess felt very indignant, and sent to tell the man to bring her the robe, and she would pay him his due. He obeyed; but scarce had he entered the apartment of the princess, than she seized hold of the robe, boxed his ears twice most heartily, and drove him out of her apartment. The custom-house officer went out, swelling with rage, and wrote a long account of the transaction, which he addressed to the king, and in which he bitterly complained of having met with very disgraceful treatment, as he was acting in the discharge of his duty. Frederick replied as follows:-" The loss of the excise duties must be placed to my account; the robe will remain the property of the princess; the blows, with him who received them. As to the pretended disgrace, I will take off that stigma: never could the application of a beautiful hand on the face of a customhouse officer be regarded as a disgrace."

FEMALE SERVILITY REBUKED.

Bolivar, the Liberator of Columbia and Peru, among other amiable qualities which endear him to all with whom he is acquainted, endeavours on all occasions to check the flattery with which he is frequently assailed. At a ball which he gave, a lady rendered herself very conspicuous, by loading him with obsequious and importunately fulsome adulation. Bolivar at length said to her, in a mild but firm tone, "Madam, I had previously been informed of your character, and now I perceive it myself. Believe me, a servile spirit recommends itself to no one, and in a lady is highly to be despised."

ETYMOLOGY OF THE WORD LADY. It was at first Leafdian, from leaf, or laf, which signifies a loaf of bread, and D'ian to serve. It was afterwards corrupted to lafty, and at length to lady. So that it appears the original meaning of the term implies one who distributes bread. The true lady is one who feeds the poor, and relieves their indigence. N 3