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sat at the helm. Edward lost no time in lifting the shrinking girl into the boat; and the rowers instantly stretched to their duty.

Though the wind blew tempestuously, there was neither foam-bell nor billow on the Rance. The stream shot down like an arrow; and no sooner were they fairly exposed to its strength, than they were borne along with frightful velocity. Edward knew that rocks were scattered in their course, and he whispered to the steersman to hold nearer to the western bank, while, at the same time, he endeavored to keep a sharp look-out ahead; but the helm was powerless in such a current; and no human glance could penetrate the murky chaos into which they were darting. In the mouth of the harbor of St. Servan, there lies a low rock, round which the outsetting tide sweeps with terrific violence. On that rock the unfortunate boat was dashed. The sentinel who on that night kept watch at the arsenal, heard one loud, long shriek, rise from the bosom of the river, and mingle with the blast. He looked steadfastly over the swelling waters, and beheld by the lightning's gleam, human faces lifted for an instant above the flood. He listened and looked again; but heard only the sullen gush of the river, as it rolled on in blackness, and saw only the ragged rocks that shoot up through its bosom.

At an early hour on the following morning, the chapel of Sainte Anne was crowded with hundreds of spectators, anxious to witness the profession of the young novice. Many a fair face was turned up in prayer at the minor shrines: many a young Breton endeavored to penetrate with his keen glance, the sanctuary that lay beyond the grand altar. The chapel was fitted up with unusual splendor. Relics of miraculous virtue covered every shrine: massive crucifixes of silver were ostentatiously displayed; and innumerable perfumed tapers, and censers filled with incense, sent up a rich odor to heaven. For a time, the multitude remained in silent expectation. Several of the attendant priests, in gorgeous sacerdotal robes, knelt before the grand altar, momentarily crossing themselves with devout gesticulations. At length, a priest entered from the nunnery, and held some conversation, in an under tone, with his brethren. While he spoke, à general stare of surprise and dismay was visible on the countenances of all who heard him. They crossed themselves more frequently than ever, and piteously turned up their eyes in consternation and wonder. The congregation were impatient to obtain a solution of this muminery: but an habitual reverence for the place and the performers restrained any indecorous expressions. At length, the most venerable of the holy fraternity advanced, and, in a voice of trepidation, stated, that a mysterious citcumstance had occurred to postpone, if not altogether to prevent, the ceremony which his hearers had congregated to witness. The novice had been spirited away during the night: whether by the agents of heaven or hell he could not take upon himself to decide; but he sincerely trusted, for her own sake, and the honor of Sainte Anne, that she had been esteemed worthy of the special interposition of Heaven, as there was good reason to conclude that her sojourn on earth had terminated. Her veil, and part of her drapery had been discovered adhering to the thorns and brambles that vegetated in the crevices of the precipice at the extremity of the garden; and various other circumstances conspired to strengthen the supposition, that she had found a grave in the Rance. The congregation listened in mute amazement, to the priestly harangue;

crossed themselves sympathetically with the speaker; and then hurried out of the chapel, in order to give unrestrained vent to the conjectures and regrets which such an extraordinary incident was calculated to awaken.

The fate of Renée Duchastel remained a mystery to the inhabitants of St. Servan for ten days. At the expiration of that period, the waters of the Rance gave up their victim. Her corpse was washed ashore on the western bank of the river, near the little village of Dinar; and, on being identified, was carried, under the superintendence of the priests, to the convent of Sainte Anne. Some ungenerous doubts were promulgated respecting the mode in which she had met her death; but the sisterhood, alarmed for the credit of their establishment, declared that she had, on many occasions, manifested a tendency to somnambulism; and every sincere Christian, therefore, was bound to believe that she had wandered into the garden in her sleep, and from thence inadvertently stepped over the cliff into the river. A swarm of priests supported this asseveration with all their influence, strenuously averring, that she had died in the odor of sanctity; and, as no person who trembled at the idea of excommunication dared to gainsay them, her remains, after having received all the purification that religious ceremonials could effect, were interred in the adjacent cemetery, where a black cross still marks her grave. But of her English lover no trace was ever discovered. Man knows not where his limbs decayed: whether they forged the monsters of the deep, in caverns covered eternally by the wave; or were stripped by birds of prey, in some solitary bay of that tideworn coast. He who narrates their tale of love and death was a friend and confederate of Edward; the companion who, on that eventful night, acted as steersman of the ill-fated bark in which they perished, and the only one of all on board who escaped the grasp of death. The boat was staved and overwhelmed at the instant that her prow tou ched the rock. The survivor heard but one shriek-the shriek of Renéeere he found himself struggling companionless in the torrent. A stout and expert swimmer, he combated successfully with the tide; and by great exertion reached the shore. Apprehensive of the consequences, should the share he had in this disastrous enterprise be discovered by the authorities, he sought shelter with an English gentleman, resident at Sainte Servan, to whom he was partially known; and through this friendly interposition, was enabled to elude detection, and satisfy the police regarding his mysterious arrival in France. The melancholy termination of his friend's adventure naturally prepossessed him against the country in which it happened; and he availed himself of the earliest opportunity to depart. He remained long enough, however, to ascertain that all search for the body of Edward was in vain; and to see the last obsequies celebrated over the grave of hapless youth and beauty.

ANECDOTES OF DON PEDRO, AND HIS PROSPECTS

OF SUCCESS.

Notwithstanding the very flattering statements that appear almost daily in the public prints, of the position of the Emperor Don Pedro, some of his most sanguine adherents, and those who have access to the best sources of information, begin to despair of the success of the expedition. It is easy to reason after an event, for, by placing cause and effect in juxta-position, we arrive at the wished-for result; but without resorting, in the present instance, to this mode of analysis, it must strike every one conversant with military affairs, that the execution of Don Pedro's plan of campaign has been en contresens-based as it was, on the apparently wellfounded supposition of the existence of a strong party in his favor, without which it was madness to have risked the enterprise. His object should have been to have landed on a point of the coast nearest to the quarter where the elements of revolt existed in their greatest mass. Had the exEmperor disembarked at the back of the rock of Lisbon, the Constitutional banner might now have been floating on the forts of Belem and Sa Juliao; whereas, by proceeding to Oporto, he at once threw all his chances of success into the hands of his adversary: and if he has so long been enabled to maintain himself in his present position, it is rather owing to the blind fatuity and inconceivable inactivity of the Miguelite Generals, than to his own military rescurces. A very short time will now decide a question, the solution of which, Europe awaits with much anxiety: but even should the ex-Emperor be allowed to take up, unmolested, his winter-quarters at Oporto, (which we doubt, it being decidedly the policy of the Miguelites de brusquer l'affair) by what means are his army to be supported, and from what source is the enormous sum of 90,000l. per month to be raised? These are questions, we believe, not easily answered. In fact, if the efforts of the Constitutionalists are limited to holding Oporto, they had better far have never left the Azores. As it is, the disarming of the population of that city, indicates but too clearly that no dependence on their cooperation can be placed.

Perhaps no adequate idea can be formed of the rancorous animosity that animates the two parties, but by those who are acquainted with, and have taken part in the political events of Portugal since the year 1820. Migu el's army is composed chiefly of the corps who fought against the Emperor during the revolutionary war in Brazil, and who execrate him to a man. On the ocean, too, there are many who fought in South America on opposite sides: thus we find Capt. Crosbie, who holds the same situation under Sartorius that he held under Lord Cochrane, opposed to his former adversary, Joao Felix, in the old Don Joao Sexto. When we recollect that, during the campaign of 1823, Lord Cochrane, in the Pedro Primeiro, of 68 guns, with a picked crew of 600 English seamen, and several other smaller vessels, was unable, in spite of his daring gallantry and consummate skill, to effect anything of consequence against the Portuguese squadron, composed of the same Don Joao Sexto, two heavy frigates, and several corvettes, we certainly do not expect that Sartorius will succeed where Lord Cochrane failed. On the 3d of May, 1823, off the port of Bahia, his Lordship having made a signal to his fleet to keep to windward, bore down and broke the Portuguese line, and raking in, the Admiral obliged a corvette to strike her colors; but his Lordship was unable to take possession of her. On another occasion, availing himself of a very

dark night, he dashed into the harbor of Bahia, and had the wind not failed, it is probable he would have destroyed the whole squadron, as Joao Felix and most of the superior officers were on shore, and the ships were riding at anchor, without springs on their cables, although Sir Thomas Hardy forewarned them of the probability of such a visit. When, finally, the Royalist garrison evacuated the city of St. Salvador, the squadron that weighed anchor on the morning of the 2d of July, consisted of upwards of 120 vessels of all classes. Lord Cochrane, who was anchored almost within gunshot of them, weighed at the same time, and cut off, before evening, between twenty and thirty transports; but although he followed the squadron to the line, he could make nothing of their ships of war.

The Portuguese Admiral, Joao Felix, is not a dashing officer, but he is an experienced and excellent seaman, and will hold his squadron well in hand and opposed, as he has constantly been, to the party of the Emperor Don Pedro, his fidelity is à toute epreuve. Miguel's agents in this country have sent him out two well-appointed steam-boats. The superiority which Sartorius has hitherto derived from this arm, will consequently be neutralized: and should the Miguelite squadron risk an action, if they only fight their ships with but even ordinary skill and gallantry, so overwhelming is their force, that Sartorius, with all his skill and bravery, will have but a poor chance; for we need not mention the effect of the concentrated force of an 86-gun ship, upon the small vessels that compose his squadron.

Don Pedro has now been upwards of two months master of the second city of the kingdom, and yet not an individual has joined his ranks; while his own, by the casualties of action, sickness, and desertion, are minus some 2,000 men. But the fact is, and we say so, unbiassed by party spirit, that the ex-Emperor is not personally popular in Portugal, who may with justice lay at his door all the evils that at present afflict her; and he feels that his political career has been marked by phases as dark as even that of his unpopular brother Miguel. Cradled in despotism, Don Pedro is rather a liberal par ton que par sentiment; he has a brusquerie of manner and hauteur of character, that revolts at the slightest control, while he is totally destitute of what the French call force de caractère, the most essential quality in a prince; a deficiency that, coupled with the basest ingratitude, alienated his warmest adherents, and lost him his crown.

Shortly after his accession to the throne, the Northern provinces of the Empire revolted, and proclaimed a republic. The leader of this movement, was one Barrata, (a cognomen that equally in Brazil applies to the Cockroach) a man of considerable talent, and an ex-Deputy of the Cortes. So popular was this chief among his adherents, that it was the fashion to wear a silver barrata at the button-hole: and we have even seen the hideous emblem on the fair bosoms of the women and the cassocks of the priests. One of these singular decorations found its way to Rio de Janeiro, where it was shown to the Emperor. On receiving it, his dark eye fired with rage, and almost twisting out his moustache by the roots, he exclaimed, 'It is very pretty, but tell them, que ha aqui no Rio de Janeiro hum gallo que os comera todos,'-there is a cock here in Rio de Janeiro, that will devour them all.

Don Pedro's activity is wonderful, and his strength almost Herculean, a quality inherited by his daughter, the young Queen Maria de Gloria, who when quite a child, has been known to lift the large gamela (trough) used by her father as a bath.

A WINTER NIGHT'S STORY, OF IRELAND IN 1789.

Contrary to Mr. Fitzgerald's expectations, the Assizes at did not terminate on the day he expected; several affairs of life and death were yet upon the calendar, and the case for which he had been called as a witness, was the last but two upon the list. It is an inconvenient thing for a man to be summoned to a distance of thirty miles on an occasion in which he feels no personal interest, and when he arrives at his journey's end, to find that, at the expense of comfort and cash, he must wait the issue, although it be protracted to an indefinite period. In fact there was no evading the matter; he was obliged to submit to the proceedings of the court; and, while he muttered some severe observations on the unfitness of a judge, who paid so little consideration to the private feelings of country gentlemen, he wrote a letter of explanation to his wife, and made up his mind, for the first time in his life, to sleep away from home.

Mrs. Fitzgerald was by no means violent in her temper. Whenever she was in a passion, her rage exhibited itself in a species of wordless convulsion-a sort of desperate hiccup-she was spasmodic in her anger. She was never known to abuse her husband, but she had a painful hysterical laugh, with which, on occasions of uncommon aggravation, she assaulted his nerves. It is the art of the sex to appeal to a man's compassion; no man can reply to a woman's scream; and should she think proper to faint -argument, remonstrance, and threat are out of the question. There are weapons peculiar to both. If a man would conquer his wife, he must affect to rely on her good sense. If a wife desire to subdue her husband, she exhibits her lowest feminine imbecility, and the pity or contempt of the strong vessel secures the victory to the weak. When Mrs. Fitzgerald received her husband's letter, she possessed no means of venting her mortification upon him, therefore it speedily suppressed itself. Had he been present, she would have fallen into an agony of swoons and shrieks. People seldom think of a vexation, unless there is somebody near them at the moment, with whom they dare be vexed. Ladies very rarely tear their caps, or burst blood-vessels when they are alone. Most young ladies choose to faint in crowded drawing-rooms.

The messenger who conveyed the letter to Mrs. Fitzgerald, departed very little wiser than he came, so far as the lady's feelings respecting its contents were concerned. The inmates of the cottage, Mrs. Fitzgerald, and a favorite and familiar servant, whose musical name was Judy, listened until the last echo of the horse's feet died away. They then closed the door, double-bolted it, (it was the first time they had ever passed a night under a roof without a man) and prepared to spend the remaining dismal hours until morning, sitting up at the fire-side.

When two females are in this situation they generally sit up all night. They think there is a security in sitting up; they have some undefined sense of safety, particularly if it be winter, which was the case on the present occasion, while they look at the fire and poke the vagrant gas-soldiers; a sense which forsakes them when they find themselves in bed alone, and the candles out. They use, also, another means of defence against ghosts and robbers, which is equally susceptible of a satisfactory solution-we mean conversation. Mrs. Fitzgerald and Judy had recourse to both.

'Now what could bewitch the master, ma'am,' said Judy, as she took her seat on a low stool by the side of her mistress, 'to stay out from you the

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