"AND this," said he, putting the remains of a crust into his wallet-" and this should have been thy portion," said he, "hadst thou been alive to have shared it with me." I thought by the accent it had been an apostrophe to his child; but 'twas to his ass, and to the very ass we had seen dead in the road which had occasioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man seemed to lament it much; and it instantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with more true touches of nature.

The mourner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, with the ass's pannel and his bridle on one side, which he took up from time to timethen laid them down-looked at them, and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it; held it some time in his hand--then laid it upon the bit of his ass's

42-VOL. I.

bridle-looked wistfully at the little arrangement he had made-and then gave a sigh.

The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur among the rest, whilst the horses were getting ready: as I continued sitting in the post-chaise, I could hear and see over their heads.

He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the furthest borders of Franconia, and had got so far on his return home, when his ass died. Every one seemed desirous to know what business could have taken so old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home.

It had pleased Heaven, he said, to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in all Germany; but having in one week lost two of the eldest of them by the small-pox, and the youngest falling ill of the same distemper, he was afraid of being

bereft of them all; and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him from him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Iago in Spain.

When the mourner got thus far on his story, he stopped to pay Nature her tribute, and wept bitterly.

He said, Heaven had accepted the conditions ; and that he had set out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey; that it had ate the same bread with him all the way, and was unto him as a friend.

Everybody who stood about, heard the poor fellow with concern. La Fleur offered him money. The mourner said he did not want it-it was not the value of the ass, but the loss of him; the ass, he said, he was assured, loved him; and upon this told them a long story of a mischance

upon their passage over the Pyrenean Mountains, which had separated them from each other three days; during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and that they had neither scarce ate nor drank till they

met.

"Thou hast one comfort, friend," said I, "at least, in the loss of thy poor beast; I am sure thou hast been a merciful master to him." "Alas!" said the mourner, "I thought so, when he was alive; but now that he is dead, I think otherwise: I fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him-they have shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to answer for." "Shame on the world!" said I to myself: "did we love each other as this poor soul but loved his ass-'twould be something."

When I saw an army upon the land,
A navy upon the seas,
Creeping along, a snail-like band,

Or waiting the wayward breeze; When I marked the peasant fairly reel

With the toil which he faintly bore, As he feebly turned the tardy wheel, Or tugged at the weary oar.

When I measured the panting courser's speed,
The flight of the courier-dove,

As they bore the law a king decreed,
Or the lines of impatient love,

I could not but think how the world would feel,

As these were outstripped afar,

When I should be bound to the rushing keel, Or chained to the flying car!

Ha, ha, ha! they found me at last;

They invited me forth at length,

And I rushed to my throne with a thunder-blast,

And laughed in my iron strength! Oh, then ye saw a wondrous change On the earth and ocean wide, Where now my fiery armies range, Nor wait for wind or tide.

Hurrah, hurrah! the waters o'er
The mountain's steep decline,
Time-space-have yielded to my power,
The world-the world is mine!
The rivers the sun hath earliest blest,

Or those where his beams decline, The giant streams of the queenly West, And the Orient floods divine.

The ocean pales where'er I sweep,
To hear my strength rejoice;
And the monsters of the briny deep
Cower, trembling at my voice.

I carry the wealth to the lord of earth,
The thoughts of his godlike mind;
The wind lags after my flying forth,
The lightning is left behind.

In the darksome depths of the fathomless mine,
My tireless arm doth play,

Where the rocks never saw the sun's decline,
Or the dawn of the glorious day.

I bring earth's glittering jewels up
From the hidden cave below,
And I make the fountain's granite cup
With a crystal gush o'erflow.

A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast

To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Cel. Oh, I have heard him speak of that same
brother;

And he did render him the most unnatural
That liv'd 'mongst men.

Oli. And well he might so do, For well I know he was unnatural.

Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,

To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

Was it you he rescued?

Cel. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?

Oli. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I: I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. Ros. But, for the bloody napkin?Oli. By-and-by. When from the first to last, betwixt us two, Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, As, how I came into that desert place ;In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah! sirrah, a body would think this was well counterfeited: I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited.Heigh-ho!

Oli. This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

Oli. Well, then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.

Ros. So I do: but, ï' faith, I should have becn a woman by right.

Jel. Come, you look paler and paler: pray you draw homewards.-Good sir, go with us.

Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.

Ros. I shall devise something. But, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him: will you go? [Exeunt.