Puslapio vaizdai

displayed, in the far distance, a copse waving under the influence of the gentle zephyrs. Heimbert cast his eyes down to the ground, and said: “Do thou precede, lovely maiden, and guide my steps to the spot where I may find the menacing Dervise. I will not needlessly look at any objects which may disturb my tranquillity of mind."

Zelinda complied with his request, which changed the relative position of the pair; the maiden became the guide, and Heimbert consented to be led in untrodden paths by her in whom he reposed the utmost confidence.

Branches occasionally brushed his cheeks, as though in mockery or caressingly; wonderful birds, springing forth from the copse, gaily carolled melodious notes; the velvet sward beneath their feet, on which Heimbert's eyes were still fixed, began to be covered with golden-crested, green-eyed serpents; whilst coronets of gold, and precious stones of every possible hue and shape, sparkled in rich abundance. These, on being touched by the serpents, emitted silvery sounds. The wanderer, however, walked on, indifferent to every object that met his senses, and eager only to follow the steps of his fair conductress.


mummery and juggling to cease around us. doctrine sets forth things of too heavenly and mild a nature to be uttered in a trumpet-voice."

The Dervise, on the other hand, burning with rage and fury, had not even listened to the latter part of the knight's speech, and he now pressed upon him vigorously with his scythe-like sword. Heimbert merely held out his sabre, and said: "Take heed, Sir! I understand just now that your weapon is charmed; but it has no power over this good sword which has been consecrated on holy ground."

In wild dismay the Dervise started back from the weapon; but leaping forth again in a manner equally wild, he plied the German knight on the opposite side, who with difficulty parried the tremendous thrust made by the cimitar of his foe. Like a golden-crested dragon, the Mahometan continued to wheel round and round his antagonist, with a celerity which, coupled with the longhanging beard, had a most hideous, hobgoblin appearance. Heimbert was on his guard at every point, watching for some opportunity to thrust in his sword between the scales. His wishes were at last crowned with success; on the left side, between the arm and breast, the dark garment of the Dervise was visible, and like lightning the German's blade was inserted with sure aim. The old man exclaimed in a loud voice: "Allah! Allah! Allah!" and on his face fell lifeless to the ground. "I pity his fate!" sighed Heimbert, as, leaning on his sword, he gazed at the dead body. "He fought bravely, and his last breath was spent in invoking the name of his Allah,' by which he doubtless means God. Well, he shall not want a decent grave." Thereupon he scooped out a vault by the aid of the broad

"We have arrived at our destination," said the maiden, in a low tone of voice; and Heimbert, looking up, beheld a shining grotto, in which lay a man asleep, and covered, after the old Numidian fashion, with gold scaly armour. "Is that figure in golden fish-skin also some magic juggle?” asked Heimbert, jocosely. "Oh no," replied Zelinda, looking very serious; "it is the Dervise himself; and this coat of mail, smeared with charmed Dragons' blood, which he has put on, proves that he was made aware by his magic arts of our ap-cimitar of the deceased, put the corpse into it, covered it proach." up with sods, and knelt down in silent but hearty prayer for his own safety, and that of "the Converted One.”

"What does it signify," said Heimbert, "since he must have learnt that sooner or later?" Upon this he began to exclaim; "Awake, old gentleman, rise up! A friend wishes to speak to you on matters of importance."

As the old man opened his large rolling eyes, everything in the magic grotto began to stir-the water danced-branches devoured each other in wild contention; and the stones, shells, and corals, united in a concert of harmonious strains. "Roll on in wonderful confusion," cried Heimbert, as with steady gaze he beheld the jingling mass. "You shall hardly lead me astray in my good path; and as for your unearthly din, God has given me a sound and sonorous soldier's voice." Then turning to the Dervise, he said: "Old gentleman, it seems that you already know all that has taken place in reference to Zelinda and myself. But, should this not be the case, I will now briefly relate to you the circumstances of her all but entire conversion to Christianity,* and of her speedily becoming the bride of a noble Spanish knight. Be sure not to throw any obstacles in the way, for it is likely to prove a very advantageous one to you. Still better, however, were it if you yourself would consent to become a Christian. Let us converse together on the subject; but previous to doing so, cause this

The words used by my author, are: "so gut als eine Christin" (as good as a Christian). The meaning I take to be, that Zelinda's mind had received the seeds of Christian doctrine, but no formal confession had as yet transpired from the lips of the fair convert, to warrant the assertion that she was actually converted to the faith.Translator's Note.


After having knelt for some time in silent devotion, Heimbert rose up and cast his eyes first upon the smiling Zelinda, who stood by his side, and then on the scene around him, which had undergone a complete change. Cleft and grotto had disappeared, animals and trees in mixed confusion had vanished; a gently sloping meadow inclining downwards from the spot where Heimbert stood, a valley of sand below, springs gushing forth with melodious murmur, here and there a date-shrub bending over the path, met his eye, whilst the whole scene, lit up by the rising beams of Aurora, smiled in sweet and simple peacefulness. "You cannot but feel," said Heimbert, addressing himself to his companion, "that the Creator of the world has ordered and made all things more lovely, excellent, and grand than anything that even the highest human art can possibly effect or obtain by transformation.

The pair walked on in meditative silence towards one of the sweetest little springs in the whole Oasis, and just as they had reached its border, the sun shone directly upon them. Heimbert had not yet considered what Christian name he should give the maiden, but as he drew near the water and beheld the vast sandy desert lying all extended around him, he could not help thinking of the holy hermit, St. Antony,* in the Egyptian wil

This Saint was born in Egypt (A. D. 251). He used the book of Nature as his text-book, and preferred it to

derness, and this led him to call her by the name of mented, here in the wilderness, which must, sooner or "Antonia." later, be my fate."

They spent the day in pious discourse, and Antonia showed her friend a small cave, in which she had concealed all kinds of provisions for her subsistence in the Oasis. "For," said she, "I came hither for the sole purpose of understanding the work of creation better in retirement, without knowing aught at that time of magic art. Soon, however, the Dervise came tempting me, and the horrors of the desert, as well as all that seducing spirits showed me in dreaming and otherwise, seemed to enter into an alliance with the old man's words." Heimbert scrupled not to take with him as much wine and dried fruits as might still be fit for use on the journey, and Antonia assured him that by taking a route which was well known to her, they would reach the border of the vast sandy desert in a few days. As the cool of the evening drew near, both set forward upon their journey.


The travellers had gone over a considerable part of the desert, when they one day beheld in the distance a human figure reeling now to this side, now to that. The wanderer seemed to be going about at random, and Antonia, with her Eastern eagle-eye, saw distinctly that it was not an Arabian, but a man in knightly costume. "Dear sister," exclaimed Heimbert, full of anxious joy, "it is, doubtless, poor Fadrique, in search of you. Pray, let us hasten, lest he should lose us, or even his life, in this immense wilderness." They exerted themselves to the utmost, in order to reach the distant stranger, but it being still a warm part of the day, and the sun throwing down his scorching rays, Antonia could not long endure the fatigue of rapid walking; meanwhile, clouds of dust began to mount every now and then, and the figure was lost, to the eyes of the searching pair, as a form shaped forth in the harvest mist.

When the moon shone clearly, they began anew their hasty march, called after the straying figure, put up white handkerchiefs at the end of their walking-sticks, to flutter in the dark blue atmosphere over their heads, but all was in vain. The object of their straining gaze, which had lately disappeared, still remained lost to their sight. The coy giraffes once more darted past them, and the ostriches hurried along with outspread wings.

In the morning dawn Antonia at last stood still, and Heimbert spread out his cloak upon the sand, that she might rest more comfortably and securely. He had no sooner completed this arrangement, however, than he cried out in astonishment, " As I live, there lies a man, quite covered with dust and sand. I hope he is not dead!" and pouring a few drops of wine upon the man's brow, he gently rubbed his temples.

The man thus revived, slowly opened his eyes and said, "Would that the dew of morning had never again refreshed me, and that I had died, unknown and unla

all other modes of cultivating the intellect. Having once heard a sermon preached on St. Mark x. 21, "Go thy way, sell whatever thou hast, and give to the poor," he literally obeyed the Divine precept, by selling his immense possessions and distributing the money to the life was of the most self-denying sort; he slept on the bare ground or in caverns, subsisted on bread and water, which

poor. His

he only took after sunset, and passed whole nights in

prayer. He may be called the veritable founder of monastic life.-Translator's Note,

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Having uttered these words, he again closed his eyes like one who is drowsy with sleep; but as Heimbert persevered in his work of love, the other raised himself slightly up, and looking in astonishment, first at Heimbert, then at the maiden, he said, as he ground his teeth, "Ha, was that your intention? I was not even to be allowed to die in the satisfaction of secluded privacy! but must previously witness the triumph of my rival, and the mockery of my sister!"

On concluding these words, he arose with great effort, and, drawing his sword, aimed a thrust at Heimbert. The latter, without moving his arm or sword, replied in friendly accents: "I cannot harm thee, since I see thee in so exhausted a state; and, besides, I must first conduct this lady to a place of safety."

Antonia, who at first had beheld the enraged stranger with considerable amazement, now placed herself between the two men, and said: "Fadrique, neither misery nor anger can entirely disfigure your lineaments. But in what has my noble brother here wronged you?"

"Brother!" cried Fadrique, in utter astonishment. "Or godfather," replied Heimbert. "Whichever of the two you please. Only do not call her Zelinda any longer; her name now is Antonia, a Christian, and thy bride."

Fadrique listened to these words, which appeared almost incredible to him; but Heimbert's honest manner, and Antonia's modest blush, solved the beautiful enigma. In transports of joy, he sank down before the lovely object of his affection, and, in the midst of the inhospitable desert, a rich bouquet of love, gratitude, and trusty confidence, blossomed heavenwards.

The vehemence of sudden pleasure at last yielded to physical exhaustion. Antonia stretched her wearied limbs on the sand, that had now become hotter, and, like a flower, she slumbered under the protection of her bridegroom and chosen brother.

"Slumber thou also," said Heimbert, gently to Fadrique. "Thou hast roamed about and art weary, for thy eyes are heavy and need repose. As I am not the least fatigued, I will keep watch over Antonia and thee.” "O, Heimbert," sighed the noble Castilian, “ my sister shall be thy bride, that is nothing more than right. But with regard to our little private matter"


"Of course," said Heimbert earnestly, "when we are in Spain, you will give me satisfaction for your hasty words. Till then, however, I beg you will not mention the subject. Before the termination of an affair of honour, every allusion to it is unpleasant."

Fadrique laid himself down on the sand, overpowered by sleep, and Heimbert cheerfully knelt in prayer to his God for past success, and, submitting the future to his guidance, full of happiness and confidence.


On the following day, the three travellers arrived at the commencement of the desert, and rested a week in an adjoining village, which, shaded by trees, and clothed with the verdant carpet of nature, contrasted like a little paradise against the joyless Sahara.

Especially did Fadrique's state of health make this delay requisite. During the whole time of his separation from Heimbert, he had not once left the desert, but ob

tained his precarious subsistence from wandering Arabs, whilst often he had been without any food for several consecutive days. He had at length entirely missed his way, so that not even the stars could guide him to the right path; and thus he roamed about sadly and to no purpose, like the clouds of dust that rose around him from the sandy plain.

When now he occasionally fell asleep after dinner, whilst Antonia and Heimbert, like two smiling angels, guarded his slumbers, he would frequently shriek out, and gaze about him with looks of extreme terror, until he beheld the two faces of his friends, when he would again sink down into calm repose. Being questioned, on awaking, respecting his frightful dreams, he replied that nothing, during his wanderings in the desert, had been a greater source of pain to him than his fallacious dreams; for now he would fancy himself at home, now in the camp amongst his jovial companions, or even in the presence of Zelinda; but then the stern reality would again undeceive him, and he found himself at such times doubly wretched in the vast wilderness. Hence, whenever he awoke, he still shuddered, and sleep was not unfrequently expelled by the dim recollection of former terrors. "You cannot form any conception of my imaginary woe," added he; "to be banished, on a sudden, from these well-known walls into the boundless desert! To behold, instead of the lovely face of my dear bride, an ugly camel's head bending over me! This, my dear friend, you will allow, is no slight cause of fear."

Such, together with all other remnants of former evils, soon departed from Fadrique's mind, and the journey to Tunis was now cheerfully commenced. The injustice he had inflicted upon Heimbert, and the inevitable consequences thereof, could not fail sometimes to spread a gloomy cloud over the noble Spaniard's brow, but it was also the cause of softening down the innate, haughty fire of his nature, and Antonia was thus enabled to entwine her heart the more tenderly and warmly around his.

Tunis, which had once been the scene of Zelinda's magic arts, and her enthusiastic animosity displayed against Christians, now witnessed Antonia's solemn baptism on a consecrated spot, soon after which ceremony, all three took ship for Malaga with prosperous breeze.


Donna Clara sat one evening musingly at the fountain where she had formerly bid adieu to Heimbert. The lyre in her lap gave forth sweet notes, which her taper fingers were enticing from it as in a dream; and a melody at last arose, accompanied by the following words, which she warbled with half-opened lips:

In far-distant climes roves my love,
He heeds not his Clara, who sighs
That she cannot resemble the dove,
When at eve to its nest it hies.
This bosom betrays but too well,

Each rising and painful emotion;
And these eyes, as they glisten, tell
Of my warm and constant devotion.

Oh, far, far away is my love,

He heeds not the maiden he prized
All gems and all riches above,

And she lingers alone, despised.

The lyre was silent, and soft dew-drops sparkled in her mild, angelic eyes.

Heimbert, who was concealed behind some orange


trees near the fountain's edge, felt, as it were in sympathy, warm tears chasing each other down his cheeks; whilst Fadrique, who had brought both him and Antonia thither, could no longer restrain the outburst of hisfeelings on again beholding his dear sister, but stepped forward to greet her, as he led Antonia and Heimbert by the hand.

Every one can best picture to himself such moments of superhuman bliss; and it were doing him but a poor service to relate what one did, or the other said. Likewise do thou, sweet reader, imagine this picture in thy own way, which will come easy to thee if thou art enamoured of the two couples before thee. Should this latter supposition, however, not be true, wherefore expen1 useless words?

Trusting, then, that some courteous reader takes elight in the pleasure experienced by the reunion of lovers, and of brothers and sisters, and can consent to linger over their further adventures and ultimate fate, I shall proceed with my tale, stimulated by feelings of renewed confidence.

Though Heimbert, looking significantly at Fadrique, was about to retire as soon as Antonia had been com→ mitted to Donna Clara's protection, yet the noble Spaniard did not assent to the proposal which the look indicated. He invited his companion in arms, as imploringly as though he were his brother, to stay to supper; this feast was attended by some relations of the family of Mendez, in whose presence Fadrique declared the brave Heimbert of Waldhausen to be the affianced bridegroom of Donna Clara, ratifying the betrothal in the most solemn manner, so that the match could not be broken off, let what will happen, howmuchsoever apparently opposed to the alliance.

The witnesses, though rather surprised at these novel precautions, revertheless gave their sanction, at Fadrique's desire, to their complete fulfilment ; this they were rather inclined to do, since Duke Alva, who happened to be in Malaga on some naval affairs, had filled the whole town with stories of the bravery of both young soldiers.

When the choicest wine was circulating, in crystal glasses, around the festive board, Fadrique stepped behind Heimbert's chair, and whispered into his ear, “If it is convenient to you, Senor-the moon has just risen and shines like midday-I am now ready to give you the necessary satisfaction."

Heimbert nodded in a friendly manner, and the young unsuspecting brides. men left the room, after receiving kind nods from their

As they walked along the fragrant enclosures of the garden, Fadrique said with a sigh: "How happily could we wander here, were it not for my over-hasty temper!"

"Yes," replied Heimbert, "it is true; but since matters stand thus, and cannot be altered, let us proceed at once to the termination of the affair, in order that we may ever regard each other as soldiers and as knights.”

"Certainly!" said Fadrique, and they hastened to a remote part of the garden, whence the clash of their swords could not penetrate to the merry saloon they had just quitted.


In that silent enclosure, where blooming shrubs grew around, not a sound was heard proceeding from the joyous company in the festive saloon, not a voice from the thronged

streets of the town broke the general stillness, whilst the full moon solemnly lit up the scene-it was the proper spot.

Heimbert and Fadrique now drew their glittering weapons from their scabbards, and stood opposed to each other ready for the combat. But before a thrust was made, a strange feeling prompted them to fall into each other's arms; lowering their weapons for a moment, they were locked in brotherly embrace-and then quitting one another's hold, the fearful duel began.

They were no longer companions in arms, nor friends, nor kindred, who thus pointed their murderous weapons at each other. One antagonist thrust at the other keenly, yet coolly; guarding, at the same time, his own breast against hostile attack.

After having exchanged several dangerous passes, the combatants paused and looked at each other with increased affection, each anxious to test the valour of his associate.

blades against each other. You will not, I trust, scruple to declare before me your knightly differences."

The Duke's wish was fulfilled. Each of the noble youths related the whole of the events from the evening prior to embarkation, up to the present moment, whilst Alva listened in silent meditation, without moving a feature.


The soldiers had long since ended their narrative, and the Duke, still lost in contemplation, said not a word. At last he addressed them as follows: "As I hope for mercy on the last day, young knights, from my conscience I pronounce your honour truly vindicated with regard to each other. Twice have ye stood up in mortal combat on account of the slights which escaped Don Fadrique Mendez' lips; and though the two unimportant scratches respectively received may not suffice to efface the stain of these gibes, yet I hold that your Heimbert, with his left, turned Fadrique's sword, common perils before the ramparts of Tunis, and the dewhich met him on making a tierce sideways, but whilst liverance afforded by Count Heimbert von Waldhausen doing so, the razor edge of his opponent's weapon pene- to Don Fadrique Mendez in the desert, after obtaining trated his leather glove, and the crimson blood gushed for him his bride, empower Count Waldhausen to forforth. 66 Stop," exclaimed Fadrique, and they examined give an opponent for whose welfare he has testified such the wound, but on finding it to be trifling, they renewed | lively interest. Legends of ancient Rome have told us the combat, after having previously bound up the scratch | of two captains under the great Julius Caesar, who, with a handkerchief.

A few moments had elapsed, when Heimbert made a successful thrust at Fadrique's right shoulder, and now the German, in his turn, cried "Stop," as he felt sure that his thrust had taken effect. At first, Fadrique | denied having received any hurt, but soon blood began to flow copiously from the wound, and he was obliged to accept his friend's proffered services.

The cut, however, proving unimportant, the noble Spaniard felt his strength undiminished either in arm or hand, and once more each blade glistened in the air.

At this moment, the garden gate, which was not very distant from the scene of action, was heard clinking, and a horseman seemed to be approaching through the shrubbery. Both combatants ceased from their engagement, and turned with impatient looks towards the unwelcome intruder, who was now perceived, in the figure of a warrior mounted on a tall charger, brushing through the rows of slender pines.

Fadrique, as master of the house, addressed the stranger as follows: "Senor, why you have taken it upon you to intrude upon the privacy of a stranger's garden, I shall discuss with you another time. For the present, I shall content myself with requesting that you will rid us of all further inconvenience by instantly departing, favouring me, however, with your name."

"I intend not to quit this spot,” replied the stranger: "my name I will readily communicate; you are in the presence of the Duke of Alva." And by a sudden turn of his horse, the moon shone full upon his long pensive features, the seat of true greatness, dignity, and awe. The two young soldiers bowed low, and let their weapons fall.

"I should know you," continued Alva, measuring them with his twinkling eyes. "Yes, in truth, I do know you well, ye young heroes of the siege of Tunis. Heaven be praised that two such brave soldiers, whom I had already given up as lost, yet see the light; but now relate to me what affair of honour has directed your

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having amicably adjusted a difference, formed a brotherly alliance with each other, and fought side by side in the Gallic wars. But I affirm that you have done still more for each other, and therefore declare your dispute ended for ever. Sheathe your swords, and embrace in my presence."

In obedience to the commands of their general, the young knights now sheathed their weapons, but, jealous of the least injury their honour might sustain, they still hesitated to clasp each other's necks.

The great hero beheld them somewhat angrily, then said: "Think yc, gentlemen, that I could wish to save the life of two brave soldiers at the expense of their honour? Rather than do so, I would have them both killed before my eyes at the same moment. I see, however, that some other measures must be adopted with such head-strong fellows as ye are."

And leaping down from his horse, which he then tied to a tree, he stepped between the two knights, having his drawn battle-blade in his right, and exclaimed: "Whoever denies that all differences between Count Heimbert von Waldhausen and Don Fadrique Mendez have not been honourably and sufficiently adjusted, must answer for his opinion to the Duke of Alva; and if those two knights themselves should have any objections to bring forward, let them state them. I stand here as the champion of my convictions." Upon this the youths made a low obeisance to their great general, who led the reconciled parties to their brides.

The Duke would not be deprived of the pleasure of taking a prominent share in the solemnisation of the nuptials, and took upon himself the part of giving away both the lovely brides to their handsome bridegrooms, being also present at the marriage feast.

All lived from that time in undisturbed joyful harmony; and though Count Heimbert was shortly after summoned with his beautiful spouse into his fatherland, yet letters of salutation were mutually exchanged between the friends; and the late posterity of Count Waldhausen

prided themselves on their connexion with the noble | treasured up tales respecting the brave and generous house of Mendez, whilst the descendants of the latter Heimbert with eager fondness.*

# The title of this tale is in the original "The Two Captains."

A thonsand blessings on thee now
My quiet little room,
For all thy power to clear m" brow,
And dissipate my gloom.

I enter thee with haggard looks,

And heart o'ercharged with pain;
I look upon my darling books,
And I am strong again.

Hatred and envy, strife and fear

(The cankers of our lot),

Contempt and coldness come not near,
And weakness is forgot.

There is, at least, a quiet nook
Where I may draw my breath.
And out on life's broad river look,
Fast sweeping on to death.


Here death himself has lost his powers,
I dread him here no more,
He cannot kill life's sweetest flowers,
For they have died before.

He cannot kill the love of dream
That faded long ago,

A moment's sunbeam from above,
Upon a path of woe.

He cannot kill the hopes of fame,
That flushed upon my brow;
The future echoes, not my name,
E'en that is silent now.

True, he may shroud the kindling past
From memory's anxious view;

But then the death-shade would be cast
O'er sin and sorrow too,

For memory's book holds many a leaf,
It sickens me to see ;

Then turn I jaded for relief,
My little room, to thee.

When all-resigned I sit and rest,
Regardless of my doom,

And loving thee of all things best,
My quiet little room!


In reference to M. Michelet's History of France.
(Concluded from page 184.)

LA PUCELLE, before she could be allowed to practise as a warrior, was put through her manual and platoon exercise, as a juvenile pupil in divinity, before six eminent men in wigs. According to Southey (v. 393, Book III., in the original edition of his "Joan of Arc") she "appall'd the doctors." It's not easy to do that: but they had some reason to feel bothered, as that surgeon would assuredly feel bothered, who, upon proceeding to dissect a subject, should find the subject retaliating as a dissector upon himself, especially if Joanna ever made the speech to them which occupies v. 354-391, B. III. It is a double impossibility; 1st, because a piracy from Tindal's Christianity as Old as the Creation: now a piracy à parte post is common enough; but a piracy à parte ante, and by three centuries, would (according to our old English phrase*) drive a coach-and-six through any copyright act that man born of woman could frame. 2dly, It is quite contrary to the evidence on Joanna's trial; for Southey's "Joan" of A. Dom. 1796 (Cottle, Bristol), tells the doctors, amongst other secrets, that she never in her life attended-1st, Mass; nor 2d, the Sacramental table; nor 3d, Confession. Here's a precious windfall for the doctors; they, by snaky tortuosities, had hoped, through the aid of a corkscrew (which every D.D. or S.T.P is said to carry in his pocket), for the happiness of ultimately extracting from Joanna a few grains of heretical powder or small shot, which might have

Yes, old-very old phrase: not, as ignoramuses fancy, phrase recently minted by a Repealer in Ireland.

justified their singeing her a little. And just at such a crisis, expressly to justify their burning her to a cinder, up gallops Joanna with a brigade of guns, unlimbers, and serves them out with heretical grape and deistical round-shot enough to lay a kingdom under interdict. Any miracles, to which Joanna might treat the grim D.Ds. after that, would go to the wrong side of her little account in the clerical books. Joanna would be created a Dr. herself, but not of Divinity. For in the Joanna page of the ledger the entry would be-"Miss Joanna, in acct. with the Church, Dr. by sundry diabolic miracles, she having publicly preached heresy, shown herself a witch, and even tried hard to corrupt the principles of six church pillars." In the meantime, all this deistical confession of Joanna's, besides being suicidal for the interest of her cause, is opposed to the depositions upon both trials. The very best witness called from first to last deposes that Joanna attended these rites of her Church even too often; was taxed with doing so; and, by blushing, owned the charge as a fact, though certainly not as a fault. Joanna was a girl of natural piety, that saw God in forests, and hills, and fountains; but did not the less seek him in chapels and consecrated oratories.

This peasant girl was self-educated through her own natural meditativeness. If the reader turns to that divine passage in Paradise Regained, which Milton has put into the mouth of our Saviour when first entering the wilderness, and amusing upon the tendency of those great impulse a growing within himself—

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