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Virginia. Well, father, what's your will?
Vir. I wish'd to see you, To ask you
tasks—how they go onAnd what
Virginia. The truant! No, indeed, Virginius.
Virginia. O! my father,
Vir. You are so happy when I'm kind to you !
Virginia. Indeed I did not know What I was saying to you !
Vir. Why, that's worse
[Greatly confused. Vir. Go, fetch me The latest task
[Exit Virginia. It is enough. Her artless speech, like crystal, shows the thing 'Twould hide, but only covers. 'Tis enough! She loves, and fears her father
may condemn. REBECCA AND IVANHOE.-Author of Waverley. Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security to herself, could witness part of what was passing without the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants were making for the storm.
“ The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow.”
“ Under what banner ?" asked Ivanhoe.
“ Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca.
“ A singular novelty," muttered the knight, “ to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed ! Seest thou who they be that act as leaders ?"
“A knight, clad in sable arınour, is the most conspicuous," said the Jewess ; " he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him."
“What device does he bear on his shield ?" replied Ivanhoe,
“ Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the black shield.”
“ A fetterlock and shacklebolt azure," said Ivanhoe; “I know not who may bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thou not see the motto ?”
“Scarce the device itself at this distance,” replied Rebecca; “ but when the sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as
I tell you."
“ Seem there no other leaders ?" exclaimed the anxious inquirer.
56 None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station,” said Rebecca ; " but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed. They appear even now preparing to advance.”
Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements.
“ And I must lie here like a bedridden monk,” exclaimed Ivanhoe, “ while the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others !— Look from the window once again, kind maiden, but beware that you are not marked by the archers beneath-look out once more, and tell me if they yet advance to the storm."
With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath.
6 What dost thou see, Rebecca ?” again demanded the wounded knight.
Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them.” “ That cannot endure,” said Ivanhoe ; “ if they press
not right on to carry the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, so will his followers be.”
“ I see him not,” said Rebecca. 66 Foul craven !" exclaimed Ivanhoe; “ does he blench from the helm when the wind blows highest ?"
“ He blenches not! he blenches not!” said Rebecca ; " I see him now; he leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican. They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes.
His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field of the slain. They have made a breach in the barriers--they rush in--they are thrust back Front-deBoeuf heads the defenders ; I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. It is the meeting of two fierce tides the conflict of two oceans moved by adverse winds !”
She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure a sight so terrible.
“ Look forth again, Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of her retiring ; " the archery must in some degree have ceased, since they are now fighting hand to hand. Look again ; there is now less danger.
Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, “ Front-de-Bouf and the Black Knight fight hand to hand on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch the progress of the strife--heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed and of the captive !" She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, 6. He is down !he is down !"
“ Who is down ?” cried Ivanhoe; “ for our dear lady's sake, tell me which has fallen ?"
« The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly again shouted with joyful eagerness—“ But non but no She is on foot again, and fights as if there were twenty men's strength in his single arm—his sword is broken-he snatches an axe from a yeoman-he presses Frontde-Bouf with blow on blow—the giant stoops and totters, like an oak under the steel of the woodman_he falls—he falls!"
“ Front-de-Boeuf ?” exclaimed Ivanhoe. “ Front-deBoeuf !" answered the Jewess ; “ his men rush to the rescue, headed by the haughty Templar—their united force compels the champion to pause
— they drag Front-de-Bæuf within the walls."
" The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe.
“ They have they have !" exclaimed Rebecca, they press the besieged hard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and endeavour to ascend upon the shoulders of each other-down go stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and
as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault. Great God ! hast thou given men thine own image, that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren !"
“ Think not of that," said Ivanhoe ; “this is no time for such thoughts-Who yield ?—who push their way ?"
“ The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering ;“ the soldiers lie grovelling under them like crushed reptiles-the besieged have the better.”
“ Saint George strike for us !” exclaimed the knight; « do the false yeomen give way?"
“ No!" exclaimed Rebecca, “ they bear themselves right yeomanly—the Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge axe—the thundering blows which he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of the battle stones and beams are hailed down on the bold champion he regards them no more than if they were thistledown or feathers !"
“ By Saint John of Acre," said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch, “ methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed !"
“ The postern gate shakes,” continued Rebecca ; " it crashes—it is splintered by his blows——they rush in—the outwork is won—they hurl the defenders from the battlements—they throw them into the moat-Oh, men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer !"
“ The bridge the bridge which communicates with the castle—have they won that pass ?” exclaimed Ivanhoe.
« No," replied Rebecca ; « the Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed—few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle—the shrieks and cries which you hear, tell the fate of the others—Alas! I see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon
battle.” “ What do they now, maiden ?" said Ivanhoe ; " look forth yet again—this is no time to faint at bloodshed.”
“ It is over for the time," answered Rebecca ; friends strengthen themselves within the outwork which they have mastered, and it affords them so good a shelter from the foemen's shot, that the garrison only bestow a few bolts on it from interval to interval, as if rather to disquiet than effectually to injure them.”
HUMOROUS AND COMIC PIECES.
GIL BLAS ADVENTURES AT PENNAFLOR.—Le Sage. I arrived in safety at Pennaflor ; and, halting at the gate of an inn that made a tolerable appearance, I had no sooner alighted than the landlord came out, and received me with great civility; he untied my portmanteau with his own hands, and, throwing it on his shoulders, conducted me into a room, while one of his servants led my mule into the stable. This innkeeper, the greatest talker of the Asturias, and as ready to relate his own affairs, without being asked, as to pry into those of another, told me that his name was Andrew Corcuelo; that he had served many years in the army in quality of a serjeant, and had quitted the service fifteen months ago, to marry a damsel of Castropol, who, though she was a little swarthy, knew very well how to turn the
penny. He said a thousand other things, which I could have dispensed with the hearing of; but, after having