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too smooth, sneaking, and safe a cast. They neither bespeak one's sympathy by necessity, nor one's admiration by daring. We except, of course, the robbers before mentioned, who are a picturesque patch in the work, like a piece of rough poetry.

Of the illustrious Guzman d'Alfarache, the most popular book of the kind, we believe, in Spain, and admired, we know, in this country by some excellent judges, we cannot with propriety speak, for we have only read a few pages at the beginning; though we read those twice over, at two different times, and each time with the same intention of going on. In truth, as Guzman is called by way of eminence the Spanish Rogue, we must say for him, as far as our slight acquaintance warrants it, that he is

tedious as a king.” They say, however, he has excellent stuff in him.

We can speak as little of Marcos de Obregon, of which a translation appeared a little while ago. We have read it, and, if we remember rightly, were pleased ; but want of memory on these occasions is not a good symptom. Quevedo, no ordinary person, is very amusing. His “Visions of Hell,” in particular, though of a very different kind from Dante's, are more edifying. But our business at present is with his “ History of Paul the Spanish Sharper, the Pattern of Rogues and Mirror of Vagabonds.” We do not know that he deserves these appellations so much as some others ; but they are to be looked upon as titular ornaments, common to the Spanish Kleptocracy. Heis extremely pleasant, especially in his younger days. His mother, who is no better than the progenitor of such a personage ought to be, happens to have the misfortune one day of being carted. Paul, who was then school-boy, was elected king on some boyish holiday; and riding out upon a half-starved horse, it picked up a small cabbage as they went through the market. The market-women began pelting the king with rotten oranges and turnip-tops ; upon which, having feathers in his cap, and getting a notion in his head that they mistook him for his mother, who, agreeably to a Spanish custom, was tricked out in the same manner when she was carted, he hallooed out, “Good women, though I wear feathers in my cap, I am none of Alonza Saturno de Rebillo. She is my mother.”

Paul used to be set upon unlucky tricks by the son of a man of rank, who preferred enjoying a joke to getting punished for it. Among others, one Christmas, a counsellor happening to go by of the name of Pontio de Auguirre, the little Don told his companion to call Pontius Pilate, and then to run away. He did so, and the angry counsellor followed after him with a knife in his hand, so that he was forced to take refuge in the house of the schoolmaster. The lawyer laid his indictment, and Paul got a hearty flogging, during which he was enjoined never to call Pontius Pilate again; to which he heartily agreed. The consequence was, that next day, when the boys were at prayers, Paul, coming to the belief, and thinking that he was never again to name Pontius Pilate, gravely said,“ Suffered under Pontio de Auguirre ;” which evidence of his horror of the scourge so interested the pedagogue, that by a Catholic mode of dispensation, he absolved him from the next two whippings he should incur.

But we forget that our little picaro was a thief. One specimen of his talents this way, and we have done with the Spaniards. He went with young Don Diego to the university; and here getting applause for some tricks he played people, and dandling, as it were, his growing propensity to theft, he invited his companions one evening to see him steal a box of comfits from a confectioner's. He accordingly draws his rapier, which was stiff and well-pointed; runs violently into the shop ; and exclaiming, “You ’re a dead man !” makes a fierce lunge at the confectioner between the body and arm. Down drops the man, half dead with fear : the others rush out. But what of the box of comfits ? “Where is the box of comfits, Paul ?” said the rogues :

" we do not see what you have done after all, except frighten the fellow.” “Look here, my boys !” answered Paul. They looked, and at the end of his rapier beheld, with shouts of laughter, the vanquished

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box. He had marked it out on the shelf, and, under pretence of lounging at the confectioner, pinked it away like a muffin.

Upon turning to Quevedo, we find that the story has grown a little upon our memory, as to detail ; but this is the spirit of it. The prize here, it is to be observed, is something eatable; and the same yearning is a predominant property of Quevedo's sharpers, as well as the others.

Adieu, ye pleasant rogues of Spain ! ye surmounters of bad government, hunger, and misery, by the mere force of a light climate and fingers! The dinner calls ;-and to talk about you before it, is as good as taking a ride on horseback.


We must return a moment to the Italian thieves, to relate a couple of stories related of Ariosto and Tasso, The former was for a short period governor of Grafagnana, a disturbed district in the Apennines, which his prudent and gentle policy brought back from its disaffection. Among its other troubles were numerous bands of robbers, two of the names of whose leaders, Domenico Maroco, and Filippo Pacchione, have come down to posterity. Ariosto, during the first days of his government, was riding out with a small retinue, when he had to pass through a number of suspicious-looking armed men. The two parties had scarcely cleared each other, when the chief of the strangers asked a servant, who happened to be at some distance behind the others, who that person was. the captain of the citadel here," said the man, " Lodovico Ariosto.” The stranger no sooner heard the name, than he went running back to overtake the governor, who, stopping his horse, waited with some anxiety for the event.


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pardon, sir,” said he, “but I was not aware that so great a per. son as the Signor Lodovico Ariosto was passing near me. My name is Filippo Pacchione ; and when I knew who it was, I could not go on without returning to pay the respect due to so illustrious a name.”

A doubt is thrown on this story, or rather on the particular person who gave occasion to it, by the similarity of an adventure related of Tasso. Both of them, however, are very probable, let the similarity be what it may : for both the poets had occasion to go through disturbed districts; robbers abounded in both their times; and the leaders, being most probably men rather of desperate fortunes than want of knowledge, were likely enough to seize such opportunities of vindicating their better habits, and showing a romantic politeness. The enthusiasm, too, is quite in keeping with the national character ; and it is to be observed that the particulars of Tasso's adventure are different, though the spirit of it is the same. He was journeying, it is said, in company with others, for better security against the banditti who infested the borders of the Papal territory, wher. they were told that Sciarra, a famous robber, was at hand in considerable force. Tasso was for pushing on, and defending themselves if attacked; but his opinion was overruled ; and the company threw themselves for safety into the city of Mola. Here Sciarra kept them in a manner blocked up; but hearing that Tasso was among the travellers, he sent him word that he should not only be allowed to pass, but should have safe conduct whithersoever he pleased. The lofty poet, making it a matter of delicacy, perhaps, to waive an advantage of which his company could not partake, declined the offer ; upon which Sciarra sent another message, saying, that, upon the sole account of Tasso, the ways should be left open. And they

were so.

We can call to mind no particular German thieves, except those who figure in romances, and in “ The Robbers” of Schiller, To say the truth, we are writing just now with but few books to refer to ; and the better-informed reader must pardon any deficiencies he meets with in these cgregious and furtive memorandums. Of“ The Robbers” of Schiller, an extraordinary effect is related. It is said to have driven a number of wild-headed young Germans upon playing at banditti, not in the bounds of a school or university, but seriously in a forest. The matter-offact spirit in which a German sets about being enthusiastic, is a metaphysical curiosity which modern events render doubly interesting. It is extremely worthy of the attention of those rare personages, entitled reflecting politicians. But we must take care again. It is very inhuman of these politics, that the habit of attending to them, though with the greatest good-will and sincerity, will always be driving a man upon thinking how his fellow-creatures are going on.

There is a pleasant, well-known story of a Prussian thief and Frederick II. [The mention, by the way, of these two personages together, puts us in mind of the Scottish answer to travellers about a mile and a bittock,--the said bittock, or little bit, being perhaps three or four miles in addition.

Reader. There, Mr Indicator, you get upon politics again.
Indicator. What, sir! upon modern politics ?
Reader. I think so.

Indicator. But I cannot help it, you know, if past history applies to present events; or at least, if your wicked imagination makes it apply.

Reader. Oh, ho! you have me there.
Indicator. I trust you have me everywhere.]

We forget what was the precise valuable found upon the Prussian soldier, and missed from an image of the Virgin Mary ; but we believe it was a ring. He was tried for sacrilege, and the case appeared clear against him, when he puzzled his Catholic judges by informing them that the fact was, the Virgin Mary had given him that ring. Here was a terrible dilemma. To dispute the possibility, or even probability, of a gift from the Virgin Mary, was to deny their religion ; while, on the other


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