DON JUAN DE NURILLO, the father of Don Sebastian, and Don Francisco de Mena, the father of Antonia, were descended from two of the most ancient and illustrious families in Spain. They were first-cousins, and being nearly of the same age, were from their earliest infancy brought up together. After going through a preparatory course of school-discipline, they were placed at the University of Saragossa, where they made the most rapid improvement in their studies, combining the erudition of the scholar with the accomplishments which bespeak the gentleman. The fairest prospects opened to their view, when Love, that grand source, as well of our misfortunes as our happiness, involved them in an adven-

ture, which entirely reversed the scene, and darkened their horizon with big and lowering clouds.

Attending Grand Mass one day, at the convent of St. Benito, in the vicinity of Fraga, their attention was diverted from the duties of devotion to the contemplation of two novices, whose uncommon beauty and elegance of figure inspired them with the most ardent and ungovernable passion. The object of their admiration did not fail to perceive the effects wrought by their charms;—a deeper blush instantly suffused their glowing cheeks at the discovery, which added to their attractions, and completed their triumph. During the remainder of the service, our amorous swains continued to feast their ravished eyes with the delectable prospect, imbibing large and copious draughts of Love's delicious poison. Service ended, they watched with circumspect heed the departure of the Nuns, and as the two fair novices entered the convent-gate, had a fortunate opportunity of exchanging a look, which spoke more than the most expressive language is competent to convey. 'Twas, indeed, to adopt the Poet's energetic phrase:

Every other object was now lost and absorbed in the prosecution of this new pursuit. Many were the wiles and stratagems employed by our two friends, to gain access to their mistresses; but

as a detail of particulars would lead us into too wide a field of digression; and as we are not writing The History of Don Juan and Francisco, but that of their children, we shall follow the example of the great Father of Epic composition, who, instead of commencing his narrative, ab ovo, wisely, as Horace remarks: Suffice it, therefore, to observe, that after a long series of amorous siege, the two lovers succeeded in their hopes. Persevering attention, backed by opportunity, proved victorious. In an unguarded moment; whilst prudence slept, and passion usurped the reins from judgment, our panting Dulcineas, yielding to Nature's impulse, celebrated the virgin-sacrifice of Love, in the absence of Hymen.

Once solemnized, their Cytherean rites were found too delightful and ecstatic not to be frequently repeated; 'till at length consequences, such as might naturally be expected from such transactions, roused them from their delicious dream to scenes of perplexity and dismay. Here our Spanish author launches out into a wide field of pious argumentation on the virtue of chastity, and the evils which accrue from the heinous sin of concupiscence, in which (however edifying, his remarks

may be) we do not conceive it necessary to follow him on the present occasion. Passing, therefore, from moral disquisition to narrative—though the ladies were not professed, and consequently not liable, not having taken the veil, to the dreadful, punishment attendant on the violation of the monastic vow; yet had they and their gallants just cause of apprehension from the resentment of their friends, who, in the event of a discovery, would not fail to wipe out the dishonour brought upon their family by blood. To prevent such dire extremities an elopement was agreed upon, and speedily carried into execution. The necessary preparations being made for flight, the convent-walls were scaled, under the propitious auspices of the sable Goddess of Night, and the two novices, disguised in male attire, accompanied their lovers to Barcelona, where they embarked on board a vessel bound for Leghorn.

On their arrival in Italy, they were married, and soon after settled in a delightful retreat on the banks of the Arno. Here, in due process of time, the ladies were both delivered—the one of a son—the other of a daughter; (the hero and heroine of our present narrative) but though they survived the pangs of child birth, they were not doomed long to taste the joys of mother-hood.

They both of them died within a twelvemonth, leaving their husbands disconsolate for their loss.

Deprived of their beloved companions, their Tuscan retirement now became insupportable. Every scene reminded them of lost happiness; every object but too forcibly recalled past joys, the recollection of which was now painful. Our two friends resolved, therefore, to leave Italy, and return to Spain, where it was their intention to "bid adieu to the world," and embrace a life of penitence and devotion. Unwilling to expose Antonia, whose delicate frame required the nurse's tenderest care, to the perils and inconveniences of the sea, arrangements were made for leaving her in Italy. They then embarked for Carthagena, where the young Sebastian was placed under the fosterage of an uncle, named Alvarez. Having thus disposed of their children, they repaired to the city of Murcia, where they took the vows and monastic habit—Don Juan assuming the name of Dominic, and Don Francisco that of Roderic.

Here then for the present, we take our leave of Don Francisco, and Don Juan, to follow the fate and adventures of Sebastian. He had not yet completed his seventh year, when his uncle Alvarez, finding him an enterprizing and spirited lad, determined, with the consent of Sebastian's father to take his nephew with him on a voyage

of discovery. The ship was principally fitted out for the purpose of conveying missionaries to China, Ava, Siam, and other remote Eastern territories; but Alvarez combined with this part of its destination, views of a different nature, involving mercantile profit. Fate, however, had differently decreed. Alvarez had not been landed in Ava many weeks, before he was seized with a malignant fever, which in a few days carried him to his grave, leaving our hero in the most distressing situation, an orphan, in a remote foreign country, the manners and language of which were alike strange and unknown to him. Fortunately for Sebastian, he had, by his frank and cheerful disposition, ingratiated himself into the affection of a Jesuit friar, who, on the death of his uncle, took him under his own care, and instructed him in the sciences, with the express design of bringing him up for a missionary.

Under this worthy man, Sebastian improved rapidly; and in the course of four years made a wonderful proficiency, not merely in classical knowledge; but in the different languages of the East. It was not, however, the will of the Destinies, that the advantage he reaped from the friar's tuition should be permanent. Sebastian was now in his twelfth year, when Fereira (for that was our friar's name) resolved to visit the neighbouring

kingdoms of Pegu and Siam. Sebastian accompanied him on the journey; but scarcely had they entered the confines of the Siamese territory, before they were set upon by a party of the natives, who murdered Fereira on the spot, and, took our hero prisoner. To his youth alone was it owing, that Sebastian did not experience a similar catastrophe with the friar.

Our hero was sold as a slave to one of the principal men in the country; who at first employed him in a menial capacity; but soon finding him apt and intelligent, raised him to a post of superior trust, and generally carried him as his attendant, when he went to pay his court to the monarch. This Prince ranks among the most despotic sovereigns in the world. The mandarins themselves, and the highest officers of state, must always prostrate themselves, when they approach the royal presence. The same spirit of abject submission pervades the subordinate classes. Servants must always appear before their masters in a kneeling posture; and not only bear taunt and rebuke without reply; but even affect to consider stripes, kicks, and buffettings, as an honour conferred upon them. The monarch holds his court, and permanently resides in the city of Siam, from which the whole kingdom takes its name. His palace is nearly three miles in circumference, and is orna-

mented with the most costly materials. It contains among other articles of value, seven idols, each six feet in height, cast in gold of two inches thick, and richly studded with diamonds, gems, and other precious stones. The fronts of the different houses, of which it is composed, dazzle the eye with the brightness of their lustre, being gilt, painted and varnished to an indescribable refulgence. The honours paid to the monarch border almost on adoration. His will is law—nor does his authority acknowledge any controul.

It was at the court of this Prince that Sebastian formed an acquaintance with one of those Eastern Sages, known by the name of Magi, and who to this day profess the doctrines of the great Zoroaster, from whom they claim an uninterrupted lineal descent. Kherbhorzsching (the name of this Sage) was a native of Cambodia, a country but little explored by Europeans. He was thoroughly versed and initiated in all the mysteries of Oriental divination, and the sacred rites of the Fire-worship. He had traversed not only the vast continent of Asia, but every habitable part of Africa, particularly Ethiopia, and the fertile plains of Egypt, where he was introduced to the subterranean adyta of the priests. Twelve months did he watch the motions of the heavenly bodies on the summit of Caucasus, and frequently by his potent spells,

arrested the progress of the labouring moon. Nor was Europe itself unknown to his researches. He had peregrinated the several states of Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, Hungary and Poland; had peeped into the crater of Vesuvius, and joined a conclave of necromancers in the frozen climes of Lapland. In fine, he had attained to the very achme of magical science, and stood at the head of that sacred order.

The more effectually to train and instruct Sebastian, for whom Kherbhorzsching had conceived a strong paternal affection, he redeemed our hero from servitude, and not only admitted him as a companion, but adopted him as his own son. After he had duly initiated him in all the arcana of magic science, and thoroughly qualified him for the grand design he had in contemplation, he communicated to him the project he had formed for the revival of the ancient race Astrologers, in the accomplishment of which he fixed upon Sebastian for his principal instrument and co-adjutor. Sebastian readily gave into his views, and the necessary preparations were accordingly made to carry the scheme into effect.

For this purpose they travelled, joined by a large number of followers, to Ethiopia, where they still further augmented their troop, and then passed into Egypt. Here a solemn meeting or con-

clave was held, in the caverns of the largest of the Pyramids, at which Kherbhorzsching was unanimously and formally appointed the Head and Chief of the New Order, and as such, invested with the insignia of Sovereign Command. This done, it was next resolved to pass over into Spain, where they doubted not to raise a large body of adherents among the Moors. The Jews, likewise, formed an object of speculation; but, before this part of the business could be carried into execution, Kherbhorzsching died, appointing Sebastian to be his successor, which nomination was confirmed by the unanimous suffrage of the whole troop.

The original intention was to land in Granada, that province being more overrun with Moors, as well as Jews, than any other part of Spain; but contrary winds drove them to the vicinity of the Cape de Palos, where they disembarked. Aware of the rigour of the Catholic discipline, they concealed themselves in a vast forest, Sebastian undertaking the perilous adventure of reconnoitring the disposition of the inhabitants. Several volunteered to accompany him; but Sebastian peremptorily insisted on sallying forth alone, fearful, on the one hand, of exciting alarm by carrying along with him too great an attendance, and reluctant, on the other, to furnish cause for jealousy among his fol-

lowers, by giving the preference to any particular person, or number of individuals.

Sebastian had not proceeded many miles, on his reconnoittring journey, before he encountered a Jew, whom the officers of the Holy Inquisition were dragging to prison. The venerable aspect of the wretched Israelite, and the visible agony under which he laboured, excited his compassion. The unfortunate man appeared to be in the decline of life, and supplicated for his release in terms of the most piteous despondency. Sebastian strongly sympathised in his distress. Add to this, that the present seemed a favourable opportunity of promoting the peculiar and specific object of his mission. By succouring an oppressed individual, he hoped to conciliate the good will of the Jews at large. He therefore stepped forward to interrogate the officers, as to the cause of the Jew's arrest, when receiving, as might, indeed, be naturally expected, an unsatisfactory and even insolent answer, he, without further parley, drew his sword, flew on the alguazils, one of whom he instantly levelled with the ground—on which the other took to his heels, and sought safety by flight.

The Jew kneeling to his deliverer, returned thanks for his rescue ; but at the same time warned our hero of the imminent jeopardy he had incurred.

If apprehended, (and strict and immediate search would infallibly take place) his life, he apprized him, was forfeited beyond the hopes of redemption—death being the inevitable consequence of obstructing the officers of the Inquisition. He therefore entreated our hero to consult his own safety by instant flight. Sebastian felt the full weight and cogency of this advice. Giving the Jew directions, and a passport of reception to his troop, he hastily took leave of him, and striking into a different path, endeavoured to elude pursuit.

Evening was now drawing on; when Sebastian winding the brow of a hill, discovered a troop of horsemen at no great distance. Not doubting but that these were his pursuers, he quickened his pace, till he found himself in the vicinity of a large and populous town. To retreat, was impossible; to proceed, certain and inevitable destruction. In this dilemma he scaled the walls of a garden, which skirted the suburbs, and concealing himself in a pavillion, the door of which was very opportunely left open, awaited the approach of night.

He had not remained long in this condition, before the sound of a lute struck his ears, and engaged his most serious attention. Sebastian cautiously drew near the lattice, and beheld a lady of great youth and beauty, who seating herself in an

arbour near him, sang the following lines with a degree of sweetness that charmed his inmost soul, and for the moment caused him to forget the perilous situation in which he stood.

Having concluded her song, the lady arose, and was preparing to depart. The ineffable sweetness and benignity, which beamed forth in her looks, bespoke a soul, of Heaven's own likeness, and guaranteed the goodness of her heart. Sebastian

felt inspired with confidence, and determined to avail himself of so favorable an opportunity. Quitting, therefore, his concealment, he threw himself at the lady's feet, and briefly stating his case, implored her protection. The lady, as soon as she had recovered from the surprize in which such unexpected interview naturally involved her, sympathized in the misfortunes of our hero, and promised to befriend him, to the utmost of her power. She counselled him, to pass the ensuing night in the pavillion, which was appropriated for her own use, and the key of which she put into his hands. She then went into the house, from which she soon returned with some refreshments, and a few necessaries to render Sebastian's nocturnal abode in the pavillion more comfortable.

Here it will be necessary for us to revert to the former part of our narrative, in order to account for certain circumstances, which otherwise might well excite the reader's astonishment. A Spanish lady, on the banks of the Segura, in the province of Murcia, and in the suburbs of the very capital of that province, chaunting a Tuscan song, descriptive of the beautiful scenery, which graces the flowery banks of Arno, is certainly a novel case, and demands some explanation.

The reader will remember, that we took leave of the fathers of our hero and heroine, at the

time of their embracing the monastic life. Their exemplary conduct, and strict devotion soon attracted the notice of the Superiors of the convent, and paved the way to their preferment. In due process of time they passed through all the different gradations of monastic rank, and on the demise of the Head Officers of the Inquisition established at Murcia, were appointed to fill their places, Roderic being nominated the Inquisitor General, and Dominic the Corregidor of the Holy Office.

At the time this event took place, Antonia, the daughter of Roderic, whom we left in Tuscany, had attained her twentieth year. Roderic being now in circumstances, which admitted of her company, sent for her to Murcia, and lodged her in a pleasant house in the suburbs, where for the sake of obviating scandal, and to prevent curiosity, she passed for his niece. It was the wall of the very garden appertaining to this villa, which Sebastian scaled, as already recorded, and the lady, whose compassion afforded him an asylum, was no other than Antonia herself.

Two years had intervened since Antonia's arrival in Murcia, and her present rencounter with Sebastian. During that period many were the offers made her of marriage—noble and honourable the list of suitors that solicited her hand. She was fair, as the dawning of day! lovely as the

paradise of God! Her fine auburn locks waved gracefully over her arched and open forehead; or descended in wanton ringlets down her pearly neck, and sported on her shoulders. Her bright sparkling eyes resembled a clear expanse of water, on which the glorious sun casts his refulgent beam! Like Heaven's own lightning, they penetrated to the beholder's heart! but, like lightning, their effulgence was insufferable, and pained the aching sense! Her nose was aquiline, and gave a commanding air to her appearance. The blush of her cheeks outvied the damask rose! and in their dimples lurked a thousand Cupids in ambush to ensnare the palpitating heart! Her mellifluous mouth was a garden of sweets! the honey-combs of Hybla--the perfumes of Arabia were there assembled and concentrated! Her coral lips swelled, as it were, to meet the ecstatic kiss, which their pruriency provoked! Her teeth surpassed in whiteness the driven snow and for regularity might be compared, in the language of Solomon, to a flock of sheep, that are even-shorn! Her neck, at once lovely and majestic, with swan-like curve, might serve as a model for the consort of imperial Jove! Her breasts were like the clusters of Engedi!—firm and elastic to the touch! gently heaving to the motion of the pulse! downy pillows, on which Love would wish to lie entranced to all eternity!
Her figure corresponded in every respect with the transcendent charms of her face! She was alike distinguished for symmetry, and elegance! To sum up, the aggregate of her perfections, we may say of her, in the words of the Poet: Such was Antonia—such the person for whose fair hand a thousand suitors contended; but contended in vain! Was it, that Antonia, the fair Antonia, was insensible to love? Was it, that with a form calculated to kindle the flame of fierce desire in the bosom of every male beholder, she herself was incapable of participating in the passion which herself inspired? Far, from it. Her
feelings were equally delicate and refined, as her person. To what cause then, continues our Spanish Historian—are we to attribute this seeming indifference and insensibility, on the part of Antonia? Doubtless, marriages are decreed, and registered in Heaven! The proper hour had not yet struck—the proper object not yet presented himself to her view.

Leave we, however, our author to pursue his moral reflections—and let us return to Sebastian. The reader will easily conceive that his situation was not the most enviable, and that he had sufficient cause of uneasiness to disturb his slumbers, and break in on his repose. Yet, amidst all his difficulties, he derived no small share of consolation, from the recollection of the lively sympathy and interest which the fair Antonia evidently took in his fate. Early habituated to a life of adventure and vicissitude, he had learnt to bear the reverses of fortune with stoic apathy; and, though not insensible of the imminent jeopardy in which he stood, yet was he not wholly cast down, and discomfited. Hence, after ruminating for some time on his forlorn condition, he resolved to bear with fortitude, what it was not in his power to alter, and the fatigues he had undergone, in the course of the day, contributing to second the calls

of Nature, he fell in a few hours into profound sleep.

From this state of mental abstraction, he was, aroused by the greetings of the fair Antonia, who rising with the lark (for her slumbers, likewise had been greatly broken-in upon and invaded, by busy and restless thought) sallied into the garden, and approaching the pavilion, gave the signal for Sebastian to make his appearance, by singing the following Lines, accompanied by her lute

Sebastian readily obeyed the welcome summons, and opening the door of the pavillion, had the pleasure of passing an hour in close tête â tête with the fair Antonia. Many were the plans they successively devised and rejected for securing Sebastian's safety and escape; at length it was agreed, that Antonia should furnish him with female attire, and under that disguise, shelter him in the house, till the officers of the Inquisition, finding their search fruitless, should be induced to discontinue their pursuit, from which, it was hoped, they would the sooner desist, as the officer supposed to have been killed, turned out to be only wounded, and was pronounced by the physicians to be within the reach of recovery.

This scheme was accordingly carried into immediate execution; but unfortunately the very means adopted to conceal our hero, proved the efficient cause of his detection. Don Roderic, notwithstanding the ostensible austerity of his manners, and his apparent sanctity, was still at heart a rake, and had sufficient of the old leaven in his composition, to lead him astray into the paths of sly and hidden licentiousness. The very day, that

Antonia introduced Sebastian into the house, Don Roderic happened to indulge rather to freely in the good things of this world—in plain language, he had partaken of savoury viands, and delicious wines, till they had an effect, not altogether spiritual, on his bodily system, and excited that species of insurrection in the flesh, which St. Paul metaphorically designates by the scriptural phrase of a "war in the members." In this condition, his pulse beating high, and his blood running riot, he happened, to stumble on Sebastian, who, as we have already observed, was equipped in female attire, and was sitting in Antonia's bedroom. The love of novelty and variety forms a leading feature in the character of libertines. Hence Don Roderic no sooner perceived a new face, than he felt his passion inflamed to a double pitch of violence. The demon of desire instantly seized upon his reverence—place and opportunity both conspired to abet his libidinous inclinations—Without further ceremony, therefore, Don Roderic attacked Sebastian, and was proceeding to extremities, when a blow from our hero felled him to the ground. This salutation was followed by other symptoms, which sufficiently discovered Sebastian's actual sex, and compelled Don Roderic to a precipitate retreat.

The alarm was now given, and the ambiguous

chamber-maid taken into custody. The circumstance of a man lurking in the house, under the disguise of a female, was of itself, sufficient to attract the notice of the Holy Office. Sebastian was accordingly, without further examination cast into a damp and frightful dungeon, where he was left to ruminate, at leisure, on his wretched fate.

On his being brought before the Inquisition for examination, he was immediately recognized for the person who had attacked the officers, and rescued the Jew. Things seemed now to be in a bad train with him. No hopes, no chance remained of escaping the punishment attendant on so flagrant an outrage—under these circumstances his death appeared inevitable.

He was accordingly remanded back to prison, till the Head Inquisitor, and the Corregidor, who were better employed in feasting and regaling the inner-man, should be at leisure to attend the examination and enquire into the particulars of his case.

We shall not attempt to describe the emotions of the fair Antonia, on receiving the intelligence of Sebastian's arrest. For such a task, language is much too feeble and imperfect. Gravely to tell the reader, that the sentiments she entertained for Sebastian were not merely the effect of sympathy and commiseration, that they partook of a warmer

passion, would be an insult to his understanding. Unconscious even to herself, Antonia harboured the lurking passion of love; the wanton God had taken a just aim, and shot his shaft to her very heart—Yet still, so guileless and innocent was the fair nymph, she scarcely knew herself the nature of those feelings which agitated her bosom, till the news of Sebastian's apprehension aroused her to a true sense of the actual state of her heart.

The following day, Sebastian was brought up to undergo a formal examination. The Head Inquisitor and the Corregidor, dressed in their robes of office, presided on this solemn occasion. There was no occasion to consume much time in receiving the deposition of witnesses. Our hero's identity was soon proved, nor did he attempt to deny or render doubtful the fact, on which he stood arraigned.

His fate, therefore, was considered as already determined. All that remained; previous to passing the irrevocable sentence, was to interrogate him, as to his past course of life. Sebastian was not one of those head-strong, contumacious characters, who, when they see themselves cut off from all hope of escaping the vengeance of the law, refuse, in sullen mood, to give an answer to any just question, that may be propounded by the judge. On the contrary, he maintained throughout the

whole of this trying scene, a courteous and dignified demeanour. Death he had long learnt to look in the face, without dismay; and he felt no spark of resentment against those, who in their judicial capacity, were only discharging their duty.

When questioned, therefore, relative to his past life, he cheerfully replied with frankness and without reserve. Of his infant years, he observed, he recollected but little. His parents, he did not remember—all he knew, was, that at an early age, he was placed under the care of an uncle, named Alvarez—that he accompanied this relative and foster-parent to Ava, where he had the misfortune to lose him shortly after their arrival.

At the name of Alvarez; but still more so, at the mention of Ava—both the Head Inquisitor and the Corregidor eyed Sebastian with a look of the most eager and fixed attention. The latter, in particular, appeared most strangely agitated. His voice faltered; his respiration hung suspended, and scarcely could he muster strength to ask the prisoner a few incoherent questions when suddenly rising from his seat, he rushed towards Sebastian, and fondly clasping him in his arms: "He is my son!—my son!—my long-lost son!—my dear Sebastian!"——he exclaimed in a paroxysm of joy and perturbation.

Here we shall copy the example of Timanthes,

and, despairing of doing justice to the feelings of parental and filial love, draw a veil over the affecting scene, which followed this recognition. The examination was, of course closed, and the prisoner conducted by his newly discovered father, not to the dungeons of the Inquisition; but to an apartment in his own house, whither Don Roderic accompanied him. The pleasing intelligence soon reached the ears of the agonized Antonia, who quickly joined them at the Corregidor's.

Yet, though the Corregidor , in the person of the prisoner, had discovered his own son, and though the Head Inquisitor was not only his intimate friend; but himself related to Sebastian , it was not in their power to remit the sentence against our hero, without a previous pardon from the Holy See. That all possible interest was made to obtain this necessary step, the reader will naturally conclude. Nor were their applications ineffectual. As no actual murder had been committed (the officer's wounds not proving mortal, as was first apprehended) the Pope, to whom a circumstantial representation of the whole case was made, granted a full pardon to Sebastian , on condition, that he should renounce his Pagan tenets, make a public and formal recantation of his errors, and re-enter the pale of the Mother-Church. To

these conditions, Sebastian readily acceded; only stipulating for a free passport for his followers, to return unmolested to Ethiopia, which was granted. Sebastian , thereupon made a public confession of the Christian faith, and was shortly after married to the fair Antonia . The rich felicity he experienced from this union, infinitely outweighed all the visionary schemes of happiness, which he had flattered himself to obtain by the accomplishment of his ambitious projects.