half-grudge, half surveillance, which, under the covert of mere mouth-honor, often surrounds great or successful abilities.

A strange motive to enmity is illustrated in the life of General Loudoun, one of the Scotch Jacobites, who, on the defeat of his party, entered the Austrian service, and rose to the rank of fieldmarshal in the wars of Maria Theresa. He had taken the town of Seidlitz from the Prussians. It was a great stroke in favor of the empress queen, and might have been rewarded with a coronet, but, in his haste to send her majesty the intelligence, Loudoun transmitted it through her husband, the Emperor Francis, who had a private interest in the matter, having long carried on a speculation of his own, in victualling not only his wife's troops, but those of her Prussian enemy. King Maria, as she was styled by her Hungarian subjects, had also some special reasons for allowing him to have neither hand nor voice in her concerns a fact which the marshal had never learned, or forgotten; and her majesty was so indignant at receiving the news through such a channel, that, though she struck a medal to commemorate the taking of Seidlitz, Loudoun was rewarded only with her peculiar aversion throughout the remaining seventeen years of her reign, for which the good wishes of that imperial speculator in forage and flour afforded but poor consolation.

Matrimony would seem to be the result of the greatest variety of motives. Goethe said he married to attain popular respectability. John Wilkes, when suing his wife, who chanced to have been an heiress, for the remains of her property, declared that he had wedded at twentytwo, solely to please his friends; and Wycherly the poet, in his very last days, worshipped and endowed with all his worldly goods, as the English service hath it, a girl whom poverty had made unscrupulous, in order to be revenged on his relations.

Princes of old were in the habit of marrying to cement treaties, which were generally broken as soon after as possible; and simple citizens are still addicted to the same method of amending their fortunes and families. There was an original motive to double blessedness set forth in the advice of a veteran English sportsman. His niece was the heiress of broad lands, which happened to adjoin an estate belonging to a younger brother of the turf; and the senior gentleman, when dilating to her on the exploits they had performed together by wood and wold, wound up with the following sage counsel :-" Maria, take my advice, and marry young Beechwood, and you'll see this county hunted in style."

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The numbers who, by their own account, have wedded to benefit society, in one shape or another, would furnish a strong argument against the accredited selfishness of mankind, could they only be believed. The general good of their country was the standing excuse of classic times, and philosophers have occasionally reproduced it in our own. Most people seem to think some apology necessary, but none are so ingenious in showing cause why they should enter the holy state, as those with whom it is the second experiment. The pleas of the widowed for casting off their weeds are generally prudent, and often singularly commendable. Domestic policy or parental affection supply the greater part of them: and the want of protectors and stepmothers felt by families of all sizes is truly marvellous, considering the usual consequences of their instal

ment.

The Russians have a story of a widow who was inconsolable for her loss, till the spirit of her departed husband appeared, with a request that she should marry without delay. But a Catholic peasant in the south of Ireland once pleaded a still higher motive for his second wedding. The bride was of a "Prodestand" family, and Pat averred that he "niver would hive put a ring on a woman's finger after his darlint Rose, if it hadn't been to save the soule of that crayther."

It is to be admired, as the speakers of old English would say, for what noble things men will give themselves credit in the way of motives, and how little resemblance their actions bear to them. Doings far more unlikely than those of the widowed peasant have, according to the actors, originated from the purest motives. Montaigne was accustomed to tell of a servant belonging to the Archbishop of Paris, who, being detected in privately selling his master's best wine, insisted that it was done out of pure love to his grace, lest the sight of so large a stock in his cellar might tempt him to drink more than was commendable for a bishop.

A guardian care of their neighbors' well being, somewhat similar, is declared by all the disturbers of our daily paths. Tale-bearers and remarkers of every variety have the best interests of their friends at heart: and what troublesome things some people can do from a sense of duty, is a matter of universal experience. Great public criminals, tyrants, and persecutors in old times, and the abusers of power in all ages, have, especially in the fall of their authority, laid claim to most exalted motives. Patriotism, philanthropy, and religion itself, have been quoted as their inspirers. The ill-famed Judge Jeffries said his judicial crimes were perpetrated to maintain the

majesty of the law. Robespierre affirmed that he had lived in defence of virtue and his country. But perhaps the most charitable interpretation that ever man gave to the motives of another, is to be found in the funeral sermon of Frederick, Prince of Wales, and father of George III. The preacher, after several judicious remarks on the virtues of the royal deceased, concludes, “That in the extreme to which these were carried, they appeared like vices; for so great was his generosity, that he ruined half the tradesmen in London; and so extraordinary his condescension, that he kept all sorts of bad company."

Divines and philosophers have had strong controversies concerning motives. Some have maintained that the ultimate end or intention was sufficient to condemn or justify any act. Others have employed their wisdom to prove that actions and their consequences were alone to be considered, without reference to end or motive; and, between these two extremes, the common sense of mankind has generally steered. A great dispute on this subject is said to have engaged the learned of Alexandria, about the accession of the emperor Julian, whom, says a biographer, "some of his subjects named the Apostate, and some the Philosopher." The controversy occupied not only the Christian Platonists, for whose numbers that city was so celebrated, but also the remnants of the Pagan wisdom, then shining its last under favor of the new emperor. Yet neither Christians nor Pagans could entirely agree with each other, and such a division of opinion had never been heard, even in Alexandria. Things were in this state, says the sage tradition, when there arrived in the capital of Egypt a Persian, whose fame had long preceded him. He had been one of the last of the Magi, dwelling at the base of Caucasus, till the Parthians laid watse his country, when he left it, and travelled over the world in search of knowledge, and, in both east and west, they called him Kosro the Wise. Scarce was the distinguished stranger fairly within their gates, when the chiefs of the controversial parties determined to hear his opinion on the matter in dispute; and a deputation, consisting of a Christian bishop, a Jewish rabbi, a Platonist teacher, and a priest of Isis, waited on the Persian one

morning, when he sat in the portico of a longdeserted temple, which some forgotten Egyptian had built to Time, the instructor. The rabbi and the priest were strong for actions. The Platonist and the bishop were entirely motive men; but in the manner of those times, for even philosophy has its fashions, the four had agreed that each should propose a question to Kosro, as his own wisdom dictated. Accordingly, after some preparatory compliments, touching the extent of his fame and travels, the Platonist, who was always notable for circumlocution, op en the business by inquiring what he considered the chief movers of mankind.

"Gain and vanity," replied Kosro.

"Which is stronger?" interposed the rabbi, in whom the faculty of beating about in argument was scarce less developed.

"Gain was the first," said the Persian. "Its worship succeeded the reign of Ormuz, which western poets call the golden age, and I know not when it was; but, in later ages, vanity has become the most powerful, for everywhere I have seen men do that for glory which they would not do for gain, and many even sacrifice gain to glory, as they think it."

"But, wise Kosro," demanded the priest, impatient with what he considered a needless digression, "tell us your opinion-Should men be judged by their motives or their actions?"

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Motives," said Kosro, are the province of divine, and actions that of human, judgment. Nevertheless, because of the relation between them, it is well to take note of the former when they become visible in our light, yet not to search too narrowly after them, but take deeds for their value; seeing, first, that the inward labyrinth is beyond our exploring; secondly, that most men act from mingled motives; and, thirdly, that if, after the thought of a western poet, there were a crystal pane set in each man's bosom, it would mightily change the estimation of many."

And the Christian bishop made answer"Kosro, thou hast seen the truth; man must at times perceive, but God alone can judge of, mo tives."

THE Conquest of Peru, by Pizarro, was one of the most powerfully exciting of that series of acts in the bloody drama which illustrated the discovery of the New World. Balboa, Cortes, Pizarro, Desoto, have almost a spectral grimness in the associations of history, and their names stand for types of all that is brilliant in enterprise. remorseless in character, and bloody in deeds. Pizarro, to whose energy the conquest of Peru and the destruction of the interesting race of the Incas is due, was one of the naturally greatest of this succession of conquerors. Of low origin, illiterate, and beset by difficulties requiring the force of the loftiest genius to overcome, he rose to the highest pinnacle of honor and wealth, and added to his native country the fame and fortune of one of the richest of her American States.

Our plate introduces to us the first and most conspicuous of the victims of his lust of power and wrath. Ataliba-or, as his name is usually spelled, Atahualpa, became the reigning prince of the Incas soon after the advent of Pizarro.

When the Spaniards first arrived at Peru in the year 1526, Huana Capec, the twelfth Inca, ruled the country. He was not only a wise ruler, but was of a warlike disposition. He had conquered the province of Quito, and lived in the capital of that country. He seems to have liked the country which he had subdued; for, notwithstanding it was the law of the empire, that the Incas should not marry any but their own relations, who were descended from the same ancestor, he had mar ried the daughter of the Prince of Quito, whom he had conquered.

He died in 1529, leaving the kingdom of Quito to his son, Atahualpa, whose mother was the princess of that kingdom, whom he had married. He left the rest of the kingdom to his eldest son, Huascar, whose mother was one of the royal race. Though the people respected the memory of Huana Capec very much, yet they thought it so wrong for him to have married any one but a princess of the Sun, that they encouraged the elder brother, Huascar, to try to take away from his brother, Atahualpa, the part of the kingdom which his father had left him. But the younger brother had at his command a large army, the most valuable soldiers in Peru; and with this

he felt so strong, that he refused to obey the orders to give up his power, which Huascar sent him, and marched with his army to attack his brother.

Thus was a civil war begun, in Peru. Atahualpa, having the best army, defeated his brother. He tried to make his title sure, by murdering all the children of the Sun, the descendants of Mango Capec, whom he could find. He had taken his brother Huascar, prisoner; but he did not take away his life, because he knew that many of the people thought he was the rightful king, and he could make Huascar give out such orders as he pleased, which the people would obey. Thus did the quarrels of these two brothers open a way for the Spaniards to overrun and subdue the whole of their rich and powerful empire, which they never could have done, had the Peruvians continued united. This war was going on, when Pizarro arrived in St. Matthew's Bay. If he had reached the country a few years earlier, when Huana Capec, their father, had been at the head of the kingdom, that prince would undoubtedly have been able, and would have been wise enough, to drive the Spaniards away.

The brothers, however, were so much engaged in their wicked quarrels, that they did not mind the arrival of the Spaniards. Pizarro soon found out the state of the country, and resolved to take advantage of the disturbed state in which he found it. The brothers even invited him to take part in their affairs. Huascar, who was a prisoner to his brother, sent to Pizarro, to beg him to come and assist him to escape from the power of Atahualpa, and recover his rightful rule. Pizarro thought this opportunity was too good to be neglected. He marched directly forward, without waiting for the arrival of more troops from Panama. He was obliged to leave some of his people at St. Michael, to take care of the new town, so that his army was very small, consisting of only sixty-two horsemen and one hundred footsoldiers. They advanced toward the town of Caxamalca, which was twelve days' march from St. Michael. Atahualpa was encamped at that place, with a considerable army. As they approached the Peruvian encampment, they were met by officers, sent out by Atahualpa, bearing