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THE BRIGAND AND THE NUN. gentleman. But alas! he was poor, and

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LOVELY as was that of Eden is the sky that bends over the terraces of Naples, arches the rocky castle of St. Elmo, and lends its magic colouring to the romantic bay. Beneath its sunny influence fair flowers and fairer women spring to early maturity, and passionate hearts glow with its pervading warmth; but stern as well as gentle passions are nurtured by its sun, and love, hate, revenge and cruelty grow in unison together.

Gasparoni was a gay and passionate Neapolitan; young, brave and ardent, and at sixteen years of age he had the form and feelings of a man. Passion shone in the eyes that gleamed beneath their black brows; daring and resolution might be read in the lines prematurely traced in the lower portion of his face. He was not without accomplishments, for he could troll a barcarole and touch a guitar, danced with grace and spirit, and handled a stiletto and reined a steed in a manner which proclaimed him a VOL. I. (5.)

on his bearing alone rested his claims to a noble origin, for he was the offspring of a love on which the priest had never breathed his benison, and he knew neither his father nor his mother. At stated times he received small sums of money, but they were conveyed to him with such precaution that he could not discover the person who sent him his slender remittances. None of the youth of Naples dared reproach him with his birth, for they knew the blood of Gasparoni to be fiery as the lava of Vesuvius, and his hand as prompt to crush as to caress. It was in his seventeenth year that the young Neapolitan saw and loved the beautiful Leonora, the only daughter of a rich old merchant of the city. loved her with all the fervour of which his passionate heart was capable, and had the happiness of being loved in return. The lovers met only by stealth, for Leonora's father had conceived a violent dislike to Gasparoni from his poverty and from the guilt of his unknown parents. But Leonora's kindness compensated her lover for every rebuff,

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and when, awakened by his nightly serenades, she bent from her window and dropped some flowers as a token of her presence and her love, he felt that he lived for her alone.

One night when Gasparoni repaired as usual to the dwelling of his beloved, he suddenly encountered her enraged father, who, in tones of the wildest excitement, bade him begone. Gasparoni replied with equal warmth; a war of words ensued, and, in the height and frenzy of passion, the young man struck his opponent to the earth. An instant after, the lovely Leonora, pale and with disordered tresses, rushed from the house.

"You have slain him !" she cried.

""Tis true!" answered Gasparoni, still gaspingwith passion; "he was insolent, and I have chastised him."

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"Begone!" exclaimed the excited girl. Monster, begone! The hand that has been raised against my father's person shall never clasp mine in love, amity, or marriage !"

"Leonora, hear me !"
"I swear it. Begone !"

"You will think better of this!"
"Never!"

With a glance of scorn and indignation, she waved him off. Gasparoni stood one moment looking at her with a demoniac expression; then he bowed low with mock respect and gravity, and quitted the scene of his quarrel with a hasty step.

CHAPTER II.

Daylight is dying along the stern heights of the Abruzzi. Surrounded by impending crags, and clustering in disarray, a bandit group are carousing noisily together, and toasting the depart ing god of day in overflowing cups of fiery wine. A portion of the wild company sit in the dark shadow of the rocks, while others bask in the last rosy hues of sunset. Among the latter is one distinguished by his lofty air and stature from the rest, and wearing a somewhat richer garb than his companions. His conical hat is decked with gay ribands, his green velvet jacket is studded with gold buttons, and his lower garments are seamed with the richest lace. An ornamented carbine was slung by a band of snowy leather at his back, and a pair of richly mounted pistols glittered in his girdle. Neither was he without the Italian's bosom friend, a broad stiletto,

which reposed in a silver sheath, with its ivory handle protruding from the robber's sash. But all this richness of attire contrasted strangely with the worn, haggard, stern and vicious expression of the bandit. It was Gasparoni-now twenty years of age.

"To the health of our captain !" said one of the robbers, raising a cup to his lips. "Ah!" added he, after swallowing its contents, "your wine of Sicily tastes none the worse for mantling in a sacramental chalice. Commend me to our captain, for teaching us the true use of the church. Until he came among us we were a poor set of superstitious devils, who couldn't cut a throat without making a vow to the Virgin-but he has changed all that."

Gasparoni smiled bitterly. "And now, noble captain," ," said the spokesman of the gang, "I humbly beg you'll tell us what is passing in your scheming brain. I know by the knitting of your eyebrows that you are revolving some mighty project."

"Right, Anselmo," said the bandit leader, rising. "But hist! what noise is that?"

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"The vesper bell," answered Anselmo. "Your predecessor, now, would have had us down upon our knees in a trice." Ay, the vesper bell," repeated Gasparoni, in a melancholy tone. "Methinks it steals very softly on the ear, calling the erring to penitence and prayer. It is very music to a weary soul."

"Our captain's turned preacher," said a robber.

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"Hear the end of my sermon," plied Gasparoni, with one of his ambiguous smiles. "It were a good deed, methinks, to free yon pining beauties from their thraldom. Report says that the nuns are lively, ripe, and tempting; and some of them belong to noble families. The lady abbess was a countess when she was of the world; she shall wear her coronet and title again; such charms were never meant to wither in a convent. What say you, comrades, shall we liberate the nuns ?"

A deafening roar of applause replied in the affirmative. By midnight the band were on their march, and ere long halted before the asylum doomed so soon to be roused by a rude alarm. Imposing silence by a gesture, Gasparoni approached the gate of the convent and rapped upon the wicket with the hilt of his stiletto. After waiting for a brief

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Away, rude man !" cried the nun. "Nay, you will force me to be rude unless you give me admittance," said the brigand, in his natural tone. "Here are thirty stout fellows to whom sacrilege is pastime, and who know how to relieve the unfortunate of vows it is troublesome to keep. I have obeyed the scriptural injunction, do ye verify the words-knock, and it shall be opened.' You see I am not altogether so graceless as you believe me."

But the latter part of his address was breathed to empty air, for the frightened nun had fled to the interior of the building to alarm the abbess and the sisterhood.

"To the gate, brigands, with your bludgeons !"' shouted Gasparoni. His order was obeyed-beneath heavy and repeated blows the wicket gave way. Anselmo would have entered first. "Way for your captain!" sternly shouted Gasparoni. Dispute my precedence and die!" The appalled robber stepped back hastily, and Gasparoni was the first to step within the hallowed precincts.

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Several doors in the body of the building were successively forced, and the armed heels of the brigands rang along the stone-paved corridors, as, headed by their captain, they strode onward to their crime. The nuns had assembled in the chapel and were now cowering within the precincts of the altar. The lady abbess alone was self-possessed and dignified. She was a woman of middle age, of a lofty stature, and possessing some claims to the epithet of beautiful, though her countenance was somewhat worn and furrowed.

Commanding his band to halt on the threshold of the chapel, Gasparoni doffed his hat, walked with a firm step up the central aisle, and halted at the railing of the altar, on the lowest step of which the abbess stood. There was something in her bearing that awed even the lawless brigand. Sensible of the feeling she inspired, and determined to profit by it, the lady addressed the intruder.

"Ay, pause," she said, "well may

you, for you are in the house of God, and I shall pronounce His curse, which now hangs suspended over you, if you do not instantly retire, nor farther molest those devoted to His service."

"Dear lady, I came to do you a service," answered Gasparoni, recovering his bitterness and self-possession. ""Tis really a pity such a bevy of beauties should die in a convent. I cannot answer for you, madam, for you are past the hey-day of your youth; but for these sweet girls, I believe they're ready to quit your roof without compulsion." "Hear him!" cried the abbess, lifting up her hands in holy horror. "Hear the unhallowed infidel." She gave a private signal, which was understood and answered as she wished. The notes of the organ suddenly broke upon the midnight air, the echoes rolled along the vaulted roof, and died away like distant thunder. Then rose the sweet, wailing voices of the nuns, clustering around their altar, and chanting to their Maker -Sanctum et terribile nomen ejus, Initium sapientiæ timor domini. Then the voices ceased and all was mute. Perhaps even the brigand chief would have fled the holy spot, appalled and chilled, had he not seen among the shrinking nuns, a lovely, a well-known face - it was Leonora's. He sprang over the fretted barrier, and seized his victim. She shrieked with pious horror as his burning lips pressed those she had vowed to purity and prayer.

"Each to his nun!" shouted Gasparoni, lifting the fainting girl from her feet-"and let those who are covetous bear off the crucifix and plate. Away! before the morning comes to tell the tale."

His orders were obeyed with all the promptness of inclination. Some tore the loveliest nuns from the pillars to which they clung convulsively, while others seized the gold and silver vessels of the chapel. One gigantic robber wrenched the golden cross from its pedestal, and bore it off in triumph. Long before the daylight dawned, the sacrilegious band had secured its retreat; still breaking the solemn silence of the early hour, the mighty bell of the convent was heard tolling forth a dolorous alarm.

CHAPTER III.

As the weary robbers reached their mountain fastness, the clear rays of

broad daylight bathed the heights of the Abruzzi. Fatigued with toil they flung themselves upon the ground to sleep, regardless of their victims, who, halfdead with terror, awaited the conclusion of their unfortunate adventure. The captain, alone, refused to sleep, but, seated on an isolated crag, watched over the inanimate form of Leonora. At length sensation revisited the wretched girl. She arose from her recumbent posture, opened her eyes, and then closed them again with a heavy sigh.

"Where am I?" she murmured, faintly.

"In the arms of a lover," answered Gasparoni.

most frantic girl. "There is yet time for retreat."

"Quick! quick! for the love of heaven, gentlemen!" shrieked the nun. "Too late!" repeated Gasparoni. "Away!" And he succeeded in forcing her from the rock to which she clung.

"A hundred ducats to the man who puts a ball through the heart of Gasparoni!" cried a dismounted colonel of dragoons, rushing up the rocky steep. A carbineer sprang upon a rock, levelled his piece, and fired. Santa Maria! the bullet pierced the heart of Leonora, and mortally wounded the brigand chieftain. No sooner had the wretched girl sunk at his feet, than the robber uttered a deep

"I am the bride of heaven!" shrieked groan. For an instant he seemed crushed, the horror-stricken nun.

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'Gasparoni, I abhor you! Sooner than submit to your sacrilegious embraces, I will dash this frail person from the eminence on which I stand, and roll a mangled corse, before your eyes, to the foot of the mountain. Sooner-"

More she would have said, bnt from their very feet there broke the wail of a solitary trumpet. In a moment the crags were bristling with bayonets, and emerging from concealment the arms of cuirassiers and light infantry glistened in the rising sun.

"Saved! saved!" cried Leonora ; "saved from worse than death. The bell has been heard-our prayers have been heard-and the Lord hath saved his servants!"

"Too late they come!" cried the robber, struggling to bear away the al

and then all his energy returned. Though the blood was pouring freely from his wound, he cocked his gun, aimed at the unlucky carbineer, and fired. The soldier sprang into the air, and fell headlong from the precipice, on the verge of which he had been standing.

The fight was over. The brigands were all slain, captured, or put to flight. On one side of Leonora's body kneeled the lady abbess, on the other Gasparoni, drawing his breath with difficulty, and momentarily expecting to breathe his last.

"Requiescat in pace!" cried the abbess. "She was the lawful daughter of the man to whom I surrendered my honour in my early days. Her mother wiled away my betrayer from me, therefore I had a natural right to hate her; but I loved her-I loved Leonora Carriale as if she had been my child."

Here the dying brigand groaned heavily. "Open his vest," said the abbess, compassionating even the fallen sinner. "Give him air, it may revive him."

Some of the soldiers bared the breast of the robber, from which the life-blood was fast flowing.

"Mother of God, what do I see!" cried the abbess. "That cross indelibly imprinted in the flesh, that in after years I might recognize the child of my shame. My son! my son! from what horror has not this death freed you. She whom you pursued with your fatal loveLeonora-was your sister."

The dying man bowed his head upon his breast. "Sister! mother!" were the words he feebly uttered. They were his last. Gasparoni, the brigand, has gone to his account.

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COUSINS.

DEAR reader, hast thou ever a fair cousin numbering about eighteen summers with light blue eyes, clustering ringlets of a bright golden brown-a face so sunny that it seemeth never to have known sorrow an arch smile lurking near the corners of one of the prettiest mouths in the world-and lips, so full, ruddy, and pouting, that they seem to say, come, kiss me"-together with a voice of that clear peculiar richness which windeth itself into the heart and nestleth there as if it were its appropriate resting-place? If thou hast such an one, take the advice of a friend, and shun her. Is her figure lightly and beautifully formed? has she a springy tread as if half walking, half floating? is her laugh musical? doth she discourse sweetly? doth she call thee "cousin" in a low confiding tone? If so, I pray thee avoid her-fly from her-lock thy door when she approacheth; and if she entereth thy apartment when thou art sitting alone of an evening, put out the lamp, that darkness may be between thee and her then button up thy coat and heart and depart quickly. If thou beholdest her afar off in thy summer rambles in the shadowy grove, or by the margin of the bright river, return thou hastily as one who fleeth from an enemy that seeketh his life. If thou meetest her unawares, pull thy hat over thy brow and pass on; and, remember, see that thou salute her not by the way, or evil will come of it; for, 'twere less dangerous to thee to gaze upon the head of the Medusa than bestow a single glance upon the laughing features of a cousin of eighteen. Treasure these precepts in thy heart, so shalt thou be safe in the midst of temptation; but if thou abatest one jot in thy vigilance, thou wilt ere many days become as one who putteth on sackcloth and ashes for a grievous penance, and walketh through the city of many men crying aloud, wo! wo! wo! Therefore, guard thyself for the contest, and if she dwelleth in the house of thy father, depart thou from it, and though they send to thee and say, "what is this that thou hast done! Verily, it is a foolish thing; return, for we lack thy presence at the board"yet go thou not back; and if thou visitest the house of a friend, and thy cousin happeneth to be in and is seated

beside thee, do thou throw thy handkerchief over thy head and sleep, or pretend to sleep; and if thou pretendest to snore, it were perhaps better, though it were doubtful if thou couldst deceive her, for cousins are very artful; and if she essay to lift the corner of thy handkerchief and look upon thee with her eyes, do thou resist stoutly, for it is doing battle in a good cause-yet take heed in thy struggle that thou openest not thine eye, or evil may come upon thee; better let the guileful one take from thee thy handkerchief without resistance than that thine eyes should be opened; and if she faint at any time when thou art near, do thou hasten and call another, in order that all needful assistance may be rendered, but beware that thou goest not thyself, for it may come to pass that it was but a feint to draw thee beside her, for cousins are exceedingly artful; and if thy cousin singest exquisite songs at any time, do thou keep time with thy feet, and see that thou do it loudly, that the noise of the stamping may exceed threefold the noise of the singing; and should thy father at any time call unto thee and say, "Lo! thy cousin hath not any one who shall conduct her whither she would go, therefore do thou array thee and depart with her, that she may not be rudely treated by the way; if thy father speak thus unto thee, refuse not, but do his bidding, for a son may not refuse his father: but when ye are arrived in the open street be thou as an adder that heareth not, even as an adder that is deaf-though thy cousin's voice be as musical as the pipe of the charmer, yet be not thou charmed, "charm she never so wisely;" take heed that thou doth this lest thy cousin cozen thee; and if a rude man should push against her as ye walk together in the street, even in the street of the city of many men, and thy cousin fall, do not thou smite the man, but bid him raise her, and if he sayeth nay, and passeth on, do thou ask the next wayfarer; but be sure that thou raise her not thyself, lest thine eyes meet hers, for it may be that she fell hoping to rise in thy esteem even as he of the Horatii retreated to conquer-for cousins are exceedingly artful; and when ye have arrived at the place wherein thy cousin is fain to enter, do thou ring and retire quickly lest that the good man of the house should call to thee and say, Tarry thou with us for a while;' for, should he speak the

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