"And as a betrothed bride," rejoined Lozinsky.

Rebecca folded her hands upon her bosom, and sighed deeply. The deadly venom which she had been draining by drops, was now poured full upon her heart, and chilled it almost to death.

"Rebecca!" exclaimed Lozinsky, "what ails you? You tremble."

"I feel cold," she replied; and in spite of her, tears fell from her eyes. "The evening air is sharp."

"Shall we return to the house, dear? I could never forgive myself," he added, "were you to expose yourself to any risk on my account."

"And yet," thought Rebecca," it is on thy account I feel this anguish !" Lozinsky threw his arm round her waist to support her, and quickened his pace, the sooner to reach the house. On the threshhold, Rebecca thanked him, and bursting into a flood of tears, hastened to her room.— Weeping aloud, she sank on a chair. Now, she knew that she loved him! That she loved one with whom, on account of his rank, his religion, and his sacred engagement to another, she could never be united. During the following days, Lozinsky's mind was too much occupied with its own cares and thoughts, to perceive the change that had taken place in Rebecca's deportment. Not so was it with her. Quickly she noted the gloom on Lozinsky's brow-a gloom that banished all his wonted cheerfulness, and imparted to his features a character of mingled sternness and melancholy. One morning, as she stood opposite to him, watching how his whole soul seemed to be brooding over some secret grief, she at length broke silence. "You are not well, Captain,"-her voice faltered-"The chill breeze of the other evening-I daresay, your wound is painful again?"

"No, indeed, Rebecca," he replied, extending to her the hand on which he had been supporting his head. "No-were such the case, you would, perhaps, see me in better spirits; but, my arm is now strong enough, to check the most fiery steed; my head, in a condition to support the weighty cap; yet, am I indolently and supinely remaining here, far in the rear of that army which is daily advancing from glory to glory,from victory to victory. What will my comrades think of me?"

"had

"Had you been slain at Novogrodec," said Rebecca, with a sigh; you been gathered in the funeral piles of the innumerable dead that perished there without a name, who would now be cherishing any remembrance of you? The gazette, in which your name might have been mentioned, would be long since cast aside, to make room for other accounts of new battles and new victories. You woud be sunk into oblivion, amid the thousands who perished after you. One, indeed, would probably never forget to weep for him that was slain; but that one-could you wish to prepare for her so lasting an affliction ?"'

"Do you, then, suppose," replied Lozinsky," that Malvina would not rather mourn me dead, than welcome me living-a recreant, void of honour, and branded with public infamy as a coward? Put the case to yourself, Rebecca. Were you loving me, as Malvina does, would not these be your feelings?"

Tears gushed from Rebecca's eyes as she exclaimed, "I should not be able to survive either the one or the other."

"Dear, amiable girl !" said Lozinsky, throwing his arm around her, while his eye sparkled with delight; "why must such a gem lie concealed here in Wileica, to be possessed, perhaps, by one unable to appreciate or deserve so rare a treasure?"

"Let us not dwell on this theme, sir," said she, gently extricating herself from his arm. "To repine at the lot which Providence has assigned us, is the first step towards being unceasingly wretched. Your protracted stay here, then," she continued, wishing to turn the conversation, "is the source of your discontent. Your protracted stay in the house of Isaac the Israelite," she added with a blush, seems to you inconsistent with your principles of

honour."

"You misunderstand me, Rebecca," interrupted Lozinsky, with a slight confusion of manner-"You misunderstand me-my staying any longer at Wileica, is inconsistent with my duty. Had my letters to Warsaw been answered; had I received the remittances I looked for, I should, ere now, have been on my way to join the regiment. But the Cossacks that are hovering on the frontiers, have probably interrupted both letters and remit tances; and without money and horses, how am I to reach the regiment, by this time so far in advance of me?".

"Is that all?" said Rebecca, hastily; "and could you hide such a thing from my father, who is so much at a loss to find an opportunity for evincing his gratitude to his preserver? Oh!" she continued, with a glowing countenance, "do not deny me the joy, the exquisite joy, of making him acquainted with your wishes.-Most assuredly it will not be his fault, if they be not gratified, if every obstacle be not removed, before another sun goes down."

Without waiting to hear his reply, Rebecca hastened from the room and sought her Father. With that serene satisfaction which the consciousness of a noble act of self-denial inspires, she entered the apartment of Isaac, who was busily engaged at the moment, in counting a recently received sum of gold, weighing and examining the pieces, and putting them into bags, previously to their being stowed away in an iron chest, secured with double locks and numerous bars.

"Hold, father!" exclaimed Rebecca." Do not lock up that gold!— That gold must not be consigned to your iron chest!"

Isaac looked at her with surprise.-"What are you prating about?" said he: "Why may I not safely put away this treasure? Is the coin counterfeit? God forbid! I have proved it-every piece has the proper chink-it is all true and pure gold!-good and unclipped rims !"

"So much the better," said Rebecca, "for they will so much the better answer Lozinsky's purpose: you must give this gold to him, father."

"Woe is me!" exclaimed Isaac, "her head is turned!-What are you talking about? What is it I am to give?"

Isaac

Rebecca explained everything, but with an embarrassed air. fidgetted his velvet cap from one side of his head to the other, indistinctly muttering, at the same time, some words of disapprobation. Lozinsky's presence was a protection against the unwelcome intrusion of stragglers, whom chance might direct to his house; and his rank effectually screened him from all invidious imputations. Besides, he had become attached to him, from his cheerful and modest demeanour, the gentleness of his manners, and the kind disposition which from the first he had evinced.-"You ought not to have been a warrior," he would sometimes say to Lozinsky.— "What will you do among those people that are coming upon us like a tempest, and whose swords affright us like the lightning; whose arrows are drenched in our blood, and who delight in the number of our slain? What will you do among them? You are not of their kind. You are gentle and just. On you will be the blessing of Jehovah; for he delighteth not in the strength of men, but in those that honour and fear him."

"God's wonder !" he now exclaimed,-" What does he intend to do? Does he mean to go hence ?-Will he to the war again? Will he, hardly yet recovered, expose himself again to the sword, to the lance, to the musket, and to the cannon? And for what ?-for the sake of honour !—A pretty honour, when he shall be a cripple, full of pain and misery, like Job of old. For the sake of honour! Who will inquire after it? The people will pass him, and look on him askance, and will thank God they have got two legs to stand upon. And his friends? His bride, even, if he has got one ? God's wonder! What joy will they have, when they see him, and when they behold him, hobbling along upon crutches

"But, father," said Rebecca, interrupting the excited old man,-" if such be his desire, how can we turn him from it? And you would not let him depart without giving him your assistance?"

EE

1

"How!" exclaimed Isaac, vehemently," What is that you say? I suffer him to go unaided, who aided me in the time of need? I not clothe the foot of him for his journey, that saved my foot from the fatal precipice ? Not support him on his way, who so led me, that I still am dwelling in the light of those that live? As I am a true Israelite, he shall have from me whatever his heart desireth. There," continued he to Rebecca, "theretake him the money-they are all of unclipped rims-ducats of undiminished weight. I will, moreover, give him a letter to Mordechai, at Wilna, your mother's brother, who shall furnish him with arms and horses, that he may again go to the combat; nay, even this very day, if he insists on it, our servant Sulla shall conduct him as far as Wilna, with my own horses And," added he, wiping a tear from his eye, 66 may the God of Zion protect him, and send him a Teraphin, that he may not meet with disaster or accident, for he is a valiant youth; there is no guile in him; neither is there any

blemish in his actions."

"So be it!" silently ejaculated Rebecca, and hurried back again to Lozinsky. With a bleeding heart she beheld the undisguised transport, the impatient ardour, with which he prepared for his departure. Nothing but the reflexion that she was instrumental in satisfying the wishes, and promoting the happiness, of him she loved, could have prevailed over her grief. This feeling, however, enabled her to assist in forwarding the necessary preparations, and in providing those things which might make the journey as easy as possible; for his recovery was still far from being complete. Unperceived she dropped a second roll of gold, (a portion of her maternal inheritance,) into his portmanteau; filled the pockets of the vehicle with whatever she thought might be serviceable and strengthening for the invalid traveller; and enjoined Sulla to be particularly careful how he drove over the rough and rugged roads. But-when Lozinsky bade a grateful farewell to his dejected host, he looked in vain for Rebecca; and at last was forced to ascend the droschki, leaving with her father his warmest remembrances for her. She, meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the garden, was on her knees, praying aloud with streaming eyes.-"Have compassion on me, O Thou that dost heal the broken heart, and soften the bitterest anguish of the soul !"

(To be continued.)

THE ELOPED.

Oh! breathe o'er the strings a mournful strain,
Hush'd be each joyous note;

For long on my ear will that voice remain,

And long o'er my memory float.

She is gone; whose smile could alone dispel
The gloom that envelopes my mind:

And sounds of glee, like a passing knell,
Leave nothing but anguish behind.

Oh! speak not her name but in accents low,
As tho' you spake of the dead:

She has broken each tie that bound me below

From the home of her infancy fled :

On the cold wide world she has heedlessly rush'd

With a stranger for her guide :

Oh! ne'er may her hopes of bliss be crush'd

May she prove a happy Bride!

I think of the hours so joyously pass'd,

As together in childhood we rov'd;

It was bliss, it was rapture, too great to last,

So fondly, so madly I lov❜d !

My heart it is broken-my spirit longs

To fly to the realms of light;

For nought can give joy that to earth belongs,
Now SHE has fled from my sight!

NEMO.

MR. SQUASH'S FURTHER DISASTERS.

RELATED IN A LETTER FROM HIMSELF TO MR. OLDCASTLE.

MR. OLDCASTLE.

66

It is a true saying, " misfortunes never come single," and I am sure I may say so, if any body can. It is not enough that my best upper Benjamin, which cost me, only two months ago, 74. 15s., should be spoiled by a smoking puppy, but I am to be laughed at by every body, and Mr. " Anti-Puff" is to make a joke of me in your MAGAZINE, and call me a great apoplectic mass of flesh, and I do not know what. Then your publisher (I am sure it could not be you, Mr. Oldcastle,) goes and sticks up a handbill, and describes me as weighing six and thirty stone. I can tell him that's a and if he does

not mind I'll wap him for his impudence. Bless your heart, Mr. Oldcastle, I'm quite a sizeable gentleman; a little lusty or so, to be sure, but nothing out of the way. I do not think I can weigh much above half what your publisher talks of. And, what with the hot weather, and my wife's tongue, and her grumbling at my drinking the ale, I should have got as thin as a whipping-post if I hadn't given her a good thrashing last August; and, since that, we have been very agreeable together. However, that is neither here nor there. I was going to tell you that my misfortunes did not end after I left the Tally-ho! I had another specimen of that infernal nuisance, cigar smoking.

You see, I wanted to go on, the next day, to Southampton; so, says I, "Mr. Clements, can you tell me of a good coach to Southampton?"

"That," says he, " I can; there isn't a better coach bowls out of London than our Independent. You can sleep here at the Spread Eagle to-night, and start early to-morrow morning. There's Scarborough, the coachman, I'll tell him to take care of you. I say, Scarborough, here's my friend, Mr. Squash, going with you to-morrow; take care of him-you don't get such a passenger every day."

"No," says Scarborough," that I do not; I can see, with half an eye, he is a great man! I'll take care of him.”

Says I to myself," that Scarborough is a good, sensible sort of a fellow. I wonder how he found out I'm a great man.. I always thought I had a distinguished air about me, for every body looks at me. Clements, too, is a good sort of a chap, but then he has a confounded roguish leer-I wonder what he could find to grin at, when Scarborough said he could see, with half an eye, that I was a great man!"

However, that does not signify. I went to bed, and, next morning, after a nice tender steak, and a couple of eggs, and a few other trifles for breakfast, prepared to get upon the Independent. This time I was obliged to ride behind. Before I got up, I found one place on the hindmost seat occupied by a noisy, impudent Irishman, and fronting him sat a long, shanky fellow, named Pipkin (I suppose he was some cockney apprentice), in a velveteen shooting-jacket, with large mother-o'-pearl buttons, and a close-stool sort of a hat on his head, (just like one of those pictures you see at Colegate's.) He had got his gun, with the butt-end planted between his feet, and the muzzle just under his hat, alongside his ear. In his lap he held a goodsized fishing-basket, which he cuddled up with great care and tenderness. Close behind me was a fat bustling lady, whom Scarborough called Mrs. Wallop, who flustered me sadly as I was ascending the ladder, by exclaiming, "Bless me, Sir, what a time you are getting up!" Then, that saucy vagabond of an Irishman must provoke me with his misplaced jokes-" By my sowl, sir, Mister Scarborough is a liberal jintleman or he'd make you

pay for three places! Take care the ladder is safe, sir! Arrah now, by the body of St. Patrick, it is bending! Take care my little jewel."

Well, Mr. Oldcastle, I looked up to give him a look expressive of my contempt and indignation, when, as ill luck would have it, instead of laying hold of the iron, I grasped the stock and trigger of the puppy's fowlingpiece.

Bang! bang! went both barrels.

"Murther and fire!" bawled the Irishman.

"Oh! the Devil take ye-my ear! my hat!" screamed the cockney. "Woey, wo oh !" roared the ostler.

I was so confused, that having hold of nothing but the fowling-piece, I fell backwards off the ladder, and should certainly have been killed, if I had not, by great good luck, pitched upon the stomach of the impatient Mrs. Wallop, who, by the concussion, was launched, stern foremost, into a large flasket of eggs, which happened to be passing, to supply the company at the Spread Eagle. I verily believe I must have swooned with fright, had it not been for the screams and active application of the talons of Mrs. Wallop, who almost clawed out my eyes, and left me for some time in doubt whether she had not actually carried away a piece of my right ear. I'm a peaceable sort of man, Mr. Oldcastle, and always make the best of every thing.

"Well," says I, as I rolled out of the streaming eggs, which had sorely disfigured my poor coat, " Well, I haven't broke any bones-so, for a bad job, it's a tolerably good job."

"A good job! you nasty great clumsy beast!" screeched out Mrs. Wallop, still sticking and floundering in the flasket of eggs.-"A good job! you porpus, when you've almost squeeged me to atoms, and buried me in these stinking eggs

"A good job, indeed !" mournfully exclaimed Mr. Pipkin, the sportsman, as he gazed wofully upon his flower-pot hat, with only half a brim; “A good job! and who is to pay for my best Sunday hat that's quite dished?" "Cut off the tither brim, Mister Pipkin," cried Pat, "and it will be all right: and who'll be after knowing that your hat iver had a brim at all, at all !"

"A good job, indeed!" screamed Betty, the chambermaid, who was kneeling down with her two hands pressed upon her hips, in one of the galleries above the Spread Eagle yard-"a good job, when the shot has gone through everything, and peppered me I don't know where."

"Never mind, my dear," says Pipkin, "it is only dust shot-it tickles a little, but does no harm."

"Dust," says Betty, "I'll dust the old brute, and make him come down with the dust-that I will."

Only think, Mr. Oldcastle, here was a pretty kettle of fish! Well-I got up, and by way of smoothing matters, I went to help Mrs. Wallop out of the egg-flasket, in which she remained jammed with her short fat legs and arms sticking out like the fins of a turtle, when she lent me such a box on the ear, as made my eyes twinkle again.

"Ma'am," says I, "if you do that again, I'll just serve you as I served my wife last August."

"Not you, by the powers," cries Pat-"I won't have any man bate any woman but his own wife."

Well, Mr. Oldcastle, after a terrible hubbub, I was obliged to fork out two sovereigns to set matters right-and to let Mrs. Wallop, who was most woefully bedaubed with eggs, get up first, as she vowed “she would never again be behind a fat man."

I followed her as well as I could, but had scarcely got firm on the boot of the coach, when that cursed Irishman uttered such a roar as nearly broke the drums of my ears, and frightened me so, that I had like to have fallen back a second time.

"Thunder and turf!" bellowed out Pat.