buckler, his well filled purse, his father's last gift, charger, stranger, all were gone! and the young knight lay unprotected and defenceless, wrapped in the happiest of dreams. How great was the indignation of the generous and tenderhearted Ziliana, when at a glance she comprehended all the treachery, of which he had been the victim! Yet, great as her indignation was, it did not prevent her seeing in an instant, how opportunely the knight's misfortune might favour the design she had formed respecting him. She proceeded, then, to cast off her invisibility, and assuming the form of a lovely damsel, she appeared bound to a tree, near the sleeping knight, and then raising the sweetest of human voices, she cried, "Awake! awake! Sir Knight, defend thyself, defend a lady who calls on thee for aid!" At these words Sir Philibert sprang to his feet, and as he endeavoured to shake off the bewildering effects of slumber, in a different tone the lady cried, "Ha! false traitor, dost thou flee as soon as thou seest thy intended victim roused to defend himself?" "Alas!" exclaimed Sir Philibert, who had sought in vain for sword and shield, "Alas! fair lady, how can I defend myself or thee, I am robbed of my arms? But I am lost in amazement-explain to me if thou canst, what has befallen me? Yet, first-base that I am to think of myself at such a moment! Let me unbind thee. Detested be the coward, who could treat thee with such indignity, as to tie these knots! Tell me, sweetest lady, I pray thee, who thou art, and why thou art here?" "It is getting late," replied the now liberated fair one, “the shades of night are falling fast around; give me thy company, Sir Knight, to my poor castle, and as we make our way through the woods, I will tell thee all."

Sir Philibert gladly consented; and on their way she related to him, that, taking an evening ride, accompanied by only a single squire, she had come suddenly on the glade, where she found a base and traitorous knight stripping another, who lay asleep on the grass. Horror-struck at such conduct, she commanded her squire to attack him, but he

had, like a coward, fled from the encounter; the knight then turned in wrath on her, forced her to dismount, bound her to a tree, and when her cries had aroused the sleeping knight, he fled, leading away with him the horses. When the lady had ended this tale, and when Sir Philibert had poured forth some expressions of gratitude for her generous, but ineffectual exertions in his behalf, they found themselves before the gates of a noble castle, situated on the declivity of a mountain, and surrounded by thick and tall woods, which seemed the growth of centuries. The knight, at the lady's request, blew a blast on a bugle, which hung at the portal, and they were immediately admitted into a court-yard, filled with troops of servants bearing torches, and all rejoicing in the return of their lady. He now recollected the plight in which he was, but was quickly relieved from embarrassment by a squire, who, commanded by the lady, led him to a chamber, and provided him with everything suitable for his station-not indeed, what was suitable for a knight, who was going to meet the foe in the field, but weeds of peace, adapted to one who was going to revels held in a lady's bower.

Sir Philibert remained many days the guest of the Lady Ziliana, whom he found the undisputed mistress of the castle, and the surrounding territory. She had neither father nor husband-neither guardian nor brother-to dispute her will, and everything was submission and happiness around her; yet she, the mistress of all, had more than once secretly confessed to him, that woman's only felicity consists in being dependent, and that her dearest wish was, to resign all her power to one who should rule her as he pleased. He could not misunderstand her; nor could he be insensible to the charms of the loveliest lady he had ever seen, and one who possessed every talent-every accomplishment and grace, that could enhance her charms; but then, alas! she was ready to bestow herself on him-there was no plotting uncle, no false knight, no great giant to be overcome, that he might win her. He threw himself at her feet; he declared his love

for her, and his unworthiness of her, in the same breath; he announced his determination of going forth, that by deeds of arms, by deeds of virtue, in succouring the oppressed and suffering, he might merit her fair hand; and then he prepared to leave her. But she had raised him from the ground where he knelt, had placed him beside her, and had wound her arms so securely around his neck, that he found it impossible to withdraw himself at first from their gentle pressure. Then she poured into his ear a description of the world, of which he supposed she knew nothing, resembling very much that which his false friend in the wood had given him. And she endeavoured to convince him, that nothing could be more useless, and more foolish, than to try to do good in that world by aiding the oppressed and distressed; she said that virtue was nourished best, that it flourished best, in quiet retirement, with love by its side. Now, as all that the false knight had said was set down in Sir Philibert's mind as the cynicism of a robber, who wished to make every man appear as bad as himself, so, all that the lady said he set down as an artifice of a loving maiden to retain her lover by her side. He kissed her a hundred times, and swore a hundred oaths, that he would return to her before the expiration of a year, but go he would-and go he did-for she fell into a transport of fury, during which he escaped, not, however, without being a little blasted by the lightnings of fairy passion which darted from her eyes.

The rest is soon told. Sir Philibert, the champion of the right, got knocked on the head, and sent to a better world, by Roland, whom he encountered as he was carrying off a lovely young damsel, much against her will; it was a short time before he became insane, on account of Angelica's infidelity to him. Ziliana returned to fairy-land, and was long the subject of the jests of her fairy lover Alexion, on her ineffectual attempt to secure a human lover, a paragon of virtue. The false knight, aided by the purse he stole from Sir Philibert, founded an hostelry, the first that was known

in the neighbourhood of Rouen; his wine was generally good, and, it is said, that the present landlord of this inn, which was built on the very spot where his stood, does not cheat his guests more than he did.

"As this legend seems very ancient," said Mrs. N., laughing, "I suppose I am to conclude, that all the landlords, until the time it was written, had been extortioners, and that I am not to be surprised that the present one inherits their virtues." "Exactly so," I replied.

Good bye! I shall write to you no more from this. Good bye, again.

A BOARDING-HOUSE.

MY DEAR MOTHER,

LETTER XVII.

Paris, October 8, 183-.

Once more in the city, I must, before I tell you our present arrangements (although you will laugh), tell you how I felt on re-entering Paris. I did not know, until that moment, how much it had robbed me of my illusions, for I sat silently back in the carriage, and said to myself, almost before I was aware that this mood of retrospect had stolen on me,-"What can France, or Paris, or their people be to me, now that I know them? What can I have now, in exchange for those cheering hopes, for one nation at least, with which I came here, full of their late revolution? What have I had in exchange for them? The knowledge that that one nation is unworthy of freedom-fickle, vain-glorious, aimless in her views; she knows not what freedom is; she but differs from England in doing wrong with a lighter and more fantastic step. The one plays the charlatan in dancing-pumps, the other in wooden shoes; and each is happy in the charlatan

ism which is practised, and which increases a self-importance already too high.” But I shall tell you no more of this. We arrived safely; Mrs. N. found the rooms she had engaged in the boarding-house not quite ready, and we had to stay two days at an hotel. We dined at the table d'hôte one day, which was quite a new thing for me, and amused me very much. The company were well behaved, but not numerous : and, oh! Mrs. Trollope, who place France above the United States in manners, one gentleman who talked of going to the opera, picked his teeth with his fork!! To fill up our time on the day after our arrival, before we could get settled in our new home, we made some calls, and I found, to my astonishment, my friend, Mademoiselle A., transformed into Madame la Comtesse de L.-married to a son of the celebrated De L. I had not the least idea that this marriage was about to take place, but I am very much pleased with it; there is to me a great charm in a distinguished name, and I am glad she has taken one that is so very much so.

On the following day we came to this house, which is to be our home for a month. At dinner we saw our fellow-lodgers, and found them all ladies. This was the case while the master of the house was from home. He is, poor gentleman, a man of family, who has seen better days, and who has yet a small property in the country, but the last revolution altogether deprived him of the income which had enabled him to live in Paris, and maintain his rank in society. I understand that this boarding-house is kept much against his will, as he would rather live on his little estate in the country, but his wife is so much attached to Paris, and has such a horror of the country, that she has made him give some sort of sanction to it, and has endeavoured to make it more respectable than most establishments of the kind are here. We were first introduced to the lady of the house at the dinnertable; she is perfectly well bred, and lady-like, but has an expression of countenance that is difficult to describe, but which certainly verges on malice: her mother, an old lady

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