to a distance and dashed among the rocks; those
who survived were instantly put to the sword.
The ﬂeet of the emir arrived at Ceuta about the
hour ofvespers. I-Ie lancled, but found the gates
closed. against him. The countess herself spoke to
lnm from a tower, and set him at defiance. The

,emir ininiecliately laid siege to th_e.city. He con-

sulted the astrologer Yuza, who told him that, for
seven days his star would have the ascendant over
that of the youth Alarbot, but after that time the
yf(%1.1ll1I\Y0L1lt':l be safe from his power, and would
e ect ns min. * .

Alahor immediately ordered the city to be as-
sailetl on every side, and at l_ength_carried it by
stoim. _The countess took refuge with her forces
in the citadel, and made desperate defence, but the
walls were sapped and mined, and she saw that
alll reslistancc would soon be unavailing. I-ller only
I. iepg its now were to poiiccal her child. Sure-
ly,‘ said she, “ they‘will not think of seeking him
among the dead.” She led him, therefore, into the
dark anal dismal chapel. “ Thou art not all-aid to
be alone in this darkness my child ” said she.

_ “ N 0, mother,” replieditlie boy, ‘ldarkness gives
silenee_a1id‘s1cep. She conducted him to the tomb
tlliilt-f‘lO1‘11”l(.l;;1. “ Fearest thou the dead, my child '2"
“} No, mother, the dead can do no harm, and what
.‘310l'll(l [fear from my sister?”

The countess opened the sepulclire. “Listen,
my son,” said she. “ There are ﬁerce and cruel
people who have come hither to murder thee. Stay
here in company with thy sister, and be quiet as
thou dost value thy life !” The boy, who was of
a courageous nature, did as he was bidden, and re-
mained there all that day, and all the night, and
the next day until the third hour. .
, In tlliernleaii time the walls of the citadel were
sappet - tic troops of the emir poured in at the
breach, lind a great part of the garrison was put to
the sword. The countess was taken prisoner and
bi'ougl1t'befoi'e the Emir.‘ Slie.appc_:ared in his pre-
scnce \‘I1l.l1.ll_L1Ll.g‘lll._V demeanor, as it she had been a
ppieen receiving homage. But when he demanded

ier son °he f'.~iltercd ‘ nd turned ‘do and ‘e l' d
“My shii is with the dead ” pi , i I P 1e ,

f‘ Countess,” said the emir, “ I am not to be de-
ceiyed : tell lnielwhere you have cpnpealeclttlie boy,
or or ures s in wring rum you me secre .

“Emir,” replied the countess, “may the great-
est t_orments be my portion, both ,l1e!‘C7E1l](l hereaf-
trl;r,1_\vli]‘-.'ii. I. S(1i1)BlJ.,lit1l.):11lG(li the Eruth. My tlrlrltng
c it ies mrie wi i re cat.

' The emir was confbuiidcd by the solemnity of her
words; but the withered astrologer Yuan, who
stood by his side regarding the countess from be-
iie:=.tli his btrilied eyebrows, perceived trouble in
lleI‘.c()lll'1l.I3l1ElYlCl“: and equivocation in her words.—
Leave this matter to me,” whispered he“ to Alahor,
“ I_ will produce tlie child.”

.. lrle ordered strict search to be made by the sol-
dicry, and be obliged the countess to be always
present. Wlieii they came to the chapel her cheek
turned pale and her lip quivered. “This,” said
the subtle astrologer, “ is the place of conceal-
ment l” ,

The search throughout the cliapel,.liowcver, was
equally vain, a ‘ii the soldiers were about to de-
part, .when Yiiz-.1 reinarked a slight gleam of joy
In the eye of the countess. “ We are leaving our
prey behind,” thought he, “ the countess 1s ex-
ulting.” ‘ _ .

_He now called to mind the words of her asse'vcr-
,:1l.10n, that her child was with the dead. Turning.
suddenly to the soldiers he ordered them to search
the scpulelnes. “ It‘ you ﬁnd him not,” said he,
“ draw forth the bones of that wanton Cava, that
they may be burnt,_ar,‘ the ashes scattered to the
winds.” -

The soldiers searched among the tombs and
found that of Florinda partly open. Within lay
the boy in‘ the sound sleep of childhood, and one of
the soldiers tool: him gently in his arms to bear him
to the emir.

i When tliecountess beheld that her child was dis-

coylefred, she rushed into the presence of Alahor,

an orgetting all her pride threw herself upon her
knees before him. ’

“ “ Mercy ! mercy!” cried she in piercing accents,

. mercy on my son——my only child ! r O emir !

hsten to a mother’s prayers, and my lips she 11 kiss

thy feet. ‘As thou art merciful to him so may “the

.most_ high God" have mercy upon thee, and heap

blessings on thy head.” ’

“ Bear that frantic woman hence,” said the eniir,
“ but guard her well.”

The countess wasdragged away by the soldiery V

the iiether millstone, and he was bent upon the de-

ADVOCATE on INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS.

without regard to her struggles and her cries, and
conﬁned in a dungeon of the citadel. .

The child was now brought to the einir. He
had been awakened by the tumult, but gazed fear-
lessly on the stern countenances of the soldiers.
Had the heart of the emir been capable of pity, it
would have been tpuclicd by the tender youth and
innocent beauty of the child ; but his heart was as

struction of the whole family ol'.lulian. Calling
to him the astrologer, he gave the child into his
cliargc with a secret command. The withered
son of the desert took the boy by the hand, and led
him up the winding stair case ofa tower. When
they reached the summit Yuza placed him on the
battleinents. -

“Cling not to me, my child,” said he, “_ there is
no danger.” “Fatlier, I fcar not,” said the un-
daunted -boy, “ yet itis a wondrous height 1”

The child looked around with delighted eyes.
The breeze blew his curling locks from about his
face, and his cheek glowed at the boundless pros-
pect ; for the tower was reared upon that lofty pro-
montory on which Hercules founded one of his
pillars. The surges of the sea were heard for be-
low, beating upon the rocks, the sea gullscrcamcd
and wheeled about the foundations of the tower,

and the sails of lofty carinccas were as mere specks
on the deep. - -

“Dost then know yonderland beyond the blue.
water?” said Yuza.

“It is Spain,” replied the boy, “it
my father and my mother.” ‘

“ Then stretch forth thy hands and bless it, my
child,” said the astrologer.

The boy let go his hold of - the wall, and, as he
stretched 'forth his hands, the aged son of Ishmael,
exerting all the strength of his withered limbs, sud-
denly pushed him over the battlements. He fell
headlong from the top of that tall tower, and not :1
bone in his tender frame but was crushed upon the
rocks beneath.

Alahor came to the foot of the winding stairs.

“ Is the boy safe '2” cried lie.

“ He is safe,” replied Yuza ; “ come and behold
the truth with thine own eyes.”

The emir ascended the tower and looked over
the battlements, and behold the body of the child, a
shapelcss mass, on the rocl-;s flu‘ below, and the sea
gulls liovcring about it ; and he ga\‘.—: orders that it
should be thrown in:o thcsea, which was done.

On the i"ollow_ing morning, the countess was led
forth from her dungeon into the public square.-—
She knew of the deathof her child, and that her
own death was at hand, but she neither wept ‘nor
supplicated. Her hair was dislievclled, her eyes
were liaggard with wutchiiig, and her check was
as the monumental stone, but there were the re-
mains of conimanding beauty in her countenance,
and the majesty of her presence awed oven the
rabble into respect. .

A multitude of Christian prisoners were then
brought forth ; and Alahor cried out——“ Behold the
wife of Count .lulian—bchold one of that traitorous
faiiiil y which has brought ruin upon yourselves and
upon your country.” ‘And he ordered that they
should stone her to death. But the Christians drew
back with horror from the deed. and said—-“ In the
hand of God is vengezince, let not her blood be upon
our lie-ads.” Upon this the emir s.-/ore with horrid
imprccations that whoever of the captives refused
should hin‘iscll‘bc stoned to death. So the cruel or-
der was executed, and the Countess Frandina per-
ished by the hands of her countrymen. I-Iaving
thus accomplished this l)11l‘lJ‘.l.l'OU.S errand, the cniir
embarked for Spain, and ordered the citadel of
Ceuta to be set oitﬁre, and crossed the straights at
night by the light of its towering ﬂames.

The death of Count Julian, which took place not
long after, closed the tragic story of his family.~—
How he died,,remttins involved in doubt. Some
assert that the cruel Al-ahor pursnedliim to his re-
treat among the mountains, and, having taken him
prisoner, beheaded him; others that the Moors
conﬁned him in a dungeon, and put an end to his
life with lingering‘ torinents; while otllers allirm
that the tower of the castle of Marcuello,- near
Huesca, in Arragon, in which he took refuge, fell
on him and crushed him to pieces. All agree that
his latter. end was .miserable. initlie extreme, and
his death violent. The curse of heziven, which
had‘ thus pursued him to the grave, was extended
to the very place which had given him shelter; for
we are told that the castle is no longer inhabited
on account of the strange and horriblenoises that

is the land of

are lieaitd in it; and that visions of armed men an

r!

653

rv

seen above it in the air; which are supposed to b
the troubled spirits of the apostatc Christians who
favored thc_cause of the traitor.

, In after, times a stone sepulchre was shown, out-
side ol the chapel oi‘-the castle, as the tomb of
Cou_nt Juliaii; but the traveller and the pilgrim
avoided it, or bestowed upon it a malediction; and
the name of .Tul.an has remziined a by-word and
a_ scorn in the land for the warning of all genera-
tions. Such ever be the lot of him who betrays
his country.

Here end the legends of the conquest of Spain.
Written in the ./ill/taiiibm, June 10, 1829.

 

Koscioszrto IN .AiusiticA.——Koscit1szko 'reached
the new world utterly unprovidcd with letters of
recommeiidation or introduction, and nearly penny-
less; he however asked‘ an audience with Wash-
ington, to whom he had boldly presented himself.

“ “W'lt-at do you seek here '1’ inquired the gene-
ral,- with his accustomed bi-evity.——‘ I come to light
as a voluntcer_ for American Independence,’ was
the equally brief and fear-less reply.—~‘VVhat can
you do?’ was Wasliiiigtoii’s next question; to
which Kosciuszko, w itliihis characteristic simplici-
W: only rejoined, ‘ Try me.’ This was done:-—oc.
casion soon oﬁei-ed, in which his talents, science,
and valor were. evinced, and above all his great
character was duly appi-eciated. He was speedily
made an ofiicer and furtlier distinguislied himself‘.

as =r .1: 4: =l= >l< ”‘ as 1}:

“He had not been long in Americzi‘, when he had
occasion to display his undnunted courage, as cap.
tain of a company of vol.unteers.~ Generals ‘Wayne
and Lafayette, notwithstanding the heat of the but-
tle lll‘W‘l1lCl‘i they tlicinsclves were fully engaged
observed with satisfaction the exertions of thai.

company, which advanced beyond all the rest, and»

made its attack in the best order.

“f‘iVlio led the first company Cl’ asked Ln fayette
of his comrades on the evening of that memorable
day (the 30th of’ September.)

. “ The answer was, ‘It is a young Pole, of noble
birth,_but very poor; his name, if I am not mists.
ken, is Kosciuszko.’ The sound of this unusual
name, which hecould hardly pronounce, ﬁlled the
French hero with so eager a desire for the brave

stranger’s acquaiiitaiice, tliat. he ordered his horse

to be in_*"iediately saddled, and rode to the village,‘

about Audouple of miles ell‘, \\'ll(‘,l'BV1‘llO vo_lr1m,se,.S

were uartered for the night. , .

“ V he shall describe the pleasure of the one, or
_thc_sui-prise of _the other, when the general, e.nter- .
mg the tent (would it not rather be a room or a.
lint in it Village?) ssnv the captain covered from
head to foot with blood, dust and sweat, seated at
a table, his head resting upon his hand, a map of
the country spread out before him, and pen and
ink by his side. A cordial grasp of the hand im.
ported to the mod est-hero his coimnandor’s satisfac.
tion, and the object of a visit paid at so unusualan
hour.--—[Foreign' Quarterly Review]

DEATH AND Monuiinrir on Koscii.'szico.——Kos-
ciuszlio’s end was now at hand, but its approach
was cheered by the sight of the object of his ear-
ly and constant attaclirnent, now Princess Lubo~
inii-ska. i 0

“ The Princess, who was travelling to Grcnevzr
and Italy, stopped at Solo tliurn to spend some
weeks with Kosciuszko, cheering the already ‘dc-T
cliiiing old inaii by her ugwealale plcaszmtijy, and
her rare gift of social wit. Kosciuszlio had a pro-»
seiitinient that he should not see her again, and,
when she bade him farewell with a promise to re-
turn the following spring, tears swelled into his
eyes, and the agitated hero asked fora token of her
i'emcmbrance. The princess_ accordingl serithim,
from Lausanne, ariug, with the motto, ‘lihiendsliip
to Virtue.’ But when the ring reached Solutluirii,
Kosciuszko was no more !

“On the 1st of’ October, 1817‘, he was seized
with a nei'vousfever, then prevalent at Solothurn,
which in spite ofliis struggles, conﬁned him to his
bed. Foreseeing the event, he made his will, be.
queathing ample legacies to his friends, the Zelt.
riers, especially to Emilie, and others to the town
hospital, the orphan house, and.the poor of Solo.
thurn. . . . . He left 1000 francs for the ex.
penses of his funeral, upon condition that his body
should be carried to the grave by six poaigmen. .
V- . . -. ‘He ordered all his Polish papers to be
burnt. ‘ : '

* =r ac * air =1:

“After signing this will, he laid down the pen

raised his eyes towards heaven and lmid, ‘ Now I