spinning and carding wool by task-work ;-so that after having worked without cessation during the whole day, so small a portion of the night remained for rest, that they scarcely had one hour's repose. Some others were occupied in gardening, and the culture of vines; and this was the least painful labour, because they could repose at night. What shall we say of those who had five or six masters, whom they alternately served all the week,-each day enduring the caprice of different tempers, and the weight of new labours; for however weak was the right of each master over each captive, when it was a question of tormenting him, it appeared as if that right was complete. Some there were in a yet more miserable plight,—their nasters loading them with irons during the day, and plunging them into sombre prisons at night, without seeing any human being. The more courageously they suffered, the more sorrowful their situation became, because the Moors, by their courage, estimated their qualities, and thus enhanced the price of their ransom. Still these captives were more happy than those of Alcaçar, of Tetuan," and of Larach,—confined in the Masmorras ; -for the masmorras are deep caves, into which the air only penetrate by one opening, and where the great miseries of hunger and thirst were perpetually endured, until death daily gave ease to the misery of many. In the general disaster, there were some women sufficiently lucky to procure their liberty; but it did not happen thus with an Italian young woman, of whom I think it my duty to speak, since her faith was great, and her resolutio was strong.

It must be known that among the captains of the army, was one named Hercoles. He had brought with him a young lady of very good grace and great beauty, to whom, according to the opinion of his company, he was married; and she was considered noble; according to all appearance. With some other females, she became prisoner to two Arabs, who dragged her on foot, without shoes or stockings, and merely covered with a few miserable clothes. In this way she was marching, when a powerful alcaid, passing by chance, seized her by the arm, tearing from the Arabs their captive The person of the unfortunate lady would every where have run the risk of maltreatment, but it was still greater in the situation she now stood in. The alcaid shamefully used her. His unhappy victim felt such horror at this treatment, that her life was endangered. Nevertheless, the Moor compelled her to follow him, and continued his road, full of a passion which prevented his thinking of anything else.

The two sons of this alcaid, who were alraady men, then felt a deep chagrin ;—some say, more caused by envy than by their mother's grief; but it is probable that both feelings took possession of their hearts. The alcaid,

who was called Amu-ben-Selim, being arrived at Fez, the mortal hatred of his sons against the christian woman began to act silently. The women of their father's household took part with them, so that on every side complaints were multiplied. But the Moor, blinded by his love for the christian, listened to no one ;-he gave her unrestricted feedom, and made her mistress of his house, as much against her will, as every other of his actions had been. In the midst of these prosperities, so little valued by her who was the object of them, a captive of the alcaid, Ali-Chequito by name, a Portuguese renegade, came to her, to learn her situation. She had inspired him with great pity when he beheld her walking naked-footed, and he had attempted to console her to the utmost of his power. He now knew her present position, and he wished to speak to her, as much to console her in her rich misery, as to recall to her remembrance the risks her soul ran. After various steps, as the alcaid could refuse nothing to her whom he loved, this man obtained permission to speak with her; but the sight of her smote his conscience, and he trembled at the first seeing her dressed in the Moorish fashion. As to Virginia, she felt great joy at seeing this young man, and she said to him,—“ Friend, I experience great satisfaction-if there can be any in our situation that you have preserved your existence. I may consequently expect some remedy for your misfortune. How happy I am to find in you a faithful witness of my loyalty. These garments that you see, like sorrowful proofs of a horrible blasphemy, I am compelled to wear, by him, whom force has rendered master of my liberty and my person. He is both an importunate lover, and a cruel enemy." Virginia uttered this, shedding so many tears, that she proved the sincerity of her heart; and the captive consoled her to the best of his power, in presence of an old Spanish renegade, to whom she was confided. He then made some inquiry respecting the Captain Hercoles; to which she replied :-" Learn, that fortune would have acted well for me, without the shame that follows me, and my forgetting the peril of my soul; for the better half of myself is at liberty. Her coles, my best, my only hope, is free at Ceuta, although his thoughts are entirely at Fez."

In this manner Virginia made him comprehend the little hope she entertained of obtaining her liberty; since, besides having offered 800 cruzadoes in gold, for her ransom, Hercoles had discovered that not all the money in the world would avail against the Moor's passion. So he was employing every possible means to assure her liberty ;-in short, that he was in the most zealous, ardent, and at the same time the most secret manner endeavouring to find a guide for himself from among the Moors. Virginia, after some other personal communications, left him, full of compassion for her anguish, and

dread for the future. During this time, Captain Hercoles was at Ceuta, negotiating the ransom of Virginia. Of one thousand cruzadoes in gold which the pope had sent him, as the price of his liberty, he had employed' 800 for the use we have named. This he was the better able to do, being himself at that moment already freed, by other hands. Seeing, however, that all this money availed nothing with the alcaid, he resolved to employ it in other ways. He so contrived matters, that he kept up intelligence with persons about the alcaid, by means whereof Virginia was enabled to execute a plan of flight with some Moorish guides, and other individuals charged to assist the enterprise. Night being come, Virginia departed, concealed in the scarlet capillar (large cloak) she was used to wear as a disguise when she rode out on horseback with her companions. She followed the route to Melilha, which was not a bad point of determination, since she was most assured of meeting with persons arriving from the frontier.

When daylight came, and the alcaid no longer found Virginia, he gave way to such a furious burst of madness, that, laying aside his duty and his dignity, he commenced scouring the country, surrounded by officers of justice and the men of his household; thinking that so delicate a female could not fly beyond some neighbouring places; but having discovered traces of a much longer journey, he returned home, so dejected,- -so full of anguish, that if one could have any pity for him under such circumstances, pity would have been well employed. Nevertheless, he expedited a great number of Moors, well mounted, towards all the points it was likely Virginia could have reached. He made them large promises,-for his love and despair were very great.

In this state of mind the alcaid passed several days between hope and fear.

During these days, Virginia had been filled with hope, but joyous hope is never lasting ;-she-was captured on the road to Melilla, when her guards abandoned her, as they were compelled to do, in order to save their own lives from the pursuers. Virginia was treated with the greatest respect, as, in addition to the orders given them on that head by their master the alcaid, her noble bearing made her to be respected wherever she went;-so she was conducted back again in the same dress she had quitted the Moor's house. Here she arrived, so greatly fatigued that she was nearly dead.

But full of joy at her return, and sorrow at her determined conduct, the alcaid addressed her in profound melancholy :

"Woman, thou wast my captive, and I have made thee absolute mistress of a master now become thy slave. Why, therefore, hast thou quitted me with so much disdain? Hast thou not seen and understood how much I have made thee my idol, and the soul of my life? I have repulsed all those

who surround me, and in my audacity. I have almost repulsed the law under which I live, to believe. If thou hast so strong a desire to remain no longer mistress in those places where thou no longer art considered a prisoner, I would have been thy faithful guide. My life was of little import, compared with seeing thee. Alas! as my ardent constancy renders me hateful to thee, the sun which lights the skies and sends its brightness to the stars, also sends his rays on earth. Those looks which have consumed me, ought to discover in my soul sufficient greatness to have atoned for my fault towards thee.”

The Moor said these words, and many more, in Arabic, and they were translated nearly as we state them, by a Jew named Dinar, who served as interpreter in this deplorable business.

On hearing these words, Virginia wept, but with an anguish very different from that of the Moor. She thought only of the short duration of her hopes, and she had so great a horror of herself, that she fell sick of a great malady. When somewhat restored, Virginia thought of nothing but again attempting to arrange a second' flight towards Captain [Hercoles, with whom a difficult and rare communication was still kept up. And she again succeeded in getting away, much in the same fashion as the former occasion.

The alcaid felt this second mark of disdain with such venemence that his love turned to hatred. He ordered his two sons to seek the fugitive with well-mounted horsemen, and to place her in such a situation that she could never again escape.

The sons were prompt in their revenge, and urged by their mothers it required but small inducement for them to take a vengeance they ardently wished for. They departed instantly, and although the unhappy Virginia, had succeeded in concealing herself during several days in the midst of rocks and suffering incredible misery, she was re-taken, and conducted back in triumph to the house of the alcaid, exhausted, half dead with want and fatigue. She was thrown into a dungeon, where the Moor dared not go to see her. The sons and the wifes of the Arab united so well in exaggerating the crimes of the captive christian towards him, that he began to lose the remembrance entirely of his love for her. Soon they succeeded in blackening the unfortunate woman yet more in his eyes, and he ordered that she should never again be brought before him, but remain a prisoner for life. Her enemies now conceived a horrible project.

Oh! what a fate when we remember having seen that young woman in our camp, so beautiful, and attracting all regards, and now think of that beauty being the cause of her melancholy fate. Certes, it is a thing worthy of great jamentation, when we think upon it, and above all when we recall to mind that she was only christian woman who was not liberated from captivity.

Spurred on by their mother's hatred towards the Christians, added to their own ferocity, and disappointed guilty views, the alcaid's sons drew forth Virginia from her prison, during the period of their father's absence from the city, and in their mad revenge attached her hands so firmly, and so cruelly, that she instantly comprehended the end of her days was nigh ; and seeing death thus approach, she addressed her murderers' family as follows:

"Men! cowards in your vengeance,-if my deplorable fate troubles your peace, leave me to myself;--the God I adore knows that I have never wished to excite your hatred. You triumph in my death, and during my life I could have become absolute mistress of your lives. But I tell you, cowards! that I dread not your cimetars. My love-my blighted honour-are the poignards which give me death, and with it bring peace to my broken heart. You may mangle my body, but my soul disdains your power, and sighs to seek forgiveness at the throne of Grace, for having so long lingered to life."

Thus spoke Virginia before the alcaid's wives, to whom her words were interpreted; but their hatred blinded them to pity; and they excited their sons to terminate the tragedy, saying,-"The Christian desires to die; so be it. The Christian has stolen your father's heart from you, and devoured it with magic.-Let her die."

Swift descended the gleaming sabres on the golden tresses; her pale cheeks were drowned in crimson gore ; and it is said, so sudden was her death, that her lips had only time to pronounce with her dying sigh the name of her Creator and Hercoles.

Thus ended the life of Virginia.—What Hercoles felt at her death can only be imagined ;-what we, who knew her well, experienced at her tragic fate, Cannot be easily expressed.

The alcaid met a bad end. Having been sent by the scherif towards the kingdom of Guago, he returned from thence a prisoner, and in such a deplorable state that an honourable gentleman assured me that he had actually given him charity.

The two sons, the murderers of Virginia, fell by each other's hands, disputing the succession of their father's property; having, it is supposed, plotted towards his death, in the circumstances that led to his disgrace.

And thus ends a tragical tale I myself have witnessed;-so true it is, that the truth is sometimes so improbable, as no longer to resemble truth.