And this sweet Gipsy lass, fair Preciosa !

Prec. Señor Hypolito! I kiss your hand.
Pray shall I tell your fortune ?
Hyp.

Not to-night;
For should you treat me as you did Victorian,
And send me back to marry maids forlorn,
My wedding-day would last from now till Christmas.

Chispa (within). What ho! the Gipsies, ho! Beltran Cruzado !
Ilalloo! halloo! halloo! halloo !

(Enters booted, with a whip and lantern.)
lict.

What now?
Why such a fearful din? Hast thou been robbed ?

Chispa. Ay, robbed and murdered ; and good evening to you,
My worthy masters.
l'ict.

Speak; what brings thee here?
Chispa (10 PRECIOSA). Good news from Court; good news!

Beltran Cruzado,
The Count of the Calés, is not your father ;
But your true father has returned to Spain
Laden with wealth. You are no more a Gipsy.

Vict. Strange as a Moorish tale!
Chispa.

And we have all
Been drinking at the tavern to your health,
As wells drink in November, when it rains.

Vict. Where is the gentleman?
Chispa.

As the old song says,
His body is in Segovia,

His soul is in Madrid.
Prec. Is this a dream? O, if it be a dream,
Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet!
Repeat thy story! Say I'm not deceived!
Say that I do not dream! I am awake;
This is the Gipsy camp; this is Victorian,
And this his friend, Hypolito! Speak! speak!
Let me not wake and find it all a dream!

Vict. It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream,
A blissful certainty, a vision bright
Of that rare happiness, which even on earth
Heaven gives to those it loves. Now art thou rich,
As thou wast ever beautiful and good ;
And I am now the beggar.

Prec. (giving him her hand). I have still
A hand to give.

Chispa (aside). And I have two to take.
I've heard my grandmother say, that Heaven gives almonds
To those who have no teeth. That's nuts to crack.
l’ve teeth to spare, but where shall I find almonds ?

Vict. What more of this strange story?
Chispa.

Nothing more.
Your friend, Don Carlos, is now at the village,
Showing to Pedro Crespo, the Alcalde.

The proofs of what I tell you. The old hag,
Who stole you in your childhood, has confessed ;
And probably they'll hang her for the crime,
To make the celebration more complete.

Vict. No; let it be a day of general joy;
Fortune comes well to all, that comes not late.
Now let us join Don Carlos.
Hyp.

So farewell,
The student's wandering life! Sweet serenades
Sung under ladies' windows in the night,
And all that makes vacation beautiful!
To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcalá,
To you, ye radiant visions of romance,
Written in books, but here surpassed by truth,
The Bachelor Hypolito returns,
And leaves the Gipsy with the Spanish Student,

away,

grass,

SCENE VI.- A pass in the Guadarrama mountains. Early morn

ing: A Muleteer crosses the stage, sitting sideways on his mule, and lighting a paper cigar with flint and steel.

Song.* If thou art sleeping, maiden,

Wait not to find thy slippers, Awake, and open thy door,

But come with thy naked feet; "Tis the break of day, and we must We shall have to pass through the dewy

O'er meadow, and mount, and moor. And waters wide and fleet. (Disappears down the pass. Enter a Monk. A Shepherd appears

on the rocks above.)
Monk. Ave Maria, gratia plena. Olá! good man!
Shep. Olá!
Monk. Is this the road to Segovia ?
Shep. It is, your reverence.
Monk. How far is it?
Shep. I do not know.
Monk. What is that yonder in the valley?
Shep. San Ildefonso.
Monk. A long way to breakfast.
Shep. Ay, marry.
Monk. Are there robbers in these mountains ?
Shep. Yes, and worse than that.
Monk. What?
Shep. Wolves.
Monk. Santa Maria! Come with me to San Ildefonso, and

thou shalt be well rewarded.
Shep. What wilt thou give me?

Monk. An Agnus Dei and my benediction. (They disappear. Å mounted Contrabandista passes, wrapped in

his cloak, and a gun at his saddle-bow. He goes down the pas. singing:)

From the Spanish ; asis likewise the song of the Contrabandista.

Song. Wom with speed is my good steed, Onward, for here comes the Ronda, And I march me hurried, worried ; And I hear the rifies crack! Onward, caballito inio,

Ay, jaléo! Ay, ay, jaléo ! With the white star in thy forehead! | Ay, jaléo! They cross our track. (Song dies away. Enter PRECIOSA, on horseback, attended by

VICTORIAN, HYPOLITO, Don Carlos, and CHISPA, on foot and armed.)

Vict. This is the highest point. Here let us rest.
See, Preciosa, see how all about us
Kneeling, like hooded friars, the misty mountains
Receive the benediction of the sun!
O glorious sight!
Prec.

Most beautiful indeed!
Hyp. Most wonderful !
Vict.

And in the vale below,
Where yonder steeples flash like lifted halberds,
San Ildefonso, from its noisy belfries,
Sends up a salutation to the morn,
As if an army smote their brazen shields,
And shouted victory!
Prec.

And which

way

lies
Segovia?
Vict,
.

At a great distance yonder.
Dost thou not see it?
Prec.

No. I do not see it.
Vict. The merest flaw that dents the horizon's edge.
There, yonder!
Нур.

'Tis a notable old town,
Boasting an ancient Roman aqueduct,
And an Alcázar, builded by the Moors,
Wherein, you may remember, poor Gil Blas
Was fed on Pan del Rey. Oh, many a time
Out of its grated windows have I looked
Hundreds of feet plumb down to the Eresma,
That, like a serpent through the valley creeping,
Glides at its foot.
Prec.

Oh yes! I see it now,
Yet rather with my heart than with mine eyes,
So faint it is. And all my thoughts sail thither,
Freighted with prayers and hopes, and forward urged
Against all stress of accident, as in
The Eastern Tale, against the wind and tide,
Great ships were drawn to the Magnetic Mountains,
And there were wrecked, and perished in the sea!

(She weeps.)
Vict. O gentle spirit! Thou didst bear unmoved
Blasts of adversity and frosts of fate!
But the first ray of sunshine that falls on thee
Melts thee to tears! Oh, let thy weary heart
Lean upon mine! and it shall faint no more,
Nor thirst, nor hunger ; but be comforted

a

And filled with my affection.
Prec.

Stay no longer!
My father waits. Methinks I see him there,
Now looking from the window, and now watching
Each sound of wheels or footfall in the street,
And saying, “Hark! she comes!” O father! father !

(They descend the pass. CHISPA remains tehind.)
Chispa. I have a father, too, but he is a dead one. Alas and
alack-a-day! Poor was I born, and poor do I remain. I neither
win nor lose. Thus I wag through the world, half the time on
foot, and the other half walking ; and always as merry as a
thunder-storm in the night. And so we plough along, as the fly
said to the ox. Who knows what may happen? Patience, and
shuffle the cards! I am not yet so bald that you can see my
brains; and perhaps, after all, I shall some day go to Rome, and
come back Saint Peter. Benedicite!

[Exit. (A pause. Then enter BARTOLOME wildly, as if in pursuit, with a

carbine in his hand.)
Bart. They passed this way! I hear their horses' hoofs!
Yonder I see them! Come, sweet caramillo,
This serenade shall be the Gipsy's last!

(Fires down the pass.)
Ha! ha! Well whistled, my sweet caramillo!
Well whistled! I have missed her!-Oh, my God!

(The shot is returned. BARTOLOME falls.)

PREFATORY NOTE. The story of “ EVANGELINE” is founded on a painful occurrence which took place in the early period of British colonization in the northern part of America.

In the year 1713, Acadia, or, as it is now named, Nova Scotia, was ceded to Great Britain by the French. The wishes of the inhabitants seem to have been little consulted in the change, and they with great difficulty were induced to take the oaths of allegiance to the British Government. Some time after this, war having again broken out between the French and British in Canada, the Acadians were accused of having assisted the French, from whom they were descended, and connected by many ties of friendship, with provisions and ammunition, at the siege of Beau Séjour. Whether the accusation was founded on fact or not, has not been satisfactorily ascertained ; the result, however, was most disastrous to the primitive, simple-minded Acadians. The British Government ordered them to be removed from their homes, and dispersed throughout the other colonies, at a distance from their much-loved land. This resolution was not communicated to the inhabitants till measures had been matured to carry it into immediate effect; when the Governor of the colony, having issued a summons calling the whole people to a meeting, informed them that their lands, tenements, and cattle of all kinds were forfeited to the British crown, that he had orders to remove them in vessels to distant colonies, and they must remain in custody till their embarkation.

The poem is descriptive of the fate of some of the persons involved in these calamitous proceedings. This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighbouring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of

the huntsman? Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers, – Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands, Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven? Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers for ever departed ! Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October

D