"Ninety pounds eighteen and six," was the reply.

"Pontac rushed into the house, and wrote a cheque for the amount. The people knew him, and accepted his cheque.

"Now you can go, I suppose; and take those confounded bills with you," he cried.

"Now, p'raps, you vill pay my leetle claim?" said a Jew, stepping up to him.

"Yours! who are you, sir?"

"Michael Moses, officer to the Sheriff of Middlesex-execution for three hundred and sixty-eight pounds seven and—”

Pontac heard no more, but rushed out of the room. Mrs. Pontac, whom in his haste he had left behind in the cab, had run into the house, and up stairs to the back drawingroom, where he found her sobbing on a sofa. "Bella-Madam-Mrs. Pontac-what does all this mean? are you in debt?"

"Dreadfully," groaned Mrs. P.

"But your fortune-you haven't touched the capital, have you?-the thirty thousand left you by Mr. Hazzard ?”

"He hadn't as much to leave; I never

got more than twelve thousand," sobbed the lady.

Well, go on," said Pontac, with a moan. "It's all gone."

"All gone!" shrieked Pontac, "and in debt too!"

"Dreadfully!" sobbed Mrs. P. again; and she went into hysterics.

Pontac rushed about the house like a madman. About a dozen lawyers' letters, and fifty tradesmen's bills were brought to him— debts of the present Mrs. Pontac, late Mrs. Tattersal Hazzard.

He passed a week in the greatest anxiety, wondering where it would all end. At last the sum total of the claims was ascertained, and they amounted to four thousand pounds and a few odd ones over.

He paid them. He continues a wine-merchant; and how he lives with his lovely and accomplished wife we must leave our readers to guess. He has paid rather dearly for his clever and untiring pursuit of "widows with their own fortunes settled on themselves." Has he paid too dearly?

IN the view of TINTAGEL CASTLE, in Cornwall, with which our present number is illustrated, is embodied one of those more useful erections which modern science has rendered available to commercial purposes, and adapted for the shipment of ores from the neighbouring mine. The different character of the erections which crown the opposing cliffs mark the widely separated eras of their erection, while both become objects of deep interest to those who see in the ruins on the one hand, and the progressively improving mechanism on the other, a type of the spirit which animated our warlike ancestors to maintain their dominant power over their native soil, converted in their more peaceful descendants into a determination to make the best use of the treasures it contains.

Tintagel Castle is situated partly on the extremity of a bold rock of slate, on the coast, and partly on a rocky island, with which it was formerly connected by a drawbridge, and is of great antiquity. This castle is said to have been the birthplace of King Arthur, but his history is so blended with the marvellous, that his very existence has been doubted, and the circumstances connected with his birth are

certainly not amongst those parts of the relation which are best entitled to credit. It was, however, said by Lord Bacon, that there was truth enough in his story to make him famous, besides that which was fabulous.

In the year 1245, Richard Earl of Cornwall, brother to King Henry III., was accused of having afforded an asylum in Tintagel Castle to his nephew David, Prince of Wales, and in the reign of Henry III. the castle and manor of Tintagel were annexed to the Duchy of Cornwall. So little remains of the walls of this ancient and formerly impregnable castle, that the date of its erection cannot even be conjectured from the style of the architecture: it is certain that the castle was in a dilapidated state in 1337, in which year a survey was made. There was then no governor, but the priest who officiated in the chapel of the castle had the custody of it, without fee. It is described as a castle sufficiently walled, in which were two chambers beyond the two gates, in a decayed state; a chamber, with a small kitchen for the constable, in good repair; a stable for eight horses, decayed; and a cellar and bakehouse, ruinous. The timber of the great hall had been taken down by command of

John of Eltham, Earl of Cornwall, because the hall was ruinous, and the walls of no value.

In the reign of Richard II., Tintagel Castle was made a state prison, and in 1385, John Northampton, lord mayor of London, was committed to this castle. Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, was also a prisoner here in 1397. "The ruins of Tintagel Castle," says the Rev. R. Warner, "claim dominion over unqualified desolation: over one wide and wild scene of troubled ocean, barren country, and horrid rocks :" its situation and aspect quite chilled the tourist, and in continuation of his description, he introduces the less sublime remark," that to look at it was enough to give one the tooth-ache."

Tintagel was made a free borough by Richard

Earl of Cornwall, and, as well as Trevenna, about a mile distant from each other, forms part of the borough of Rossiney, which formerly sent two members to parliament. Although not incorporated, it is governed by a mayor. At Trevenna is an annual fair for horned cattle on the first Monday after the 19th of October; and at Tintagel is a school supported by the mayor and free burgesses. The church, dedicated to St. Simphorian, is a vicarage, in the patronage of the dean and chapter of Windsor. It was formerly appropriated to the abbey of Fonteverard, in Normandy, but having passed in the same manner as Leighton Buzzard, in Bedfordshire, was given by King Edward IV. to the collegiate chapel of St. George at Windsor.

ON the 9th of September, 1798, the sun rose bright and serene on the snowy mountains which form a bulwark round the Canton of Unterwald, one of the three states which caused the famous revolution of 1307. The fields were damp, and shone with the dew on the grass. A gentle zephyr softly agitated the trees which shadowed the entrance to Stanz, chief town of the canton; and as if nothing should be wanting to complete this beautiful picture, old Karn, a descendant of the lord of the manor, Nicolas de Flue, was celebrating the wedding of his fondly-loved daughter, the young and pretty Gretchen. Shouts of joy and mirth mingled with the merry peals of the village bells; and in a room, which was literally carpeted with flowers, several young girls were assembled busily engaged in decking the bride for her nuptials; and, giving themselves up entirely to their happy task, they were laughing, singing, dancing, and talking whilst they kept guard by turns over the door of their apartment, outside which were the friends of the bridegroom, who had just arrived from the village, and were loudly entreating admission for him. No sooner was her toilette completed than the bride rose, and escaping from her companions, went to the door, and opened it for her lover; and George, who was considered the best archer in the whole canton, came forward, his face radiant with good humour.

Gretchen gave him her hand, fixing on him a look of anxiety and curiosity, which, how

ever, he did not remark, as he was wholly occupied in admiring the rich dress which so heightened the beauty of his bride; and drawing her on one side, he told her for the hundredth time at least how fondly he loved her, and the happiness he hoped to enjoy with her. At first Gretchen listened to him; but the colour which went and came in her pale cheeks showed plainly there was something distressing her, and, suddenly yielding to her anxiety, she listened attentively to a sound as of firing which broke on her ear, and, interrupting her lover, she exclaimed

"George!-George!--what noise is that? One would suppose it was a cannon. Is all quiet in the valley ?"

These words recalled very sad thoughts to the young man; his face became very serious. He looked at his beautiful fiancée, and said—

"Dearest Gretchen, you are very pale, and have been weeping."

"I have wept for my unfortunate country," replied the young girl.

In truth, Switzerland had of late undergone a painful ordeal. The ancient confederacy in Switzerland, broken by oppression and intrigue, had given place to a new code of laws, established on the mode of government then prevailing in France. The armies of the French governors, in some cantons called republicans, had overrun the whole of the eastern side of Switzerland. An Helvetian republic had been formed, and a Unitarian government installed, at Lucerne. These changes had caused much

bloodshed and misery. There had been fighting at Berne and Lucerne, and in the central parts of Switzerland, on the borders of the small cantons, which, till now, had obstinately refused to recognise the new constitution. The French troops, commanded by General Schauenberg, and sent by the Helvetian government, had approached Unterwald, and made already three ineffectual attempts to conquer it. . The enemy had been driven back and made a retreat, which, the mountaineers fancying to be definitive, had, with carelessness, taken again to the course of their usual employments as well as pleasures; and thus it was that on the 9th of September, the sky being so bright, and all nature so beautiful, it never entered any one's mind it would be otherwise than a day to be spent in peace and joy.

The nuptial cortège advanced then with gay and happy steps towards the church, which was decorated with flowers-where the organ was playing a sublime anthem, and where the priest was already standing before the altar. At the head of the procession the fiddler was playing the Ranz des Vaches of Unterwald; and the happy George, whilst hastening the steps of his future bride, was murmuring in her ear words of love and confidence. Gretchen listened, while she looked at him with tearful eyes; for she had been unable to calm her fears, inasmuch as the sound of the distant firing continued to be heard, and seemed getting nearer. Even the men who surrounded her were beginning to show a little alarm; nevertheless the procession entered the church, and the bride and bridegroom were kneeling before the altar, when Gretchen again called out with alarm

The young girl was right; there was no doubting the assertion. The two thousand archers of Unterwald must defend themselves against fifteen thousand well-trained soldiers, landed suddenly on the Stanzstadt road. A villager, who, on the first alarm, had run to the belfry, now came down, and cried out—

"To arms!-to arms!" Stanzstadt is on fire; the mountain passes are forced; and the soldiers are now in the town!"

A discharge of small guns, which at the same instant was brought to bear on the crucifix of the church, confirmed these words in a cruel way. Each moment the assailants gained ground. The panes of glass from the windows flew in all directions. A shower of balls, which suddenly struck the marble of the altar as they whistled along, gave warning

to the women in the church to seek safety in flight. Gretchen, hurried away by her friends, was going to fly, when George, his dress disordered, his face bleeding, and holding a broken sword in his hand, rushed in, and throwing himself before her, said, whilst he brought her back to the altar

This night we will share the grave instead of the nuptial couch; yet let us not leave this life without being bound by that solemn tie which will re-unite us in eternity. Good Father, I pray thee continue the service thou hadst begun."

But the priest answered not; bowed down on the altar, he remained immovable. George approached and raised his head; that head was calm, but pale, and cold. He next uncovers the old man's breast-in the centre of it is seen a frightful wound, from which the blood flows in streams! a ball had struck that part; the poor priest was dead!

At this instant a mountaineer, covered with gore, rushed in, exclaiming-" Sarnen is attacked; nevertheless, at the chapel of St. Jacques they were defending themselves; but though the chapel of Winkelried is full of ammunition, there is no man to defend it."

"We will become men!" cried Gretchen, pointing to some young girls who had remained beside her. Then throwing herself on the neck of George, she said

"Adieu! we shall meet again in heaven!— Adieu, my well-beloved!"

The next instant a terrible explosion shook the walls of the church; Stanzstadt was in the enemy's hands.

Now, on the road to Stanzstadt, at Sarnen, there was once a small chapel, with white walls and grated loopholes, the roof covered with red cloth, and surmounted by a golden cross. This chapel was held in great veneration by the whole of the surrounding country; for it reminded one of the celebrated victory gained by the old Strath de Winkelried over a monster dragon; also the sublime devotion of Arnold de Winkelried, which rendered his name famous. This chapel likewise speaks to all Swiss hearts of the third event, which I will now briefly relate.

As the mountaineer had stated, the chapel was well provided with ammunition; the road to it was likewise well blocked up by rocks, which seemed to have been placed purposely on the pathway. The defence of this post was therefore to Gretchen an easy matter; and as she perceived she was followed by seventeen young girls, who were both robust and determined, she was resolved to sell dearly their lives; for she