point, exclaiming-" Condé, you are hurt, and cannot defend yourself-no more."

Tolosa and Brisbane ran up to help the wounded count from his horse, from which he had nearly fallen. They laid him on the turf, and Penruddock joining them, gave all the assistance he could ; Brisbane at intervals exclaiming, "I must say I never saw prettier behaviour:" and when De Silva said in Spanish to Tolosa, that he would rather die than undergo this disgrace, he cried out encouragingly, "My dear, it is no disgrace at all; you behaved like a game-cock, and it is only the fortune of war."

The count's wounds, however, making it necessary to have farther and immediate assistance, the good-natured Brisbane volunteered galloping to the camp for any surgeon he pleased; and Tolosa giving him a direction, he mounted his horse and went off, leaving De Silva to the care of his second and Penruddock. The surgeon soon came in a carriage: the Count was removed, and afterwards recovered. Penruddock was hailed as a chivalrous knight, the protector and avenger of defenceless damsels; and the impression of his whole conduct, added to what had passed before, only sank deeper and deeper in the heart of Rosalie.

But stories, however interesting, must end; or, if long, must at least have intervals. I have com

pleted the account of the second picture, and leave you to make the best use of it you can, in your next argument in Chancery.

So adieu !

Note from Strickland.

I shall certainly cut the correspondence. It is any thing but the nil admirari. When I say cut, I mean after you have quite closed the history of Penruddock. I could bear him, even as an aristocrat; but who can see him such a hero of romance, and not be absorbed? What had I to do with knee-buckles and chapeau bras, as applied to him? To attempt to quiz him was treason, and how little have I succeeded! I quite agree with Brisbane, (who, by the bye, I also like,) that what he uttered against Valdes for stooping to insult his mistress, was "prettily said." Know, however, that the interest you have created is too inconvenient for a lawyer. At the bar of the House, the day I received your letter, being asked, "for whom do you appear?" I replied, like an absent fool," for Penruddock, Sir;" and the solicitor, in amaze, was forced to correct me aloud by pronouncing the true name, "Hopkinson." What a contrast! Mrs. Hopkinson's christian name too was Rose, and I had the utmost trouble to prevent myself from

calling her the lady Rosalie. These are serious inconveniences to matter-of-fact men; and I beseech you, get out of Penruddock Hall as fast as you can; —not, however, till you have completely done with the pictures, and the senhor Valdes, and the baronet. Yet, I hate a mournful tale, which I see his must be, in regard to Rosalie. But if she is perfidious, I will never speak to woman again, not even to my laundress; so the honour of the sex is concerned. But enough! Pray let me have the history of the third picture, and how these pictures got to Yorkshire, for that is beyond me. I long for your next letter.

CHAS. STRICKLAND,

LETTER VI.

Fitzwalter to Strickland.

LOVE'S PROGRESS.

I AM glad I have set you a longing. In truth, the story hitherto (at least the Spanish part of it) is a very pretty one; nor does it seem thrown away upon you; so I shall continue, though the third picture has little interest but for lovers-which you and I are not.

In point of fact, the representation is merely of the departure of Penruddock from the convent, who was called away from Spain by the death of his father. For they were now not only lovers, but self-betrothed, after the usual difficulties which attend almost all parties, but especially those of a different religion, and where, as in this instance, the near friends of the lady were actually ecclesiastical. In this I speak of the good prioress, not of the marchessa; for the latter, inconsolable for Tavora's loss, occasioned, as she previously both said and thought, by Rosalie, and baffled in her schemes and

hopes to vest her niece's fortune in her family, viewed this innocent and unprotected creature with an aversion quite unhallowed; in this, therefore, resembling the vengeful disposition of her son, she almost rejoiced in seeing her niece, by her apparent attachment to a heretic, likely herself to be involved in perdition. Hence, her bigotry, though great, was yet exceeded by her hatred; and though, having no legal power over her victim, opposition would not have availed, yet her desire of revenge would have made her wave it, had it existed.

Not so the prioress, who though somewhat of a bigot, was at least a sincere one, and loved her niece too well not to feel alarm at her partiality to a person who, with all his merits, could not possibly be saved out of the pale of the true church. Being herself also an ecclesiastic, and at the head of an ecclesiastical establishment, she felt bound by her allegiance, if not by zeal, to prevent, if possible, what might bring down scandal upon her administration. Long and firmly therefore she opposed the advances of Penruddock-which could not be mistaken-towards her youthful relative, whose growing attachment she did all she could to check.

And yet she was alive to all that her pupil urged, for the feelings which she now made no scruple to avow; the merits, both personal and mental, of the English cavalier; his ancient birth, and generous