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3 jFamtlg Jlctosjmjjcv : ©rtootrtr to SLiteratuve, tfte &rt.o, Science, &flrlcultuve, Jftecfumfcg, 2Sttuc*tion, jForeifln an* Domestic XnteUfgeuce, ?l?u incur, sct. BY C. R. HANLEITER. P © g T IS¥. “ Much yet remains unsung.” From the Magnolia. “I HAVE NO HEART TO SING.” I have no heart to sing of thee, No tongue to speak thy praise, For well I know the theme would be, Too rich for prouder lays; Yet can I tell, in humble strain, Os all thy smiles and love, •And in the offering of my brain, . My heart’s devotion prove. Take, then, the song, htpvever weak The tribute that 1 bring; tOh! as I’ve felt, could I but speak, It were not vain to sing— Such song, decreed by heaven for good, Than him who sings, more blest. Might, in some happy hour and mood, Find entrance to thy breast. IM 0 © © IE From Frazer’s Magazine. RUY LOPEZ. THE CHESS BISHOP. A LEGEND OF SPAIN. “ The flood of lime is rolling on— We stand upon its brink, whilst they are gone To glide in peace down death’s mysterious stream. Have ye done well? They moulder flesh and bone. Who might have made this life’s envenomed dream A sweeter draught than ye will ever taste, I deem.” Shelley. All the world believes that Ruy Lopez was created a bishop by Philip 11., for his transcendant shill in chess; but the real cir cumstances of his investiture with the mitre have been hitherto enveloped in that veil of time which darkens over so many romantic incidents of the past. Common report is a common liar. The lowly priest rose not to cope and stole through chess alone, but was indebted for his rank to a freak of fortune, as wildly extravagant as any onp frolic of the laughter-loving fiend of the Hartz moun tain. Romance has been well styled tame, compared with the incidents of real life. Since the laying bare to public view the re cords of Spain’s oldest monastic libraries, consequent upon the reign of anarchy in which that fine kingdom has been plunged for the few last years, many curious scenes of the past have emerged from Cimmerian darkness to the light of modern day. Lis ten to one of the least of them. King Philip sat in the Escurial, playing chess with Ruy Lopez, the great master of our mighty art, who knelt by especial favor with one knee on the cashion of brocade, while a party of nobles were standing group ed around, in varied attitudes of sorrowful and seiious attention. The mom was bright as the orange-groves of Granada ; and the sun streamed through the lofty arches of the windowsupon the gorgeously decorated hall, shaded by curtains of violet-colored velvet, light as the dreams of hope upon the mind of ganomine ynnt'li. But the day-star of heaven seemed at that moment hardly con genial with the deep gloom which evidently hung upon the royal presence ; for the brow of Philip was dark as the thunder-cloud, ere it breaks on the hills of the Alpuxarres. The monarch glanced from beneath his lnishy eyebrows frequently and fiercely to wards the arched doors of entrance; the chiefs exchanged, stealthily, many sad looks of meaning intelligence : and the ciiesse was clearly not uppermost in the mind of any one man present, saving our priest, Ruy Lopez, the learned clerk of Zafra, who was plodding out a certain forced checkmate in some half-dozen moves, and in whose in ward soul was working a warm struggle as to which ought to be allowed to lake the up per hand on this occasion—bis own proper and dear reputation as the chess-player in the country, or the politic deference due to Europe’s most Catholic majesty, Philip, lord of the fair lands of Spain and her de pendencies. The portals swung suddenly open, and a coarse, sinister-looking man, presented him* •elf somewhat abruptly before the king, awaiting silently the royal command to apeak. The intruder’s appearance was highly unprepossessing; and the courtiers imperceptibly diew up as though a serpent had glided in among them. Os sturdy frame, attired in a doublet of shabby black leather, the face of the man presented the low-arched forehead and sordid mouth pe culiar to the habitual exercise of vulgar pas sions, while his features acquired a cast of increased brutality from the deep scar which traversed them obliquely from brow to chin, burying itself in a huge uncombed beard, as coarse as hemp. Philip trembled as he made an effort to speak, and a quivering galvanic shudder passed around. The new comer was Fernando Calavar, Spain’s chief executioner. “Is he dead I” choked Philip, in hoarse and smothered tones. “My liege, be lives as yet. A grandee of Spain, lie pleads the privileges of his order; and I may not deal with one of the Pure Hidalgo strain, without raoie ospecial kidding from your majesty.” A subdued murmur of approbation broke from the proud peers around, and the blood of old Castile danced brighter upon lip and cheek. The young Alonzo d’Ossuna sud denly donned his cap of estate; and his bold example wgs followed by the majority of those present, their white plumes towering forestlike into the air, as they thus appeared to enter a tacit protest in defence of their rights at large, by availing themselves of the privilege immutably held by Spain’s gran dees to stand covered at will before their sovereign. The sullen Philip knit his brow yet closer, and struck his clenched hand heavily upon the chess-board. “ By our own council has he been tried and condemned to death. What does the traitor now demand ?” inquired the king. “ Sire, he asks to die by axe and block, and to he left alone in solitude during the last three hours of life with a priest.” “ Granted,” said Philip. “Is not our own confessor in attendance upon him, as I commanded 1” “ He is, may it please your majesty : but the duke is contumacious, and laughs I the holy Dias di Zilva to scorn. He says he will take absolution from none under the rank of a bishop in Spain’s church, such be ing the prerogative of a noble doomed to die by sentence of law for high treason.” “ Certainly such is our privilege,” boldly interposed the gallant D’Osunna; “ and we claim our cousin’s rights at the band of our king.” “ Our rights and the justice of the king are dissoluble,” repeated Don Diego do Tarraxas, count of Valencia, an aged man of gigantic height, with flowing silvery hair and heard ; who, clothed in steel, and bear ing the baton of Spain’s liigli-constable, stood carelessly leaning on his sheathed Toledo. “ Our rights and privileges !” cried half a-dozen nobles in a breath. Philip started up from his ebony throne, and the thunder-cloud exploded, “ By the bones of the Campeador, by the soul of St. lago, have I sworn,” cried the monarch, sternly and collectedly, “neither to eat nor to drink, at board or banquet, un til I have looked upon the head of Guzman the traitor! But Tarraxas has‘well spoken —the justice of the king binds up the rights of all its subjects. Time flies. Lord-con stable, where nearest dwells a bishop 1” “ 1 have had ever more to do with tlie camp than the church,” bluntly replied De Tarraxas. “ Your majesty’s royal almoner, Don Silvas, here present, may surely better answer the question.” Don Silvas y Mendez trembling took up the word, “ May the king live! the Bishop of Segovia is attached to his masjesty’s household; hut he died last week, and the fiat to appoint his successor even now lies on the council-table, subject to the pope’s veto. A convocation of the heads of the church is being held at Valladolid, and all the bishops will, doubtless, be at this time there. I know that the Bishop of Madrid left his palace yesterday to attend that meeting.” A faint smile played across the lip of D’Ossuna. He was of the Guzman blood, and the condemned duke was his dearest friend. The king caiight his glance, and a new expression shone in his own leaden, heavy eye, “We are king,” said Philip, slowly and austerely, “ and our throne may not be alto gether mocked. This sceptre is, it may be, light in weight, but the fool that sports with it will find it crush him like an iron pillar. Our holy father, the pope, is somewhat in my debt on the score of obligation, and we fear not his disapproval of the step we are about to take. If the King of Spain can beget a prince, lie can surely create a bishop. Stand forth, Ruy Lopez, bishop of Segovia! Stand forth, priest, I command, and assume thy rank in the church !” Ruy Lopez arose from his footstool, hut hesitated—“ May it please your majesty —” “ Peace, lord-bishop, and obey thy sover eign’s word ! The formalities of thy instal ment remain for a future day. Our subjects cannot fail to respect the will of the king in this matter. Bishop of Segovia, away with Calavar to the chamber of the condemned ! Shrive the soul from sin, and at’ the end of three hours give up the body to our axe of justice. Don Guzman de Montez, prince of Calatrava and duke of Medina Sidonia, surely dies the death this day. And hark ye, Calavar, in this apartment do we await thy return with the head of the traitor; and if thou fail us in exact obedience, better were it for thee nevei to have been born. Ruy Lopez, I invest thoe with mine own signet-ring, lest the duke doubt tby word. Ha, gentlemen !” added the monarch, taunt ingly, “ dare ye now question the justice of your king I” No voice responded. Ruy Lopez follow ed Calavar from the presence; and the king, quietly resuming bis seat, waved to one of his chief favorites, Don Ramirez, count of Biscay, to face him at the chess-board. “ With chess, my lords, and your good and loyal company, will I pass away this tire some interval, and none of ye will leave the hall until the return of Calavar.” So the king and Don Ramirez commenc ed a fresh game of chess ; and the nobles, leaning as they best might to support their wearied limbs, stood pensively grouped in similar postures and attitudes as when our tale began. Meanwhile Calavar led the newly crea ted father of the church through many a winding hall and gloomy arcb. Ruy Lopez walked as one walks in a dream. His was not the heart to harm even bird, or flower, or fly. In the silence of that heart he curs- j ed both court and king. Tiue, he was I MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 13, 1842. Bishop of Segovia; but heavy was the price at which lie felt the dignity had to be purchased. The Guzman, too, his own es teemed patron —tho first chess amateur in Spain 1 Ruy Lopez prayed, as he passed over the cold marble corridor which .led to the prisons of state, that its deeps would open and swallow him alive. In a narrow oaken-panelled chamber, its iron door strongly guarded with bolt and bar, paced the doomed Prince of Calatrava, with agitated and most unequal steps. The floor was covered with thick, coarse matting; the cell’s only furniture, besides, being a massive table, a couple of heavy wooden stools, and a rudely carved crucifix, fixed in a small recess opposite the one narrow arch ed window which lighted the apartment. The lattice was at lofty elevation, and cross ed carefully with iron bars; through whose slender apertures played even then the sun beams, as if in mockery of man, his tortur ings, and his agonies. Ruy Lopez faced the duke, and the noble captive courteously saluted his visitor. O vanity of earthly pos session ! Yes, he, the gallant Guzman, the king’s especial favorite, the noble and the brave, was bidden unto death, most inno cently, in the full pride of youth and vigor. Heavy were the proofs of his alleged trea son ; the chief being an intercepted des patch in the Guzman’s own handwriting to the throne of France, in which a plan was proposed to take the life of Philip. Firm in the strength of rectitude, the duke’s con temptuous silence upon accusal had filled up apparently the measure of his treason. He faced the storm as a column of granite; but the thunder-stroke had dashed him earthwards. Don Guzman had braved death in every form, and blenched not for himself at this sudden beckoning away of its pale, pale arm ; but his soul sank when the thought of the lady of his love, his be trothed bride, the beautiful and young Es tella, who as yet knew nought of woe or suffering, as she trustingly awaited Calatra va’s coming to claim her hand, in the halls of her sires, on the banks ‘of the Guadal quiver. Calavar, the executioner,bluntly reported the monarch’s mandate, and the priest sor rowfully confirmed the tidings. Don Guz man acknowledged the presence of a bish op, and bent his knee to receive the bless ing of our chess-player. “In three hours, then, I am thine,” said the duke, with ma jesty, as he waved Calavar forth. The ruf fian retired, and Ruy Lopez and the Hidal go were left alone, the bishop trembling as though palsy stricken. The duke pressed his confessor’s hand in silence. It is some thing to think we have yet one friend. ’ “ You and I have met,.” said Don Guz man, after a long pause, “ under happier circumstances.” “ We have,” faltered out the new born bishop. A stranger would have thought Ruy Lopez the doomed man of the two. “ Yes ! and when in the presence of Phi lip and the court you played your great match with Paolo Boi, the Sicilian, it was upon my right arm our monarch leaned. And now!” “ I wish to Heaven I were in Nova His pania!” thought Ruy Lopez ; but nerving himself, he continued, aloud, “All these, dear son and friend, are idle thoughts. Lose not the time allowed to make your peace with Heaven ; but let us pray together hopefully that the holy offices of the church may cleanse the soul from spot, and thus prepare it for the mighty change.” “ A change indeed 1” exclaimed the no ble captain. “ And yet, let but a few short years pass away, and what will it have mat tered ? Chess-players as we both are, how well comes home Cervantes’ words, that life is but a game of chess. I forget the exact passage, but its meaning is that where as on earth men play different parts, like chess-pieces, some being kings, peasants or knights, according to fate, talent, or birth, so after a season enters Death upon the scene, and levels them all in the grave ; as we replace the chess equipment in its coffer.” “ Well do I remember those words of the Don,” said Lopez; and equally pat is honest Sancbo’s answer, that however good the parallel, the idea was not so new but that he had heard it before. But Heaven pardon this our sin of trifling!” “ I was your favorite pupil, your strong est antagonist,” remarked the duke, the words falling meaningless from his lips, as if he sought but to pass the time away. “ You were—you are !” cried the bishop, impatiently. “ But again I say let us kneel in prayer, dear son.” And they knelt, the priest and the peer, before that humble crucifix; and many were the words of Don Guzman’s confession, hidden by the sacred seal of the church deep in the torn soul of the weeping bishop. Ruy Lopez blessed the ‘prisoner, and ab solved his spirit from guilt, according to the holy Catholic rite. The last word appear ed to have been spoken, and the solemn sub ject closed ; but an hour remained of the allotted time. The manner of the dying man was marked by dignity, divested of bravado. “ This delay is horrible!” cried the duke. “ Wherefore do they tarry 1 An eternity of torture drags its hideous length in every se cond of time ! Tho world and I have part ed—would that all were over!” And- Don Guzman strode rapidly across the cell, look ing involuntarily upon the door continually, as if expecting to see it suddenly give way to the apparition of Calavar and his assis tance, with all their frightful apparatus. The noble duke’s firmness was evidently yielding to the agony of that awful soul rack. Now it happened, that Ruy Lopez, al though a bishop, was yet a man ; and in man the workings of nature go regularly on like the wheels of a clock. The priest had recovered his own self-possession, yield ing to that which he felt to be inevitable. He was struck with this last exclamation, so pitiable, of the duke, and marked the clammy death-sweat dropping from the vic tim’s marble brow. Ruy Lopez heartily wished the scene over for the sakes of both, and a sudden thought gave vent to his own ruling passion. The hour was to be slain before the man. * “ If a game of chess, now, were not pro fane !” faltered forth the priest. “ A good # thought!” cried Don Guzman, recalled again to earth, and braced once more to energy by the singularity of the proposition. “ Clever bishop ! dear con fessor ! a truly capital idea, and a most orig nal conception ! A farewell chess-party—a last Lopez Gambit! How can we better pass the timel But the chess-men, dear friend!” Ruy Lopez kindled like flame from gun powder. He all but laughed outright. “ Pardon me, noble duke,” said the bish op,” but my clerical gown always holds the weapons of war.” And he produced a miniature chess equipage accordingly ; drawing tlie two massive oaken settles to the table, and hastily setting up the pieces, “ Our lady forgive me 1” continued Ruy Lopez; “but I sometimes amuse myself with examining a chess position in the con fessional.” “ Many curious problems are doubtless solved there,” retorted the prisoner with a smile. So the two grandees, spiritual and tem poral, sat down to chess, and were speedily engaged in a game of remarkable interest. What a painter’s theme were now that little cell! What a subject for the pencil of Rem brandt or Salvator Rosa! The one narrow, confined window, with its lofty stream of sunlight pouring in full flood adown the manly features of Don Guzman, as if in mockery of God’s own image, so soon to be blood-marked by cruel man. The chess board—the benevolent countenance of Ruy Lopez, now eagerly calculating his move, with every thought abstracted from earth, and continued to the chess position before him, and now that face bedewed with pity’s tear, as its ken glanced unmarked upon the noble victim—the musculur shiver at inter vals thrilling fearfully through both peer and priest at the slightest coming of sound—ay, even at the beating of their own hearts! This last, I say, was not the least fearful feature of the scene. As I have hut now remarked, and as I in fact remark to myself every day of the week, and every hour of the ’ day, human nature is a very curious sort of nature, and its workings are oftentimes most capricious ly inexplicable. The varied emotions of our two chess-players presently ran into a different channel to what might have been perhaps expected. While in his tremor of spirit, Ruy Lopez played nearly a rook be low his proper force; the intense excite ment of the moment stimulated the pride of the Guzman and appeared to endow him with preternatural skill. The high and generous blood of old Castile responded to the call, and never had the duke played a game with such tremendous strength of pur pose, such lucidity of calculation. The taper burns brightest as it flashes forth its latest spark—the song of the swan in death is ever most musical. The mind of the gallant noble appeared already to have dis enthralled itself from earth, and to have be come that purely spiritual essence, into which it was about to be resolved by steel and headsman. The duke opened his game skilfully, dashed impetuously into attack, and acquired a position of all but certain victory. Ruy Lopez had not set his heart much upon the matter; how could he ? and his best energies seemed now all unequal to meet the unwonted powers of the assault. Chess-players will understand this descrip tion. More and more complicated became the situation of the pieces, and never did fancy carve chess problem more scientifi cally intricate than that into which our com batants had interwoven their battle array. The bishop buckled to work in earnest, and tasked his brain almost to bursting, for a mode of parrying the almost inevitable, though it might be remote, checkmate. Don Guzman, on his part, poured his soul into the fray with that glow of approaching conquest hardly appreciable in this our icy clime of the north ; and never, never was chess enthusiasm more vividly developed. The world without was forgotten—time and space no longer perceptibly existed. The universe was the chess-board—a life was in each move. Happy the delusion, could it but endure ; but, alas 1 for the good and brave, the minutes and the seconds were numbered. The door flew open, and the duke was startingly re-awakened from his dream, by the all too horrible reality which presented itself! The very beast of the desert can he more merciful than man. With the lightning swiftness which marks tho change of scene at the theatre, was the holy solitude of that peaceful chamber transformed into a very nail ol hell. The stern Calavar was again upon his prey, backed by three dark ruffians with sword and torch, as if heaven’s proper light was unfit for the destroyer. A block, covered with black cloth, was wheeled suddenly for wards ; and the short axe placed thereon told featful tidings of that which was t fol low. In stern silence, as men used to labor in blood, did the satellites of the dootnster fix their torches in the appointed niches, and strew the floor around with the dust of the cedar. All this was the work of a mo ment ; life is but a breath of the nostril. Ruy Lopez sprang tremblingly to his feet as Calavar advanced to the chess-table; but the duke stirred neither limb nor muscle, remaining in eager gaze fixed upon the board, caring not for intrusion of man or fiend. Don Guzman had to move. The workers of woe completed their preparations, and stood sullenly leaning up on their swords of office. Their gloomy chief laid his hand upon the duke’s shoulder. “ Come 1” croaked the husky Calavar. Oh! what fearful meaning can be conveyed in one poor word! The prisoner started as though serpent bitten. “ Let me finish my game 1” said Don Guzman, authoritatively. “Impossible 1” “ But I have won it fellow! t have a cer tainly forced mate; I must play it out.” “ Impossible !*’ repeated the dark one. “Are the three hours really expired?” asked the Guzman. “ Their sand has run out. We are the king's servants, and we have a duty to per form 1” And Calavar accordingly beckoned to his band, who advanced a few steps. Now the duke was sitting in the recess under the one little window facing the por tal, and both bishop and chess-table were consequently placed between him and his appointed blood-spillers. Don Guzman raised his voice, and spoke haughtily, in the tone becoming one who succeeded an an cestral line of twelve hundred years. “ This game to me, and my head to thee; but until it be played out I st ; r not. One short half-hour will give me victory.” —• u Duke,.l respect thee,” responded Cala var ; “ but this may not be: my own life hangs in the balance. Come !” Don Guzman drew from his fingers half a dozen gemmed rings of brilliants, and carelessly tossed them to the ruffians, as if to stay their thirst for gore. “I say I will finish the game,” said he calmly. The jewels lay peacefully untouched among the saw dust, and the headsmen looked at each other doubtingly. “ This is but trifling; our orders are per emptory !” cried Calavar, more impetuous ly. “ Forgive me, noble duke, do you re spect the will of your suzerain, or must we use force ? The bidding of the monarch shall be done; the sentence of Spain’s law must be executed: leave then your seat in peace, prince, and ruffle not your lest mo ments by unavailing opposition. Speak to the duke, reverend fathei, most holy bishop! Bid Don Guzman bow to his fate.” The reply of Ruy Lopez was eager as unexpected. He snatched the curtal axe from off the billet, and, waving it over his head, shouted, like the captain of a thousand men in battle: “He shall finish the game, by G— B’ cried the bishop. Started at the action accompanying these words, Calavar recoiled, and nearly fell down over his mynnidons. The scene may be imagined better than described. Swords were presented, and the band were about to rush like wolves upon their prey. Ruy Lopez seemed transformed into Hercules. He dashed his heavy oak stool upon the floor before his feet. “ The first man who passes bounds thus fixed by the church,” said the bishop, I cleave his impious skull. Up, noble duke, up, and to the work 1 ‘there are but four of the mis creants. I say your highness shall not be balked of your though it cost me life 1 And woe, ye villains I unutterable woe, to the wretch who shall dare to lay bloody hands upon a bishop of the church of Christ! Anathema Maranatha 1 Accurs ed be he, utterly and for ever. Cut off eter nally from the faithful fold—a leper here, a howling fiend hereafter. Lower your steel, bloodhounds, and respect the Lord’s anoint ed I” And Ruy Lopez continued to pour forth, in a jargon oi Latin and Spanish, one of those sublime forms of damnation visit ed by his church upon the excommunicated. The effect of our bishop’s eloquence was splendidly emphatic. The men were awe struck and tranquil, as if changed to stone. Even the sturdy Calavar felt that to slay a bishop of the church was not lightly to be thought of, without a more solemn legal warrant. “ I go to the king,” said Calavar. “ You maygoto —Hades !” responded the bishop, in phrase of purest Doric. What course remained for adoption ? Calavar was in heart all averse to reporting these untoward matters to majesty, Philip was uncertain of mood, and was, besides, awaiting, like the daughter of Herodias, for her victim’s head on a charger/ To ap proach a wild animal at feeding time is ever dangerous. The chief executioner rapidly ran over the several chances. To butcher the duke and priest as they stood, was an undertaking not hastily to he entered upon, however great the preponderance of force upon the side of the law. Ruy Lopez was VOLUME 1.-MMBER 2ft a powerful man, and his blood was lip# Don Guzman was unarmed, but desperate, and seemed amazingly to enjoy the idea of a battle. Pindence suggested the idea of temporising, rather than at once rushing to extremity. Calavar was bidden to bear the duke’s bead to tlie foot of the throne, *rtd fejt a natural disinclination to Hoar his skil ful carving. The time lost might be Sc counted for by a falsehood, and evert Were this impossible, the same half-hour would be equally consumed, if expended in a brutal and hazardous struggle. The Guzman had a large following; his friends at eonrt were powerful; their vengeance was to be dread ed. Calavar resolved upon keeping the peace, and his decision was, in my humble opinion, both just and natural. “ Will you promise, really artd truly, to finish this accursed game in half an hortf# duke ?” said Calavar, after a long pause. “ I will,” answered Don Guzman. ” In the name of the devil, play on, thertl”’ replied the executioner. ’ The trude being thus perfected, the play ers resumed their seats, and were instantly reabsorbed in the conduct of their game. Calavar was himself a ehess-player, and while he mentally anathematised both duke and prelate, by every saint in the calendar, was tcin to make a virtue of necessity, artd looked on with a face of flint. The varied attitudes of his followers, grouped as they were around the more interested party, were in strict accordance with the scene. The executioners seemed to form a wall of steel and muscle, dividing the doomed chess player from earth utterly and for ever. Don Guzman glanced carelessly round, and even at that sad moment his gallant spirit quailed not. “ Never played I chess in so goodly a pre sence before,” said the duke with a smile. “ Bear witness, fellows, when I am gone# that once in my life I mated Ruy Lopez!”* And he addressed himself again to his task# with flushed features, lighted up yet by that cold, sad smile, like a sunbeam of Alpine snows. The bishop made no comment aloud off this remark ; but be kept fast hold of the trenchant axe, and scanned ever and anon the rugged features of the men around, a* if longing in his heart for an opportunity to stir up the sleeping fray. “ Were the duke and 1,” thought Rny Lopez, “but sure of Eassage from this blood-staified tiger den, y the sacred cross! I should think but lit tle of braining the whole four of ye!” And so Went on their chess, and frightful was it to see the yet living dead await With such calm content the stroke of the slayer j fancy depicting the outlines of the scene constantly to Rny Lopez through his many varied years of afterlife—death boveriftg the while on vulture wings above the group, eager to clutch his destined prey. * • # • * But how passed the time during this in terval in the halls of majesty ? How fated it with the lord of the Escurial, while his most devoted servant was thus passing through his death-agony? If the three hours had dragged out their coil hut tardily in that dark tower where groaned imprison ed innocence, their waning in the court of Philip had been yet more tedious. Con demned by firm to remain in standing pos ture, and forbidded under any pretence to quit the royal presence, the nobles of the court, many of them in complete armor, were, despite the hardy habits of the times, almost sinking with fatigue, ns they forced ly made pretence of watching the chess going on between the monarch and Don Ramirez, count of Biscay, a fine, tall figure, but whose courtly and varnished smile at the present moment was hardly in keeping with the general aspect. De Tarraxas, with half-closed eyes, stood still as the Cock of Calpe ; resembling rather one of those gigantic suits of steel one sees in Gothic halls, than a man of real bone and blood. The youthful Alonzo d’Ossuna, wanting the iron frame of the lord high constable, and palsied with heart-sickness at the cruel fate of him he had loved so well—his leader in war, his model of every great quality which may adorn a man—D’Osuna (my legend runs) leaned against the marble pil lar in the most pitiable state of depression, like a flower-stalk snapped by £the cutting tempest of the east. Suddenly Philip start ed up, and began to pace the floor again ‘ with unequal steps, as at the commencement of our chanter, at times pausing to catch the most distant echo of sound, at others turning and watching the sand-glass, which marked the passing flight of day. All was silent as the chamber of Azrael, the angel of death ; for none present, however high in rank, dared break in upon thfeir ruler's iron command. In accordance with the gloomy superstition of the age, Philip would * Seneca gives an anecdote ot one Cains Julius which 1 quote from Lodge's translation, 1614, present? ing a curious parallel.. Lodge, however, is wrong in assuming the game to have been chess, the Romans having been certainly ignorant of that sport; and tbs presumption is that it waa a species of backgammon. “ flee was playinge at cheese (Ludebat lalrunculia) at such a lime aa the centurion wholedde a troope of con demned men to dentbe commanded him likewise to be cited. Havingsearce finished his game, he count ed his men (numcravit calculoe,) and aaid to him with whom he played, beware, eaith be, when I am dead, that thou belyeet me not, and enyeet thou hast wonne the game. Then, nodding hia head to the centurion, followinge forth#, he added, bear me witness, that I have the vantage of ons.”