from Naples, but your condition was not, I warrant, by any means so dangerous but that a few simple remedies would soon have set you, with your strong constitution, on your legs again, had you not through Carlo's wellintentioned blunder in running off for the nearest physician fallen into the hands of the redoubtable Pyramid Doctor, who was making all preparations for bringing you to your grave."

"What do you say?" exclaimed Salvator, laughing heartily, notwithstanding the feeble state he was in. "What do you say?—the Pyramid Doctor? Ay, ay, although I was very ill, I saw that the little knave in damask patchwork, who condemned me to drink his horrid, loathsome devil's brew, wore on his head the obelisk from St. Peter's Square - and so that's why you call him the Pyramid Doctor?"

"Why, good heavens! said the young man, likewise laughing, "Doctor Splendiano Accoramboni must have come to see you in his ominous conical nightcap; and, do you know, you may see it flashing every morning from his window in the Spanish Square like a portentous meteor. But it's not by any means owing to this cap that he's called the Pyramid Doctor; for that there's quite another reason. Doctor Splendiano is a great lover of pictures, and possesses in truth quite a choice collection, which he has gained by a practice of a peculiar nature. With eager cunning he lies in wait for painters and their illnesses. More especially he loves to get foreign artists into his toils; let them but eat an ounce or two of macaroni too much, or drink a glass more Syracuse than is altogether good for them, he will afflict them with first one and then another disease, designating it by a formidable name, and proceeding at once to cure them of it. He generally bargains for a picture as the price of his attendance; and as it is only specially obstinate constitutions which are able to stand his powerful remedies, it generally happens that he gets his picture out of the chattels left by the poor foreigner, who meanwhile has been carried to the Pyramid of Cestius, and buried there. It need hardly be said that Signor Splendiano always picks out the best of the pictures the

painter has finished, and also does not forget to bid the men to take several others along with it. The cemetery near the Pyramid of Cestius is Doctor Splendiano Accoramboni's cornfield, which he diligently cultivates, and for that reason he is called the Pyramid Doctor. Dame Caterina had taken great pains, of course with the best intentions, to make the Doctor believe that you had brought a fine picture with you; you may imagine therefore with what eagerness he concocted his potions for you. It was a fortunate thing that in the paroxysm of fever you threw the Doctor's bottle at his head; it was also a fortunate thing that he left you in anger, and no less fortunate was it that Dame Caterina, who believed you were in the agonies of death, fetched Father Boniface to come and administer to you the sacrament. Father Boniface understands something of the art of healing; he formed a correct diagnosis of your condition and fetched me. I hastened here, opened a vein in your left arm, and you were saved. Then we brought you up into this cool, airy room that you formerly occupied. Look, there's the easel which you left behind you; yonder are a few sketches which Dame Caterina has treasured up as if they were relics. The virulence of your disease is subdued; simple remedies, such as Father Boniface can prepare, are all you want, except good nursing, to bring back your strength again. And now permit me once more to kiss this hand- this creative hand that charms from Nature her deepest secrets and clothes them in living form. Permit poor Antonio Scacciati to pour out all the gratitude and immeasurable joy of his heart that Heaven has granted him to save the life of our great and noble painter, Salvator Rosa."- Signor Formica, in The Serapion Brethren.

VOL. XIII.-13.

OFLAND, BARBARA WREAKS, an English novelist; born at Sheffield in 1770; died in 1844. She was the author of about seventy works, many of which had a wide circulation. Among them are The Daughter-in-Law; Emily; The Son of a Genius; Beatrice; Says She to Her Neighbor; What? The Unloved One; The Czarina; The Merchant's Widow; Ellen, the Teacher; Adelaide; Humility; Fortitude; Decision; Integrity; The Clergyman's Widow; Daniel Dennison; Self Denial; Tales of the Priory, and Tales of the Manor.

LABORS OF LOVE.

Left in a great measure to his own management, Ludovico now worked incessantly, and when he had finished a little parcel of pictures, took them out into the neighboring villages of this populous district for sale; a circumstance of great utility to him, as the exercise he was thus obliged to take was of the greatest use to his health.

Among other objects of Ludovico's compassion was an old woman who sold matches, mop-thrums, and little paper bags for the maids to put feathers in. He inquired of this poor woman what she gave for the last; to which she answered by complaining that she had only two left, and could get no more.

Ludovico, after examining one, bought it of her: as he did so, these words passed his mind, Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I unto thee"; his eyes filled with tears as he looked at the withered face and gray locks of the poor old woman; and as it ever was his custom to run away when his feelings were awakened, he scampered out of sight before the old woman had time to perceive that he had given her threepence for her twopenny bag.

"Now the blessing of God go with thee, my bonny

bairn," said the old woman; for she was convinced by the look of the boy that it was done intentionally.

No need to bless he for an odd penny," said a woman who was standing by: "why, Goody, that's the boy as sells the pictures all about: he's bought your bag on purpose for a pattern, and by next market-day he'll be selling a whole mess of 'em; ye'll see that."

"Well, well, we mun all live," said the poor dame.

On the next market-day Ludovico was seen as usual silently standing in Briggate with his pictures; and something folded in a newspaper under his arm; he had now been regularly working for several months, and his sale was of course not so rapid as at first, especially as he had raised his prices. Just as he had finished bargaining with a cobbler who wished for a painting to ornament his stall, he cast his eye upon the old woman with her match-basket; and springing gladly forward, he opened his little parcel and produced nine neat paper bags, very prettily made, which he silently put into her hand.

"An' what mun I gie thee for these, my lad? they be jist what I wanted."

"Nothing, nothing at all, you are welcome," said Ludovico, as he spoke trying to escape the old woman's surprise and thanks, by edging his way backward into the crowd. At this moment a loud altercation was taking place between two corn-factors, one of whom, in an angry voice, was repeating the words

""Tis false, I tell you, false altogether; I paid you for the second load, along with the other, as my receipt will show."

"I shall believe the receipt when I see it, but not till then; for the twenty-eight pounds stands in my book uncrossed; whereas the fifty pounds is jist as it ought to be made, received all in order."

More shame for you, not settling your books; but I'll convince you; I'll prove to you," said the first in a very angry tone, taking out his pocket-book, and turning over the leaves with great agitation. At this very moment poor Ludovico had the ill luck to jostle the angry man in his retreat, who, in the moment of vexa

tion, gave him such a violent blow that many of the papers in his pocket-book fell out: the book was full of bills, for he was going to make a large payment, and the consciousness of his folly instantly calmed his anger. He gathered his papers up as well as he could, looking in vain for the receipt, which he declared he possessed, and proposed stepping into the hotel to examine more minutely the contents of the disarranged pocket-book; saying at the same time, "I believe I have lost nothing; but that is more by good luck than good looking after."

This was more than Ludovico could say, for he had not only got a hard blow, but his pictures were all thrown down on the dirty stones, which were wet from a recent shower, and the labors of a week were lost in a moment. The poor woman would have wiped them for him, but Ludovico, knowing all was lost, hastily clapped them together, and was departing, when he perceived something of paper sticking to his foot, which he had no doubt had come from the angry man's pocket-book; an idea which was instantly confirmed by perceiving that it was a Luds bank-note for five guineas.

Ludovico had that morning counted his store, which with the stock he hoped to dispose of that day amounted to something more than three pounds. He looked wistfully at the bill — “Five pounds five, and three pounds seven," said he inwardly, "make eight pounds ten. Oh, that this were mine!"

"Thine, honey! it is thine to be sure, and much good may thee have of it," said the old woman.

'Nay, Goody, it is the gentleman's that struck me." "More brute he! but I doesn't think it be his'n, for he said he had got all that belonged to him, and many a man as rich as he has gone over these stones to-day. Take it, child, take it; 'tis a Godsend to thee for helping a poor old woman."

This was indeed persuasive logic, and for a moment Ludovico yielded to it, but the next convinced him that he ought at least to inquire for the gentleman who had owned the pocket-book, persuading himself that as he seemed a rich man, even if he had lost the bill, he might perhaps give it him; he therefore hastened after him