"The king of Aragon now entered Castile by way of Soria and Osma with a powerful army, and, having been met by the queen's forces, both parties encamped near Sepulveda and prepared to give battle. This engagement, called, from the field where it took place, De la Espina, is one of the most famous of that age. The dastardly count of Lara fled at the first shock and joined the queen at Burgos, where she was anxiously awaiting the issue; but the brave count of Candespina (Gomez Gonzalez) stood his ground to the last and died on the field of battle. His standard-bearer, a gentleman of the house of Olea, after having his horse killed under him and both hands cut off by sabre-strokes, fell beside his master, still clasping the standard in his arms and repeating his war-cry of Olea!'" -Annals of the Queens of Spain. Now, by the God above me, sirs, Better we all were dead Than a single knight among ye all Should ride where Lara led! "Yet, ye who fear to follow me, As yon traitor turn and fly; For I lead ye not to win a field: I lead ye forth to die. "Olea, plant my standard here Here on this little mound; Here raise the war-cry of thy house, Make this our rallying-ground. Forget not, as thou hop'st for grace, And see that standard wave. Down on the ranks of Aragon The bold Gonzalez drove, And Olea raised his battle-cry And waved the flag above. Slowly Gonzalez' little band. Gave ground before the foe; But not an inch of the field was won Without a deadly blow, And not an inch of the field was won Backward and backward Gomez fought, And high o'er the clashing steel, And he smiled, like an infant hushed asleep, They hewed the hands from off his limbs : To hear the battle-cry. Now one by one the wearied knights Have fallen or basely flown, And on the mound where his post was fixed "Yield up thy banner, gallant knight ! Thy lord lies on the plain; Thy duty has been nobly done; I would not see thee slain.' "Spare pity, king of Aragon; I would not hear thee lic: My lord is looking down from heaven From every vein he bled. "Yield, madman, yield! Thy horse is down; Thunderbolt engine, swift and strong, Thou hast nor lance nor shield. They girt the standard round about, Fifty tons she was, whole and sole. I had been promoted to the express: We were thundering down to a midland town: It makes no matter about the name, So it's all the same. Just there you slide, With your steam shut off and your brakes in hand, And I often saw her-that lady, I mean, Down the steepest and longest grade in the Evening by evening, when I'd spy land At a pace that I promise you is grand. A girl shrank back from our baleful blast. That she was there, in the summer air, Oh, I didn't see her every night Bless you, no!--just now and then, And not at all for a twelvemonth quite. Then, one evening, I saw her again, Alone, as ever, but deadly pale, We were going a mile and a quarter a min- And down on the line, on the very rail, ute With vans and carriages down the incline, A roaring hell-breath of dust and smoke; quarter. And the years went on, and the express God rest him!-was found a mash He made with a Christmas train at Crewe. green While a light as of hell from our wild wheels broke, Tearing down the slope with their devilish clamors And deafening din, as of giants' hammers That smote in a whirlwind of dust and smoke All the instant or so that we sped to meet Never-oh, never had she seemed sweeter. To put on his brakes at once, and hard, Into splinters and sparks, but without avail. We couldn't stop, and she wouldn't stir, So the brakes let off, and, the steam full again, | No price too high for profit can be shown- town Before we could stop to see what was done. Oh, I've run over more than one- If I could have stopped, with all the spur sunny hair Not brothers' blood, nor hazards of their own; Translation of ABRAHAM COWLEY OME with bold labor plough the faithless But yet the chalice will be quaffed, SOME main, Some rougher storms in princes' courts sus tain ; Some swell up their slight sails with popular fame, Charmed with the foolish whistlings of a name; Some their vain wealth to earth again com- With endless cares some brooding o'er it sit; The shrine sought, as of old. Man's sterner nature turns away To seek ambition's goal; But woman knows one only dream : EMMA C. EMBURY. INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF WILLIAM COBBETT. PARENTAGE AND YOUTH. years. ITH respect to my ancestors, I shall go no farther back than my grandfather, and for this plain reason-that I never heard talk of any prior to him. He was a day-laborer, and I have heard my father say that he worked for one farmer from the day of his marriage to that of his death-upward of forty He died before I was born, but I have often slept beneath the same roof that had sheltered him, and where his widow dwelt for several years after his death. It was a little thatched cottage with a garden before the door. It had but two windows; a damson tree shaded one, and a clump of filberts the other. Here I and my brothers went every Christmas and Whitsuntide to spend a week or two and torment the old woman with our noise and dilapidations. She used to give us milk and bread for breakfast, an apple-pudding for our dinner and a piece of bread and cheese for supper. Her fire was made of turf cut from the neighboring heath, and her evening light was a rush dipped in grease. poor My father, when I was born, was a farmer. The reader will easily believe, from the poverty of his parents, that he had received no very brilliant education; he was, however, learned for a man in his rank of life. When a little boy, he drove the plough for two pence a day, and these his earnings were appropriated to the expenses of an eveningschool. What a village schoolmaster could be expected to teach he had learned, and had, besides, considerably improved himself in several branches of the mathematics. He understood land-surveying well, and was often chosen to draw the plans of disputed territory. In short, he had the reputation of possessing experience and understanding, which never fails in England to give a man in a country-place some little weight with his neighbors. He was honest, industrious and frugal; it was not, therefore, wonderful that he should be situated in a good farm and happy in a wife of his own rank, like him beloved and respected. A father like ours, it will be readily supposed, did not suffer us to eat the bread of idleness. I do not remember the time when I did not earn my living. My first occupation was driving the small birds from the turnip-seed and the rooks from the pease. When I first trudged afield with my wooden bottle and my satchel swung over my shoulders, I was hardly able to climb the gates and stiles, and at the close of the day to reach. home was a task of infinite difficulty. My next employment was weeding wheat and leading a single horse at harrowing barley. Hoeing pease followed, and hence I arrived at the honor of joining the reapers in harvest, driving the team and holding the plough. We were all of us strong and laborious, and my father used to boast that he had four |