love? Could I read hearts? Could I open the bosoms of all who surrounded me and see what was passing there? In truth, good friend, I believed myself possessed of that power. I believed myself wise, surpassingly wise, but perhaps, I was then, as they say I am nowmad I was born in the year ****. My parents were affluent, and moved in the circles of rank and fashion; my father was a banker, and posessed of great wealth. I was their only child. Great was the joy when I was born. Heavens! What festivities were made! The preparations occupied a month. What feastings, drinkings, carollings! As if the new-born child were destined to be a blessing to his fellow-creatures! What folly. I look back to these times, to these rejoicings, with an upturned lip, and the smile of something by no means akin to respect. What happiness did my birth and being give to my good parents. The event made a great holiday, and all my mother's and father's friends eat and drank at their expense, all in honor of the son and heir! And now what is that son and heir; in a dungeon-poor and mad! Could my father and mother look out of their graves and see this heir-this much loved heir-whom they made such revelry in honor of, what a lesson would they read to mortality. Ir is generally understood that experience is a dear school, but fools will learn in no other. This may be good as a general rule, but there are exceptions to it, and there are those who find no other school to learn in. I found no other. I have learnt wisdom dearly; better were it I had remained in utter folly, for with the cup of knowledge I have drained the cup of misery to its dregs. My whole life has been a romance; it may amuse the world to read it. Ay, they will be amused by the records of life's wretchedness, while the hero of the tale lies lonely and despairing in his misery; and they will pass from the perusal to gay scenes and gorgeous festivals, while he passes from his prison-house to the gates of death! To death! Ah! death! And they must downward go as well as me. I go before them only-their My brain wanders. It was not their fault. My miseavant courier! They must come after me. Ladies,ry I attribute to no one. I have been overpowered and princes, kings! A goodly company to follow in my destroyed by circumstances. Bear with me, while I recite my tale, as clearly as I can in this miserable conThey have pronounced me mad! 'Tis very good.dition to which I am reduced. Mad! They, the flittering vain gaudy things of earth, who gibe and gibber, and nought else from day to day and year to year, pronounce me mad. They are in a very fit state, doubtless, to give an opinion upon human sanity.. train. I was lying in a rich satin cushioned and curtained cradle in gorgeous apartments, and servants watched about me that my slumbers might not be disturbed, nor my cries unheeded when I waked, and the eyes of the fair and fragile creature that gave me existence beamed on me all the sunshine and glory of a mother's love, when the news came that my father was ruined. He had speculated largely and had been unfortunate. He was utterly ruined. I am the child, and have been the victim of circumstances; from my cradle to my grave my career has been influenced by things which but for early thoughts and affections I should have repudiated, and from the trammels of which I have freed myself. But there was no school for me to become wise in. There was no tutor, who as I grew in years and knowledge, and began to think and feel, to curb the aspirations of youth, to put the restraint of wisdom upon the impulses of inexperience, to chain my thoughts down to the world when they were soaring upwards with the enthusiasm of life's early days, winging their flight to heaven's gate, and looking down with ineffable contempt upon all God's creatures And then she went. They laid her in the grave. who did not approach the false standard of human excel-And then was I alone in the world. Father, mother, lence which in my lonely dreaming I had established. Do you understand me? They have pronounced me mad; let that be my excuse for my obscurity. I am a different being from all of you. I am cold, calculating, cruel perhaps. But when I was a boy I delighted in all gentle things; I was open, social, and enthusiastic. I loved to roam abroad in the green fields, to gaze upon the bright flowers, to pluck the daisy from its mossy retreat, to listen to the songs of birds: and then I would look up to heaven and love it as the habitation of a great brotherhood, where all are good and happy, and then I felt a stronger and better love for earth's creatures. Then did I love humanity. Then could I have worshipped, almost to idolatry, the beings that could have loved me, and I assured of their love. But this assurance of love! What could assure me of my neighbor's How quickly the scene changed! No more satin cushions for my cradle, no servants to see that the rude wind did not visit my infantine face too roughly. I was deposited in a wicker-basket, in a plain room in the country, but one face was above me, and the sunlight of those eyes, though it was dimmed, still gladdened the child's heart. All else were gone. But the mother remained with her boy. were both dead, I was an orphan. I knew not what it meant when they told me so. Bitterly do I feel now that I was an orphan then. I was ten years old when I was taken under the roof of my maternal uncle, an attorney of respectable practice. He was a good man, but so entirely devoted to business, that he had little or no time to attend to domestic matters. My aunt was attached to her household duties, and my cousins were the counterpart of their mamma. I lived very happily with them, and was accounted a good and fine boy; and my cousin Ellen and I were sweethearts, and folks said that when we were old enough we should be man and wife. I recollect being delighted when they said so, and also when my uncle replied to the remark with an approving nod. And I might have been the husband of Ellen Ellen whom I loved in boyish days; the playmate, the sole partner of my youthful rambles and enjoyments, but whom I afterwards despised! And what made me despise her? Circumstances. The good old Mr. Lockwood having some vague, and as it proved, groundless expectation that some part of my father's losses might be recovered in the course of time, and that I might be enabled to assume my father's position in society, determined to give me an education becoming of those expectations. Short-sighted man. He did what he thought would be best, and heaven has, no doubt, rewarded his good intentions. What he would have had prove a blessing to me, has been my curse. He made me his superior. I was sent to college; the good man spared no expense upon my education. A new world opened before me. I associated with the children of rank and talent. I read the books of the first authors. How my heart has thrilled over the living pages of the mighty spirit of the past and the present. I loved to retire to my closet to read to devour the contents of the volumes I had selected for perusal and study. I estranged myself at length from all my companions. I shut myself up in my room; my much-beloved companions were my books; and so passed that period of my existence. I returned to Mr. Lockwood and he received me into the bosom of his family with sincere affection. He was in all respects the same as what I had left him, and so was my aunt; and my cousins were the same, but I was altered. I had drunk of the fountain of knowledge. But alas! the tempering cup of wisdom had not been offered to me; I had learned to think and to feel, but I had had no one to direct my thoughts and feelings into the right channel. My mind was like a garden full of bright flowers, but choked and decaying in its wildness. I have said that Mr Lockwood, my uncle, was entire ly devoted to his business; my aunt was fond of, and exclusively occupied household matters; and my cousin Ellen's accomplishments were composed of the ability to play a rondo on the piano-forte and paint upon velvet. Doubtless it was a happy family. I was a happy boy when I roamed with Ellen among the green lanes, and in the flower-spangled fields, and thought her so good to love such an unfriended orphan as myself. But now I felt that I was her superior! At that time, however Mr Lockwood might have corrected my false notions, but he was too much occupied with his avocations, and when the dignity which I assumed, from the consciousness of mental superiority, became annoying to the family, he would rebuke my insolence with some asperity, and then I thought him a ty rant. what I had read, of what I had felt, and what I thought, they listened to me with coldness, which I believed to be unkindness, and evidently with impatience. And sometimes Ellen would laughingly call me her moonstruck cousin. I grew reserved. I forbore to speak as I felt. They could not understand me, and for that I despised them. I knew that what I said was not understood, and the fear of being laughed at sealed my lips. And from that moment my wretchedness began. The fact was, I was too spiritually, they too worldly-minded. We were both of us in extremes. If we had had one mutual friend to have stept in between us, his influence night have acted magnetically and drawn us together. Mr. Lockwood had this power, but he was not aware of it, he was too much engaged; and thus we went on, each day lowering us more and more in each other's estimation, and eventually I became morose, cold, headstrong, cruel. I see my error now that it is too late to repair it. It was my duty to have been candid, to have met love for love, to have embraced with warm affection the friends who had evinced so real an affection for me, by taking a poor unfriended orphan into their bosom and giving him the means of supporting himself in after-times with respectability and honor. I should have explained the difference which education and reading had established between us, and have encouraged always and never repulsed their love: but I thought they hated me, and I despised them. God forgive me! The last meal which I shall eat in this my life's last hour has been provided by those despised-but surely most blessed of earth's creatures. Forsaken by all others, they remain constant to my dying pillow, and I shall die with my aunt Lockwood's hand clasped in mine, and poor Ellen's sighs shall waft my spirit to another-and, I trust, a better world! To return. I married in opposition though it were, to Mr. Lockwood's wishes. He pointed out to me the folly of marrying under my present circumstances. But I treated his kind advice as the effect of some foolish fears of a worldly-minded man, and I left his house, and became the master of a home, and husband of the wife I loved. We lived together, Anna and myself, in a sweet cottage home. Anna was the daughter of the deceased curate, who had taken pains to cultivate her mind, which bore affinity to my own. Words cannot describe the happiness which for some time we enjoyed. Anna had no fortune, but I continued to serve Mr. Lockwood, and that worthy uncle having made us a large wedding present, we were in comfortable circumstances. But within twelve months Mr. Lockwood died, and his business was disposed of. The executors, at my aunt's request stipulated that I should continue to be employed unless I should at any time disgrace myself. But it was now found that Mr Lockwood, in the kindness of his heart, had given me much more than my services merited, and consequently, my income became reduced considerably. Still I had the love of a wife to fall back upon. And the light of love still shone radiantly in our cottage home. I was now eighteen years old, and I felt that for my future subsistence I was dependant upon my uncle. 1 applied myself to his profession. I was too proud to eat the bread of idleness. I gave him all the assistance in my power, and he would frequently acknowledge my services. O! how precious were his kind words to me. What happiness they caused. But it was only momentary. My cousin and my mother were, in comparison with myself, ignorant. Their knowledge was bounded by the household lines. My spirit exalted itself to the I became a father, and as our wants of course increasskies. And when I talked, in all the excitement of ed, we grew careful: we resolved to dispense with suyouth, with all the enthusiasm of a romantic mind, of perfluities. The love of Anna suffered no abatement. If I grew desponding, she was there to whisper to me words of consolation and sweet hope, and though my spirits grew more and more depressed, I still derived some comfort from the gentleness and truth of her undying love. Thus did I pass through twelve months—a brief space-of my life. But the sweetness of the temper of my angel wife was no match for the iron resolve of poverty. Mr. Lockwood's successor was a spendthrift, he exhausted his means, became a bankrupt, and the business was broken up. I was turned adrift. Poverty now came into our cottage, and the temper of my Anna underwent a change. She had two children now demanding her care, and my occasional ill temper became at first unheeded, and then rebuked. She spoke angrily, I replied. We quarrelled, and-do I live to write the words-I struck her. the lady for whom it is intended does not approve of it, it is to be returned," "You said a "Is the lady's name a secret ?" "Not at all. It is Miss Maria Willingham." "Indeed!" replied Mrs. Trevillon. gentleman had purchased it; I had thought Robert Grantley was an accepted suitor there. "O yes, it was Mr. Trevillon." "Heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Trevillon. Mrs. Mornell was as much astonished as her friend, but wishing to avoid exposure, she hurried from the shop, taking her unhappy friend with her, and in a few moments they were sat down at Mrs. Trevillon's door. They proceeded into the drawing-room, where the husband was sitting. He arose to meet them. "Well, Henrietta," he said, "I am glad you are come. Love, which had still hovered about our cottage, took I was fearful that you would not arrive before some one wing, and came back no more. Unable to obtain employment, I wandered about a wretched being, too proud to beg, and looking down with disdain upon the people who passed me, and whose placid looks betøkened none of that want and misery which dwelt in my wretched home. I gazed upon the living masses, the masses of human beings that hurried past me, and I saw those with looks of comfort and affluence upon whose brows ignorance had fixed its unmistakeable seal. And I marvelled that I with all my knowledge, with all my high sentiments, with all my love for goodness, all my devotion to the glorious works of nature and nature's God, should be condemned to want to wretchedness! It may be that this contemplation discomposed my sanity. Something occurred. What it was I have no clear recollection of. I know there was a pistol and a lonely place, and that some one shrieked, and that I was held up by vulger hands. I lost my good name. I had become a highwayman! I should have told you that Anna and her children were all dead. A malignant fever destroyed them all, and spared me to die in a mad house. Let me hurry to the end of the tale. I am here in! this den of human misery. I am bound with cords. I have been violent they say and must be restrained. And I shall die, they tell me, for the doctor cannot save me. What a farce is this. The doctor is a great man, but even the doctor cannot save a lesser one from dying! Bear with me-my brain is confused. There is an angel at my bedside whose looks are more efficacious than any medicine the doctor can prescribe for me. The like ness of her whom I hated and despised-the living likeness of Ellen Lockwood is near me, and in her eyes I read worlds of bliss-beyond the grave. Ellen -The book is in her hand-her eyes are uplifted to heaven's gate-she kneels-my eyes grow dim -Ellen-we will pray, we will pray. PEARLS AND A POODLE; OR, A SLIGHT MISTAKE. "THIS is a beautiful necklace," said Mrs. Trevillon, taking up a necklace of pearls from the counter of the jeweller of Mrs. Mornell, whom she had accompanied, and looking at it admiringly," What is the price of it?" "That necklace," replied the jeweller, has just been purchased, although conditionally, by a gentleman. If else came whom I am desirous of your seeing." "O, I have seen and heard enough!" exclaimed the distracted wife. "Traitor! I have detected your perfidy!" and she threw herself in tears on the damask sofa. "Henrietta!" exclaimed the husband, glancing first upon his distracted lady, and then at the other with a look of anxious inquiry; "What does this mean?" "O, ungrateful, barbarous man!" exclaimed his wife, endeavoring, but in vain, to curb her emotion and restrain her tears. "Mrs. Mornell will tell you all.” Mr. Trevillon turned towards the lady to seek an explanation. "O, Charles!" she exclaimed," why did you buy that necklace for Miss Maria Willingham?" “I—a necklace for Miss Maria Willingham!" cried Mr. Trevillon in astonishment. "Yes," quickly rejoined his wife "I had it from the jeweller's own lips. I saw the necklace, bought, as he said, for her, and by Mr. Trevillon." "Hen "O, the false knave!" cried Mr. Trevillon. rietta, this must be a mistake. I certainly have bought a necklace, and He was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who announced that the jeweller was waiting below. "Show him up, by all means," said Mr. Trevillon. "And now, Henrietta, this mystery will be explained." The jeweller soon made his appearance in the drawing room, and handed to Mr. Trevillon, the necklace. Why," said Mrs. Trevillon to the jeweller, " you told me not an hour ago, that Mr. Trevillon had bought the necklace for Miss Maria Willingham." The jeweller was surprised to see Mrs. Trevillon, whose person he had previously been unacquainted with, and shrewdly guessing at the state of affairs, occasioned by a slight mistake which he had made, immediately explained that a pet poodle which Miss Willingham had lost, had followed Mr. Trevillon; who when at the jeweller's, purchasing a necklace for his lady, had left the poodle, with instructions, that it should be sent to Miss Maria, with his compliments. In the hurry of business the jeweller had misunderstood his foreman, but having been set right immediately Mrs. Trevillon had left the shop, he was now able to remove the unfavorable impression which his blunder had made. "And now, Henrietta," said Mr. Trevillon," will you wear this necklace?" Mrs. Trevillon replied with a smile. Original. THE GIPSY GIRL OF MADRID. (Continued.) heaven filled my soul with love for thee, Preciosa! I determined to have no will but thine; but I confess it never entered into my imagination thou would'st have asked this. However, since it is thy wish, it will also THE Young Cavalier listened with deep interest while be mine; and from this moment I am a gipsy, and do Preciosa spoke. with me what you will. If I am to change my costume this is a fitting time, as I could pretend to my father I would seek the wars in Flanders, and gain a supply of money. I will be here in eight days; but in the meanwhile, I would ask-if I dare take the liberty of re drid. I fear, lady, some happier one should snatch from me that which it would be taking life to lose." "I cannot grant this, Señor," replied Preciosa. "I must be free in all my movements; my liberty must not be intruded upon, nor my spirits damped by jealous fears. You will see, I hope ere long, my honesty equals my gaiety, and the first thing I shall insist on, is confidence in my truth. The jealous are either simple or presumptuous." "Satan must have entered into the girl," said her grandmother, "to enable her to preach thus—why, thou would'st put to silence the whole college of Salamanca. Thou talk of love! what dost thou know, chit, of jealousy and confidence? I am an old fool, and listen to thee as if to one inspired to speak Latin, who does not understand the meaning of the words put into his mouth." 66 "Señor Cavaliere, although I am a poor gipsy of humble birth," she said, "I have a spirit within me which carries me above my station. Promises cannot move me, nor can gifts buy me; attentions gain me; nor all the enchantments of a devoted love, dazzle me.questing thee anything-to refrain from entering MaAlthough my years are few-and I shall be but fifteen this next San Miguel's day, according to my grandmother's account-I am old in thought, which enables me to do more than my age would promise. My mind serves me for experience; and this tells me the violent passion of an enamored youth would break all bonds; trample upon every obstacle, to obtain the object of his wishes; and then, when he fancies himself in possession of happiness, feels weariness and dislike towards the once loved-one. This knowledge has created in me such caution and distrust, that I believe not in fair words, nor yield to rich gifts. I esteem my honor, sir, more than my life, and sell it not for vows nor for wealth; and if it could be sold, surely it would be of little value. I would go with it to my grave; and hope not by speers, or wiles, or charms to rend it from me. Purity is a flower, which even in imagination should not be injured. Sever the rose from the stem, and behold how soon it withers! This one crushes it-that, tears its delicate leaves; another tramples upon it, until at last, by some rustic clown it is defaced and lost in the dust. Señor, if it is for this alone you seek me, hope not to succeed, I am yours if you wish; but I tell you fairly it can only be in the bonds of marriage. If you would be my spouse, I here promise to be your wife; but still, only upon certain conditions. First, I would be convinced you are all you say you are. This know ledge obtained, you must consent to leave your father's house, assume the gipsy dress and for two years reside with us in our tents and caves, and follow our roving life. At the end of that time we shall be conversant with the dispositions of each other; and if you then wish to take me as your wife, I will be yours. Until then I will be unto you as a sister or a humble servitor.self vanquished. We also gain an insight into his disYou will consider that one advantage may accrue; you position, for giving is a sign of a generous bosom. Remay recover from what you might call your delusion, member the saying, and wish to fly from what you now seek with so much ardor; in that case, your liberty regained, a little repentance will secure you pardon for your flight. If, on these conditions, Señor, you incline to enter as a soldier in our ranks, it rests with you; but if you agree not, you touch not even a finger of mine." The young man listened in wondering silence to this singular girl, and when she had finished, remained gazing upon the ground as if considering what reply to make to her severe requisitions. 'Now silence, good grandmother," said Preciosa, "and know all I have said are trifles, frivolities, compared to those deep truths and sentiments which I feel thronging my bosom." All that Preciosa said showed her so modest and discreet, that it but added fuel to the flame of the enamored knight, and he agreed to meet them there at the end of eight days, equipped for his wandering life, and they in the meanwhile would have sufficient time to acquaint themselves with his family and character. The youth drew out an embroidered purse, containing, he said, a hundred golden escudos, which he tendered to the old woman. This Preciosa would not allow; but her grandmother thought otherwise, and thus addressed her: "This, child, is the best proof the gentleman can give of submission, he resigns his arms and confesses him 'Let the mouth pray, You would not have the gipsy tribe, through me, to lose the character they have acquired for many ages of being avaricious and grasping? What, Preciosa, would you refuse a hundred escudos? I can sew them up in a fold of my old petticoat, which is not worth two reales, and thus hide them until time of need. Should any of our people fall into the hands of justice, who shall find us favor in the eyes of the judge and lawyers, if it be not these escudos. Three times, for three different offences, I found myself near a whipping and gained my liberty; once by a vase of silver; the next by a string of pearls; and the third by forty dollars. Know, niña we gipsies tread in paths full of dangers and difficulties, and we can defend ourselves by no better means than The young Cavalier raised his head and said, "When the Arms of the great Philip-we need seek for no Preciosa saw his perplexity, and said "This is not a case of such little moment that you can hastily decide. Return to the city, Señor, and take as much time as you will to consider upon all I have said. You can see me here whenever you wish, as I shall continually pass here to and from Madrid during the feast days." surer protector than his plus ultra. A doubloon will create a smile on the gloomy visage of the Procurator, or the executioner. They are all harpies who prey upon, rob and strip us of more than would any highwayman. Ragged and wretched though we be, they never believe we can be poor; but say we are like the jackets of the Gabachos of the Pyrennes, greasy and tattered, but filled with doubloons." "Say no more for your life, grandmother!" exclaimed Preciosa, "you bring forward as many laws in favor of the money, as would exhaust those of the emperors. Keep them then, and much good may they do you. Truly I hope you will entomb them in the sepulchre of your pocket, where they will never see the light of the sun. You must, however, give some to our companions here, for they have waited long for us, and already appear impatient." she holds council with fountains and fields; green and waving trees are her delight, and she rejoices in the fragrance and beauty of flowers; every thing in nature which meets her view, brings with it instruction and pleasure." "Notwithstanding all this," replied the young gipsy, "I hear she is poor, and somewhat of a beggar." "On the contrary, every poet is rich, for he is contented with his state-philosophy, which few can obtain. But why do you ask me this question, Preciosa ?" "Because, I believed all poets were poor, and I could not account for the escudo which was enclosed in it. But now that I know you are not poet, only a friend to poetry, I shall believe you to be rich. There is no poet, it is said, who knows how to preserve the property belonging to him, or to gain more-while making verses his affairs go to ruin." "They will see this money," replied the gipsy wo- "I am not one of those," said the page, "I have man, "when the Turks come to Spain. This good verses, and am not rich, nor poor, and without being Señor, may, perhaps, have some few shillings or six-affected by it, as the people of Genoa do to their guests, pences to throw among them, for they will be satisfied with little." "Oh, I have plenty," said the youth, and taking three dollars from his pocket he gave them to three gipsy girls who stood near, which made them as joyful as the author of a comedy, who finds himself victor over a rival writer. It was agreed the party were to meet again at the end of eight days, when the young gentleman was to take the name of Andres, the Knight, as there were others among them who love this appellation. Andres, for thus we will now call him, did not dare to offer to embrace the gipsy girl, but sending his soul through his eyes, departed without it, if I may thus speak, and soon entered Madrid. * Preciosa, influenced more by kindness, than love for the graceful and generous Andres, was anxious to know if he had spoken truth regarding his condition. They entered Madrid, and had passed through a few streets when they met the page who had given Preciosa the poetry enclosing an escudo of gold. As soon as he saw them he cried, "Ah! well met, Preciosa. Did you ever read the verses I gave you the other day?" I can afford to give an escudo or two, to any one I may like. Take this second paper, my precious pearl, and this escudo, without troubling yourself whether I am the author or no. All I would have you believe is, he who gives you this would wish, for your sake, to possess the riches of Midas." Preciosa took the paper, through which she felt the escudo. "This packet," she said, "ought to live many years, for it possesses two souls, one of gold, the other of song, which is always full of souls and hearts. Señor Page, I care not for so many souls, I will retain but one. I like you better as a poet, than a donor, for thus our friendship will be more durable." "Since it is thus," replied the page, "that you will have it I am poor, return me the soul of gold, and keep the romance. You have touched the escudo with your hand, and henceforward it will be to me a precious relic." Preciosa gave him the gold, and folded up the paper, not caring to read it in the street. The page left her, rejoicing, for her affability had given him hopes of being regarded with a favorable eye. "Before I reply," said Preciosa, "you must answer Preciosa cared not to stay to dance, but roamed about me one thing, by the life of the one you most love." the streets-searching for the house of Andres. In one "That is a strong conjuration, lady," replied the of the principal streets she beheld a mansion which "and if the answer will cost me my life, I cannot answered the description, for in front were balconies of gilded iron. On the balcony stood a noble and venera"Then tell me truly, did you happen to write the ble looking gentleman åpparently about fifty; bearing page, refuse." verses ?" "If I did," said the page, "it must have been by hap, or luck, for know, Preciosa, I cannot lay claim to the name of poet, although I have a great respect for the muses. Those verses which I gave you, and those which I now present, are mine, but still I am no poet, God does not require it of me." "Is it so wrong to be a poet?" inquired Preciosa. "Not wrong," replied the page, “but to be a poet alone I hold to be no good thing. La Poesia is a jewel too precious for the owner to wear on every occasion, nor exhibit to every one. It should be retained until fitting times and seasons, or you may liken it to the young and lovely damsel, pure, honest and retiring, but sparkling, although never overstepping the bounds of the strictest discretion. Poetry is a friend to solitude; upon his breast a scarlet military badge. As soon as he saw the gipsies he called out, "Come up, girls, and I will give you something in charity." At the sound of his voice three other gentlemen stepped out upon the balcony, among whom was the enamored Andres. When his eyes fell upon Preciosa, he became extremely pale, and almost insensible, so much did her unexpected presence overcome him. The gipsy girls all ascended to the saloon, leaving the old lady below, who was anxious to learn all she could of Andres, from the servants. "This must be the celebrated pretty gipsy girl," said the elderly gentleman as they entered the room, " for I have heard she is now in Madrid." "It is she," replied Andres, " and as you see the most peerless creature in existence." |