ing all the candor which has been manifested toward female learning, and the favorable impressions made by a lady of talent, it must be acknowledged, that "a blue-stocking beauty is a gentleman's aversion." "That learning belongs not to the female character, and that the female mind is not capable of a degree of improvement equal to that of the other sex, are narrow and unphilosophical prejudices. The past and present times exhibit most honorable instances of female learning and genius." (Knox's Essays, No. 142.) In the deeper and more exalted departments of classical knowledge, the name of Dacier stands high, while that of Elizabeth Carter cannot be forgotten. Fortunate might the Grecian sage think himself, could he look through the vista of past ages, in having his ethical maxims arrayed in an English garb, by so fair a hand. The genius of Mrs. More has reached too high a pitch of glory to be passed over in silence. Her numerous works testify the extent and importance of her knowledge, and how well qualified are her talents to do justice to any subject which she might undertake. In the region of elegant literature we have a host of fair authoresses who have adorned their country and themselves. Who has not heard of the "moral tales of an Edgeworth; the popular romances of a Radcliffe; and the useful labors of a Smith and a Barbauld?" To tell each favorite name would swell a long catalogue of fair ones more appropriate for the counter of a bibliopolist than for the pages of a brief essay.

But who that loves the muse can fail to give his meed of praise to the female lyre? Who that has heard the nervous touches which resound from the lyre of Hemans, will venture to accuse the Nine of partiality in the distribution of their favors to the other sex alone? And let us not forget to notice one prominent trait which invariably marks the progress of female genius. All its

labors are directed, as is fitting, to the promotion of the sacred cause of virtue, truth, and religion. To quote the language of one of the eminent ladies above referred to:

"Let such women as are disposed to be vain of their comparative petty attainments, look up with admiration to those two contemporary shining examples, the venerable Elizabeth Carter, and the blooming Elizabeth Smith. In them let our young ladies contemplate profound and various learning chastened by true Christian humility. In them let them venerate acquirements which would have been distinguished in an university, meekly softened and beautifully shaded by the gentle exertion of every domestic virtue, the unaffected exercise of every feminine employment." (More's Calebs, v. 2, p. 245.)

Who will then deny to the female mind the blessings of education, and the acquirements of knowledge? While there should ever be a due regard to providential circumstances of life, and no woman is warranted to neglect a greater duty for a minor one, it must be allowed that the lady of taste and knowledge has a far greater advantage than the lady who is without them; and in every point of view is calculated to confer a greater blessing on her friends and connexions. If a woman be ignorant, she will lose many delights herself, and deprive others of many. "I do not mean (to cite again the language of Mrs. More) that learning is absolutely necessary, but a man of taste who has an ignorant wife, cannot in her company think his own thoughts, nor speak his own language; his thoughts he will suppress, his language he will debase, the one from hopelessness, the other from compassion. He must be continually lowering and dilating his meaning, in order to make himself intelligible. This he will do for the woman he loves, but in doing so he will not be happy. She who cannot be entertained by

his conversation, will not be convinced by his reasoning, and at length he will find out, that it is less trouble to lower his own stand

ard to hers, than to exhaust himself in the vain attempt to raise hers to his own." (Celebs, v. 2, p. 234.):

EXCEPTING from necessity, or the impulses of ambition and avarice, which create their own necessities, a Spanish gentleman rarely travels -at least he seldom did so during the last century. Love, music, the exercises in which his rank in life rendered it imperative that he should excel-riding, dancing, and fencing, together with the adornment of his person, occupied the early season of life pride and indolence left little employment for the remainder, save what was demanded by the confess or, or consumed by the cigar.

It nevertheless happened, that Don Antonio del Puyes had an idea that "home-keeping youths have homely wits," and, to the surprise of his neighbors, he sent his second son, Raymondo, to finish his education at Paris, after which it was his intention to purchase for him a commission in the army. As, however, he returned at a time of profound peace, and with an inordinate desire to travel, the father manifested no objection, and a rich bachelor uncle, whose favorite he had always been, furnished abundant funds for the purpose. They were probably both proud to exhibit beyond the environs of Saragossa, where they and their ancestors had resided from time immemorial, a young man who had been the pride of Oviedo for his acquirements, and subsequently the admiration of a small, but courtly circle in Paris-who was in manners and accomplishments the beau ideal of a Spanish cavalier, had "blue blood "" on both sides, was probably the handsomest man in his own country, and would be so in any which he might visit.

The reading of Don Raymondo

had lately been directed to the history of the emancipation of the Seven United Provinces from the Spanish yoke, and, with a liberality seldom displayed by a Spaniard, but which was natural to his age and with his education, he not only rejoiced in their success, but cherished an ardent desire to form a personal acquaintance with their inhabitants. Generous and enthusiastic, he longed to witness and share the blessings of that triumphant liberty, which their forefathers had achieved by valor never surpassed and fortitude never equaled. A total stranger to commerce, and to the obligations which it imposes and the consequences to which it leads, our traveller thought only of independence and industry as relative terms, and expected to find every Dutchman a hero in his sentiments, a Hercules in his labors, surrounded indeed by a morass, but rendering it an Eden, so far as the power of human ingenuity can effect such a change.

To Holland, therefore, his first views were directed, and, crossing the Peninsula, he embarked at Oporto for Rotterdam, taking thence letters of introduction for the Hague, which could hardly fail to ensure him the power of forming intimate acquaintance with the great and worthy of the land to which he was bound. His voyage was tedious, and, at one period, dangerous, in consequence of which his arrival at the long-desired haven was rendered doubly agreeable; and, on reaching a comfortable inn, which, in the cleanliness and elegance of its appointments, formed a striking contrast to the miserable

The large bunch of keys taken by Mademoiselle for this purpose communicated an idea of some very extensive repository; nevertheless when, after traversing a long narrow passage and descending some steps, they entered a kind of grotto, they came to so miserable a collection of fossils, that even a Spaniard found it difficult to compliment the fair

owner.

"You are disappointed here, I see, signor, but we will proceed to my shells."

Another door was unlocked, a few more steps passed, and a small room, lighted from the roof, was displayed; this was certainly better worth seeing than the last, but Mademoiselle said, that "this was inferior to the next," which, in its turn, was visited by the same medium as the last.

Here the stores in question were deposited in one large cupboard. They were all of the most common kind; and, as the place was very chill to one who had so lately left a much warmer country, Don Raymondo would willingly have given them a very cursory view, but the lady lingered on each, and, as she put one after another into his hand, her own trembled, and it was evident, even in this dimly lighted place, that she blushed excessively. At length, as if suddenly recollect ing herself, she opened another door, saying, she had "reserved the best for the last."

Again they descended, again entered a small ornamented and unfurnished room, in which, as in the last, was a kind of press or cupboard.

"Ah! how thoughtless I am!" cried Louise; "I have forgotten the very key I wanted most, but I will fetch it in a moment."

"Not for the world would I give you that trouble," said Raymondo; but the nymph had already vanished, and, what was more strange, she had locked the door after her, notwithstanding the rapidity of her flight,

In another moment he heard the

lock of the next door turn, and, straining his ears, learned from the sound that the lock beyond that was also turned. Unpleasant thoughts came over him-" but perhaps she was careful of her trumpery shell? perhaps she was practising some jest upon him ?-he would show her that he could bear it."

He had abundance of time allowed for observation. There was no skylight in this place, nor any window, save a square opening in the wall, which was higher than his head, and admitted so small a portion of light, that it could not have displayed the contents of the cupboard. "It was possible that Louise was waiting for lights"-this consolation in time departed, for it was evident that the sun was setting--she must have returned to the room they had quitted considerably more than an hour.

Awakened perforce to a thousand horrible suspicions, Raymondo used the little light he had to examine the door which he had passed, and was soon convinced that it had been formed for purposes of extraordinary security. There was an opposite outlet, which was scarcely four feet high, but not less strong, and which appeared to be fastened on the outside. In examining the cupboard, he found that its doors yielded to his hand immediately, and that, so far from being a depository of shells, it contained a straw mattress at the bottom, whilst on a shelf were deposited a folding-seat, a cheese, and some biscuit, with a pitcher of water.

As he drew forth these strange contents, one after another, the overwhelming idea that he was entrapped and imprisoned, and should shortly be murdered, pressed every moment more strongly on his mind, The hesitation and blushes of the fair fiend who had betrayed him confirmed his fears, and the recollection that his sword had been taken by the Frenchman, as an act of