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officer presented it, Paul was about to be led forth to execution. Instead of being conducted to the scaffold, he was introduced to the palace of the Alcaza, and presented to the King.

"You are the man called Paul," said his Majesty.

" I am, Sire."

Why was it that Don Micida assassinated your father ?"

"Because my father was about taking from him my sister Inez, whom Micida had carried away by force and against his will."

Then it was he who committed such a villainy that slew the outraged father."

It was, Sire." Very well. And the assassin, you say in your petition, was acquitted." "Yes, Sire. He was restored to liberty, and the only punishment inflicted on him was suspending him from his privileges as a noble, for an entire year." "Very well. And you not considering that the punishment was adequate to the offence committed, inflicted justice with your own hand ." "Yes, Sire." "That was bad. What is your trade, Paul ?" "A cordwainer, Sire." Very well. Then I, the supreme judge of the judges of Castile, annul the sentence condemning you to death. I say that the punishment ought to be the same, for all crimes of the same nature. I, therefore, restore you to liberty, but I forbid you making boots and sages for an H. S. entire year."

MARIANA. WITH blackest moss the flower plots Were thickly crusted, one and all ; The rusted nails fell from the knots That held the peach to the garden wall. The broken sheds looked sad and strange, Unlifted was the clinking latch, Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, " My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said ; She said, "I am aweary, aweary,— I would that I were dead !"

Her tears fell with the dews at even, Her tears fell ere the dews were dried ; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew her casement curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, " The night is dreary. He cometh not," she said ; She said, " I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!"

Upon the middle of the night, Waking, she heard the night fowl crow : The cock sung out an hour ere light ; From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn , Till cold winds woke the grey-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, " The day is dreary, He cometh not," she said ; She said, " I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead !" About a stone-cast from the wall, A sluice with blackened waters slept, And o'er many, round and small, The clustered marishmosses crept. Hard by a poplar shook alway, All silver green with gnarled bark, For leagues no other tree did dark The level waste, the rounding gray. She only said, " My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said ; She said, " I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead !" And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds were up an' away, In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, " The night is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead !" All day within the dreamy house, The doors upon their hinges creaked ; The blue fly sung i' the pane ; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked, Or from the crevice peered about. Old faces glimmered through the doors, Old footsteps trod the upper floors, Old voices called her from without. She only said, " My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said ; She said, "I am awcary, aweary, I would that I were dead !"

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof, The slow clock ticking, and the sound Which to the wooing wind aloof The poplar made, did all confound Her sense; but most she loathed the hour When the thick moted sunbeam lay Athwart the chambers, and the day Down-sloped was westering in his bower. Then, said she, "I am very dreary, He will not come," she said ; She wept, " I am aweary, aweary, Oh, God, that I were dead !" TENNYSON.