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THE CAPUCHIN.

FROM THE FRENCH.

An evening at Palermo is a most lovely thing, when, sitting by the sea shore, listening to the murmuring waves, under the rays of a summer sun, surrounded by a population so lively, so interesting-a thousand times more original and less known than the classic race of the Neapolitan Lazzaroni. Thanks to novels and pictures, Naples is old to me ; it is spoilt, it is worn out by delusion. Sicily is unknown and new : it bears a double reflection both from Arabia and Spain.

Oh, ye ! who boast the talents of the artist, copy for me the tumult of the Marina ; reproduce the hum of an industrious people, who enjoy even the feeling of existence the salutations borne on the air from all parts"Bon jour ! Bon soir !" repeated from carriage to carriage, with more poetical rapture than bon ton. I admired the scene, and, in order to enjoy it more, I leaned against a low wall ornamented by small pilasters of Saracen architecture, which follows the course of the river, and presents to the tired promenaders, a long and commodious seat of marble, defaced and worn out by ages. I seated myself here. The sea-breeze moistened my brow; before me lay the animated scene. A Capuchin monk, with a long beard, placed himself by my side ; he wore an appearance of suffering ; his deportment was rather silent and simple than devout and humble ; he looked about fifty years of age, and had the air of a military man. His countenance was not Sicilian ; instead of being in almost convulsive motion , he was cold, stern, yet resigned. I wished to enter into conversation with him, and asked him the hour. He looked at me fixedly, perceiving, doubtlessly, that I was a stranger in Palermo, and replied in English, " It is eight o'clock." He rose and left me. I recognized the Capuchin's pronunciation as quite national, plainly British. I could not be deceived ; yet how came this Englishman at Palermo ? A man of his nation in Sicily, and in the habit of a Capuchin ! There must be some mystery, and I was determined to unravel it. The next day I returned to the same place, in the hope of finding him there again. For some days I followed the same plan, and by degrees his forbidding manner softened. I then spoke to him in English, and that won his heart. He saw that I desired his friendship, and he willingly gave it to me. He seemed a

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at length, his head resting on his hand, he spoke as follows :"I was born in Hertfordshire. When our army returned from Alexandria, the transport in which I was, with several other officers, was found not seaworthy, and we put into port at Messina. Worn out by innumerable privations, tired of Eastern life and of our vessel, we descended to the Lazaretto. You know what that Lazaretto is ; a badly paved court, with a burying-ground in the centre. There you are, surrounded by human beings, but without any communication with the land, or any recreation save in the hope of soon quitting it. "At length our quarantine came to an end. You are, without doubt, acquainted with the arrangement of the theatres at Messina ; seats are distributed about, and each person places himself as chance directs, so that three or four rows may separate you from your own party. This was the case with me the evening that we were set at liberty. Between the acts, several Sicilians, seated next me, rose, and some English officers, accompanied by a young man in the costume of the town, took their places. They talked very loud, and I learnt that one of the party had arrived that evening by the packet, and that his name was Sir Ormond Mandeville. He was a man about the middle size, his eyes blue and penetrating ; his look steady though not insolent—a real Englishman of the modern school. That sect was new then, and I examined him attentively and listened to him with curiosity. " His cravat was so exceeding tight, his cheeks of such a beautiful saffron color, and his affectation of contemptuous austerity, contrasted so ridiculously with the foppishness of his conversation, that I forgot the play in looking at and listening to him. A great many things have happened to me, my dear fellow,' said he to one of his comrades, ' since our mad pranks at Eton. You will tell me how many cities you have visited, and in how many battles you have fought ; that's all very heroic and very fine. I shall tell you in return, how many horses I have killed out hunting ; and as to the forsaken husbands who have wished me ruined, the list is almost too long by heaven ! but I shall give you no respite. What brings me to Messina to-day, and obliges me to come to this play, is the éclat of my last affair of that sort. It concerns a married woman, pretty and intriguing, and whose raciness might serve as a model to all that France or

man of strong sense, and possessed great practical Spain possesses. Delicacy, you know, prevents my knowledge both of men and things. A fortnight after naming her. All was conducted very prudently ; but our first interview he related the story of his life ; the notwithstanding our ingenuity we were betrayed. A voice of the monk was firm, and his eye was dry, but it woman who keeps an inn on the road to Bath, to whom was very visible how much his serenity cost him ; a deep I had once deigned a little attention, discovered our melancholy clouded his countenance, he was filled with anti-matrimonial plot, and threatened me with making mournful thoughts, and for some moments was silent ; it known. That would have been most dangerous VOT. I.- 24