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ISABEL OF ANGOULESME. 17 respect. It was not to be wondered at, for the history of poor Jack became generally known; he had once a home, and all the joys which home can give a wife, two sons, and one lovely daughter, the pride of her father's life, and of her native village. She was seduced by this villain, this Loffont, under the promise of honourable union her heart broke! She was found one morning a stiffened corpse at her father's door, with a snow shroud for her covering, and the cold ice of December for her bed. Then her mother quietly and calmly laid down and died; the fountain of her tears had dried her heart withered within her bosom.

The husband and father was rendered wild and desolate, and became a man of desperate fortunes, and swore that nothing but blood should wash out the memory of his daughter's shame. He joined a party of smugglers, with his eldest boy, whom, in an engagement with the police, he saw shot and stabbed by the same hand that had brought sin and death to his happy dwelling. He was so much injured himself in this engagement as to be unable to remain at sea; so he wandered along the sea shore, watching the movements of the officers stationed on the preventive service, and directing the movements of the vessel in which his youngest son had embarked. This will account for the great anxiety he manifested to ascertain who was to dine at our house on that eventful day dreading, doubtless, that the officers were on the look out for the expected ship; he could not have known that Loffont was so near his usual haunts; for, from the fearful nature of his revenge, I am certain he would have stopped at nothing to shed his blood. Yet Jack had fine qualities; but his bad passions had been foully awakened, and the mild and beautiful doctrines of christianity were to him almost unknown.

Alas, that so little has been done by gentle means to instruct the noble peasantry of Ireland in the nature of religious and social duty! When reason and religion take the place of prejudice and bigotry, then, and not till then, will the Irish character burst forth in all its energy and splendor, and be as much distinguished for its wisdom and prudence, as it is now for its wit and bravery.

ISABEL OF ANGOULESME.

BY MISS E. INGRIM.

Les femmes doivent servir Dieu, Par leur patience et leur soumission,

MADAME COTTIN.

IT had been a fete day in Guienne; for it was the year 1200, and King John, of England, had in the morning received oaths of fealty from various counts, amongst whom were those of Angoulesme and La Marche. It was now near evening; and the soft clear breeze had tempted forth the numerous inhabitants of the fancy villas that dotted the woods and hills high up the bank opposite to the rich town of Bordeaux; the latter frowning on them in all her pride of wealth, and majestic beauty, whilst casting her broad shadows over the smooth bosom of the Garonne; on which, too, sported many a gaily decked skiff filled with light hearts and still lighter spirits. Amongst those the king John's shone pre eminent in fancy, with its crimson curtains and gay liveried attendants, reposing on, rather than cutting through, the sunny element. Boat after boat came up with, and shot past it, as scarcely touching aught save the soft fanning vapour that swept over the fairy world of flowers, on the banks by which they passed, till all had disappeared; yet still the idle monarch reclined on its velvet cushioned seats, watching the playful flies, which, as they danced over the mirrory purple in fantastic circles, now basking in the full glory of the west, then skimming along the wave, sent glittering lines creaming around him. For once he was admiring nature in the hour when she most disposes the mind to peace with all around; and he had long been left alone in the watery world, when the soft sounds of a lute came on his ear, and presently a boat, decorated with the purest white, came quickly up with them. The owner, a tall martial like young man, rose and doffed his cap to the monarch, while his companion, a lovely girl scarcely in the first bloom of womanhood, laid down her lute, and drawing her white veil more closely around her, also rose and gracefully returned John's gracious bend of the neck; for he had recognised in the elegant man before him, the young Count de la Marche. They then passed on, and as the lute was resumed, many a truant breeze bore its strains to the apparently absorbed monarch.

Suddenly, however, turning to his gentleman, he demanded, “Know you if La Marche is married?”

“Sire,” answered the attendant,” the Count has, since childhood, been betrothed to the lovely Isabel of Angoulesme, the lady thou sawest with him, and to morrow Bordeaux will make merry at their nuptials.”

“Betrothed! “exclaimed John,” only betrothed, to morrow to consummate the nuptials, sayest thou ashore ashore!”

The attendants, aware by his earnestness of manner, that some hasty resolve had just been taken by their capricious master, instantly or-