all smoking "cigarillos," and the women all flirting their "abanicos," whilst they anxiously await the opening of a small door opposite to us, from which the bulls destined to be fought and killed for our amusement and instruction will soon enter the arena.

The capital of Spain is justly regarded by all | stage, surrounded by a buzzing crowd, the men travellers as one of the very dullest and most uninteresting cities of Europe. Its gallery of paintings and its armory are indeed magnificent, and should be visited by all lovers of the arts; but, with these exceptions, there is little to repay a lengthened sojourn within its precincts; for its public places of amusement are few and poor, except as regards one sport-that truly national one of the " Toreo," which in this metropolis of the land of bull fights is to be seen to perfection. During a short visit to Madrid, a few years since, we were fortunate enough to be present at one, which we will describe from our notes, made immediately after the "funcion," as it is grandiloquently termed in Spain.

Passing through the entrance-corridor of the amphitheatre-which struck us as resembling, on a vast scale, some of our country circuses, only open at top; a sort of cross, indeed, between the old Roman circus and Astley's-we are soon seated in the front row of the first

A number of gayly-dressed amateurs, gentlemen of the ring, we conclude, in full "majo," or native swell-costume, short jacket of many colors, two diminutive white handkerchiefs, one each side, jauntily peeping out of breast-pockets, gaudy-colored silk waistbands, many-folded, and long ashen wands, peeled at short intervals for ornament, saunter in groups around the arena. The "innocent" Isabella does not occupy the royal box in her own proper and royal person, but is represented by some of her noble and intellectual court.

A trumpet now sounds, and, lo! a gentleman in black rides in, something like Hamlet, grown very corpulent and shabby; and he is followed by the "toreros" who are to figure in the games

of the circus. They advance in procession to the royal box, and making each his obeisance lowly as he passes, wend silently out again. Shortly the door opens once more to admit some half-dozen "picadores," cased in ungainly suits of stout and inflexible yellow leather, and wearing broad-brimmed "sombreros." They bear, in martial manner, each his long lance or goad, and, mounted on very sorry Hudibrastic hacks, they take their station at intervals within the circle, amidst a sudden and deep silence. Not a word is now spoken; there is something awful in the silence of that vast multitude of human beings, with their eager and glittering eyes fixed so earnestly on one point. The bright blue vault of heaven spreads cloudlessly overhead; the scorching sun looks fiercely down on the scene. Suddenly the door again opens, and a dark object, indistinct through the dust raised by it, rushes into the arena. It is the bull. He pauses for a moment to look around him, and then we see him, black and broad-chested, with glaring blood-shot eyes, that seem to dart fire. He lashes his sides furiously with his tail, but only for a few moments, whilst he eyes his foes, who await his attack motionless as statues, each horseman fronting him with firmly-levelled spear. He dashes madly at the nearest of his foes: in vain the spear opposes him: horse and rider roll over with a crash. There is no time now to see whether he is killed, for the bull, despising his prostrate foes, rushes at the next, and the six picadores are ignominiously overthrown in as many seconds. Some vault over the barrier, whilst others are helped to rise by the "chulos," and make a hasty retreat. Only one of the horses remains standing; blinded and bewildered, the poor beast staggers about the sandy arena with his entrails trailing on the ground, a horrible mass of blood.

through the wretched animal, whom he bears bodily up in the air for an instant, and then dashes him against the barrier with a shock which seems to make the place tremble. The applause is now redoubled; handkerchiefs are waved by fair, delicate hands; and "bravo toro!" resounds on every side. After a short pause the 'bandilleros," with their sheaves of little darts, leap over the barrier. They run fearlessly, one after the other, up to the bull, each dexterously fixing in his streaming hide his small barbed and bannered weapon. The bull, wild and distracted with the number and agility of his enemies and the stings of the darts, blindly rushes first at one, then at another, and now stands still a few moments, roaring with rage, and vainly trying to shake off the fluttering arrows. The chulos," with their colored cloths or veils, now run up to him, tempt, taunt, and dare him to attack them. One man holds the obnoxious veil low upon the ground, and as the bull, with bent head, makes a rush at it, jumps nimbly over his horns, amidst the "vivas" if the spectators. Ah! that bold fellow with the blue veil is surely caught. No, not yet; but the bull is close upon him. With head low bent, he makes a rush: he has him on his horns. No; the nimble chulo" has vaulted over the barrier amongst the spectators, leaving his veil, however, behind him, which the bull tears into a thousand tatters. Mad with rage and panting with fatigue, he moves slowly into the centre of the ring, glaring savagely around him, sole and victorious hero of the scene

"Solus et in madida seeum spatiatur arena." The laughter and shouts which greeted the lively "chulos" subside: a deathlike silence pervades the whole place. The bull seems to know the meaning of it by instinct. He stands motionless himself, and gazes dully around him. The bull, now in the centre of the arena, is The door again opens: now enters the "matasaluted with one universal shout of delight-dor," slim, lithe, and debonnair. He bows to the "bravo toro! viva toro!" but he glares around royal box, and then, marching jauntily up to at the applauding crowd with bloodshot eyes and bleeding head, for he has not escaped without some severe wounds, and looks as though he would like to clear the barrier and destroy the whole crowd of his tormentors, when his eyes suddenly alight upon the poor staggering horse. Immediately he bends low his gory and foamcovered head; he paws the ground for a few moments savagely with his hoofs, and then, receding slightly, and growling lowly, he makes a sudden and fierce bound. Do you hear that hollow crash? His horns have pierced through and

banner, with head and body erect, feet firmly planted together, and the right arm drawn back, he points his light, straight sword at the bull's forehead. The action is significant. It is a language the bull appears to understand perfectly-Touch me, and you die." Thus, motionless, they remain facing each other for some few moments. The "matador" becomes impatient. He waves his red banner before the bull's eyes to enrage him. With a low moan, the bull holds down his head, paws the dust with his fore-hoofs, and backs slowly for some yards, his eyes still fixed upon the blood-red banner. The "matador" follows him up, again assumes his position, and again waves the banner.

the dead horses, which have been left where they fell, and are now carried out. Finally, the heavy body of the noble bull is dragged ignominiously away at full gallop, sending up a cloud of dust, and leaving a blood-red mark on its track.

The first fight over, groups of "majos" leapt over the barriers, and noisily discussed the performance: shouting, laughing, and talking, rise again once more with unpleasant liveliness on the ear; the ladies, laughing right merrily, went through all the fan exercises, and a general movement of sit and stand-at-ease took place throughout the amphitheatre.

Subsequently to this, which was pronounced The bull now rushes forward. Quick as to be a first-rate battle, five more bulls were lightning, the steel is driven into the nape of sacrificed to the popular thirst for blood; but his neck. He halts, staggers, and is about to the ladies laughingly agree that none of them fall, when, with one violent effort, he sends the showed such mettle as the first. One of the poor sword, still vibrating with the blow, up into the animals was struck three times unsuccessfully air. What a roar of rage, pain and despair by the "matador," who was finally hooted out echoes through the amphitheatre, crowded with of the arena, whilst the poor bull, crouching on animals more savage and brutal than the ani- the sand, moaned and sobbed in the agony of its mal they thus delight to see tortured. It was anguish. Perhaps its thoughts had reverted to pitiful to watch the poor beast, as he staggered its lost- liberty, to the green pastures by the up to the barrier for support. Pity, indigna- flowing Tagus. I think, indeed, it must have tion and disgust moved us by turns. What can been so, for it stretched forward its head with a these people be, who find a pleasure in such look of indescribable longing and despair, and cruelty, such inhuman and bloody work, and licked the dust with its parched yet bloodthink it good sport? Our whole heart was with stained tongue, as though it saw there the frosh the poor brave bull; but in vain. No one can running water of the stream. Three men now help him he must die. The "matador" has re-approached, two of whom held the bull down by gained his sword, and again approaches his force-it did not require much to effect thatdevoted victim. The indomitable animal, worn whilst the third, raising a long and glittering out, wounded, and foreknowing his fate as he knife aloft, plunged it deep into the animal's does, still shows no sign of giving in-nay, he spine. With one convulsive bound the bull seems bent even on a still greater effort, for he sprung up, and then suddenly fell prone and now follows up the banner steadily, but warily, motionless in the dust. and clearly meaning mischief. At last he makes We felt sick and disgusted when we left the his final bound forward, and the sword again is field of blood, and yet such a powerful fascinadriven, but this time up to the hilt, in his mus-tion did the whole scene exercise on us, that it cular neck. His knees bend under him, he gives one low moan, his head sinks down, and he falls heavily, a lifeless, bleeding mass, prone on the ground

"Ad terramque fluit devexo pondere cervix." Rounds of wild applause salute the smiling, bowing "matador," as he proceeds to withdraw his sword from the neck of his prostrate foe, cleanses it from the blood with his banner, and, once more gracefully bowing to the assembly, marches proudly out of the arena. Again the door opens, and a man drives four horses into the ring, with thick ropes trailing after them. These are attached by hooks to the carcases of

required some resolution to avoid attending the
subsequent bull fights which took place during
our sojourn in Madrid. We did, however, re-
frain, and thus ended our first and last bull fight
in Spain.
J. B. WARING.

"A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN."

BY UNA LOCKE.

She came to meet me in the street, bareheaded, with | Kind heart that stirred the embers thus with pica smile; tures all aglow, She fondly took my arm in hers; my heart went And called the dead and absent back, the loved of back meanwhile

long ago;

Went back to grassy country nooks, to dear Amelia That came, bareheaded, in the street, to meet me, Slate; with a smile,

To loving-hearted Marriette; to Harriett and And fondly took my arm in thine, and stole my Kate; heart the while, To shady rambles, bonnetless, along the meadows Take thanks, most meet for her who kept the law of cool; love so well, To dear old days among the choir and in the sing- Whose words were like the manna sent to wandering-school. ing Israel; Ah! how along the village street with joyous feet Who opened wide the golden door, where, deaf with we met, And stopped to kiss with eyes a-light, and laugh at Chilled by neglect and pride, I stood and took etiquette ! the stranger in.

city din,

HOW A WOMAN HAD HER WAY.

CHAPTER VII.

BY ELIZABETH PRESCOTT.

Author of "Told by the Sun," &c.

"Fair-haired, blue-eyed."

"His face was like a summer night, All flooded with a dusky light;

(Continued from page 108.)

His hands were small; his teeth shone white
As sea-shells, when he smiled or spoke;

His sinews supple and strong as oak;

Clean shaven was he as a priest,

Who at the mass on Sunday sings,

Save that upon his upper lip

His beard, a good palm's length at least,
Level and pointed at the tip,

Shot sideways like a swallow's wings."

LONGFELLOW.

the house, and rose to the height of two stories. It was paved with a mosaic of white and gray marbles, and had at either extremity enormous windows filled in with stained glass, amid whose iridescent hues of scarlet, purple, orange and violet, was depicted the crest of the Chardavoynes, a leopard couchant on an azure field, with the motto, in old English text-There are claws under the velvet.

At the farthest extremity of the hall were winding stairs, composed of alternate steps of white and gray marble, and leading to the gallery before mentioned, upon which opened suits of apartments suitable for the accommodation of an hundred guests. This gallery was built of massive stone, and surrounded by an exquisitely carved oaken balustrade, which also extended down either side of the winding stairs, and represented angels, standing with folded hands and expanded wings which joined tip to tip, while their heads declined slightly, as if watching whoever might pass beneath.

Lady Ilshey received her granddaughter's morning greeting with amiability, responded affably to that of Miss Brandon, and having ascertained at a glance that Fra looked sufficiently childlike for her purpose, and, owing to her toilet and blonde complexion, appeared to be at least three years younger than Stephana, she preceded the two girls across her bed-chamber and dressing-room, and through a door which opened upon the gallery, encircling the upper "They call these stairs 'Jacob's ladder,' on part of the great hall. account of the angels 'ascending and descending' The great hall extended the whole length of upon them," said Stephana to Fra, who was

examining them, curiously. "They were here in 'the times of the monks, and I suppose were intended to remind the good brethren of the spiritual eyes which, although unseen, watched every action. You would think all their faces are alike, but each one has a different expression, and the higher their place, the more benign and compassionate their look. The one at the foot of the stairs has quite an earthly, sensual face, and it always seems to me as if he were trying to find out if my feet were pretty, when I am going up the stairs. But there is one on the gallery which I call Azrael, the death-angel, he has such a beautiful, compassionate face, and his features have a depth and nobility of expression almost worthy of Michael Angelo."

to the glorified after death. His features were absolute perfection; all the lines of his head and face were harmonious and clearly defined; his complexion pure to transparency; his eyes liquid, and deeply blue; his hair of a paleblonde color, curling, soft and abundant.

Fra, who looked at young men with very dif ferent eyes from most girls of seventeen, scrutinized him as if he were a picture, while she shook the careless hand which he extended to her very much as if he were patting a poodle. But his manner was a matter of perfect indifference to her; and, accustomed to consider herself a child, she did not feel in the slightest degree injured by it, but continued to regard him admiringly as he indolently raised his slight,

"I wouldn't like to fall from such a height elegant figure from the large, comfortable-looking upon that marble floor," said Fra.

"I have often thought of that," said Stephana, "and wondered what the sensation would be when one struck the hard, unyielding marble. Do you suppose life would be expelled at once? or would there be a momentary consciousness of that body of which one cannot help being delicately careful, guarding it anxiously from danger and disfigurement, being a bruised and shapeless mass?"

Then the dreadful pain!" said Fra.

"I should think more of the disfigurement. If any one loved me, to have their last recollections be of a horrid, repulsive thing. And I, perhaps, with sufficient consciousness to observe them shrinking from me, involuntarily, as from something too frightful to be looked upon. It would be far more bitter than the death-agony." "1*

As she said this, they went down the hall, and followed the Countess into a room which Fra recognized as the breakfast-parlor, which they had entered on their arrival at Ilshey Priory.

chair in which he had been lounging, and asked his grandmother if she had enjoyed her journey.

So harsh and dissonant was the voice which came from such beautiful lips, that Fra involuntarily contorted her face as if some one had screamed in her ear. Roger blushed, too vividly bright a carnation for any skin but a woman's, and bending his brows, looked down in silent anger.

Dame Nature, who usually devises some counterpoise for the rarest of her gifts, having given Roger an absolutely perfect form and face, had counterbalanced it with so very disagreeable a voice, as almost to neutralize the attractions of his person. It was a source of intense mortification to its unfortunate possessor, and had led him to adopt such severe taciturnity, that he rarely spoke, except to reply in monosyllables to whatever questions might be asked of him. Having utterly refused to attend school, or be sent to college, he had always been provided with private tutors, who reported his intellect The sun shone in so gloriously through the to be of a high order, and his memory surprislarge bay window, that Fra, coming from the ingly retentive. Notwithstanding the affecsplendid, but subdued shadows of the great hall, tionate urgency of his friends, he could never was dazzled for a moment, and was not sure but be prevailed upon to enter society, or to join in her grandmother was introducing her to one of general conversation with even the members of the angels of the balustrade, reproduced in the his own family. When strangers were in the glowing tints of the painted glass of the win-house, he appeared altogether like an automadows, when her ladyship said "Fra, this is ton; but several had been heard to remark that, your cousin, Roger Chardavoyne."

Roger Chardavoyne had one of those beautiful faces which humanity occasionally presents to us, giving to the fleshly mask of the spiritual essence a likeness to that aspect which belongs

* Women are very apt to involve their sentences when very much in earnest.

as in the case of the dumb, his self-deprivation of speech had given such variety and depth of expression to every feature of his beautiful face, that the use of his tongue to express his thoughts was altogether unnecessary. He had been an ardent student of the different languages, and wrote elegantly in French, Spanish, and Italian, as well as in English, and through the