nas nut neeessarv to ask him wliiliier hr was
journeying. V\ lu a hr s m l. ■ was it nuzed,
lie prayed such tii (he knights as lie hiee. be-t,
to haw Imu conveyed I < Tunis as soon as liny
c.ouhl, that In- might oner naze upon the beauty
of the queen, the c ■ > n t • -111 ] • 1 a t i' • 11 of vvh . sC linage,
he saih. had kepi him alive. He had bn n wan
dering about in search of a ship, keeping up
such disguises as were necessary to prevent lies
being discovered, in which event he knew lie
should he stopjied at any ol'the Provencal ports.
He had journeyed on lhot through a great part
of Spain; ami lids exertion, joined to the dis
tress of his ininil, had redoeed him to the de
plorable condition in which lie then was.
In (he times of which we speak, a romantic
fcriine pervaded all classes; hut, even it tlm
had not been so, the sight of the poor trouhador
was enough to hive interested every beholder
in his favour. The ship reached In i port, and,
while the extenuated form of liudel was carried
on sliore, with all possible care and tendenu
a messenger w as despatched to the court to in
(drm the queen of his amval.
The songs which he had composed in ech bra
<;on ol her beauty during Ins wanderings, and
which had been diffused as rapidly as was then
usual with all tlic productions of the troubudois
throughout Kurope, had reached also (lie Court
of the Queen of Tunis, where all the arts of po
lite life were encouraged. The queen nas per
lectlv acquainted with Itudel s devoted passion
for her, and had given in to the feeling v\ Inch so
romantic and distinguished a lover was ealeu
luted to inspire, until she found she had really
for the bewildered port a warm and serious in
terrst. On receivin'; the news of his anival,
and of his illness, which prevented his coming
to court, she hastened down to the port.
In a small building on the sea shore she found
the hapless troubadour. The knights and la
dies who had been his companions on the voy
age stood by him as he lay on the Hour, unable
to move, and exhausted by the fatigue of having
been borne from the ship.
The queen rushed into the room, and, when
alie beheld the dying man, forgetting every
thing but the amotions of b "heart, she knelt
down beside him, and imprinted a kiss on Ids
pale cold forehead. ■ I.iic for me!'’she cried :
•• I beseech you to live for her whum your verses
and your devotednes.s have inspired \ulh a like
passion! 1 lore, at your feet, 1 lay my power and
my crown, and ask only to share them with
you"’ Tears and sobs prevented her proceed
ing.
i he dying man raised hintsell as well as he
could, and gazed, a'- if he would gaze away lus
soul, upon the eyes which hent weeping over
him. “ I die.-’ lie said laintly, “ I die happily,
for my vow is kept, and heaven is in my sight,
llright saint I am thine V lie bowed his head
till his lips touched the fair hand of the still
kneeling (jueen. ()ne of the attendants came to
raise him, hut the spirit had tied, and the ill fa
led poet w as no more.
The festivities at Tunis were changed to
mourning. The queen, with a constancy and
earnestness which in these days may seem ah- 1
surd, remained inconsolable iur Ins death. I'he
most marked honours were paid to his memory :
and. embalmed as it is in the \erses of Dante
and Petrarch, his name will live as long as the
literary historv of Europe shal1 exist.
m
Trifles (says Voltaire) produce often great ef
fects.— A glove, dropped by Queen Anne, and
picked up by Mrs Mashain, drove the Whigs, head
ed by the Duke of Marlborough, out of office; 1
TSIE IvZIRttdR
W i v j-'.K A" I IH A WHIIH.
O (crnpoia ! O mores! O i<<-mina! ! llow
changed the days <.i bran porridge anil
pumpkin pies! I! is said to bn good for Chris
tians to • lookback to tlio ruck whence they
were In u n-o it maybe profitable to take a
retrospect of the d.ivs ol hoops and wooden
heeled shoes. The present period of the wan Id
is styled •• an .age of wonders." Who ran doubt
it .’ Could the. prophetic ken of our pious old
grand.imes have looked down the vista of time,
and seen IrjY. degenerate the present genera
lion is, they would have groaned in spirit and
cried PrnhUiitaU Dii!" In those days, health
and activity were the rouge which tinged the
cheek of the young female. They w ere (he vo
taries of Minerva. F.vcn the opulent were not
strangers to the distaff Instead of sleeping
av.av the most pleasant part of life, they rose
with the lark in the morning, and with joy hail
ed the ruining of bright Phcebus. A snow-white
milk pail was the indispensable for the morning
walk; and the hum of the spinning wheel the
music, of the day. The wardrobe was simple
and economical, though the introduction of
wooden heels was thought at tirst rather extra
\ ;itrunt. Tin' hoop, the wooden or tin com!),
were once thought superfluous. How much
more conducive to health were these simple ap
pondages than the rolls and curls, the whale
hone and steel corsets, of the present day. In
those times, the plump, cherry cheeked damsel
was the h'lle. Now, the ghastly death like
countenance, with a w aist like a wasp, and a
form as fragile as straw, is the ton. In former
days, a lady was educated in a plain substan
tial manner ; the Bible and Psalm Bool? com
posed her library; she was instructed in the do
mestic arts of cookery; and was taught to be
industrious and frucral ; and, in addition to all
this, must not presume to think of marrying till
she could show a pillow case filled with stock
ings of her own manufacture. Such were the
daughters of our old grandmothers, and sueh
were the mothers who nursed that noble and
spirited generation, who taught England that
virtuous magnanimity was not confined to
princely halls or kings’ courts.
Iii those days, wives were pnifitahle—now
they are pretty. The milk pail, the distaff, and
the cooking utensils, are exchanged for Wavcr
lv. Cooper, and the Piano. The ladies are too
delicate to work. Instead of the hum of the
wheel, it is “ 1’a, I can't knit—1 have a taste
for music—I wish you would buy nre a Pcauncr;
It will cost only three hundred dollars—you can
get trusted six months.” The Piano is bought,
and main a sigh is heard and many a dun re
ceived before the money is paid. But it is a
fashionable piece of furniture.
Now, instead of rising in the morning to en
joy the pure air, they are indulged in that slug
gishncss in which every hour is poison to the
constitution. N't hen they rise, they are Ian
guit] and weak through excess of sleep; their
appetites gone, their countenances pale and
sickly, and, to cap the whole, instead of cxei
rising and invigorating the physical and mental
energies, they sit down and drum on the Piano,
or pore over a novel, till afternoon, when they
must again have recourse to sleep till the fash
ionable hour arrives for dressing and calls.—
They are never ready to receive company till
a particular hour, and make no scruple, if a rap
is heard at the door, to send word that they
“ cut ciot at home." Indeed, they are not, if they
are ashamed to see company till a particular
time. I»ut this is etiquette. In addition to this,
they are instructed in the school of scandal, and
initiated into the mysterious art of story telling,
without having it to diminish in form or matter
IJeing desirous to make themselves agreeable,
they think it highly necessary to have some
thing new to communicate, and will preamble
their tale by saying—“ I have something to tell
you about Mr. A-, if you will swear not
to bring me into the scrape—it is awful. Now
don't tell it, for he has always been a friend to
me, and I would not say a word to injure him ;
but I heard Miss Know-all say that old Mrs.
Surmise told Dorothy I attle that susan Gabble
suspected that Mr. A—- was married to
somebody, for he had been seen riding with a
young lady.” When, perhaps, if traced to the
fountain, he was seen riding to Church with his
mother nr sister.
One tiling more, and then I have done. Our
grand mothers had their sweethearts and confi
dential friends, but they were, those whom a
long acquaintance and unabatwjpriendship had
rendered such by a virtuous course of conduct,
and not the ephemeral animals, mere shadows
of a day. Hut now, if a strange beau arrives,
if “perfectly genteel,” and “ very free and easy
in his manners,” it matters not whether he be
a scoundrel or a scape gallows at home, he is
caressed, and flatters himself that he is really
somebody. The old tried friends must now
stand aside anil give the stranger place. The
beau on his part must flatter and fawn, tell the
ladies they “ are street angelic creatures," that he
adores them, and “ d—d me, girls,if I ever saw
such beautiful creatures betore, K.c. ts.c. All
this is swallowed with eagerness, and there is
no mistake, he is a perfect gentleman ; he cuts a
dash, flounces about, attends assemblies and
parties, and to close the scene, decamps, leav
ing his bills unpaid, and his “sweet angelic
creatures’’ to seek new flatterers and new admi
rers.
This. Ladies, is a sad picture; but it is too
true. But think not that your sex alone are
culpable. I intend a word for modern gentry
after this. O for the days of bean porridge and
pumpkin pies! ! would give more for a plump,
cherry-cheeked damsel, that understands cook