union was at once agreed on; the banns were published on three successive holidays (which happened to fall together), and on the fourth day the marriage was celebrated in the presence of two friends of mine and a youth who she said was her cousin, and to whom I introduced myself as a relation with words of great urbanity. Such, indeed, were all those which hitherto I had bestowed on my bride with how crooked and treacherous an intention I would rather not say; for, though I am telling truths, they are not truths under confession which must not be kept back. My servant removed my trunk from my lodgings to my wife's house. I put by my magnificent chain in my wife's presence, showed her three or four others—not so large, but of better workmanship-with three or four other trinkets of various kinds, laid before her my best dresses and my plumes, and gave her about four hundred reals, which I had, to defray the household expenses. For six days I tasted the bread of wedlock, enjoying myself like a beggarly bridegroom in the house of a rich father-in-law. I trod on rich carpets, lay in holland sheets, had silver candlesticks to light me, breakfasted in bed, rose at eleven o'clock, dined at twelve and at two took my siesta in the drawing-room. Doña Estefania and the servant-girl danced attendance upon me; my servant, whom I had always found lazy, was suddenly become nimble as a deer. If ever Doña Estefania quitted my side, it was to go to the kitchen and devote all her care to preparing fricassees to please my palate and quicken my appetite. My shirts, collars and handkerchiefs were a very Aranjuez of flowers, so drenched they were with แ 'Who's come, girl?" said I. Who?" she replied. "Why, My Lady Doña Clementa Bueso, and with her Señor Don Lope Melendez de Almendarez, with two other servants and Hortigosa, the dueña she took with her." "Bless me! Run and open the door for them," Doña Estefania now exclaimed.— "And you, señor, as you “And you, señor, as you love me, don't put yourself out or reply for me to anything you may hear said against me." 66 Why, who is to say anything to offend you, especially when I am by? Tell me, who are these people whose arrival appears to have upset you?" "I have no time to answer," said Doña Estefania; "only be assured that whatever takes place here will be all pretended and bears upon a certain design which you shall know by and by." Before I could make any reply to this in walked Doña Clementa Bueso, dressed in lustrous green satin richly laced with gold, a hat with green, white and pink feathers, a gold hat-band, and a fine veil covering half her face. With her entered Don Lope Me lendez de Almendarez in a travelling-suit no less elegant than rich. The dueña, Hortigosa, was the first who opened her lips, exclaiming, Saints and angels, what is this? A man! Upon my faith, the Señora Doña Estefania has availed herself of My Lady's friendliness to some purpose!" "That she has, Hortigosa," replied Doña Clementa; "but I blame myself for never being on my guard against friends who can only be such when it is for their own advantage." To all this Doña Estefania replied, "Pray do not be angry, My Lady Doña Clementa. I assure you there is a mystery in what you see; and when you are made acquainted with it, you will acquit me of all blame." Doña Estefania, taking me by the hand, led me into another room. There she told me that this friend of hers wanted to play a trick on that Don Lope who was come with her, and to whom she expected to be married. The trick was to make him believe that the house and everything in it belonged to herself. Once married, it would matter little that the truth was discovered, so confident was the lady in the great love of Don Lope. The property would then be returned, and who could blame her, or any woman, for contriving to get an honorable husband, though it were by a little artifice? I replied that it was a very great stretch of friendship she thought of making, and that she ought to look well to it beforehand, for very probably she might be constrained to have recourse to justice to recover her effects. She gave me, however, so many reasons, and alleged so many obligations by which she was bound to serve Doña Clementa even in matters of more importance, that much against my will and with sore misgivings I complied with Doña Estefania's wishes, on the assurance that the affair would not last more than eight days, during which we were to lodge with another friend of hers. She went to take her leave of the Señora Doña Clementa Bueso and the Señor Lope Melendez Almendarez, ordered my servant to follow her with my luggage, and I too followed without taking leave of any one. Doña Estefania stopped at a friend's house, and stayed talking with her a good while, leaving us in the street, till at last a girl came out and told me and my servant to come in. We went up stairs to a small room. There we remained six days, during which not an hour passed in which we did not quarrel; for I was always telling her what a stupid thing she had done in giving up her house and goods, though it were to her own mother. One day, when Doña Estefania had gone out, as she said, to see how her business was going on, the woman of the house asked me what was the reason of my wrangling so much with my wife and what she had done for which I scolded her so much, saying it was an act of egregious folly rather than of perfect friendship. I told her the whole story-how I had married Doña Estefania, the dower she had brought me and the folly she had committed in leaving her house and goods to Doña Clementa, even though it was for the good purpose of catching such a capital husband as Don Lope. Thereupon the woman began to cross and bless herself at such a rate, and to cry out, “O Lord! Oh, the jade!" that she put me into a great state of uneasiness. At last, "Señor Alferez," said | to fall in with her. I went to the church of San Lorente, commended me to Our Lady, sat down on a bench, and in my affliction fell into so deep a sleep that I should not have awoke for a long time if others had not roused me. I went with a heavy heart to Doña Clementa's, and found her as much at ease as a lady should be in her own house. Not daring to say a word to her, because Señor Don Lope was present, I returned to my landlady, who told me she had informed Doña Estefania that I was acquainted with her whole roguery; that she had asked how I had seemed to take the news; that she, the landlady, said I had taken it very badly, and had gone out to look for her, apparently with the worst intentions; whereupon Doña Estefania had gone away, taking with her all that was in my trunk, only leaving me one travelling-coat. flew to my trunk and found it open like a coffin waiting for a dead body, and well might it have been my own if sense enough had been left me to comprehend the magnitude of so if nitude of my misfortune. she, "I don't know but I am going against my conscience in making known to you what I feel would lie heavy on it if I held my tongue. Here goes, however, in the name of God; happen what may, the truth for ever, and lies to the devil! The truth is that Doña Clementa Bueso is the real owner of the house and property which you have had palmed upon you for a dower; the lies are every word that Doña Estefania has told you, for she has neither house nor goods, nor any clothes besides those on her back. What gave her an opportunity for this trick was that Doña Clementa went to visit one of her relations in the city of Plasencia, and there to perform a novenary in the church of Our Lady of Guadalupe, meanwhile leaving Doña Estefania to look after her house, for, in fact, they are great friends. And, after all, rightly considered, the poor señora is not to blame, since she has had the wit to get herself such a person as the Señor Alferez for a husband." Here she came to an end, leaving me almost desperate, and without doubt I should have become wholly so if my guardian angel had failed in the least to support me and whisper to my heart that I ought to consider I was a Christian, and that the greatest sin men can be guilty of is despair, since it is the sin of devils. This consideration, or good inspiration, comforted me a little-not so much, however, but that I took my cloak and sword and went out in search of Doña Estefania, resolved to inflict upon her an exemplary chastisement. But chance ordained-whether for my good or not I cannot tell-that she was not to be found in any of the places where I expected I "Great it was indeed," observed the licentiate Peralta; "only to think that Doña Estefania carried off your fine chain and hatband! Well, it is a true saying, 'Misfortunes never come single.' 'I do not so much mind that loss," replied the Alferez, "since I may apply to myself the old saw, My father-in-law thought to cheat me by to cheat me by putting off his squinting daughter upon me, and I myself am blind of an eye.'" "I don't know in what respect you can say that," replied Peralta. "Why, in this respect-that all that lot So it would have done," replied the Alferez, "if the reality had corresponded with the appearance; but 'all is not gold that glitters,' and my fine things were only imitations, but so well made that nothing but the touchstone or the fire could have detected that they were not genuine." "So, then, it seems to have been a drawn game between you and the Señora Doña Estefania?" said the licentiate. "So much so that we may shuffle the cards and make a fresh deal. Only the mischief is, Señor Licentiate, that she may get rid of my mock-chains, but I cannot get rid of the cheat she put upon me; for, in spite of my teeth, she remains my wife." "You may thank God, Señor Campuzano," said Peralta, "that your wife has taken to her heels, and that you are not obliged to go in search of her." Very true, but for all that, even without looking for her, I always find her-in imagination; and, wherever I am, my disgrace is always present before me. "I know not what answer to make you except to remind you of these two verses of Petrarch: "Che qui prende diletto di far frode, Non s'ha di lamentar s'altro l'inganna.' That is to say, whoever makes it his practice and his pleasure to deceive others has no right to complain when he is himself deceived." "But I don't complain," replied the Alferez; "only I pity myself, for the culprit who knows his fault does not the less feel the pain of his punishment. I am well aware that I sought to deceive and that I was deceived and caught in my own snare, but I cannot command my feelings so much as not to lament over myself. To come, however, to what more concerns my historyfor I may give that name to the narrative of my adventures-I learned that Doña Estefania had been taken away by that cousin whom she brought to our wedding. I had no mind to go after her and bring back upon myself an evil I was rid of. I changed my lodgings within a few days. I have my sword; for the rest I trust in God." Translation ANONYMOUS. A TRIAL IN FRANCE IN THE YEAR 1651. WENT to the Châtelet, or prison, where a malefactor was to have the question, or torture, given to him, he refusing to confess the robbery with which he was charged, which was thus: They first bound his wrist with a strong rope or small cable, and one end of it to an iron ring made fast to the wall about four feet from the floor, and then his feet with another cable, fastened about five feet farther than his utmost length to another ring on the floor of the room. Thus suspended, and yet lying but aslant, they slid a horse of wood under the rope which bound his feet, which so exceedingly stiffened it as severed the fellow's joints in miserable sort, drawing him out at length in an extraordinary manner, he having only a pair of linen drawers on his naked body. Then they questioned him of the robbery (the lieutenant being present, and a clerk that wrote); which not confessing, they put a higher horse under the rope, to increase the torture and extension. In this agony confessing nothing, the executioner with a horn (just such as they drench horses with) stuck the end of it into his mouth and poured the quantity of two buckets of water down his throat and over him, which so prodigiously swelled him as would have pitied and affrighted any one to see it; for all this he denied all that was charged to him. They then let him down and carried him before a warm fire to bring him to himself, being now to all appearance dead with pain. What became of him I know not, but the gentleman whom he robbed constantly averred him to be the man, and the fellow's suspicious pale looks before he knew he should be racked betrayed some guilt. The lieutenant was also of that opinion, and told us at first sight (for he was a lean, dry, black young man) he would conquer the torture; and so it seems they could not hang him, but did use in such cases, where the evidence is very presumptive, to send them to the galleys, which is as bad as death. There was another malefactor to succeed, but the spectacle was so uncomfortable that I was not able to stay the sight of another. JOHN EVELYN. ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA. THE first playhouse built in England was erected in Blackfriars in the year 1569 or 1570, about twenty years before Shakespeare commenced writing for the stage. Previously to this establishment of the "regular drama" there had been three different species of theatrical representations-miracles or mysteries, written by priests on religious subjects, and performed by them on holy days; moralities, which sprang from the mysteries and approached nearer to regular plays, their characters being composed of allegorical personifications of virtues and vices; and free translations from the classics, performed at the inns of court, the public seminaries and the universities. In 1574 the queen licensed a company of actors called "The Earl of Leicester's Servants" to play throughout England “for the recreation of her loving subjects, as for her own solace and pleasure when she should think good to see them." Theatres rapidly increased. In 1606 there were seven in London; in 1629, we believe, there were seventeen. They were opposed in an early stage of their career by the Puritans and the graver counsellors of the sovereign. In 1583, at the time that Sir Philip Sidney published his Defence of Poesy, he could find little in their performances to approve. Though forbidden after the year 1574 to be open on the Sabbath, the prohibition does not appear to have been effective during the reign of Elizabeth. Secretary Walsingham laments over the whole matter in this wise: "The daily abuse of stage-plays is such an offence to the godly, and so great a hindrance to the gospel; for every day in the week the players' bills are set up in sundry places in the city-some in the name of Her Majesty's men, some of the earl of Leicester's, some the earl of Ox |