short months. A much longer period of exile and captivity awaited the tribune. For seven years he wandered from city to city. After having in vain implored the protection of the kings of Hungary and Naples, he was forced to conceal himself amongst the recluses of the Apennines, and wander in disguise through Italy, Germany, and Bohemia. A bold measure led to his being made captive, and subsequently to his re-elevation to the rulership of Rome. He presented himself suddenly before the Emperor Charles IV. This prince asserted dominion over the greater portion of Italy; and Rienzi, while in the height of his power, had dared to call his right of sovereignty in question, and to summon him before his tribunal to prove his prerogatives. He had therefore voluntarily thrown himself into the hands of an enemy. The emperor, however, listened patiently to his appeal; and Rienzi is represented as having astonished an assemblage of ambassadors and princes at the imperial court by his glowing denunciations of the tyranny which desolated his country, and his prophetic visions of the triumphs of liberty. Pope Clement V. having heard of the appearance of Rienzi at Prague, demanded his person from the emperor. The latter, it is presumed, glad to get clear of so dangerous a visiter, at once consented to the demand; and Rienzi was forthwith transferred in chains to Avignon. Here, however, none of the severities due to malefactors awaited him; he was indulged with an easy confinement and the use of books; and the preparations for his trial, on the serious charges of heresy and rebellion, never went beyond the naming of the cardinals to inquire into them. On the exile of Rienzi from Rome, the city, deprived of the commanding intellect which guided it, speedily relapsed into the state of anarchy which, till his rise, had been its lot for centuries. The feuds of the barons, long smothered by the sense of a common danger, sprung into renewed and bloody activity when the power which had crushed them was removed. Their fortresses again rose to defy the legitimate authority of the state, and to oppress the peaceful citizens, whom, in the hands of the nobles, an old historian likens to a flock of sheep at the mercy of rapacious wolves. The new government, backed by all the authority of the pope (the papal legate with two brother senators exercised the chief power), found itself unable to cope with the prevailing disorders; and the Roman people were fain to look back wistfully to the quiet and prosperous days when ruled by their favourite tribune. Their hero was destined to be soon amongst them. Pope Clement died in 1354, and was succeeded by Innocent VI. The new pope became convinced that Rienzi was the only person capable of reforming the furious anarchy of the metropolis. He was accordingly released from prison; the oath of fidelity administered to him; and with the title of Roman Senator, Rienzi proceeded to assume once more the government of Rome. He was accompanied as legate by a wily and ambitious cardinal named Albornoz, who seems to have looked with jealousy on the aspiring genius of Rienzi, and to have determined, instead of assisting, to thwart the new government. Rienzi, open and unsuspicious, did not fathom, or attempt to fathom, the designs of his companion; to him all other considerations must have been swallowed up in the idea of again beholding the capitol, and walking in triumph amongst the relics of his native city, the mighty Rome. And a noble sight it must have been to have beheld the senator enter, amidst the accaims of multitudes, the scene of his former achievements the people full of hope and excitement, looking up to him as their deliverer, and hailing him as the benefactor of his country. Alas! a few short weeks showed the hollowness of the shouts which greeted him, and transformed his triumphal procession into a funeral march. The first days of Rienzi's return were prosperous and successful. His old enemies, the nobles, again deserted the city, and retired to the strongly fortified town of Palestrina. Thither they were followed by the forces of Rienzi, and driven from their hostile position. In short, peace and order were on the point of being once more restored to Rome, when the wretched and degenerate spirit of the people stepped in to mar the fair prospect. To carry on the government efficiently and honestly (for Rienzi did not propose, like his predecessors, to depend on plunder) the senator found supplies of money to be necessary. But how were these to be raised? He had formerly, much to the displeasure of the pope, taken advantage of the revenues of the apostolical chamber; his oath now debarred him from this resource. The only fair expedient lay in a direct tax. But this had before proved his ruin. The people would consent to be plundered, but not to be taxed. Rienzi, however, depending on the grateful acquiescence of the citizens, proposed the obnoxious impost. He was doomed to be miserably disappointed. The gabelle (salt-tax) was the signal for clamour and insurrection. To add to his embarrassment, the papal power, although bound in honour to support its sworn servant, was sunk in sloth at Avignon, and, as represented by Albornoz, looked coldly on all his efforts for the restoration of order in the republic. A furious riot arose in the city. The base and vacillating populace, who had thrown open their arms to Rienzi on his second advent to power, before the lapse of three months were execrating his name and arming themselves to subvert his authority. The senator's residence in the capitol was surrounded by an infuriated mob; he found himself deserted by his civil and military servants, and left to cope singlehanded with the storm. Advancing to the balcony, and waving the banner of liberty, Rienzi laboured, with all the might of his eloquence, to appease the tumult. It was his last address. His oration was interrupted by shouts and imprecations; even missiles were thrown at his person; and one wretch discharged an arrow which pierced his hand. The indignant senator refused longer to maintain the hopeless contest, and retired to the inner chambers of the palace. He was besieged till the evening, when some of the more violent of the mob set fire to the doors of the capitol. Rienzi, then, as the last hope, attempted to escape in disguise. He was discovered, and dragged to the platform of the palace. Here he is said to have stood a whole hour, without voice or motion.' He no more attempted to speak to the people; he had made his appeal, and found it vain. He was in the hands of his enemies; he was prepared for their vengeance, but he scorned to ask mercy. The mob was awed into inaction by his mournful and majestic bearing; and if the deep loathing of the victim would have permitted him to have again raised his voice, the old spell might have taken effect, and the tide of sedition been stemmed. Even as it was, feelings of compassion might have gained the ascendancy, and saved Rienzi, had not a desperate assassin advanced and plunged a dagger in his breast. This was the signal for a thousand wounds; and the body of the popular hero was dragged amongst the dirt of the city and given up to the dogs. Thus ended the mortal career of Rienzi. Had his lot been cast in more peaceful times he might have deserved and obtained the highest honours of the state. But he was unable to control the stormy elements which surrounded him. These demanded a despot, and Rienzi was none. He wished to rule by love-by the free voices of the people-a difficult, perhaps an impossible, undertaking with a nation so thoroughly debased by long centuries of misgovernment. He has been charged with cowardice and pusillanimity. This charge is unfounded; his apparent weakness proceeded from his sense of rectitude. He reigned by the will of the people; and he had not learned that he was justified in using force to uphold his position. Had he chosen, he might have imitated his predecessors in allying himself with some of the strong and successful robbers which desolated Italy. But he disdained the artifice; and he fell because the times were unsuited to his mild, just, and generous nature. 'He is almost the only man,' says Bulwer, who ever rose from the rank of a citizen to a power equal to that of monarchs without a single act of violence or treachery.' The moral deduced by the same writer from the history of Rienzi is apt and striking: It proclaims that to be great and free, a people must trust not to individuals but themselves-that there 6 is no sudden leap from servitude to liberty-that it is to institutions, not to men, that they must look for reforms that last beyond the hour-that their own passions are the real despots they should subdue, their own reason the true regenerator of abuses. With a calm and noble people, the individual ambition of a citizen can never effect evil. To be impatient of chains is not to be worthy of freedom-to massacre a magistrate is not to ameliorate the laws. NOTES ON DIET. WHY is it that man is the only cooking animal? Is it that he may have a greater range of food, and consequently a greater chance of a ready supply in every situation and every diversity of climate? Yet many animals, as the common pig, are as truly omnivorous as man. The pig eats everything, thrives on almost all kinds of food, and gets fat on roots, nuts, and grains, without any of the aids of cookery. Carnivorous animals attain the highest muscular power on raw flesh, and herbivorous and graminivorous tribes assume their full forms on raw vegetables. It is true, savages use little of the arts of cookery, and still they have a perfect enough animal frame, yet, on an average, they are inferior in muscular power to civilised man, and in mental vigour greatly deficient. Is it the higher mental organisation of man, then, that has rendered cookery necessary to him ? We suspect it is. Though we are ignorant of the nature of the connection of mind with organised matter, yet experience clearly demonstrates that mental action reduces and weakens the vital apparatus just as much as animal or muscular. Not only does the act of thinking exhaust the system, but the emotions and passions of the mind are continually drawing upon the animal vigour. May not food, then, rendered more stimulacing and refined by the art of cookery, be essential to the full mental development, nay, even necessary for its most ordinary manifestations? Hence, too, perhaps arises that propensity for narcotics and alcoholic stimulants common to most nations, but so apt to be abused and perverted. It is well known that carnivorous birds and quadrupeds can by habit be brought to live on an entire vegetable diet, but we have never heard of any trial having been made of feeding a graminivorous animal on an entirely animal diet; and yet vegetable feeding animals are extremely fond of flesh, or indeed any animal matter, when they can procure it. This is the case with cows and horses in a state of domestication, and with many graminivorous birds. A singular perversity of appetite not unfrequently incites rabbits and pigs to devour their young litters immediately after birth. This is especially the case with the first brood of the rabbit. Some interesting experiments have lately been made by Dr D. Thomson on the food of cows, by which it appears that oil-cake, malt, and such concentrated substances, are not so nutritious or productive of milk as common hay, grass, or turnips. This agrees with similar experiments on human beings, where highly concentrated food, such as jellies, sago, sugar, or rich soups, are found not so suitable for digestion, or for the varied purposes of life, as plain flesh, or plainly cooked flour, meal, or that dish of nature's own compounding, milk. The food is of a compound nature, one part of it contributing to the nourishment and growth of the body, and consisting of albumen, the other Contributing to the animal heat through the medium of respiration, and consisting of carbonaceous matter, as fat, els, sugar, starch. Animals require different proportions of these ingredients in their food according to age, the degree of exercise taken, and to climate. Sedentary persons, who do not exercise their muscular powers much, require less food, and that food of a less nutritious nature, than those who pursue a life of great activity. In warm climates, as the expenditure of animal heat is moderated, fat meat and oily substances are less requisite than in cold esantries, where a large supply of animal fat is absolutely Decessary to keep up that internal heat which is constantly required to resist the cold of the elements. Animal food contains the largest proportion of albuminous nitrogenised matter in the smallest space, but the mealy vegetable matters, especially the meal of grain plants, are also very nutritious. Thus the meal of the bean contains twenty-five per cent. of nitrogenised matter, linseedmeal twenty-three per cent., Scotch oatmeal fifteen per cent., Essex flour ten to eleven per cent. Sago, tapioca, prepared farina, and such substances, contain so low a proportion as two to three per cent., and though in many instances recommended as the food of delicate children, are in reality the weakest and most flatulent articles of diet on which they could be fed. In thus speculating on the nature of food, as analysed by the chemist, it must be borne in mind, however, that all food is taken into the stomach mixed with a large proportion of watery fluids, so that quantity often makes up for the actual amount per cent. of the really nutritious ingredients. Thus the common potato contains about onetwelfth part of the solid nutritious matter contained in beanmeal, and about a sixth part of that of common wheat flour, yet the bulk of potatoes taken renders them a sufficiently nutritious meal. Grape Cure.-The Russian physicians have adopted a mode of regimen which they call the cure de raisin. It is practised in the southern parts of that empire and the grape countries there, and the class of patients are those nervous and debilitated ennuyes of the higher ranks that have become diseased from luxurious living. A lady of rank leaves her bed of down and cushioned canopy and goes to the country. She there turns a poor family out of their habitation (meantime making this family an ample recompense), and becomes the tenant of a filthy hut. This is part of the cure, to forego all luxury, to sleep in the peasant's crib, to sit upon his bench, and to avoid anything in the shape of comfort. The grape alone is taken as food, the grape for drink; a small quantity of dry bread is perhaps allowed. This is continued for the space of three weeks, and it is no wonder, if all circumstances are taken into consideration, that a cure is effected. People of the highest rank have subjected themselves to such discipline, and have all faith in its results. It is homoeopathy and hydropathy in another shape; or it is, more properly speaking, a simple return to the system of nature and common sense. Wilson, the American ornithologist, while pursuing his researches among the pestilent marshes along the banks of the Mississippi, was seized with fever and diarrhoea, and he relates that he cured himself by living on wild strawberries. Linnæus relates a cure which he also effected, while wandering over Lapland, by confining himself entirely to a species of wild mountain-berry, produced in that lonely region in great abundance. The cuttlefish, which is nearly as abundant in the Ægean Sea as the herring in our friths, as it formed a savoury dish to the ancient Greeks, so is it no less sought after by the modern inhabitants of that country. Professor E. Forbes says-One of the most striking spectacles at night on the shores of the Ægean is to see the numerous torches glaring along the sands and reflected by the still and clear sea, borne by poor fishermen, paddling as silently as possible over the rocky shallows in search of the cuttlefish, which, when seen lying beneath the waters in wait for its prey, they dexterously spear ere the creature has time to dart with the rapidity of an arrow from the weapon about to transfix its soft body.' The heaps of the cuttlefish-bone piled up beside the houses of the natives indicate the numbers which are thus captured and eaten. When well beaten to render them soft, then cut into slices and stewed in a savoury sauce, they form a very palatable dish; so that a modern Lydian dinner, where stewed cuttlefish forms the first course, and roasted porcupine the second, might well deserve the notice even of the epicure. The nest of the sea-swallow is deemed a great luxury by the Chinese. Those of the best quality sell for their weight in silver, or five guineas and a half per pound, and some of very superior quality even for their weight in gold. They are composed of a nutritious jelly, the real composition of which is not very well known. The most intelligent of the natives of the islands where the nests are found say that the substance is procured from the juice of a submarine plant called agar-agar, mixed with a peculiar exudation from the rocky caverns on the sea-shore; and it is added that the bird in building time constantly inserts its sharp bill into the pulp of certain delicate fruits, and thence extracts that exquisite material which imparts so fine a flavour to the matter of the nest. On the coast of Java there is a singular cavern much frequented by these sea-swallows, in the interior of which they build their nests, arranged in close rows from the entrance far into the interior. This cavern can only be entered from above, through a narrow passage, and by a ratan ladder. In this way the collectors descend, and with imminent peril creep along the sides of the cavern and collect the nests. This they do before the eggs are deposited; and though every year great quantities of the nests are thus abstracted, the birds still continue to rebuild them. The nests are prized according to their transparency and freedom from all extraneous matters. The finest flavoured are those found in the inmost and darkest recesses of the moist cavern-those exposed to the light and dry air being least prized. There are from twenty to thirty different kinds of holothuria or sea-slug which are found in the eastern seas, and which are eagerly sought after by the Chinese for converting into soups and ragouts. The fishing for and curing of these animals is now a principal source of wealth in the once famous Spice Islands of the Dutch, and in the newlyestablished British colony of Port Essington, on the northern shores of Australia. The same kind of animals swarm in great abundance in the sandy bays of this peninsula. The animal is called by the Chinese trepang, and in size and appearance it resembles a prickly cucumber, except that the colour is a whitish brown. According to Mr Earel, is found in all the sheltered harbours or bays, where it gropes about the bottom and feeds upon weeds and mollusca. It is taken at low water upon the shoals or mudbanks, over which the fishermen wade knee-deep in water, dragging their boats after them, and when the feet come in contact with a slug, it is picked up and thrown into the boat. The fishermen occasionally search in deeper water, when they avail themselves of the services of the natives, who are expert divers; or if they cannot obtain such assistance, they prick for them with barbed iron darts, provided with long bamboo handles. The process of curing is very simple. The slug, on being taken from the boat, is simmered over a fire in an iron cauldron for about half an hour, after which it is thrown out upon the ground, and the operation of opening commences, this being effected by a longitudinal slit along the back with a sharp knife. It is then again placed in the cauldron, and boiled in salt water, with which a quantity of the bark of the mangrove has been mixed, for about three hours, when the outer skin will begin to peel off. It is now sufficiently boiled; and after the water has been drained off, the slugs are arranged in the drying-houses upon frames of split bamboo, spread out immediately under the roof. Each slug is carefully placed with the part that has been cut open facing downwards, and a fire is made underneath, the smoke of which soon dries the trepang sufficiently to permit its being packed in baskets or bags for exporta tion. At my command Scour sea and land, Falls fast on helm and shield, To my victim's heart, And exult 'mid the din of the field; When the battle-tide I spread my banquet-hall, Of his power and state, But at night he shall sleep by his side. And fierce despair, Haunt the poor man in hovel and den, I bear him away, To know never want again. I glide round the walls When they echo with mirth's gay tone, Round the haughty king, And I hurl him from his throne. Ere the new-born child To the couch of its sleep I spare not the son Nor the fair in her blooming time; The mournful and gay, And the strong in his manhood's prime And hand in hand, O'er sea and land, By my daughter, the grave, I tread ; Change the living, and waken the dead. KAPLAN, A CIRCASSIAN TALE. R. P. S. THERE are few regions in the world where the temperate in all things so admirably blend as in the region of the Caucasus. The seasons maintain an almost mean temperature through their whole gradations. Summer softens to autumn, autumn fades away into a sort of tearful cool winter, winter revives to a sweet and vivifying spring, and spring blends again into summer, so gently and imperceptibly, that the cycle of the year goes on in a system of rotatory uniformity, like the healthy advancement and decay of the physical systems of the men who pass their temperate lives among its flowery valleys or green sloping hills. Man is beautiful here, and true to the law of sympathies; all things of beauty are formed to delight his senses. The stunted juniper and gloomy fir are meet companions for the stunted darkened Laplander. Flowers of beauty, and birds of Paradise, and tall green spreading trees, would not live in his clime, nor would their beauty delight his sensual mind; but the Circassian is chief of men by nature, and, true to her love of harmony, nature has lavished her chief treasures of beauty upon the land that is truly meet for the home of the good, and true, and beautiful. Where the arrangements of God in nature have not been disturbed by that social rebel man, how beautiful and perfect they are! Where he, in his irresponsible egotism, has come to disturb those arrangements, alas, how incongruous and antagonistic do man's relations to his little world around him become! Smoking desolation and sterile ruin ill consort with dewy showers and genial sunbeams; and swords, and spears, and screams, and painful wounds, and murder, seem strange sights and sounds amid scenes that invite the songs of birds, the bleat of sheep, the low of cattle, and the cheerful cries of the stil-tillers, with the sound of the shepherd's lute and the milk-maiden's song. These last are the harmonies of life and melody that the Caucasian region and climate demand; and those who were born and reared in that lovely country are willing that peace should make it so; but the imorant, superstitious, bloodthirsty czar, who sits upon the throne of Russia, and whose cupidity is equal even to his cruelty, like a demon of.discord, has sent disorganisation and desolation into the Caucasus that he may call it his own, even though it should become as cold and sterile as his heart, and a land of nothing but graves. In 18 there stood at Sujuk Kaleh a Russian fort. This fort was built of stone and lime, was encircled by a strong stockade towards the north, and laved by the vasers of the Black Sea on the south. Sujuk Kaleh had originally been a Turkish bazaar; but Russian influence had destroyed the trade, left the mart a ruin, and had raised upon the foundations of its stores, where cloths of wool Were wont to be sold, stones where ugly black cannon and tar munitions lay, as if impatient to destroy human life. The grave men who used to sit cross legged, with chebouks in their mouths, and sell carpets to the Circassian princes or pehes for their divans, woollen cloths to the nobles or works for tunics and gala-dresses for their wives and daughters, or salt and oil to the serfs or pshilts who came from the valleys to the north of Psadug because their masters would have no dealings with the Muscovs on the Kuban, were gone now, and lazy, sleepy, dirty, whiskered sollers mounted guard upon certain points of the garrison Leking to the north, or loitered about its stone-paved pare and gazed towards the sea. The little harbour, ang whose busy pier the open feluccas of the Moslem Eerchants used to lie, was unvisited now save by the transports of Russia, and the broken dilapidated pier was to konger trodden by the stately boatmen of Anapa and Sukwa, its crumbling footway being seldom walked save perhaps by those wretched soldiers, who, weary of the tyranny of their commanders, and frightened from desertion by their officers' tales of Circassian cruelty, sped along at night to cast themselves into the Black Sea for the rest and liberty of death. One of the popular delusions, which used to exercise a chilling enervating influence over our young faculties, was that which attached to the upas tree. This vegetable vampire, we believed, breathed decay and desolation to every plant within a large circumference of where it stood. The very air grew fevered that dared to sigh through its branches; men sickened and died who laid them down to rest beneath its sombre deadly shade. Neither grass, nor wer, nor shrub, nor bird, nor beast dared to enter the zion which this poisonous plant had usurped to itself. It was a centre of counteraction to all the life-bringing sweets of air, and to all the life-sustaining properties of the soil; it usurped the theatre of human life, and transfrued the green mead into the arid desert. This was a fable which first floated in the mind of some dreamy idealist, and then was ejaculated as a prophetic metaphor which cefully finds a parallel in a Russian fort. All was drary and desolate round that centre of cruel oppression and spoliation; and as the open country round Sujuk KaSen had frequently been the theatre of battle, it was as ate as the cannon of the fort could render it. From one of the bastions of the fort several soldiers, in the uniform of the Russian chasseurs, lay and looked towards the hills of Ozerek, which, rising in successive ridges, receded far into the distant horizon. The war between the hill tribes and the soldiers of Russia was being prosecuted with great vigour just now, and scouts were coming and going to and from the fort bearing news of gatherings in the valleys, and proceeding to warn the several leaders of the forts forming the cordon between Anapa and Sujuk Kaleh to be on the alert. The soldiers seemed to look with more than their usual attention towards the mountains and to commune with each other more eagerly than was their wont, as they lay and gazed from the battlements. Ah, Eric, they say that he is taller than Machel Hoff, the tanner of Smolensk,' said a young soldier, as he turned to a companion, and that he is as fierce as Machel's wolfdog.' 'Well, that he is as tall as Machel I doubt not, but that Machel's Brand is as fierce as he I will not believe. Ragnor Oloff, who lost an arm last spring by the sword of this Kaplan, told me that his eyes are as red as the nightlights of the hospital, and that his hirsute face is disfigured with tusks like boars. I wish he was in Siberia rather than in these valleys.' 'Does he come from the valleys on the Kuban, Eric?' said a young man, modestly, as he approached the talkers and joined the conversation. 'I know nothing of where he's from, Twenty-three,' said the Russian, sulkily. It doesn't do to tell thee of such a rebel, who hast thyself rebel blood in thee.' The youth without a name turned in silence, and slowly leaving the bastion walked musingly to the courtyard, as a tall rawboned porutshik entered into the fort, and calling him to him by his number, threw the reins of his horse towards him as he dismounted, and muttering some imperious mandates, proceeded towards the quarters of the commandant. 6 'Hillo, Demdoff, whither so fast?' cried a young subaltern, as he thrust his head through the broken window of what was termed the smoking-room. What news?' Ah, Rigovitch!' drawled the equestrian, as he expectorated mouthful of tobacco juice, and curled his catlike moustache, there will be mounting and dismounting soon, I tell you. I hear that Kaplan has come to Ozerek.' When did he come?' inquired the young officer. 'I do not know, but report goes that he has left Fort Nefil a ruin, and has come with five hundred horsemen at his back to raze Sujuk Kaleh.' 'Ha, ha! his corps would need to be Polish engineers, with five thousand mattocks, then,' cried Rigovitch, laughing. I suppose he'll make you messenger when he means to visit us.' 'Let me tell thee, Rigovitch,' said Demdoff, coming close to his comrade and speaking lowly, it is said that that nameless chasseur who holds my horse is as much a Russian as he is a Circassian, and he knows more of fort building than he gets credit for; but he's a fierce foe and a dashing leader, that I know,' continued Demdoff, in a low tone; and now for General Koff, he too must know that the hornets of the north are gathering in the valleys, and that Kaplan has come.' At the last sentence, uttered with unusual emphasis, Rigovitch drew in his head as if he had been stung by a wasp, and in an instant the bevy of Russian officers, who had been smoking beside him and listening, were engaged in a tumultuous and noisy discussion about sieges, marches, and night attacks, and all the probabilities and contingencies likely to follow the coming of this Kaplan to Ozerek. Kaplan is come!' muttered the man who held the brown horse of Demdoff. Ah, has he come?' and he raised his head from its abject recumbent position and glanced towards the hills with an eye that gleamed like an eagle's. It was but for a moment, however, for, looking rapidly and uneasily around him, he immediately settled down into his former condition of apathetic listlessness, and looked stupidly at the ground. • Come, you number Twenty-three, why do you loiter there with my good horse?' cried Demdoff, as he again crossed the square towards the rendezvous where sat his comrades. Take him to the stable beyond the outer barbican, where the horses of the chasseurs put up; rub him well down, and let him have corn and hay. Do you hear now, you lazy dog?' and he struck the passive groom with his riding-whip, who, quietly, and without lifting his head, proceeded to the stables with the steed, while the coarse porutshik joined the carousal of his warrior companions. Number Twenty-three was a Pole; in his own land, when it was the land of Poles, his name was Polaski; his lands were broad, and his home a happy one; but the czar had destroyed his nationality, had robbed him of his heritage, his home, and the very name of his ancestors, and had hung a brass plate upon his breast in lieu of the appellation which his father bore and had bequeathed to him. Ernest Polaski was no longer an individual whose personal identity might be understood by distinguishing sounds peculiar to himself, he was number Twenty-three' of the chasseurs, and wo unto him if he dared to recognise any other title. It is wonderful that nature knows none of those adventitious attributes of men, which have grown out of a state of sin and crime. One would suppose that twenty-three articulations of bone might have supplied this inferior creature with enough of the human form for all the purposes of one so vile; but, strange as it may seem, there were few more stately or handsome men to be seen than he. His shoulders were broad and square, and his frame tapered towards his clean and light flank; his limbs were straight and handsome, and his feet, you could perceive, were small and arched, despite of the lumbering boots which covered them. His face was sad and dispirited in its expression, for a suffering spirit had written its characters deeply upon it; but the sudden gleam that had passed over it at the name of this redoubted chief, Kaplan, showed that neither the hope nor fire within him was dead. He was in bondage, and he felt the iron in his soul, but he had heard that Kaplan was come to join the warriors of Adighe, and his heart beat high although he strove to suppress its emotions; for, many years before, the brother of Polaski had fled across the Kuban, and, he had heard it whispered, was adopted by the tribe of this same Kaplan. 'I have never drawn sword against these brave sons of the mountain,' muttered Polaski, and I never will. I have heard that this Kaplan, this tiger of Circassia, is as generous as brave, and that the Pole is welcome to his divan. Oh, if the wrongs of his own country have made him fierce to the Russ, sympathy may make him welcome me, an outcast Pole, and the brother of Stanislaus!' 'Come, number Twenty-three,' you are muttering in a proscribed tongue,' said a Russian serjeant, who passed him at that moment, and was glad to have something to report; and as he marked down the numerals which were Polaski's, he looked at him with eyes that certainly reflected nothing save the halberts and the cat-o'-nine-tails. I was talking to Lieutenant Demdoff's horse, good serjeant,' replied the exile, quietly; I am going to the plain to air him.' Ah, then, take care and go quickly; the shades are falling from the mountains, and I heard the echoes of the horns of the Tcherkesses myself.' Yes, good serjeant, we had need take care, for I heard Lieutenant Demdoff say too that Kaplan was come to Ozerek. Eh! what?' and the serjeant opened his eyes very wide, and then hurried away to tell his comrades the news. Polaski passed from the large square through a high arched gateway, leading the steed towards the plain, and he proceeded, with the easy confident air of a man on business, beyond the sentinel at the gate of the stockade. Soldiers were loitering around the fort, and officers were talking in groups; but as the Pole made the reeking horse walk backward and forward, they took no notice of his motions, believing that he was obeying instructions from its owner. As he gradually widened the distance between him and the fort, his heart beat high with the hope and anxiety of escape; for Polaski had determined that Demdoff's courser should bear him to the hills. The evening mists were gathering over the blue peaks of Ozerek, and the trees that waved upon the distant slopes were blending with the shades of evening, when the bugle rung out from the fort its peremptory mandate to close the gates. Hillo, you chasseur, stop your cantering and hurry in to the muster!' shouted an officer to Polaski, as, leading the horse by the bridle, he run it out to the greatest distance yet from the fort. The young man stopped at the call, as if to catch the import of the mandate, and then, as if eager to obey, he leaped upon the steed, and, pricking it with his spurs, urged it across the plain, while he appeared to struggle to restrain its boundings. 'Ay, that is a good steed of thine, Demdoff, or else he is a miserable chasseur who bestrides him,' said the officer, laughing, as the lieutenant joined him at the entrance to the fort, and, foaming with passion, beheld Polaski borne forward on the plain. 'I shall teach the boor to stable my horse when I order him,' shouted the porutshik, furiously, and, drawing his sword, he hurried towards the mounted Pole. 6 He is light of foot,' muttered Polaski, with a calm smile, as he watched the approach of Demdoff, and he is strong of hand; but I shall let him feel that the race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong.' Suddenly wheeling the horse, which yielded to the rein with the docility of an Arabian, Polaski dashed furiously upon the lieutenant, and presenting one of his pistols, which he had taken from the holster, at his head, so disconcerted and stunned him that the sword dropped from his nerveless hand, and he looked at the stern soldier in wonder. Polaski smiled grimly as he sprung from the saddle, and, seizing the officer in his powerful grasp, bound him with the scarf which encircled his waist, and threw him on the ground. Demdoff!' he shouted, as he lifted the sword from his side, and waved it over the prostrate soldier; you struck me, but I spare you. I am a Pole, who shall soon be in the camp of Kaplan; and I leave you the vile badge of your tyrant.' As he spoke he tore the hated number from his breast, and dashed it to the ground; then, mounting the charger, once more, he urged it to its utmost speed towards Ozerek. The It was night when the weary and jaded horse entered the valleys known to be occupied by the hostile Circassians; and as Polaski was utterly unacquainted with the language of the hill people, and ignorant of the localities where he now rode, he was meditating to seek shelter till morning in a thicket of oaks, while he allowed the horse to rest and refresh himself with the long grass amongst which he trod, when the swell of a mountain-horn rose high upon the night air almost close beside him. weary steed seemed to revive at the sound, and the fugitive's heart leaped gladly in response to its echoes, which, taken up by sentinels on the hills, were borne quickly from peak to peak, far away into the abyss of the night= and then suddenly the flames of beacon-fires shot up with forked, jagged tongues into the darkness from shelving rock which overlooked the little valleys, and revealed to the eyes of the fugitive flitting forms of men and horses, and the tall dark peaks of mountains that loomed in the luri light like the lofty steeples and towers of some gigantic city. Sometimes the flash of a weapon of steel would sparkle in the glaring beacon-light, and sometimes the smoke would roll between him and the panorama which lay around him, shutting it out like an illusion of th brain; but the neigh of some impatient charger, and th long drawn sound of a horn, would come booming on hi ear again, awakening his attention and his wonder. As Polaski sat and gazed upon this sudden apparition of light and warriors, and in his wonder forgot his own pos tion and danger, a strong, powerful grasp was suddenl laid upon his arm. Art thou a Muscov?' said a deep, manly voice in h ear; and, as the language in which this question was d |