amount of the bill at least, as they would have ascertained to whom it belonged.

"They carried us to Algiers, where I found that the brethren of the most holy Trinity were at that time transacting the redemption of captives. I spoke to them; told them who I was; and they, moved by charity, although I was a foreigner, ransomed me after this manner.- -They were to give for me three hundred ducats; one hundred to be paid down, and the other two hundred when the vessel bearing the alms should come again, to ransom the father of the order of the Redemption, who was left in Algiers, in pledge for four thousand ducats which he had expended over and above the sum he had with him;for to that length of pity and generosity does the charity of those good brethren extend, that they give their own liberty in exchange for that of others, and remain in captivity to ransom the captive. In addition to the blessing of my liberty, I recovered the lost case containing the papers from Rome, and the draft upon Seville: I shewed the latter to the blessed father of the Redemption who had ransomed me, and offered him five hundred ducats over the amount of my ransom, in aid of his charitable offices.

"It was almost a twelvemonth before tidings arrived of the return of the almsship; and all that I experienced in that twelvemonth, could I here relate it, would form a history by itself. I shall therefore only tell you, that I was recognized by one of the twenty Turks to whom I had given their liberty along with the Christians already mentioned; and the man was so grateful and so honourable that he would not disclose who I was; for had the Turks discovered me to be the same who had sunk their two vessels and taken from them the great Indian ship, they would either have put me to death, or have sent me as a present to the grand signior, which would have made me a captive for life.

"In fine, the father of the Redemption accompanied myself and fifty other ransomed Christians to Spain. At Valencia, we performed the general procession and thanksgiving; and from thence each one set out whithersoever he pleased, bearing with him the ensign of his liberation in this habit which I wear. I arrived today at this city, with so ardent a desire to behold my bride Isabella, that the very first thing I did was to inquire for the convent where they were to give me news of her. What has happened to me there you have already seen: what you have yet to see is, these papers, in order

that they may verify my story, which is no less wonderful than true."

So saying, he took out of a tin case the papers he had mentioned, and put them into the hands of the provisor, who, together with the assistente, examined them, and found nothing in them that could lead him to doubt the facts which Ricaredo had related. For the greater confirmation of their truth, heaven had so ordained it that the Florentine merchant himself, upon whom the bill for sixteen hundred ducats was drawn, was present all the while: he now requested that the bill might be shewn to him; and upon looking at it he acknowledged it to be genuine, and offered immediate payment, as he had received advice of the transaction many months before. And all these circumstances increased the general astonishment and admiration.

Ricaredo repeated his offer of the five hundred ducats. The assistente embraced Ricaredo, then Isabella's parents, and then herself, offering his services to them all in the most courteous terms. The two ecclesiastical dignitaries did the same; and requested Isabella to write out all that story, in order that their lord the archbishop might read it; which accordingly she promised to do.

The deep silence which the bystanders had kept while listening to the extraordinary narration, was now broken by the praises which they offered up to God for his wonderful works; they then took their leave, after tendering all of them, from the greatest to the least, their congratulations to Isabella, Ricaredo, and their parents, who entreated the assistente that their nuptials, which they intended to celebrate in a week, might be honoured with his presence.

The assistente, with the greatest pleasure, acceded to their request; and accordingly, in a week from that time, he attended them, accompanied by all the persons of most consequence in the city.

Through these vicissitudes, and with these circumstances, did Isabella's parents recover their daughter and repair their fortune; and she, by the favour of heaven, and the aid of her many virtues, in spite of so many obstacles, obtained so distinguished a husband as Ricaredo; in whose society she is thought to be still living, in the houses which they rented opposite the convent of Santa Paula, and which they afterwards purchased from the heirs of a gentleman of Burgos, named Hernando de Cifuentes.

This tale may teach us the force of

virtue and the power of beauty; since they are able, not only both together, but each of them singly, to captivate the hearts of enemies themselves;-and that heaven, when it pleases, can make our greatest calamities conduce to our greatest prosperity.

THE POLICE OF VIENNA.

(From the French.)

TRAVELLERS Complain of the customhouse difficulties and vexations of the Austrian empire; the army of douaniers so inquisitive, dictatorial, and suspicious, so formal, grave, and implacable in the fulfilment of their troublesome duties. But after all, there is nothing so dreadful in their ministration provided always that one takes the proper method in dealing with them. Reproaches, threats, arguments, and entreaties are all thrown away; but the application of a few florins makes them as tractable as a trained spaniel. And the beauty of it is, that no tact or management is requisite in the administration of the panacea; you may make your bargain in broad daylight, and before the eyes of all the world. In fact, there is a regular tariff of bribes -or to speak more gingerly, douceurs which ought to be printed in the guidebook. To exempt a carpet-bag from inspection, the fee is twelve kreutzers; a portmanteau twenty; and a full-sized trunk will be let alone for forty!

But the police is quite another affair. Here there is no bargain to be made, no subordinate to be mollified. Whether you like it or not, the customary formalities must be undergone, the strictest and most comprehensive examination must be submitted to. You are required to declare your name, your means of living, your profession, whence you come, whither you intend to go, the objects of your journey; and to exhibit your letters of credit and of introduction. If you come direct from England or from Paris, the inquiry assumes a still more serious character; and if perchance your pursuits are either literary or legal, your position begins to be troublesome; authors and lawyers are regarded with peculiar suspicion by the agents of the Austrian police. Huge books are examined, files of papers are ransacked, to see if your name is not already entered in red letters--if it has not been appended to some pernicious article in a political journal, or enrolled among the ranks of the carbonari, the "friends of

If at

the people," or the burschenschaf. last it is found unconnected with either of these dreaded and noxious objects, your "permit of residence" is delivered to you, but with hesitation and many suspicious looks; but do not be in haste to congratulate yourself. The alarm has been given; the secret agents know you, watch you, surround you at every step and in every situation-in the streets, at your meals, in your occupations and amusements, even in your very bed. The humble menial, in jacket and green apron, who brushes your coat in the morning before you rise, is a spy of the police; so is the porter who takes your letters to the post-office-the shopman who sells you a watch-ribbon or a sheet of paper-the wretched girl who accosts you at the corner of the street, as you return late at night from the opera-the sexton who conducts you through a church or a cathedral-the polite stranger who helps you at table, or hands you the newspaper in a coffee house. At Vienna nothing is too unimportant for investigation; conversations are listened toletters opened movements, however trifling, carefully noted-every thing falls into that vast, all-grasping, inevitable reservoir which is called the police; and one might almost suppose that Metternich kept spies upon himself, so integral a part of his system is universal espionage-like the miser, who used to rob himself at night for fear that others should do it for him.

To live perfectly unsuspected at Vienna, it would not be sufficient to possess a proud and ancient title, and to be well known as a thorough-going aristocrat; for man is an inconstant animal, and dukes and marquises have been known to turn out very radicals. The greatest certainty would lie in being deaf, dumb, and blind; or at least in a condition similar to that of a certain Prussian philosopher, who had laboured so hard in study, thought and written so much, devoted himself with such ardour to science, that his physical strength gave way under the constant attrition of his indefatigable mental energy, and he became so ill and feeble, that his life was at one time thought in danger. At length, after a whole course of medicine, and an inconceivable multitude of remedies, which his watchings and intellectual labours rendered perfectly useless, his physicians told him that they could do nothing for him-die he must-unless he gave up study, and abstained from thinking.

"And where shall I go, then-what shall I do, if I must not think?" said the patient.

"Go!" answered the medical gentlemen; "go to Austria."

Thereupon a passport for Vienna was procured, on which was written in a bold, plain hand, "H. A., private gentleman, commanded by his physicians not to think;" and when he arrived at Vienna, and the police-officers read the inscription, the gates were opened wide, and a guard of honour turned out for his reception.

The man who stands at the head of this vast system-who knows all its agents, means and actions-in whose hand are united its innumerable wiresis Prince Metternich; it is he who is really sovereign judge and absolute master of Austria. From him all instructions emanate; to him, in the last resort, all controversies and questions are referred. A word from his mouth would bear us in triumphal procession from the frontiers to the capital; another would consign us to the dungeons of Olmutz. I have seen him once-this man without parallel in the world, unless it be the Prince de Talleyrand—this man, whose head has whitened amid the windings and intrigues of diplomacy—who decreed the ruin of the first Napoleon, and the death of the second-who wrote and read

despatches while the thunders of the Corsican were pealing at Austerlitz, at Jena, at Moscow and Madrid-and who, after the victories of the French had shaken the world, stepped from his cabinet to send their emperor to St. Helena, and place himself at the head of the German confederation, in his stead. I have seen him once-the potent minister before whom every head was bent, the smiling courtier, whose very look was flattery. I gazed long and earnestly upon that calm and unwrinkled brow; that counte nance which always bears a thoughtful expression, but never reveals more of what is passing within than its master pleases-those lips which smile upon you while the eyes are reading your very heart. His coming was watched with anxiety— all eyes followed his movements, all ears were attentive to catch his slightest word. He moved around the courtly circle, like a political machine; but no sooner was the prescribed circuit finished, than he turned, as if glad to escape from a long and wearisome constraint, and seated himself by the side of his lately-married wife.

And she, young, lovely, gracious, animated and glittering with jewels, contrasted with that impersonation of diplomacy like the new-born liberty of nations with the superannuated principle of absolute hereditary sway. J. G. W.

WE here present our readers with a representation of the halfpenny token of Master Backster, the host of the Mother Red Cap, in Holloway, in the reign of the most religious and gracious king Charles the Second. It is a fair specimen of the substitute for small change at that period, both in its execution and the orthography of its inscription. Evelyn in his folio of strange jumble, entitled "Numismata, or a Discourse of Medals, ancient and modern," incidentally mentions these pledges for a halfpenny.' "The tokens," says he, "which every tavern and tippling house (in the days of late anarchy and confusion among us presumed to stamp and utter for immediate exchange, as they were passable through

John
Backster

att the mother Read Capp in holln way 1667

the neighbourhood, which, though seldom reaching further than the next street or two, may happily in after times come to exercise and busy the learned critic what they should signifie, and fill whole volumes with their conjectures."—

Few of our readers can be altogether unacquainted with the tradesmen's tokens so common in the seventeenth century; but they are probably ignorant of the cause of the evil. The silver penny, in the earliest Saxon times, weighed twentyfour grains; hence our term pennyweight; but in the time of Edward the Confessor it had declined considerably, and continued to decline until the reign of James I, when it contained only 73 grains. The coinage of its half was then

out of the question, and many schemes were proposed upon the coming of that prince to the throne, for coining farthing tokens. Three years before the death of Elizabeth, she was again pressed to accede to a proposition which had been previously made to her; but with her characteristic obstinacy she declared her resolution never to consent to a copper money.

The reasons stated to James, were the

same as those which had been urged with his predecessor; namely, the infringement of the prerogative by private individuals, who issued tokens and pledges for a halfpenny, in great num.. bers; the loss to the poor by their not being universally current, and the want of them to bestow in charity. What king could resist such a plea as the last? so farthing tokens appeared, the charitable feelings of the leiges found vent, and copper coin rattled in the pouches of the halt, the lame, and the blind. In those days, a pious wish that the donor might enter by the straight gate, was exchanged for one of these little pieces against which Elizabeth felt such peculiar hor

ror.

In July, 1626, a patent for coining farthing tokens was granted for seventeen years, to Frances Duchess Dowager of Richmond, and others. Forgeries were however very numerous, and some of them were probably executed so ingeniously, as to puzzle those who were authorized to coin farthings. Great confusion consequently took place. The patentees refused to acknowledge those which they pretended were not of their issue, and vast numbers being thrown on the hands of the people, caused much distress. At this time, it is said, there was at least a hundred thousand pounds' worth dispersed.

The great quantity of royal tokens uttered by the patentees, the number of counterfeits which were mingled with them, and the refusal of the patentees to change them, at length put an entire stop to the currency, and in 1762 they were abolished by proclamation. In the tenth year of Charles the First-Hawkes and others, were fined and set in the pillory, for forging the authorized farthing tokens.

The Mother Red-cap was situated at upper Holloway, between the three and four mile stones, and we believe a public house with the same sign, still stands on its site. Holloway appears to have been a favourite resort of the Londoners, on holidays, in the seventeenth century, In an old comedy, entitled "Jack Drum's

Entertainment," printed in 1601, the
following delectable verses occur :-
Skip it and trip it, nimbly, nimbly,
Tickle it, tickle it lustily;

Strike up the tabor for the wenches' favour,
Tickle it, tickle it lustily.
Let us be seene on Highgate greene,
To dance for the honour of Holloway;
Since we are come hither, let's spare for no
leather,

To dance for the honour of Holloway.
fresco of the Mother Red-cap, after dan-
The holiday folks, no doubt, sought the
cing themselves out of breath. Drunken
Barnaby, in his "Itinerarie," visited
the Mother Red-cap, and did not meet
the best of company, as may be inferred
from the following lines, which our
reader will forgive us for not translating.

"Veni Hollowell, Pileum Rubrum,
In cohortem mulibrem;
Me Adonidem vocant omnes
Meretricis Babylonis ;

Tangunt, tingunt, molliunt, mulcent,
At egentem foris pulsant."

CIVIS.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF
EUROPE.

BY AN AMERICAN.
No. I.

Trieste, its extensive Commerce-Hospitality of Mr. Moore-Ruins of Pola-Immense Amphitheatre-Village of Pola-Coast of Dalmatia, of Apulia and Calabria-Otranto-Sails for the Isles of Greece.

TRIESTE is certainly a most agreeable place. Its streets are beautifully paved and clean, its houses new and well built, and its shops as handsome and as well stocked with every variety of things as those of Paris. Its immense commerce brings all nations to its port, and it is quite the commercial centre of the continent. The Turk smokes cross-legged in the café, the English merchant has his box in the country and his snug establishment in town; the Italian has his opera, and his wife her cavalier, the Yankee captain his respectable boardinghouse, and the German his four meals a day at a hotel dyed brown with tobacco. Every nation is at home in Trieste.

The society is beyond what is common in a European mercantile city. The English are numerous enough to support a church; and the circle, of which our hospitable consul is the centre, is one of the most refined and agreeable it has been my happiness to meet. The friends of Mr. Moore have pressed every possible civility and kindness upon the commodore and his officers, and his own house has been literally our home on shore. It is the curse of this volant life, otherwise so

attractive, that its frequent partings are bitter in proportion to its good fortune. We make friends but to lose them. We got under weigh with a light breeze this morning, and stole gently out of the bay. The remembrance of a thousand kindnesses made our anchors lift heavily. We waved our handkerchiefs to the consul, whose balconies were filled with his charming family watching our departure, and, with a freshening wind, disappeared around the point, and put up our helm for Pola.

The ruins of Pola, though among the first in the world, are seldom visited. They lie on the eastern shore of the Adriatic, at the head of a superb natural bay, far from any populous town, and are seen only by the chance trader who hugs the shore for the land-breeze, or the Albanian robber who looks down upon them with wonder from the mountains. What their age is I cannot say nearly. The country was conquered by the Romans about one hundred years before the time of our Saviour, and the amphitheatre and temples were probably erected soon after.

We ran into the bay with the other frigate close astern, and anchored off a small green island which shuts in the inner harbour. There is deep water up to the ancient town on either side, and it seems as if nature had amused herself with constructing a harbour incapable of improvement. Pola lay about two miles from the sea.

It was just evening, and we deferred our visit to the ruins till morning. The majestic ampitheatre stood on a gentle ascent, a mile from the ship, goldenly bright in the flush of sunset; the pleasant smell of the shore stole over the decks, and the bands of the two frigates played alternately the evening through. The receding mountains of Istria changed their light blue veils gradually to gray and sable, and with the pure stars of these enchanted seas, and the shell of a new moon bending over Italy in the west, it was such a night as one remembers like a friend. The Constellation was to part from us here, leaving us to pursue our voyage to Greece. There were those on board who had brightened many of our "hours ashore," in these pleasant wanderings. We pulled back to our own ship, after a farewell visit, with regrets deepened by crowds of pleasant remembrances.

The next morning we pulled ashore to the ruins. The amphitheatre was close upon the sea, and, to my surprise

A

and pleasure, there was no cicerone. contemplative donkey was grazing under the walls, but there was no other living creature near. We looked at its vast circular wall with astonishment. The coliseum at Rome, a larger building of the same description, is, from the outside, much less imposing. The whole exterior wall, a circular pile one hundred feet high in front, and of immense blocks of marble and granite, is as perfect as when the Roman workman hewed the last stone. The interior has beennearly all removed. The well-hewn blocks of the many rows of seats were too tempting, like those of Rome, to the barbarians who were building near. The circle of the arena, in which the gladiators and wild beasts of these then newconquered provinces fought, is still marked by the foundations of its barrier. It measures two hundred and twentythree feet. Beneath it is a broad and deep canal, running toward the sea, filled with marble columns, still erect upon their pedestals, used probably for the introduction of water for the naumachia. The whole circumference of the amphitheatre is twelve hundred and fifty-six feet, and the thickness of the exterior wall seven feet six inches. Its shape is oblong, the length being four hundred and thirty-six feet, and the breadth three hundred and fifty. The measurements were taken by the captain's orders, and are doubtless critically

correct.

We loitered about the ruins several hours, finding in every direction the remains of the dilapidated interior. The sculpture upon the fallen capitals and fragments of frieze was in the highest style of ornament. The arena is overgrown with rank grass, and the crevices in the walls are filled with flowers. A vineyard, with its large blue grape just within a week of ripeness, encircles the rear of the amphitheatre. The boat's crew were soon among them, much better amused than they could have been by all the antiquities in Istria.

We walked from the amphitheatre to the town; a miserable village, built around two antique temples, one of which still stands alone, with its fine Corinthian columns, looking just ready to crumble. The other is incorporated barbarously with the guard-house of the place, and is a curious mixture of beautiful sculpture and dirty walls. The pediment, which is still perfect, in the rear of the building, is a piece of carving worthy of the choicest cabinet of Europe.