nounced his faith for theirs, and that the marriage ceremony had taken place. Having ascertained this fact of the imaum who had performed the ceremony, they lost no time informing Don Sebastian that the period was now arrived when he should publicly claim his bride. This communication he treated with silent contempt, and shortly after, as if in insult, was married to a Spanish lady.

This was too much for Osmynto be despised was too much for his proud heart-to be trampled on was an insult too great for him to bear. He challenged Sebastian to the combat, and although at first his defiance was not taken notice of, he compelled attention to it.

They met. Osmyn, with many stinging reproaches for the base desertion of his sister, rushed at Sebastian with the fury of a tiger. This his opponent coolly parried-but Osmyn was determined to avenge the insult cast upon his family, and again rushed upon Sebastian in all the fury of desperation. They closed in mortal combat; many were the wounds received on both sides, until at length, Osmyn, exhausted with rage, and weak with loss of blood, was unable longer to defend himself, and, after making a furious pass at his antagonist, received a wound in the heart, and fell to rise no more.

At this sight Sebastian was deeply moved -he felt his heart sink within him; but this was no time for reflection-the officers of justice were at hand, and he was obliged to fly.Unacquainted with that part of the country in which he was, he took the first path which presented itself. For a considerable time he held on his way with unabated speed, but at length his strength failing him, he was obliged to stop and rest himself.

After some time, he was aroused from his seat by the cries of several

men, and looking around, perceived his pursuers at no great distance. Not a moment was to be lost; he arose, and recommenced his flight, but, exhausted by his previous efforts, he was about to abandon himself to his fate, when the turrets of a castle appeared in view. With sinews strengthened by hope, he made for the gate, and succeeded in reaching it before his pursuers came up with him.

Hastily rushing into the principal hall of the building, he hardly paused to notice that the occupiers of the castle were Moors, but hastened to throw himself at the feet of the chief, and to implore his protection. This the chiestain, on his explaining that he was flying for his life, readily granted-he concealed the fugitive, and gave him his word that he should not be molested within his walls.

Ere long a mournful procession entered the hall. It was the retainers, bearing the dead body of Osmyn! Sebastian trembled when they gave a minute description of his murderer, but the old man (who was no other than Abudah) seemed too absorbed in grief to notice it. The bier was placed in the middle of the hall, and all the vassals retired, so that the old chief was left alone with the corse of his son.

Shortly, however, a door opened, and a female figure entered; Sebastian was sick at heart when he beheld it was Zelida! She approached the corse in an agony of griefher father took her hand.

'Daughter!' said he, 'the vile wretch who dishonoured thee has slain thy brother. Eternal curses seize him!'

'Nay, say not so, father,' replied she gently, let us rather pray that he may see his errors and repent.'

'Child!' said the stern Abudah, ' speak not in favour of the wretch who has taken thy honour and thy

brother's life. Yes, the life of my son-my Osmyn!'

The old man's voice was checked by his inward agony. Then it was that remorse took possession of the heart of Sebastian in his concealment, and ten thousand times more bitter were his feelings than even those of the agonized father of his victim.

'Child!' cried Abudah, 'curse the monster-say but thon cursest him! Oh, that he were here,' said he, with a mingled expression of grief and hate, 'to feel all the bitterness of a father's curse!'

So saying, he bent over the corse, and both he and his daughter continued to weep bitterly. At length the old man started-his daughter had sunk insensible in his armssorrow and misery had overpowered her, and life seemed to have fled for

ever.

Sebastian could refrain no longer he burst from his concealment, and prostrating himself at the feet of Abudah, cried, I am Sebastianthe murderer of thy son!"

At the sound of his voice consciousness once more returned to the unhappy Zelida: opening her eyes, and staring wildly around, she beheld the figure of Sebastian-reason had evidently deserted its seat, for in a tone of pleasure-- Sebastian! my husband here! then all is well!' then, exhausted by contending emotions, the unhappy girl gave a deep groan, and immediately expired.

Abudah turned to the author of all this woe. 'Son!' said he, in a dreadfully calm tone, more terrible than that of the fiercest rage, thou seest the ruin thou hast caused! thou hast stained the honour of an ancient house, whose escutcheon was without a blot-thou art the murderer of my son! the worse than murderer of my daughter-for these, may a father's curse light on thee, and pursue thee to the ends of the world! but now thou art in safety

my word is pledged, and think not a Moor would break his faith, even with such a wretch as thou. Begone! a steed awaits thee in the court-yard - flee from the castle-but, when next we meet, beware!'

Astonished at the generosity of the old man, Sebastian, whose heart was too full to say a single word, left his presence; in the court-yard he found a noble Arabian courser, which he mounted, and was soon beyond the reach of his pursuers.

Not long after, the war between the Moors and Spaniards broke out afresh. Sebastian, hoping to banish the dreadful recollection of past occurrences from his mind, accepted a distinguished command. In the midst of the first battle in which the hostile forces met, his eye encountered that of Abudah, now panting for vengeance-the Moor saw him, and with the fury of desperation, crying-for Osmyn and Zelida!' he rushed at his trembling victim, and cleft his skull in twain; then rushing into the thickest of the fight, perished, cursing the name of Sebastian d'Olivença.

J-s W-du-d.

ANCIENT BRIDGES.

Bridges were originally called bows. Stow says, at Stratford by Bow is a bridge, the first that was built of stone in England. It was built by order of Queen Matilda, relict of Henry I. over the river Lea, and called Stratford Bow, from its arch, which was a piece of architecture then probably new to the British nation. It was built in 1087. It is related, that Queen Matilda, being closely pursued by her enemies forded the river Lea below Old Ford, on which occasion, the waters being much out, some of her favorite attendants were drowned, and which afficted her so much, that afterwards she caused the bridge above alluded to, to be built over the said place.

OR, THE STRANGER OF THE HOLLOW OAK. (Concluded from page 11.)

THE night succeeding that on which the ceremony took place, a pair of riders of different sexes rode up to the Hollow Oak in Sherwood Forest. They dismounted, and Constance recognised with a sigh the spot on which she had first met with her husband.

You are fatigued, my beloved, said he, take a little rest while I watch near you. To-morrow morning I will inform you whom you have honoured with your hand. It is a long story and I will not fatigue you with it to-night.'

As soon as she seemed asleep, the knight approached her, and bending over her, said, 'My love!' She made no reply.

• She sleeps soundly,' said he, and moving towards the tree to which his horse was tied, carefully and noiselessly loosed it. At that moment he started, for he thought she was waking-a few words proceeded from her lips-he listened.

Oh, do not leave me, my love!' were the words she was repeating. He smiled a bitter smile. She does but dream!" He mounted his horse and rode away.

Constance slept soundly till almost morning-a rude grasp awaked her-she opened her eyes, and the first thing on which they were fixed was the face of a ferocious ruffian, whose every feature seemed calculated to inspire terror.

Oh, heaven!' she exclaimed, who art thou ?"

I am Walter the Wolf, my pretty mistress, whose face thou wilt, perchance, know better ere long. Comrades, hence with her to our haunt.' My husband! my husband! oh, where is my husband?"

Killed by my band, I suppose,' replied Walter; it matters not, since he left so pretty a wife behind him.'

Release me-I would seek mine husband.'

'Release thee? I am afraid thou wilt grow tired of waiting ere we do that we know our trade better, mistress. If I may venture to prophecy, thou wilt not see the last of me for thy life-long.'

At that instant a crossbow-bolt coming from behind the trees-whizzed through Walter's brain. He dropped on the ground and expired without a groan.

A cry arose among the band,'Nottingham is upon us!' and in an instant horsemen were seen spurring towards them on all sides. Resistance would have been vain a few of the robbers escaped by craft and running, but all the rest were hewed in pieces.

Who is this uufortunate lady?' said the old Earl of Nottingham, riding up.

'In sooth, I know not,' said one of the vassals, 'but it seems she has lost her husband here, for she is continually raving for him.'

• Who is thine husband, lady?' said the Earl.

'Alas! I know not,' replied Constance.

Why, this is Midsummer madness,' said the Earl, 'not know her husband's name, indeed. She is distracted-I must take care of her till she comes too a little again. Towards Nottingham, my merry men!'

They had not rode long towards the town ere they met a messenger, who was coming to them at full speed. The news he brought induced the Earl to change his mind and take another road through the forest which led more directly to London. He sent only a small band of vassals on to the town, who were

in an agony of amazement.

،

Willingly,' was the reply, as she hobbled out of the room; 'here is small pleasure, I trow, in waiting on you.'

In the afternoon the door opened, and a young, noble-looking man, in a splendid dress, entered the room. Constance shook with terror, What do I behold? is it the ghost of my murdered husband? Wherefore ah, wheretore dost thou revisit the light of day?'

'Hell and the devil!' said the person who had entered the room, it is Constance.'

• What, art thou alive?' said the merchant's daughter, who only heard his voice and attended not to the import of his words; 'ah, how didst thou escape from those fierce robbers who said they had killed thee? Oh, I am blest again.'

And I am cursed again,' said the husband.

'Ay, cursed, Constance,' said the knight; I had enough of thee when I married thee. By heavens! had I known it was thou who was the companion of old Nottingham's daughter, I had never taken the trouble to spare thee.'

What means this?' said Constance, trembling; 'in what have I offended you ?'

'In nothing,' replied the knight, 'but this; that I do not care a bit for thee now. Nay, stare not so-I speak the truth, woman, so thou wilt find. When I abandoned thee in the forest, it was in the hopes of never seeing thee again.'

This was too much, -Constance fainted and fell heavily upon the floor.

When she recovered from her swoon, she was in a high fever.For several days she continued in a state of delirium, but at length slowly recovered. The first use she wished to make of her re-acquired strength and powers of mind, was to escape from the house. By dint of careful watching, she at length found the means of getting into the street; but as she was flying along towards the lofty spire of St. Paul's, near which, the Earl of Nottingham resided, she was stopped by the fellow who had first seized her at Holborn, who claimed her as a madwoman that had escaped from his master'swas about to force her back to her prison, in which, no doubt, she was intended to be for ever immured, on account of the tales she had it in her power to tell. In vain did she scream and exclaim that his tale was a falsehood-the mob, which collected, believed her not, and she was about to be dragged back to her confinement, when the voice of Edward sounded in her ears.

'Rascals! release that lady, or abide the consequences.'