of my life. I do it because I consider it is necessary they should know in what manner I was brought up, and also the cause of my leaving my family, as I afterwards did. If I had stated merely that I could not agree with my mother, who treated me cruelly, they might have imagined that I was not warranted in a moment of irritation, in taking such a decided step; but when they learn that my persecutions were renewed the moment that I was again in my mother's power, and that nothing could conquer her inveteracy against me, neither time, nor absence, nor submission on my part, nor remonstrance from others; not even a regard for her own character, nor the loss of her friends and acquaintances, they will then acknowledge that I could have done no otherwise, unless I preferred being in daily risk of my life. On my arrival at Colmar, my mother received me graciously, but her politeness did not last long. I now gave a new cause of offence-one that a woman, proud of her beauty and jealous of its decay, does not easily forgive. I was admired and paid great attention to by the officers, much more attention than she received herself. "M. Chatenoeuf," the officers would say, "you have begotten a daughter much handsomer than yourself." My mother considered this as a polite way to avoid saying that I was much handsomer than she was. If she thought so she did herself a great injustice, for I could not be compared to what she was, when she was of my age. She was even then a most splendid matron. But I had youth in my favour, which is more than half the battle. At all events, the remarks and attentions of the officers roused my mother's spleen, and she was more harsh in language than ever, although I admit that it was but seldom that she resorted to blows. I recollect that one day, when I was not supposed to be in hearing, one of the officers said to another, "Ma foi, elle est jolie-elle a besoin de deux ans et elle sera parfaite." So childish and innocent was I at that time, that I could not imagine what they meant. "Why was I to be two years older?" I thought, and puzzled over it till I fell fast asleep. The attentions of the officers, and the flattery he received from them on my account, appeared to have more effect on my father than I could have imagined. Perhaps he felt that I was somebody to be proud of, and his vanity gave him that courage to oppose my mother, which his paternal feelings had not roused. I recollect one instance particularly. There was a great ceremony to be performed in the church, no less than the christening of the two new bells, previous to their being hoisted up in the belfry. The officers told my father that I must be present, and on his return home he stated to my mother his intention of taking me with him on the following day to see the ceremony. "She can't go-she has no clothes fit to wear," cried my mother. "Why has she not, madam?" replied my father, sternly. "Let her have some ready for to-morrow, and without fail." My mother perceived that my father was not to be trifled with, and therefore thought proper to acquiesce. Pity it was that he did not use his authority a little more, after he had discovered that he could regain it if he pleased. On the following day I accompanied my father, who was one of the officers on duty in the interior of the church, and as he stood in advance of his men, I remained at his side, and of course had a very complete view of the whole ceremony. I was very neatly dressed, and my father received many compliments upon my appearance. At last the ceremony began. The church was lined with troops to keep back the crowd, and the procession entered the church, the bishop walking under a canopy, attended by the priests, then the banners, and pretty children, dressed as angels, tossing frankincense from silver censers. The two bells were in the centre of the church, both of them dressed in white petticoats, which covered them completely, ornamented with ribbons, and a garland of flowers upon the head of each-if I may so designate their tops. The godmothers, dressed in white as on baptismal ceremonies, and the godfathers in court suits, stood on each side. They had been selected from the élite of the families in the town. The organ and the military band relieved each other until the service commenced. The bishop read the formula; the godmothers and godfathers gave the customary security; the holy water was sprinkled over the bells, and thus were they regularly baptised. One was named Eulalie and the other Lucile. It was a very pretty ceremony, and I should have liked to have been present at their "première communion" if it ever took place. My English readers may consider this as a piece of mummery. At the time I did not. As a good Catholic, which I was at that time, and a pretty Frenchwoman, I thought that nothing could be more correct than the decoration des belles. I believe that it has always been the custom to name bells-to consecrate them most certainly-and if we call to mind what an important part they perform in our religion, I do not wonder at it. By being consecrated, they receive the rites of the church. Why, therefore, should they not receive the same rites in baptism? But why baptise them? Because they speak to us in many ways, and with their loud tongues express the feelings, and make known the duties imposed upon us. Is there cause for the nation to rejoice, their merry notes proclaim it from afar; in solemn tones they summon us to the house of prayer, to the lifting of the Host, and to the blessing of the priest; and it is their mournful notes which announce to us that one of our generation has been summoned away, and has quitted this transitory abode. Their offices are Christian offices, and therefore are they received into the church. CHAP. III. An elder sister of my mother's resided at Colmar, and I passed most of my time with her during our stay. When my father's regiment was ordered to Paris, this lady requested that I might remain with her; but my mother refused, telling her sister that she could not, conscientiously as a mother, allow any of her daughters to quit her care for any worldly advantage. That this was mere hypocrisy, the reader will imagine; indeed, it was fully proved so to be in two hours afterwards, by my mother telling my father that if her sister had offered to take Clara, my second sister, she would have consented. The fact was, that the old lady had promised to dower me very handsomely (for she was rich), and my mother could not bear any good fortune to come to me. We passed through Luneville on our road to Paris, and I saw my dear grandmother for the last time. She requested that I might be left with her, making the same offer as she did before, of leaving me all her property at her death, but my mother would not listen to any solicitation. Now as our family was now fourteen in number, she surely might, in either of the above instances, have well spared me, and it would have been a relief to my father; but this is certain, that she would not spare me, although she never disguised her dislike, and would, if she had dared, have treated me as she had formerly done. I was very anxious to stay with my dear grandmother. She had altered very much since my grandfather's death, and was evidently breaking up fast; but my mother was inexorable. We continued our route, and arrived at Paris, where we took up our quarters in the barracks close to the Boulevards. My mother was as harsh as ever, and now recommenced her boxes of the ear-which during the time we were at Colmar had but seldom been applied. In all my troubles I never was without friends. I now made an acquaintance with the wife of the colonel of the regiment who joined us at Paris. She had no children. I imparted all my troubles to her, and she used to console me. She was a very religious woman, and as I had been brought up in the same way by my grandmother, she was pleased to find piety in one so young, and became much attached to me. She had a sister, a widow of large fortune, who lived in the Rue St. Honoré, a very pleasant, lively woman, but very sarcastic when she pleased, and not caring what she said if her feelings prompted her. I constantly met her at the colonel's house, and she invited me to come and see her at her own, but I knew that my mother would not permit me, so I did not ask. As the colonel was my father's superior officer, all attempts to break off my intimacy with her which my mother made, were unavailing, and I passed as usual all my time in any other house except my home. I I have now to record but two more beatings. The reader may think that I have recorded enough already, but as these were the two last, and they were peculiar, I must beg him to allow me so to do. The first beating was given me for the following cause: A very gentlemanlike young officer in the regiment was very particular in his attentions to me. liked his company, but my thoughts had never been directed towards marriage, for I was too childish and innocent. One morning it appeared that he proposed to my father, who immediately gave his consent, provided that I was agreeable, and this he ventured to do without consulting my mother. Perhaps he thought it a good opportunity to remove me from my mother's persecution. At all events when he made known to her what he had done, and requested her to sound me on the subject, she was in no pleasant humour. When she did so, my reply was (he being a very dark-complexioned man, although well-featured), "Non, maman, je ne veux pas. Il est trop noir." Το my astonishment, my mother flew at me, and I received such an avalanche of boxes on the ears for this reply, that I was glad to make my escape as fast as I could, and locked myself up in my own room. Now I really believe that I was almost a single instance of a young lady having her ears well boxed for refusing to marry a man that she did not care for-but such was my fate. The treatment I received in this instance got wind in the barracks, and my cause was warmly taken up by every one. Finding myself thus supported, I one day ventured to refuse to do a very menial and unpleasant July.-VOL. LXXVII. NO. CCCVII. T office, and for this refusal I received the second beating. It was the last certainly, but it was the most severe, for my mother caught up a hearthbrush and struck me for several minutes such a succession of severe blows, that my face was so disfigured that I was hardly to be recognised, my head cut open in several places, and the blood pouring down me in every direction. At last she left me for dead on the floor. After a time I recovered my recollection, and when I did so, I sprang away from the servants who had been supporting me, and with my hair flying in the wind, and my face and dress streaming with blood, I ran across the barrack-yard to the colonel's house, and entering the room in which she was sitting with her sister, sank at her feet, choaking with the blood which poured out of my mouth. "Who is it ?" exclaimed she, springing up in horror and amazement. "Valerie-pauvre Valerie," moaned I, with my face on the floor. They raised me up, sent for the servants, took me into a bedroom, and sent for the surgeon of the regiment, who lived in the barracks. As soon as I was somewhat recovered, I told them that it was my mother's treatment; and I became so excited, that as soon as the surgeon had left the house, I cried, "Never, madam, will I again enter my father's house; never while I live-if you do not protect me-or if nobody else will-if you send me back again, I will throw myself in the Seine. I swear it as I kneel.” "What is to be done, sister ?" said the colonel's wife. "I will see. At all events, Valerie, I will keep you here a few days till something can be arranged. It is now quite dark, and you shall stay here and sleep on this bed." "Or the bed of the river," replied I; "I care not if it were that, I should not rise up to misery. I have made a vow, and I repeat, that I never will enter my father's house again." "My dear Valerie," said the colonel's wife, in a soothing tone. "Leave her to me, sister," said the other, who was busy arranging hair now that my wounds had stopped bleeding, "I will talk to her. The colonel will be home directly, and you must receive him." my Madame Allarde, for that was the colonel's wife's name, left the room. As soon as she was gone, Madame d'Albret, her sister, said to me, "Valerie, I fear that what you have said you will adhere to, and will throw yourself into the river." you "Yes, if I am taken back again," replied I. "I hope God will forgive me, but I feel I shall, for my mind is overthrown, and I am not sane at times." serve My poor child, you may go back again to your father's house, because my sister and her husband, in their position, cannot prevent it, but believe me, you shall not remain there. As long as I have a home to offer, you shall never want one; but you must listen to me. I wish to you and to punish your unnatural mother, and I will do so, but Valerie, you must well weigh circumstances before you decide; I say that I can offer you a home, but recollect life is uncertain, and if it pleases God to summon ine, you will have a home no longer. What will you do then?-for you will never be able to return to your father's house." "You are very kind, madam,” replied I, "but my resolution is formed, and I will work for my daily bread in any way that I can rather than return. Put me but in the way of doing that and I will for ever bless you." "You shall never work for your bread while I live, Valerie, but if I die, you will have to do something for your own support, and recollect how friendless you will be, and so young." "Can I be more friendless than I am at home, madame?" replied I, shaking my head mournfully. "Your father deserves punishment for his want of moral courage as well as your mother," replied Madame d'Albret. "You had better go to bed now, and to-morrow give me your decision." "To-morrow will make no change, madam,” replied I, "but I fear that there is no chance of my escape. To-morrow my father will arrive for me as usual, and-but I have said it. You may preserve my life, madam, but how I know not," and I threw myself down on the bed in despair. SPANISH BALLADS RELATING TO THE FALL OF DON RODRIGO. TRANSLATED BY JOHN OXENFORD. IT will be almost needless to repeat the well-known history, that Rodrigo, the last Gothic King of Spain, offended the Count Don Julian, by the violation of his daughter, Florinda (commonly called "the Cava"), and that Julian, being Governor of Mauritania, invited the Arabs into Spain, when they took possession of the country, having defeated Rodrigo in the battle by the River Guadalete, which happened about the year 711. With respect to the first of the following ballads, which is exceedingly primitive in character, and bears marks of being in a fragmentary condition, it may be observed, that Hercules received a kind of honour in Spain, even after the introduction of Christianity. It is said that, in the eighth century, a temple, or "house (casa) of Hercules," was to be found in every one of the principal cities. The third ballad is considered a comparatively modern work, and abounds in metaphorical language. The more primitive ballads are characterised by the most unadorned simplicity, and are, for the most part, metrical histories rather than " poems," if the latter word is intended to imply a work of literary art. None of the following ballads have been translated by Mr. Lockhart, though a version of one (Las huestes del Rey Rodrigo), on the same subject as that of the third, will be found in his collection of romances. -J. O. I. THE OMENS BY WHICH THE RUIN OF SPAIN WAS FORETOLD. 1. Don Rodrigo, Rey de España, &c. IN the city of Toledo, 2. Sixty thousand noble champions |