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Mustrated Article.

THE CORSICAN FATHER.

WHEN you turn from Porto Vecchio toward the interior of the island of Corsica, the ground suddenly rises, and after winding for about three leagues by intricate paths, blocked at intervals by immense crags, and intersected by ravines, you find yourself on the border of the extensive maquis, which frequently serves for the abode of herdsmen, and a retreat for offenders against the law. To spare himself the labour of manuring his land, the Corsican peasant burns down a tract of forest, quite unconcerned whether the flames extend further than is precisely necessary; come what will, he can always reckon upon an abundant harvest, after, he has sown this spot fertilized by the ashes of the trees. When the ears are got in-for nobody thinks of collecting the straw-young shoots spring up from the roots of the trees left in the ground and spared by the fire, and form thick bushes, which VOL. VI. S

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in a few years attain the height of seven or eight feet. This species of thicket, composed of different kinds of trees and shrubs, intertwined with each other as chance directs, is called maquis. It is only with axe in hand that you can clear a way through it; and there are maquis so intricate that even the muflons (wild sheep,) themselves cannot penetrate them.

The man who has murdered another need only retire to the maquis of Porto Vecchio: provided with a good gun, powder, and ball, he may there live in quiet and security; only let him not forget to take with him a brown, hooded cloak (ruppa) which serves both for covering and mattress. The herdsmen sell him milk and cheese, and he has nothing to fear from the officers of justice or the relatives of the deceased, unless when he is perhaps obliged to repair to the town for a fresh supply of ammunition.

About half a league from this maquis was situated the dwelling of Mateo Falcone. He was a wealthy man for

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that country, who lived genteelly, that is to say, idly, on the produce of his cattle, which the herdsmen, a sort of nomades, drove from place to place to pasture in the mountains. I saw him two years after the event which I am about to relate; his age could not then have exceeded fifty. Let the reader figure to himself a short but robust man, with curling coal-black hair, an aquiline nose, thin lips, large sparkling eyes, and a skin resembling brown leather. His dexterity in shooting was regarded as extraordinary, even in a country where there are so many excellent marksmen, Thus Mateo never fired at a muflon with shot, but would hit the animal at pleasure, either in the head or shoulder, with ball, at the distance of one hundred and twenty paces. At night he used his weapons with the same certainty as in the day time, and I was told the following story of him, which, to any one who has never been in Corsica, must appear incredible. A light was placed at the distance of eighty paces behind a transparent paper, about the size of an ordinary plate. He took aim: the light was extinguished, and, at the expiration of a minute, he, in complete darkness, hit the paper three times out of four. Mateo Falcone could not fail to acquire high reputation by so uncommon a qualification. He had the character of being a faithful friend, but a not less dangerous enemy; for the rest, he was ready to do a kindness, liberal in bestowing alms, and lived in peace with every body in the vicinity of Porto Vecchio. It was, however, said that at Corte, from which place he had fetched his wife, he had got rid, in a very suminary manner, of a rival, who was deem ed as formidable in fair fight as in love, at any rate, a ball, which dispatched the rival in question, while shaving himself at a little glass hanging before a window, was supposed to have been fired by Mateo. The matter was hushed up, and Mateo was married. Giuseppa had borne him three daughters in succession, which enraged him exceedingly; at length, she brought him a son, whom he called Fortunato, for he was the hope of his family, the heir of his name. His daughters were well married, and the father could reckon, in case of emergency, on the daggers and rifles of his sons-in-law. The boy was now ten years old, and displayed good parts.

One day in Autumn, Mateo went out early with his wife, to look at one

of his herds, in an open pasture ground in the maquis. Little Fortunato wished to go with them, but the distance was too great, and besides, it was necessary to leave some one to take care of the house; the father, therefore, refused to comply with his request.

Mateo had been gone some hours, and Fortunato was lying quietly in the sun, gazing on the blue hills and thinking of the next Sunday, when he was to go to the town and to dine with his uncle, the caporale,* when he was startled by the report of a gun. He sprang up and turned toward the plain whence the sound proceeded; another shot followed, and several more in rapid succession, nearer and nearer, till at length he perceived a man in the path leading from the plain to Mateo's habitation. The stranger wore the pointed cap usual among the mountaineers, had a long beard, was covered with rags, and advanced with difficulty, supporting himself upon his gun.

This man was an outlaw, and in his nocturnal journey to the town, to buy powder, he had fallen into an ambuscade of the Corsican voltigeurs, a corps instituted a few years since, and which performs jointly with the gendarmes the duties of the police. After a vigo rous resistance, he fled, closely pursued, but still firing, whenever oppor tunity offered, upon his foes. He was now but a little way before the soldiers, and so disabled by his wounds that they were sure to overtake him before he could reach the maquis.

He approached Fortunato. "Thou art Mateo Falcone's son?" said he. "Yes!"

"And I am Gianetto Sangiero. The yellow-collars-[the voltigeurs, whose uniform is a brown coat with yellow collar]-are in pursuit of me. Hide me, I can go no further."

"And what will my father say, if 1 hide thee without his leave?"

"He will say thou hast done right." "Who knows!"

"Hide me, quick! they are coming!" "Wait till my father comes back." "Wait! must I! Maledetto! In five minutes they will be here. Make haste, hide me, or I will murder thee!"

“Thou hast fired thy gun, and thou

their property or connections, possess influ This title is given to such persons as, from ence and enjoy a sort of magisterial importance in their pieva or district. The Corsicans divide themselves, according to ancient custom, into five castes: gentiluomini (some of whom are magnifici, aud others signorf) caporali, cittadini, plebei, and strangers.

hast no more balls in thy pouch," replied Fortunato with great sang-froid. "I have my stiletto."

"But I can beat thee in running" and away he bounded.

"Thou art not Mateo Falcone's son, if thou sufferest me to be taken before his door."

The boy appeared to be moved. "What wilt thou give me to hide thee?" said he, drawing nearer. The fugitive put his hand into a leathern pouch, which hung from his girdle, and drew out a five-franc piece, with which he had no doubt intended to buy pow der. Fortunato smiled at the sight of the money, took it, and said to Gianetto: "Fear nothing!"

He immediately made a large excavation in a hay-rick, situated near the house. Gianetto crept in, and the boy covered him so cleverly, that nobody could have supposed there was a man concealed beneath the hay. He had also recourse to an artifice which, for a young savage, was happily conceived. He had a cat and kittens, and made them a bed on the hay, to give it the appearance of not having been touched for a long time. He observed some drops of blood on the path leading to the house; these he carefully covered with dust, and then lay down again with the utmost composure in the sunshine.

In a few minutes, six men in brown coats with yellow collars, headed by an adjutant, drew up before Mateo's door. This adjutant was distantly related to Falcone, and every body knows that in Corsica the degrees of consanguinity are reckoned to a greater distance than in any other country. Teodoro Gamba was an active man, and a terror to all who had incurred the penalties of the law, and several of whom he had secured.

"Good day, my pretty cousin," said he, addressing Fortunato-" why, how tall thon art grown!-Hast thou not seen a man pass by just now ?"

"Oh! I am not by far so tall as you are, cousin," replied the boy with a simple look.

"Thou hast time enough to grow But tell me, hast thou not seen a man pass this way?"

"Have I seen a man pass this way?" "Yes, a man with a peaked goat-skin cap, and a red and yellow striped jacket?"

“A man with a peaked goat-skin cap and a red and yellow striped jacket?” "Yes; answer me quickly, and don't repeat my questions."

"This morning I saw his reverence the cure ride past our door on his horse Piero. He asked me how my father did, and said"

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Ha, rogue! Art thou making game of me? Tell me instantly which way Gianetto is gone, for he it is whom we seek, and I am certain thou hast seen him."

"Can one see people when one is asleep?"

"Thou wast not asleep; the firing must have awakened thee."

"Do you suppose then, cousin, that your guns make so much noise? My father's rifle makes a much louder."

"The devil fetch thee, cursed little scroundrel! I am certain thou hast seen Gianetto, nay, perhaps even con cealed him. Come, come, comrades, let us search the house, and see whether the fellow is not in it. He could only hop on one leg, and the villain is too cunning to attempt to reach the maquis in that state-besides, the traces of blood cease here."

"And what will papa say?" asked Fortunato with a roguish smile," when he hears that you have been rummaging his house while he was away?"

"Good-for-nothing cur," cried Gamba, laying hold of his ear; "dost thou not know that I could presently make thee sing to another tune? A sound thrashing would soon make thee answer."

Again Fortunato smiled. "Mateo Falcone is my father," said he, with emphasis.

"Dost thou know, imp, that I can take thee with me to Corte or Bastia, and cause thee to be thrown bound inte a dungeon upon straw and guillotined, if thou wilt not tell me where Gianetto Sangiero is?"

The boy laughed aloud at this absurd threat. "Mateo Falcone is my father," he repeated.

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Adjutant," whispered a voltigeur, "let us not make an enemy of Mateo."

Gamba was evidently embarrassed. He spoke privately with the soldiers, who had already searched the whole house, which indeed did not take much time, for the house of a Corsican contains but a single square room, and the furniture consists of a table, which serves at the same time for a bed; a few benches, chests, household utensils, and implements of the chase. Little Fortunato meanwhile fondled his cat, and seemed to enjoy the disappointment of his cousin and the voltigeurs. A soldier went up to the hay-rick. He saw

the cat upon it, and carelessly thrust his bayonet into the rick, shrugging his shoulders, as though sensible that this precaution was quite unnecessary. Nothing stirred, and not the slightest change was visible in the countenance of the boy.

The adjutant and his men cursed and swore; their eyes were already directed earnestly towards the plain, as though they were about to return by the same way they had come, when the leader, convinced that threats would not produce any effect on Falcone's son, resolved to try what might be accomplished with fair words and presents.

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"My young cousin," said he, "thou seemest to me to be fond of a joke; but thou art playing me a scurvy trick; and were I not afraid of paining my cousin Mateo, the devil fetch me if I would not take thee alone."

"Pooh!"

"But when my cousin comes back, I will tell him the story, and as a reward for thy lies, he will flog thee till the blood runs."

"O yes, I dare say."

"Only wait a little, thou wilt see But, come now, be a good boy, and I will give thee something."

66 And, cousin, I will tell you something-if you stay any longer, Gianetto will be in the maquis, and then it will take more than one such chap as you to fetch him out again."

The adjutant drew from his fob a silver watch, worth at least six crowns, and, when he saw the boy's sparkling eyes fixed upon, he held it out to him by the steel chain, saying: "There, Fortunato, such a watch as this thou mayest hang about thy neck if thou wilt, and strut with it like a peacock through the streets of Porto Vecchio, and, when the people ask what o'clock it is, say

Here, look at my watch!'" "When I grow big, my uncle, the caporale, will give me a watch."

"Yes, but his son has one already indeed not such a handsome one as this -and he is not so old as thou art."

The boy sighed.-" Well, wilt thou have this watch, cousin?"

As he leered with one eye at the watch, Fortunato was like a cat to which you hold out a chicken. Aware that you are only teazing her, she does not venture to extend her paw, and, from time to time, turns away her eyes, lest she should yield to the temptation; but every moment she licks her chaps, and looks as if she would say to her master "How cruelly you tantalize me!"

Gamba, however, appeared to be in earnest with the offer. Fortunato did not lay hold of the watch, but said, with a bitter smile: "Don't make game of me." "By Heaven! I am not making game! -Tell me where is Gianetto, and the watch shall be thine,"

An incredulous smile played upon Fortunato's lips, and his large black eyes strove to discover in the adjutant's countenance how far he might believe his words.

"May I lose my epaulette," cried the adjutant," if I do not give thee the watch upon this condition. My comrades are witnesses, and I cannot retract my promise."

With these words he held the watch nearer and nearer, till at last it touched the boy's tanned cheek. In Fortunato's face was depicted the struggle between vehement desire and regard for the rights of hospitality which was taking place in his soul. His bare bosom heaved strongly, his breathing was hard

meanwhile the watch dangled before him. At length, he slowly raised his hand towards the shining bauble, the fresh cleaned case of which glistened in the sun; the ends of his fingers touched it; he felt its whole weight in his hand, but still the adjutant held it by the chain. The temptation was too strong. Fortunato lifted his left hand, and pointed with the thumb over his shoulder at the hay-rick, against which he was leaning back. The adjutant instantly compre hended his meaning. He loosed the end of the chain; Fortunato felt himself in sole possession of the watch ; nimble as a fawn he sprang up and bounded to the distance of ten paces from the hay-rick, which the voltigeurs instantly fell to work to overturn.

It was not long before the hay began to move, and a bleeding man, grasping a dagger, was discovered; he attempted to rise, but sank down again. The adjutant fell upon him, and wrenched the stiletto from his hand. In spite of his resistance, he was immediately bound with strong cords.

As Gianetto lay thus upon the ground. he turned his head towards Fortunato, who had come nearer. "Scoundrel!" cried he, in a tone rather of contempt than anger. The boy threw to him the piece of money which Gianetto had given him, fully sensible that he had now no claim to it. The prisoner seemed to take no notice of this, but coolly said to the adjutant: "My dear Gamba, I cannot walk-you will have to carry me to the town."

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THE OLIO.

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"Just now," replied the cruel con"thou couldst outrun a deer: queror, but be easy. I am so glad we have taken thee, that I could carry thee a league on my back without being tired. We will make a handbarrow for thee, comrade, out of branches of trees and thy cloak, and we shall find horses at Crespoli's farm."

"Good!" said the prisoner," but put a little straw under, that I may lie more comfortably."

(To be continued.)

HEDGE FLOWERS IN NOVEMBER
For the Olio.

I pluck you, blue Harebell and beautiful
Broom,

Not to rob of your radiance this season of

gloom;

smile,

But to spare your sweet faces the powerless That pleads for one sunbeam your day to beguile,

For winter walks tow'rds you, most delicate

flowers,

And his cohorts beleaguer your tapestried

bow'rs.

There's the whirlwind!-ah, how ye shudder and quake,

As he strips the last leaf from your guardian

brake:

When the zephyrs of golden eyed autumn are

o'er,

And the pale meadow rings with the hurri

cane's roar.

talline show'rs.

There's the rain!--not the beautiful crysThat fill'd with fresh odours the night closing flow'rs;

But torrents ungenial in sullen despite,
To fast fading greens giving canker and blight.
There's the tyrant of frost-would your
soft bosoms bear

His mockery of icy-bright diamonds to wear,
Ah no, in despondence would droop every
bell,

When he'd silenced the voice of your musical well.

Then come!-though to pluck you is evident

death,

You shall go where in peace you may yield up

your breath;

Where the rain never cankers, the winds

.never rave

And the frost is unfelt-I will find you a grave.
For I'll bear you away to that coffer of mine,
Where, smiling in gloom lingers many a line;
Ballad essay and extract-a manifold troop,
In their chilly confinement indignantly droop.
With them, pretty flow'rs, you shall pour the
last sigh,

And teach them contentment at least as you

die;

When they burn to behold all their beauties

unfurl'd

In the sunburst of fame, in the gaze of the
world,-

Ab ! tell them what graces you thought you
possess'd,

And what noteless oblivion enmantled your
breast;

Then since the world's favours are not to be
theirs,

THE BEAUTIFUL.

For the Olio.

Who shall describe that which ap-
Who shall lay
pears to different observers under dif-
ferent appearances?
which is not distinguishable by any
down rules, by which to distinguish that
Who shall define that which is unde-
finable? Who shall express upon paper
the attributes of "the beautiful?"

A Chinese lady considers herself ir-
resistibly charming, with her black
teeth and deformed feet. An Indian
Squaw coquettes in the finery of a red
handkerchief, a row of beads, or the
varied carvings of the tattoo. English-
women have prided themselves upon
their personal appearance, arrayed in
all the pompous superfluity of hoops,
high heeled shoes and patched faces.—
Who shall call either of their tastes in
hit upon
"the beautiful?"
question, or decide which of them has

Walk about town; visit the Zoologi-
cal Gardens and the gallery of the Old
Bailey-the theatre and the meeting-
house-the ball-room and the cigar
divan: survey the stocks of the hatter,
tailor, haberdasher, milliner, shoe-
maker, &c.: observe the passers by-
the gazers at the print-shops
loungers at the confectioner's
droppers-in at coffee-houses-the bus-
tlers along the streets :-and return,
and consider well how many and how
town upon" the beautiful."
different must be the opinions in this

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One man admires tall women-another short: one can conceive nothing more enchanting than a slender waistwith another, an en bon point carries away the apple: some choose fair dam- · sels with blue eyes-others brunettes, with black ones: neatness attracts some

finery, others: prettiness charms that man-elegance this. In fine, it would be a melancholy thing for the fair sex, if all "the beautiful." men were agreed upon

What then are the characteristics of "the beautiful" in the softer sex? She should be in appearance engaging, and have an interesting, if not a handsome,

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Give them joy that they're free from its insults pity and benevolence. Religion should

and cares.

HORACE GUILFORD.

be enshrined in her breast, as fragrance

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