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brilliant offers of a Count were busying your brain, you would not have listened to me,-having obtained what your heart desired, you think you could as easily have refused it, but vanity, Francesca, has greater influence over a woman's heart, than love, at all times."

"Francesca burst into tears; "Leonardo," she said, "in what a situation you have placed me, could you not have sought another place for an interview, the Count is already so jealous."

"Fear not," interrupted Leonardo, "I have long studied the art you think I only assume the knowledge of—I still love you Francesca, and it would be hard to turn away the painter before the portrait's finished.”

"You will betray me," said Francesca smiling, and at the same time presenting him her hand.

"Never," he exclaimed, "never by this kiss, though imprinted on the hand another robbed me of."

"There was a slight noise at the door of some one approaching-they trembled for an instant, but Leonardo rapidly resumed his disguise, and as Count Marco entered the apartment Francesca was sitting as silently as if nothing had happened, and the painter was busy at his easel.

"Women are strange mixtures of frailty and truth," said the Gondolier, "tho' they tell me climate has something to do with it, that in our sunny land the heart is more susceptible and open to the influences of the tender passion, than are the hearts of the women in the more northern countries.

"They are much the same all over the world." I observed, "the female mind is said to be ever the weakest, surely then when we find a woman falling from the position in society in which her virtue and intellects have placed her, we ought to blame the tempter who occasions her disgrace rather than his unhappy victim, and consider it a lamentable, tho' unfortunately a natural consequence."

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You are right Signor, I believe, after all," he replied, "woman may be likened to a boat, she will float smoothly down the stream of life if guided by a steady and skilful hand, but if left to float on, of her own accord, ten to one but she is wrecked, and lost to the world for ever-but to return to my story.

"Leonardo continued to work upon the picture, but he took a much longer time, and made many more visits than were necessary to finish such an undertaking-the consequence was that the Count suspected him-he hinted his suspicions to his wife, and flew into a rage with the painter, who finding himself

undiscovered, pretended to take offence at his words, and left the house without finishing the portrait, whether he again visited it or not, I never could ascertain, but I believe he never did in the disguise of an artist.

"The painter having disappeared, the Count grew more reconciled to his wife, but he never dreamed it was his rival, nor would he have ever discovered the cheat had it not been for an accident-but I must not anticipate.

"It was some years after what I have recounted that a female bearing all the appearances of having been one of the most beautiful women of her day, presented herself on the eve of the festival of St Mark, at the little church of St. Agostino, for the holy purpose of confession.

"It must have been a solemn sight to behold the pale penitent beauty, scarcely past the bloom of womanhood, kneeling tremblingly before the stern features of the venerable Father Almenso. What was the confession she made it is impossible to ascertain, except we could remove from the lips of the confessor the solemn seal of the church, and the one other who could have divulged it, has no longer the power to do so;—well, deeply and attentively, and with the greatest contrition she was listening to the admonitions, and responding to the earnest prayers of the holy Father, when suddenly a man rushed towards them, and drawing his dirk or coltello, a weapon with which an Italian is always armed, laid her dead at the confessor's feet.

"Francesca, for it was her, had scarcely time to recognise her husband, and she spoke no parting word in passing to another world.

"Tis probable that the Count, who had long suspected his wife's fidelity, had followed her to the confessional, and that his suspicions being confirmed, caused him to commit the act of desperation just related.

"To his home he never returned but escaped to the hills, where he joined and became the captain of a gang of banditti who had long infested the neighbourhood.

"As to the church, that was abandoned by the priests and the people, and a black crucifix, which has been erected on the spot where the murder was committed, is now seen amidst the gloomy and deserted ruins, where it recalls the fearful recollection of past events, and presents to the traveller an impressive lesson on the effects of the disorders of the passions."

Here the narrator paused, and with that curiosity so natural in an Englishman I enquired if the culprit had since been taken. A faint smile passed over the features of the Gondolier as he answered in the affirmative.

“Then he has doubtless paid the forfeit of his crime,” I continued.

"He has" said my companion, "he was executed only last night, and I as is my duty, conveyed his body to the spot where it was cast into the water."

"Good God!" I cried, "and I have been listening to the history of the very man I last night saw executed, and sitting with the same man who conveyed his body to its final resting place."-My heart sickened at the idea and I directed him to make the shore as speedily as possible.

I have seen many strange sights since, but all these and all the merry scenes I have taken part in, have not been able to erase from my mind the memory of the dark Gondola.

A FEW WORDS ON THE DRAMA.

A PAINTER, who would set out on a tour through a desert land, if he supplied nothing from his imagination, would produce but sterile landscapes; and a stranger in an ice island, floating under either pole, would scarcely collect anecdotes enough to entitle him to the dignity of knighthood, much less to fill a quarto volume: not but that a great deal has been done, of late, to show how much may be made of nothing, and the maxim "Ex nihilo nihil fit," is not applicable to all cases. But this building, without foundation, is not exactly suited to our taste; we would much rather have ground to build upon, lest, for want of sufficient support, our superstructure should tumble about our ears. But alas! the bubbles that now appear upon the stage, in many instances, burst before we can examine them. If we would strike, we beat the empty air; and if we would support them, they dissolve within our grasp; at least such has been the case at most of the places of amusement during the last month. At the majors we have had nothing worth notice, and the minors have lacked novelty. The only theatre at which we saw anything that pleased us, during the past month, was the Royal City of London Theatre, Norton Folgate. Here several new pieces have been exhibited,; and some of them will, no doubt, continue to attract several during the season. The scenery at this elegant house is excellent, and the performers, if not of the first-rate talent, are really good, and certainly do their endeavours to please in a modest and becoming manner. The performances here conclude by eleven o'clock; thus affording an opportunity to indulge the juvenile part of our family with an evening's recreation, which the late hours kept up at most of the other houses, entirely preclude.

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