“You have told me a few minutes ago, that your mother is no more,” she began after a long pause. “I hope your father is yet alive?”

“I have little reason to think he is.”

The Queen turned as pale as a corpse. “You doubt?” she stammered, “you doubt whether your father is alive?”

“A dangerous illness which has confined him to his bed, gives me reason to apprehend---but what is the matter with your Majesty?”

“Nothing---nothing at all---A dangerous illness did you say.”

“So he has informed me sometime since, by a letter, and requested me, at the same time, to hasten to his arms, that he might see me once more before his death, and give me his blessing.”

The Queen started up, and went to another part of the room, as if in search of something, but soon came back again:

“He wants to see you and you are here?”

“Before I received the letter of my father, I had promised to that Unknown of whom I have been speaking, that nothing should detain me from travelling to Fr**ce, and imploring your assistance in behalf of my unhappy country.”

“Poor father!” said the Queen, absorbed in melancholy, “how anxiously will he have expected the arrival of his son—I fancy I see the dying Marquis, how he extends his arms in vain to receive the child of his love—”

“Does your Majesty know my father?” I enquired hastily.

She gazed at me. “If I know him?---no!---yes---I saw him several times when at the court of my father---But why do you ask this question?”---Without giving me time to reply, she resumed, “Make haste! make haste, return to your native country; perhaps he is yet alive---the sight of you will animate him with new strength, he will recover in your arms, and perhaps be restored to health!” The last words she pronounced with a visible joyful emotion.

“Shall I leave your Majesty,” I replied “without having my prayer granted? Is my unhappy country to expect no assistance from a Queen whose sentiments are so sublime? Is the picture of the best of women to be to me a lasting mark of her favour and displeasure?”

She seemed to meditate, “It is true,” she said at length, “we have entirely wandered from your concerns. Did you not tell me that you are haunted every where by an apparition? I too have seen an apparition some time ago. It was the ghost of my departed father, who, at midnight drew the curtains of my bed, and said ‘I am very wretched my daughter! neither prayers nor masses will give me relief, while Por****l which we have usurped shall be submitted to the Sp***sh sceptre. O! my daughter, if the least spark of filial love is left in thy bosom, if thou wilt relieve me from unspeakable torments, then make use of all thy interest at this court, in order to support the endeavours of those who, at present, are secretly occupied to deliver Por****l from her oppressors. A noble youth will arrive in a few days and implore thy assistance. He is sent from Heaven; grant his prayer. He has a mole on his left breast, which will be to thee a token of his mission.”

I started up. “That youth stands before your Majesty,” I exclaimed, uncovering my breast, “behold here the mole. O! relieve the suffering spirit of your father, relieve my country!”

She seemed to be in a trance, encircling me with her arms, and straining me to her bosom. “Thy prayer is granted!” she said in a faint accent.---No sooner had the last syllable escaped her lips, when the sound of a little bell was heard in the adjoining apartment. She disengaged herself from my neck and started back, “Gracious heaven!---” she exclaimed, pale and trembling, “the King is returned. Begone! for God’s sake begone!”

I was going to obey her command; the stopped me: “Never reveal a word of what has happened between ourselves,” she whispered; “leave the palace and the kingdom as soon as possible: beware of the King, I conjure you!”

I prostrated myself and encircled her knees, shedding tears of anguish; wanted to take leave, but could not utter a single word. The bell in the adjoining apartment was rung a second time; the Queen disengaged herself seized with terror: “make haste!---flee!---O stay!” she exclaimed when I hastened to the door, “come back!” She opened her arms to receive me; I flew to her bosom; she imprinted three burning kisses on my lips, and hurried into an adjoining apartment.

I do not recollect how I got out of the room. On the staircase I observed first, that the same lady who had conducted me to the Queen was walking by my side. We returned the same way by which I had entered the palace, and I arrived happily at our hotel in the company of the Count.

After I had communicated to him my success, I went to my apartment in order to give audience to my thoughts; however I was not able to account for the behaviour of the Queen, and my feelings during the whole scene. Was it love that I felt for the Queen? certainly not; at least, my sentiments for her were quite different from those I entertained for Amelia; was it mere esteem that endeared her so much to me? impossible!---My heart left me entirely in the dark with respect to that point, as well as my reason. It is true, one particular idea prevailed in my soul, however it appeared to me ridiculous, as soon as I reflected on other circumstances. The account which the Queen gave me of the apparition of the ghost of her father, completed my confusion. Was it the work of the Unknown, and did she really believe she had seen the ghost of her father? in that case the grant of my prayer was perhaps merely the consequence of her love for her father, whom she hoped to release thus from his sufferings; even her tears, embraces, and kisses, were then nothing else but means of alluring me to strain every nerve, in order to bring to a happy conclusion an undertaking, from the execution of which the eternal happiness of her father depended. But perhaps---and that, I thought, was not less possible---has she only invented that apparition in order to prevent me from suspecting the real source of her willingness to grant my prayer, and her confidential and endearing deportment? Even the manner in which she mentioned the mole on my breast, appeared to me an artifice which she might have made use of, rather to assure herself of the identity of my person, than of my mission from above; and this supposition received an additional confirmation, by her singular behaviour, after the discovery.---Thus I was wandering in the mazy labyrinth of conjectures and doubts, till sleep stole upon me by degrees, and shut my heavy eyes.

We left P**is the following night, and directed our road to Sp**n as Hiermanfor had ordered.

I stopped a few days at **cia, a hundred miles from the frontiers of Fr**ce, in order to rest a little from the fatigues of my journey, and received from the bribed surgeon a letter from my father, who informed me he was in a fair way of recovery. This welcome intelligence animated me with new life, and dispelled the gloom which had overcast my mind. We continued our journey without delay, and arrived at ***pala, where we alighted at the principal hotel. The first object that attracted my attention, was a handsome well dressed man, whose features struck me at a great distance, because I fancied I knew them. He was engaged in conversation with a tall thin man, and did not observe me till I was close by him. My sudden appearance seemed to surprize him, and the sight of him produced the same effect upon me, for now I perceived that it was Paleski, Amelia’s former valet. He approached me with evident marks of uneasiness, and welcomed me in broken accents. I ordered him to follow me to my apartment. The first question I put to him, was where Amelia resided, and how she was. Paleski lamented it was not in his power to give me the least information on that head. I enquired after the Unknown, and he assured me that he had not seen him since the last scene in the wood. “However,” said I, “you still owe me an account of a dreadful accident concerning the Unknown, of which you pretended to have been informed on your pilgrimage.” Paleski hesitated a few moments, and then promised to satisfy my curiosity the day following, being prevented by business of great importance from doing it on the spot. I dismissed him, with the injunction not to forget to come to my apartment in the evening of the next day. He promised it; however I waited in vain for him, for in his room a Capuchin friar came to my hotel, desiring to speak a few words to me in private. I ordered him to be admitted, and was told by him that Paleski had had a quarrel with some young men, who first had intoxicated and then provoked him, and that he had received some mortal wounds, by which he was confined to his bed at the hospital where he desired to see me, in order to disclose to me important secrets. The friar offered to conduct me to the hospital, and I drove thither in anxious expectation.

When I alighted at the gate of the hospital, I met Count Clairval. He seemed to be petrified when he saw me in the company of the friar. “Whither are you going?” he enquired at length. “To Paleski, who is on the brink of eternity.” The Count changed colour, and whispered in my ear: “Don’t go, the fellow is infected with a contagious disease.”---“You are mistaken (was my answer) he has been wounded dangerously, as his confessor tells me.” “I have just come from him,” the Count resumed with visible uneasiness, “the fever has deranged his head, and he will tell you a number of foolish things.” “No matter,” I replied, “I must see him, for he has sent me word that he has important discoveries to make.” “What can he discover to you?” said the Count, “Paleski has ever been an impostor.” “This will render his confession on the brink of eternity so much the more remarkable. But I must not lose a moment. Farewell, Count, till I see you again!” So saying, I tore myself from him, and hastened with the friar to Paleski’s apartment. When the nurse had left the room, the former said: “you need but ring the bell, if you should want me, I shall be within hearing.”---With these words he went out of the room. Paleski stared at me for some time. The livid colour of death covered his haggard countenance, and the most agonizing anguish of a tormented conscience was strongly painted on his looks. “My Lord!” he at length began, “I owe you a thousand thanks for your condescension; I should undoubtedly have fallen a sacrifice to black despair, if you had refused to give me an opportunity to unfold mysteries to you which lie heavy on my mind.” 

I took a seat close by the bed, seized with dreadful bodings.

(To be continued.)

----

A remarkable account of two Brothers, extracted from Linschoten’s Voyages.

In the sixteenth century, the Portuguese carracks sailed from Lisbon to Goa. There were no less than twelve hundred souls on board one of these vessels. The beginning of their voyage was prosperous; they had doubled the Cape of Good Hope and were steering their course North-east, to the great continent of India, when some Gentlemen on board who having studied Geography and Navigation, found in the latitude they were then in, a large ridge of rocks laid down in their Sea-charts. They no sooner made this discovery, than they acquainted the Captain of the ship with it, desiring him to communicate the same to the pilot, which request he immediately granted, recommending him to lay by in the night, and slacken sail in the day, until they should be past the danger. It is a custom among the Portuguese absolutely to commit the navigation, or sailing part of the vessel to the Pilot, who is answerable with his head for the safe-conduct or carriage of the King’s ships, or those that belong to private traders; and is under no manner of direction from the Captain, who commands in every other respect. The Pilot being a self sufficient man, took it as an affront to be taught his art, and instead of complying with the captain’s request, actually crowded more sail. They had not sailed many hours, before the ship struck upon a rock. In this distress the Captain ordered the pinnace to be launched, into which having tossed a small quantity of biscuit, and some boxes of marmalade, he jumped in himself with nineteen others, who with their swords prevented the coming in of any more, lest the boat should sink. In this condition they put off in the great Indian ocean, without a compass to steer by or any fresh water, but what might happen to fall from the heavens, whose mercy alone could deliver them.

After they had rowed to and fro for four days the captain died: this added, if possible, to their misery, for as they now fell into confusion, every one would govern and none would obey. This obliged them to elect one of their company to command them, whose orders they implicitly agreed to follow. This person proposed to draw lots, and to cast every fourth man overboard; as their small stock of provision was not sufficient to sustain life above three days longer. They were now nineteen persons in all; in this number were a friar and a carpenter, both of whom they would exempt, as one was useful to absolve and comfort them in their last extremity, and the other to repair the pinnace, in case of a leak or other accident. The same compliment they paid to their new captain, he being the odd man, and his life of much consequence. He refused their indulgence a great while; but at last they obliged him to acquiesce, so that there were four to die out of sixteen.

The three first, after having confessed and received absolution submitted to their fate. The fourth was a Portuguese gentleman that had a younger brother in the boat, who seeing him about to be thrown overboard most tenderly embraced him, and with tears in his eyes besought him to let him die in his room, telling him that he had a wife and children at Goa, besides the care of three sisters: that as for himself he was single, and his life of no great importance; he therefore conjured him to suffer him to supply his place. The elder brother astonished with this generosity, replied, That since the divine Providence had appointed him to suffer, it would be wicked to permit any other to die for him; especially a brother to whom he was so infinitely obliged. The younger would take no denial; but throwing himself on his knees held his brother so fast that the company could not disengage them. Thus they disputed for awhile, the elder brother bidding him be a father to his children, and recommended his wife to his protection, and as he would inherit his estate, to take care of their common sisters; but all he said could not make the younger desist. At last the elder brother acquiesced, and suffered the gallant youth to supply his place, who being cast into the sea, and a good swimmer, soon got to the stern of the pinnace and laid hold of the rudder with his right hand, which being perceived by one of the sailors, he cut off the hand with his sword: then dropping into the sea, he frequently caught hold again with his left, which received the same fate. Thus dismembered of both hands, he made a shift to keep himself above water with his feet and two stumps, which he held bleeding upwards.

This spectacle so raised the pity of the whole company that they cried out, he is but one man! let us endeavour to save his life! and he was accordingly taken into the boat; where he had his stumps bound up as well as the place and circumstances would permit. They rowed all that night, and the next morning, when the sun rose, as if heaven would reward the piety and gallantry of this young man, they descried land, which proved to be the mountains of Mozambique in Africa, not far from a Portuguese colony. There they all safely arrived, where they remained until the next ship from Lisbon passed by and carried them to Goa.

At that city, Linschoten, a writer of good credit, assured us, that he himself saw them land, supped with the two brothers that very night, beheld the younger with his stumps, and had the story from their mouths, as well as from the rest of the company.

SENTIMENTAL PERFUMERY.

A sentimental Perfumer recommends it to the fine ladies, to furnish their toilets with the following articles:

Self knowledge:—A mirror, shewing the full shape in the truest light.

Innocence:—A white paint, which will stand for a considerable time, if not abused.

Modesty:—Very best rouge, giving a becoming bloom to the cheek.

Contentment:—An infallible smoother of wrinkles in the face.

Truth:—A salve, rendering the lips soft and peculiarly graceful.

Good humour:—An universal beautifier.

Mildness:—Giving a tincture to the voice.

Tears of Pity:—A water, that gives lustre and brightness to the eye.

N.B. The constant use of these articles cannot fail rendering them quite agreeable to the sensible and deserving part of mankind.

CURIOUS PROPOSITION OF A DEBTOR TO HIS CREDITOR

(From a London Paper)

A debtor in the Fleet prison, lately sent to his creditor, to let him know that he had a proposal to make which he believed would be for their mutual benefit; accordingly the creditor called on him to hear it. “I have,” said he, “been thinking that it is a very idle thing for me to be here and put you to the expence of seven groats a week; my being so chargeable to you has given me great uneasiness; and God knows what it may cost you in the end; therefore what I would propose is this, you shall set me out of prison, and instead of seven groats, you shall only allow me eighteen pence a week and the other ten pence shall go towards the discharge of the debt.”

NEW-YORK.

MARRIED,

On Thursday evening last, by the Rev. Dr. Pilmore, David Hunt, Esq. of West-Chester, to the Widow Cooper of Fish-Kills.

For the New-York Weekly Magazine.

OF THE BEAUTIFUL AND VIRTUOUS.

For sources, see the end of the second installment (pg. 16).

For the New-York Weekly Magazine.

AN EPISTLE FROM OCTAVIA TO ANTHONY.
From the French.

(To be concluded in our next.)

--------

For the New-York Weekly Magazine.

PITY.

NEW-YORK: Printed by JOHN BULL, No. 115, Cherry-Street, where every Kind of Printing work is executed with the utmost Accuracy and Dispatch.—Subscriptions for this Magazine (at 2s. per month) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and by E. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane.

Description of the famous SALT MINES at Williska in Poland.

(Concluded from page 1.)

At the bottom of the last ladder the stranger is received in a small cavern, walled up, perfectly close on all sides. To encrease the terror of the scene, it is usual for the guide to pretend the utmost terror on the apprehension of his lamp going out, declaring they must perish in the mazes of the mine if it did. When arrived in this dreary chamber, he puts out his light as if by accident, and after much cant, catches the stranger by the hand, and drags him through a narrow creek into the body of the mine, when there bursts at once upon his view, a world, the lustre of which is scarce to be imagined. It is a spacious plain, containing a whole people, a kind of subterraneous republic, with houses, carriages, roads, &c. This is wholly scooped out of one vast bed of salt, which is all a hard rock, as bright and glittering as crystal; and the whole space before him is formed of lofty arched vaults, supported by columns of salt, and roofed and floored with the same, so that the columns, and indeed the whole fabric, seem composed of the purest crystal.

They have many public lights in this place continually burning for the general use, and the blaze of those reflected from every part of the mine, gives a more glittering prospect than any thing above ground can possibly exhibit. Were this the whole beauty of the spot, it were sufficient to attract our wonder; but this is but a small part. The salt (though generally clear and bright as crystal) is in some parts tinged with all the colours of precious stones, as blue, yellow, purple, and green; there are numerous columns wholly composed of these kinds, and they look like masses of rubies, emeralds, amethysts, and sapphires, darting a radiance which the eye can hardly bear, and which has given many people occasion to compare it to the supposed magnificence of heaven.

Besides the variegated forms of these vaults, tables, arches, and columns, which are formed as they dig out the salt for the purpose of keeping up the roof, there is a vast variety of others, grotesque and finely figured, the work of nature, and these are generally of the purest and brightest salt.

The roofs of the arches are in many places full of salt, hanging pendant from the top in the form of icicles, and having all the hues and colours of the rainbow; the walks are covered with various congelations of the same kind, and the very floors, when not too much trodden and battered, are covered with globules of the same sort of beautiful materials.

In various parts of this spacious plain stand the huts of the miners and families, some standing single, and others in clusters like villages. They have very little communication with the world above ground, and many hundreds of people are born, and live all their lives here.

Through the midst of this plain lies the great road to the mouth of the mine. This road is always filled with carriages loaded with masses of salt out of the farther part of the mine, and carrying them to the place where the rope belonging to the wheel receives them. The drivers of these carriages are all merry and singing, and the salt looks like a load of gems. The horses kept here are a very great number, and when once let down, they never see the day-light again; but some of the men take frequent occasions of going up and breathing the fresh air. The instruments principally used by the miners are pick-axes, hammers, and chissels: with these they dig out the salt in forms of huge cylinders, each of many hundred weight. This is found the most convenient method of getting them out of the mine, and as soon as got above ground, they are broken into smaller pieces, and sent to the mills, where they are ground to powder. The finest sort of the salt is frequently cut into toys, and often passes for real crystal. This hard kind makes a great part of the floor of the mine, and what is most surprising of all in the whole place is, that there runs constantly over this, and through a large part of the mine, a spring of fresh water, sufficient to supply the inhabitants and their horses, so that they need not have any from above ground. The horses usually grow blind after they have been some little time in the mine, but they do as well for service afterwards as before. After admiring the wonders of this amazing place, it is no very comfortable remembrance to the stranger, that he is to go back again through the same dismal way he came.

THE FATAL EFFECTS OF INDULGING THE PASSIONS,
EXEMPLIFIED IN THE HISTORY OF M. DE LA PALINIERE.

Translated from the French.

(Continued from page 3.)

How shall I describe my feelings at reading this letter! Oh, Julia! cried I, lovely, adorable woman! Is it possible! O God! Can it be that I have accused you of perfidy!—have done every thing in my power to dishonour you!---have abandoned you! What! a heart so delicate, so noble, did I once possess, and have I lost it! Oh misery! I might have been the happiest of men; I am the most wretched. And can I, in my present circumstances, accept the generous pardon thou offerest! O, no! Better die than so debase myself! No, Julia, though thou mayest truly accuse me of extravagance and injustice, thou never shalt have reason to suspect me of meanness.

Streams of tears ran down my cheeks, while I reasoned thus. I wrote twenty answers, and tore them all: at last I sent the following:

“I admire the noble manner of your proceeding, the sublimity of your mind; and this excess of generosity is not incomprehensible to me. Yes, I conceive all the self-satisfaction of saying, All which the most tender love can inspire, virtue alone shall make me perform.---But I will not take advantage of its empire over you—Live free, be happy, forget me.——Adieu! Julia---You have indisputably all the superiority of reason over passion———and yet I have a heart, perhaps, not unworthy of yours.”

With this letter I returned the twenty-four thousand livres, ordering it to be told her, that the diamonds having been given at her marriage, were undoubtedly her’s; and having once received, she had no right to force them back upon me.

I had now made a sacrifice the most painful; Julia had offered to consecrate her life to me, and I had renounced a happiness without which there was neither happiness nor peace on earth for me. My grief, however, was rather profound than violent; I had offered up felicity at the altar of honour, and that idea, in some measure, supported me. Besides, I did not doubt but my letter would prove to Julia that, notwithstanding all my errors, I yet was worthy of her esteem. The hope of exciting her pity, and especially her regret at parting from me, again animated my heart: I supposed her relenting, and grieved, and the supposition gave me a little ease.

I had lived about a fortnight retired in my lodging near the Luxembourg, when I received an order to depart immediately, and join my regiment. Peace had been declared near a year, and my regiment was in garrison two hundred leagues from Paris. I was one of the most ignorant Colonels in Europe; besides that I still secretly cherished the fond hope Julia was not lost to me for ever; though I perfectly felt I could not recede, nor could she make any further advances, yet I still flattered myself some unforeseen event would again confer a blessing on me which I had never sincerely renounced.

In fact, I could not resolve to quit Paris, and put the intolerable space of two hundred leagues between me and Julia; I wrote therefore to the minister, to obtain leave of absence, which was refused me, and I instantly threw up my commission.

Thus did I quit the service at five-and-twenty, and thus did passion and folly direct my conduct in all the most important events of life.

This last act of extravagance was the cause of great vexation to me; it increased and completed the difference between me and my Uncle, who was previously very angry with me for rashly separating from my wife: so that I now found myself absolutely forsaken by every person in the world whom most I loved.

At first, indeed, I did not feel the horror of my situation, being solely occupied by one idea, which swallowed up all the rest. I wished to see Julia once more. I imagined, if I could but find any means of appearing suddenly and unexpectedly before her, I should revive some part of the affection she formerly had for me. But I could not ask for her at the convent; for what had I to say? She never went out, and her apartment was in the interior part of the house; how then could I come to the sight of her?

I had a valet, who happened to be acquainted with a cousin of one of the Tourieres*. I spoke to this man, and got him to give me a letter for his cousin the Touriere, in which I was announced as one of his friends, and steward to a country lady, who wanted to send her daughter to a convent.

Accordingly, at twilight, I wrapped myself up in a great coat, put on an old slouched hat, and went to the convent. The Touriere was exactly such a person as I wished; that is, she was exceedingly talkative and communicative. At first I put some vague questions to her, and afterwards said, my mistress was not absolutely determined to send her daughter to a convent; whence I took occasion to ask if they had many boarders.

Oh yes, replied she, and married women too, I assure you. Here my heart beat violently, and she, with a whisper, a smile, and an air of secrecy, added——You must know, Sir, it is this very convent that incloses the beautiful Madame de la Paliniere, of whom you have certainly heard so much.

Yes---yes---I have---She is a charming woman.

Charming! Oh beautiful to a degree! It is a great pit!---but it is to be hoped God will grant her the gift of repentance.

Repent! of what?

Sir!——Yes, yes, Sir, it is plain enough you are just come from the country, or you could not ask such a question. So you don’t know!

I have heard she had a capricious unjust husband, but————

Oh yes! That to be sure she had; every body talks of his folly and brutality, but that will not excuse her conduct. I hear every thing, and can assure you she is here much against her inclination; nay, she would not have come, had she not dreaded an order for imprisonment.

Imprisonment! Oh! heavens!