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"Do not be uneasy, Signor," replied Theresa, "the crowd and heat of the ballroom have overcome me-I shall soon be better."

"The fresh air of the garden would doubtless revive thee; suffer me to lead thee to it, my Theresa ?"

The tender tones of her lover's voice appeared to displease her, for she feigned not to have heard what he said, and turned away to join her mother in the saloon; but at that moment a dark shadow passed beneath the balcony, and stood still when it reached the palm trees which overhung the end of it. The young girl shuddered, for the figure was so near to her that she could have touched it with her hand. At length a plaintive voice, which she instantly recognised, cried, "Charity, noble descendant of the Cid, charity for a poor Christian! God will reward you for it in this world and the next!"

These well known sounds again awakened the associations which had before disturbed her mind; a death-like pallor overspread her countenance, and a faint exclamation escaped from her trembling lips.

"That wretched creature has alarmed thee," said Don Antonio, looking angrily towards the spot where Paco Rosales stood, half concealed beneath the palm trees, "how has he dared to come here? I will go and have him turned out."

Signor," quickly interrupted Donna Theresa, "he is here by my leave; I gave him permission to enter the garden to see the fete; I know the man; he is a pensioner of my mother's."

"Charity, charity, noble young lady! charity for a poor Christian;" again cried Paco Rosales, holding up his hat.

Theresa bending low put some money into it, and furtively withdrew the note, which she concealed within her bosom; then pale, and trembling, with her hands pressed upon her heart, she stood still and motionless, gazing into the obscurity of the terrace as if in search of some object of deep interest and anxiety. Paco Rosales had already disappeared and joined his companion at the place where he had left him.

What is the matter ?" said he, seeing Tovalito with his hand upon the hilt of his dagger-"why dost thou look so angry and excited, what has thou seen ?"

"I have seen one whom I did not expect to meet here," replied Tovalito in a low voice-"I have just stood face to face with my enemy, my mortal enemy. By every drop of blood in my veins, his life hung but by a thread."

"But where is he ?" asked Paco Rosales, more and more astonished.

The other mendicant, after looking cautiously round him, replied in a still lower tone, "Close to us, perhaps; it is the same cavalier who gave thee the letter awhile ago, and whose name thou art in ignorance of. Let us go farther off, and I will

tell it to thee."

Tovalito, drawing his companion away from the

garden, sat down under the hedge outside, and Paco took his seat close by him: "Well; who is this gallant ?" asked he. "He is not what he appears then? Thou hast recognised in him a comrade, perhaps ?"

"No," replied Tovalito coldly, "I recognised Don Alonzo de Gusman, the eldest son of the Duke de Medina Sidonia, Governor of Andalusia, and a Grandee of Spain."

"What dost thou say, Tovalito? so powerful a Signor. O! and pray what is he doing at Valencia, alone, and without attendants?"

"I know not; it was not in this country I knew him; no doubt he is here on some secret State affair."

"This is some mysterious history," said Paco Rosales, "and I pray thee let me hear it. This time we are alone, thou can'st speak fearlessly."

"It is no love story, nor did I learn it, unfortutunately, at the door of a church," answered Tovalito drawing a deep sigh; "formerly, I led a different life to this."

"Merciful Heaven!" interrupted Paco, "what dost thou mean? Well, I have always suspected that thou had'st another manner for asking for money from thy neighbours."

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Yes, before taking up the wallet I carried the musket; it is not from thee, friend Paco, that I would conceal what happened to me during my campaigns. First, then, thou must know that professionally, sometimes for one thing, sometimes for another, I made a great many journeys to the frontier; often being in Portugal in the morning, and in Spain in the evening; and if I had been content to follow my own little commerce, instead of meddling with State affairs, I should now be in a very different position. It was that which ruined me. But thou dost not understand what I allude to, Paco."

"Not I, by my soul !" replied the mendicant. with an ironical smile; "is it that instead of having followed thy trade on thine own account, thou dids't march under the orders of some grandee ?"

"Thou hast guessed it. There was at that time a much more dangerous trade than mine going on at the frontier. Since the Duke de Braganza had revolted against our master the King of Spain, and the Portuguese rebels had put the crown upon his head, he kept up a secret correspondence with Andalusia. The persons chosen to carry on this correspondence were merchants, monks, and smugglers; by them were the Duke de Sidonia's letters conveyed to the Queen of Portugal his sister." They were affairs of State, perhaps some conspiracy against the King," interrupted Paco, "and which might have endangered thy neck ?"

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"No doubt of it," quietly replied Tovalito, "but he who risks nothing gains nothing."

"That is true. Go on with thy story," said Paco Rosales, closing his eyes, "I am listening."

CHAPTER IV.

THE CONTRABANDISTA.

A ROMANCE OF VALENCIA.

"I DID not know exactly what they were plot-
ting," said Tovalito; "the letters I carried were
sealed; besides, I don't know how to read. At
the end of a little time, Don Alonzo de Guzman
came to the frontier, under the pretence of visiting
a relation, the Marquess d'Agamonte, whose
estates lay on the left bank of the Guadiana.
Then there were great hunting parties to which a
number of gentlemen were invited from all parts of
the country. When I saw the costly entertain-
ments which Don Alonzo gave to all these people,
I guessed that some rebellion was ripe for execu-
tion. As I am a native of San Lucar de Barra-
meda, and a subject of the Duke de Sidonia, they
trusted me.
I was not then as naked and as poor
as Job; I had, in the neighbourhood of Agamonte,
a small house, very much dilapidated, certainly,
but it served my purposes, and was a safer retreat
or me than four better walls might have been. |
One day Don Alonzo himself came to me with my
orders, which were that I should repair immedi-
ately to Portugal for a large quantity of fire-arms
and ammunition. I took my departure that same
evening, and two days afterwards everything was
smuggled into my house. It was a complete ar-
senal. When Don Alonzo saw how well I had
executed my commission, he remitted me five
thousand reals and a packet of letters. The reals
were for myself, and the letters I was to convey
to Lisbon. For that stroke I thought my fortune
was made.

It was late when Don Alonzo went away. As
I was to start at daybreak, I made all my necessary
preparations, and then lay down on the bed in my
clothes and fell asleep. About midnight I had a
dream, a terrible dream. I thought that the walls
of my house crumbled to pieces, and turned into
as many demons, that mocked and grinned at me
as I lay pressed down by some immoveable weight.
In vain I attempted to scream or call for help, the
demons formed a circle round me, which gradually
narrowed and narrowed, till I was so closely and
tightly hemmed in, that I could no longer breathe,
then I gave one shriek of despair and agony, which
awoke me, but I awoke to a reality as terrible, and
more so, than my dream. Around my bed were
about twenty armed men, with drawn swords over
my head. In a moment I saw the peril I was in.
It was clear to me that we were betrayed, a spy
had informed against us, and all must be disco-
vered. The letters were on a small table by my
side; the officer who commanded the troop of sol-
diers seized upon them. I saw that all was over
with us, so recommending my soul to God, I took
one of my pistols from my belt and fired upon the
barrels of gunpowder which stood in the corner of

the room.

"Merciful Father! Thou mightest have died unrepentant," interrupted Paco Rosales.

"We were blown up," coldly pursued Tovalito.

153

"The roof, the walls, everything the house contained, were scattered like a handful of dust to the wind. I found myself lying on the floor, in the midst of the ruins; around me were the dead and the dying, whose cries of agony, and shrieks of despair still ring in my ears. I endeavoured to rise, but fell down again with almost as little life in me as the corpse that was stretched at my side. How long I lay in this state I cannot tell, but when I came to my senses it was to find myself blind and mutilated as you see me. However, I did not then regret it; those letters which would have betrayed everything were destroyed."

"And Don Alonzo, did he not reward thee for this noble act of fidelity ?" interrupted Paco Rosales.

"He? No. When I recovered my senses I was in gaol, with a handful of straw for my bed. I thought every day would be my last, so horribly did I suffer from my wounds; but a kind and charitable Franciscan, who visited the prisoners, applied some salve to them, which at length cured me. The cure, however, was not meant to last long, for I was condemned to death, not for a State crime, nothing having been discovered, but for a few miserable bales of merchandise which I had smuggled. Then I expected that Don Alonzo would come to my assistance, and effect my deliverance, or at least, send me the means of making my escape from the prison; but I was at last undeceived. Immediately after the event he had taken his departure, without caring what would become of me. Perhaps he was in hopes that I should be hung, that he might be rid of me. I got out of it, nevertheless, by the help of God; the evening before I was to be hanged in the great square of Agamonte, I made my escape. I walked for three weeks, only stopping to rest for a few hours, or to beg a morsel of bread at the cottages I passed on my way. At length I reached this good town of Valencia. No longer in a condition to follow my old trade, I made up my mind to get my living like many other honest folks, by begging at the church doors. This is my history, and the secret of my acquaintance with Don Alonzo de Guzman."

And well he has recompensed thee, for having lost an eye and an arm in his service, as well as everything else thou didst possess," cried Paco Rosales; "in thy place, I should have revenged myself, friend Tovalito!"

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Revenged myself! in what manner ?" "This," said Paco, laying his hand on the dagger which he wore in his belt. "Thinkest thou that this does not strike a man as dead as the sword of an hidalgo? Thou hast lost a fine opportunity this night."

"I know it," replied Tovalito, "there is nothing easier than to kill a man; but what is death to him who has no time to anticipate its approach? He does not even feel it. So poor a revenge would not satisfy me."

Paco Rosales, hearing a slight rustling noise

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amidst the foliage, arose to see what it was; to his surprise he saw the form of a female, robed in white, emerge from the thicket into the broad walk of the terrace, and after walking a few steps, pause, as if uncertain what to do; then again, as if struck by some sudden thought, it turned to retrace its steps back to the house, when a voice, which he immediately recognised as belonging to the strange cavalier who had given him the note, arrested her further progress. Theresa," cried he, "I have awaited thee this hour, and I began to upbraid thee for thy tardiness, and to think thou didst not intend to come. In which case I had resolved to go and tear thee by force from the arms of my detested rival. But thou art here, and now nought can separate us--come, dearest, let us hasten from this, before thou art missed from the ball room," added Don Alonzo, passing his arm around her waist to draw her away; but the young girl drew timidly from him, and attempted to pass, when again he put his arm around her, and forcibly held her back. "Well!" cried he, with bitter irony, "so thou didst not expect me; but thou seest I am here, and punctual to my time, and ready to fulfil my promise."

"Alas! it is too late; dost thou not know that they are even now celebrating my approaching nuptials with Don Antonio de Guevara, and that to-morrow he leads me to the altar ?"

"Yes, another has received those vows of which I am the dupe; another will receive those tender caresses and soft endearments, for which I have risked my life! Nay, more, my name, mine inheritance. But no, it must not, cannot be. Theresa; I will not suffer thee to accomplish thy cruel treason!"

"With what dost thou upbraid me? Didst thou not leave me, without informing me where thou wentest, without one line to say that I was still in thy memory? Had I not to struggle alone against the prayers, the entreaties, and, at length, the authority of my mother? And when I knelt at her feet, and confessed my love for another, I had not even the power of telling her the name of him I loved; for I knew it not."

"Thou shouldst have had more confidence in me, and have trusted to my honour," replied Don Alonzo proudly; "but there is yet time, I can still save thee; but thou must follow me now-this instant."

"No, no, leave, leave me!" cried she, endeavouring to extricate herself from his arms; but he strained her the more tightly to him, and passionately exclaimed

"Cruel girl, why wouldst thou quit me? Thou knowest how I love thee. Hast thou already forgotten our moonlit walks amongst these orange groves, and how thou didst swear by their tender buds to love and cherish me-only me? See this orange blossom, it is scarcely blown since then: and yet thou art changed! Can it be that its bloom and scent outlives a woman's love? Oh, Theresa, is this thy love-this thy faith, thy trust ?

Have the few days that I was absent, compelled to be absent, wrought this change in thee? Leave thee! yes I will leave thee, since I know thou dost not love me-that thou didst never love me! Farewell, Theresa. I loved thee-I fear I love still; but I pity, I despise thee!"

"Oh, Signor, recall those words," cried the young girl, dropping on her knees before him; "recall them ere I leave thee; I have but one moment more to spare; they are already in search of me. My life, my more than life-my honour is in thy hands! Have mercy on me; say that thou dost not despise me, and let me go. I have loved thee; oh, how well!"

"Then love me still, Theresa," cried Don Alonzo, raising her in his arms.

"Oh! I do, I do; but I cannot-must not." "Prove it," interrupted Don Alonzo. "Thou lackest the courage; thou dost not want itmine will serve for both," added he taking her in his arms.

"No, no, it cannot be," answered Theresa, weeping bitterly, "I would have followed thee as thy wife into poverty and obscurity. I would have worked--slaved for thee; have sacrificed all

parents, friends, home, the world as thy wife, but not as thy mistress. Thou mayst kill me if thou wilt, but I will not follow thee."

"Listen," said he, forcibly detaining her, "the obstacles to our marriage are almost insurmountable; but if thou wilt trust thyself with me, I swear to thee to remove them; but it will be months, perhaps years, before I can succeed. In the meantime, if thou wilt be content with a private marriage, my hand and soul are thine."

"Oh, heavens!" hastily interrupted the agitated girl, as she tightly grasped the hand that supported her trembling form, "dost thou hear that noise ?"

At that moment the sound of voices and footsteps were heard in the garden, and the lurid light of numerous torches flashed across the walks, and played over the flower beds, lighting up the remotest parts of the garden, and penetrating the thick foliage of the orange grove and thickets that surrounded the terrace. The name of Theresa resounded from an hundred lips, and echoed from bower to bower; men ran wildly to and fro, their dark countenances lit up by the torches which they bore aloft above their heads, whilst in their midst Don Guevara, pale and haggard looking, called in accents of despair upon Theresa's name.

The mendicants seeing the confusion, joined the throng on the terrace, and pointed out to Don Guevara the place where they had last seen the lovers.

"We saw them, signor," said Paco, "but a few minutes since, in the orange grove. The cavalier was tall, and wore a long dark cloak; they cannot be far off."

Without waiting to hear more, Don Antonio hastened to the spot. A few minutes after he returned with her diamond necklace in his hand. He had picked it up in the orange grove.

THE CURIOSITIES OF WOOL.

COTTON and wool are the two principal materials | pass through the warehouses when the wools are out of which the civilised world contrives to raise a respectable exterior. Without the former Lancashire might still have been a quiet, unpretending county; without the latter, Yorkshire would still be a sporting, grouse-shooting district, neither disturbed by the noise of steam engines, nor blackened by the smoke of factories.

The traveller, as he gazes at those gigantic buildings, high chimneys, and soot-begrimmed houses, with their pale coloured occupants, must, however, now and then ask himself where all the raw material comes from, which these great factories absorb, day after day, and year after year? He, probably, is aware that cotton is the product of a tree, and wool the product of the sheep; and at this point the subject drops. But where the unreflective traveller leaves off, we propose to begin, simply premising that our remarks will be confined to wool. The cotton interest must take care of itself for the present.

Our chief supplies of this article come from the Southern colonies, the vast plains of which, combined with a pretty temperate climate, seem peculiarly favourable to the growth of wool. There the squatter, with his flocks, ranging from two or three thousand to a hundred thousand, leads a life as truly pastoral as any we could select from the pages of Virgil; seeing nothing of the world, perpetually looking upon sheep and "runs," his monotonous existence occasionally varied with a dog hunt, or a visit to a neighbouring squatter, and once or twice a year a journey into Adelaide, Melbourne, or Sydney. If fortunate, he saves money, and at length returns home to live in the old, old country, and lay his bones amongst his forefathers.

The average weight of wool per sheep is about two pounds and a-half; the shearing season is from September to January. The wool undergoes a preliminary sorting at the stations, whence it is conveyed on bullock drays, or down the Murray river in flat bottomed steamers, to the shipping port; it is then repacked into square or oblong bags, weighing from two to four cwt. each, and sent to England. The freight varies from a halfpenny to five farthings a pound. The quality differs, of course, considerably-the greasy wool realises, at the present time, about ten pence to thirteen pence a pound, the finest sort, as much as half a crown. The larger portion, however, ranges between these two extremes. On its arrival in London, the bales are placed in warehouses, the principal of which are the London Docks, Messrs. Brown and Eagle's, and Gooch and Cowan's. The wool is divided into lots of from one to ten bales each, and sold by auction. The quantity thus sold amounted during last year to upwards of 200,000 bales. It is a novel and amusing sight to

on show; hundreds of buyers are there, looking eagerly at the qualities-Frenchmen, Germans, Yorkshiremen, West of England men, jabbering away, with wool all around, on their coats, on their trousers, and sometimes two or three feet deep on the floors. The sales, of which there are four annually, generally continue for about five consecutive weeks, and in the evening of each day, wool to the value of more than seventy thousand pounds passes under the hammer. It is afterwards sent to the manufacturing districts of Great Britain and the Continent, where it becomes metamorphosed into the coarse hosiery of the peasant, equally with the fine black cloth of the gentle

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Each colony of the Australian group has, with the exception of the Swan River settlement, largely increased its production within the last few years; and now New Zealand promises to be a considerable wool-growing province. Hitherto, the gold discoveries have in no respect affected the more steady pursuits of the squatter; large tracts of land have certainly been occupied by the diggers, but the flockmasters have found new runs by penetrating into the imperfectly explored interior.

Another quarter from which we receive considerable supplies of wool is the Cape of Good Hope. Every year this branch of commerce materially expands, while the quality of the article continues to improve to such a degree as to compete with the produce of its more southern neighbour. This kind of wool is much sought after by the continental buyers to mix with their fine Saxony fleeces. The arrivals from the Cape in 1842, amounted to 6,431 bales; in 1852, to 21,005 bales; while in 1850, the quantity reached 50,580 bales.

The East Indies and China produce a low quality, much used in blankets, horse cloths, and railway wrapper manufacture. The heat of the climate renders the wool harsh and hairy; and

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consequently unsuitable for working up into fine |
material. The bales are sold in the same way as
the Australian and Cape; the wool is packed ex-
tremely tight by hydraulic pressure, and the
packages are corded so as to give them a very
neat appearance. Their weight is generally about
3 cwt. each. The imports last year comprised
45,550 bales, while in 1851 they were only
12,550 bales.

The vast mountain districts of South America
furnish a peculiar kind, called "alpaca" wool. The
staple is soft, fine, and long; the prevailing colours
are black, white, brown, and gray. Its uses are
various, as, for instance, ladies dresses, coat linings,
and cloth for warm climates, or even an English
summer. It is put into small packages, termed
ballots, weighing above fifty pounds each, which
are slung across mules' backs, and thus conveyed
over the mountains to the shipping ports of Chili
and Peru, &c. Nearly all of it is sent to Liver-
pool, a very small quantity only coming to London.
The present price is about 2s. 3d. a pound.
Titus Salt, the well known manufacturer of Brad-
ford, is understood to have been the first person
who introduced this article into use; when
others failed to see its advantages he bought
all the imports, held the stock till he had
created a market for this novel kind of
cloth, and reaped the reward of his bold enter-
prise in the shape of a large balance at his
bankers.

Mr.

The trade in goats' wool is confined to the Greek houses. This beautiful silky substance comes from Asia Minor chiefly, the port of shipment being Constantinople. It realises from 2s. to 2s. 6d. a pound. It would be tedious to designate the variety of uses to which it is applied, from button trimmings to velvet-plush linings; from shawls to lace, which, in France, supersedes the costly fabrics of Valenciennes and Chantilly. During the Crimean war there was a considerable interruption in the supplies. In 1846, the arrivals were 5,231 bales; in 1856, 13,427 bales. Each bale weighs about 160 pounds. The wool is not sold by public auction, as with colonial, but by private contract.

The extraordinary expansion in the growth of colonial wool, combined with the necessity of making cheap and tolerably durable cloths, has seriously lessened the supplies from the continent. Twenty years ago, Germany and Spain possessed almost a monopoly of the foreign trade; now, we receive very little from Spain, while Germany is a large buyer of our imports. The fine sorts grown there find their way into the west of England, where they are converted into "superfine black cloth." Great care is employed in getting up the clip; and certainly the result is such as to do credit to those princely sheep farmers whose wide domains form some of the best land in Silesia and Saxony. It may be worth mentioning, in explana. tion of the diminishing quantity of German wool, that the land is gradually being turned to cultiva

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tion, while the continental manufacturers can purchase colonial wool cheaper than home grown, and of a quality equally suitable. In 1836, we received 61,632 bales; in 1846, 52,922 bales; in 1856, 18,401 bales. A large portion arrives in Hull; while the residue is divided between London and Leith. None goes to Liverpool.

The other countries exporting wool do not merit particular attention. They are chiefly Buenos Ayres, Russia, Barbary, Turkey, Egypt, and Italy.

With regard to the quantity grown in the British Isles, it is difficult to arrive at any very recent or accurate returns. The entire produce in 1800, was estimated at 384,000 packs of 240 pounds each; in 1846, Mr. M'Culloch came to the conclusion that it was about 540,000 packs; while in 1851, it was considered to be about 820,000 packs. Upwards of one-half of this quantity is consumed in the worsted factories of Bradford and the neighbourhood. During the last forty years a material increase has taken place, both in the weight and character of the fleece; but to those who are accustomed to Australian and other fine wools, the contrast in the quality is very marked. Little attention is bestowed either upon the sorting or packing on the part of the farmers. Bermond. sey has long been the home of this branch of the trade.

As an illustration of the vast extent of the woollen industry, we may mention that in 1849, according to official accounts, there were 1,306 woollen, and 493 worsted, factories in Great Britain, employing upwards of 150,000 hands, and indirectly supporting about half a million of individuals. Since that date, the number of mills has considerably increased.

The legislative aspect of the trade is very suggestive. In the first Edward's reign (1296), an export duty was imposed of twenty shillings a bag, and subsequently increased to forty shillings; but in 1337, an enactment was passed prohibiting altogether the export of wool. Shortly afterwards, there were wool subsidies granted to the sovereign; then a duty was levied by the king's 'staplers" upon the bags sold in the licensed market towus, and the power of export limited to "merchant strangers,' or to "house town merchants." From 1660 to 1825, the export was strictly prohibited, the consequence of which was a languid and declining trade. The import duties were carly in the century raised to 5s. 3d. a cwt., and in 1818, to 56s. a cwt.; but in 1825, Mr.

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Prosperity" Robinson (Earl of Ripon) introduced and carried a measure by which the duty both on the export and import of wool was reduced to one penny per pound. Since then, even this duty has been repealed, leaving the trade perfectly free and unrestricted.

In order to give some idea of the aggregate import into the United Kingdom of this important commodity, we have compiled the following return for the last two years ;—

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