with all the ardour of the moſt impaſſioned lover, and apologized for his tears by imputing them to the agony of his mind and the infirmity of his wealth, under the dread of being longer ſeparated from an object ſo dear to his heart, and on whom he doated with the fondeſt affection. The generous captor indulged him in theſe converſations, and, being a huſband himſelf, knew how to allow for all the tenderneſs of his ſenſations. "All, sir," cried Don Manuel, “would to heaven it were in my power to have the honour of preſenting my beloved Leonora to you on our landing at Liſbon———Perhaps," added he, turning to Pedroſa, he at that moment entered the cabin, “this gentleman, whom I take to be a Spaniard, may have heard the name of Donna Leonora de Calafonda: he has been at Madrid, it is poſſible he may have seen her; ſhould that be the caſe, he can teſtify to her external charms, I alone can witneſs to the exquiſite perfection of her mind."———"Senor Don Manuel," replied Pedroſa, "I have ſeen Donna Leonora, and your Excellency is warranted in all you can ſay in her praiſe; ſhe is of incomparble beauty." Theſe words threw the uxorious paniard into raptures; his eyes ſparkled with delight; the blood ruſhed into his imaciated cheeks, and every feature glowed with unutterable joy: he preſſed Pedroſa with a variety of rapid enquiries, which he evaded by pleading ignorance, ſaying, that he had only had a caſual glance of her as ſhe passed along the Prado. The embarraſſment, however, which accompanied theſe anſwers did not escape the Engliſh Captain, who ſhortly after, drawing Pedroſa aſide into the ſurgeon's cabin, was by then made acquainted with the nelancholy ſituation of that unfortunate lady, and every particular of the ſtory as before related; nay, the very
