personal affection and sympathy, though by no means admiration, for M. de l'Aubepine; and we would fain do the little in our power towards introducing him favorably to the American public. The ensuing tale is a translation of his "Beatrice; ou la Belle Empoisonneuse," recently published in "La Revue Anti-Aristocratique." This journal, edited by the Comte de Bearhaven, has for some years past led the defence of liberal principles and popular rights with a faithfulness and ability worthy of all praise.
A young man, named Giovanni Guasconti, came, very long ago, from
the more southern region of Italy, to pursue his studies at the
University of Padua. Giovanni, who had but a scanty supply of
gold ducats in his pocket, took lodgings in a high and gloomy
chamber of an old edifice which looked not unworthy to have been
the palace of a Paduan noble, and which, in fact, exhibited over
its entrance the armorial bearings of a family long since
extinct. The young stranger, who was not unstudied in the great
poem of his country, recollected that one of the ancestors of
this family, and perhaps an occupant of this very mansion, had
been pictured by Dante as a partaker of the immortal agonies of
his Inferno. These reminiscences and associations, together with
the tendency to heartbreak natural to a young man for the first
time out of his native sphere, caused Giovanni to sigh heavily as
he looked around the desolate and ill-furnished apartment.
"Holy Virgin, signor!" cried old Dame Lisabetta, who, won by the youth's remarkable beauty of person, was kindly endeavoring to give the chamber a habitable air, "what a sigh was that to come out of a young man's heart! Do you find this old mansion gloomy? For the love of Heaven, then, put your head out of the window,
