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simple, and disappoints the evil designs of the cunning."

"I do not understand these philosophies," answered Sancho; "all that I know is, that I wish I may as surely have the earldom as I should know how to govern it; for I have as large a soul as another, and as large a body as the best of them; and I should be as much king of my own dominion as any other king; would do what I pleased; and, doing what I pleased, I should have my will; and having my will, I should be contented; and, being content, there is no more to be desired; and when there is no more to desire, there is an end of it."

"These are no bad philosophies, as you say, Sancho," quoth the canon; "nevertheless, there is a great deal more to be said upon the subject of earldoms."

"That may be," observed Don Quixote; "but I am guided by the numerous examples offered on this subject by knights of my own profession; who, in compensation for the loyal and signal services they had received from their squires, conferred upon them extraordinary favors, making them absolute lords of cities and islands: indeed, there was one whose services were so great that he had the presumption to accept of a kingdom. But why should I say more, when before me is the bright example of the great Amadis de Gaul, who made his squire knight of the Firm Island? Surely I may, therefore, without scruple of conscience, make an earl of Sancho Panza, who is one of the best squires that ever served knight-errant."

The mountains breed learned men, and the cottages of shepherds contain philosophers.

Upon the news of Don Quixote's arrival, Sancho Panza's wife repaired thither, and on meeting him, her first inquiry was whether the ass had come home well.

Sancho told her that he was in a better condition than his master.

"The Lord be praised," replied she, "for so great a mercy to me! But tell me, husband,** what good have you got by your squireship? Have you brought a petticoat home for me, and shoes for your children?"

"I have brought you nothing of that sort, dear wife," quoth Sancho; "but I have got other things of greater consequence."

"I am very glad of that," answered the wife, "pray show me your things of greater consequence, friend; for I would fain see them, to gladden my heart, which has been so sad, all the long time you have been away."

"You shall see them at home, wife," quoth Sancho, "and be satisfied at present; for if it please God that we make another sally in quest of adventures, you will soon see me an earl or governor of an island, and no common one either, but one of the best that is to be had."

"Grant Heaven it may be so, husband," quoth the wife, "for we have need enough of it. But pray tell me what you mean by islands; for I do not understand you."

"Honey is not for the mouth of an ass," answered Sancho: "in good time, wife, you shall see, yea, and admire to hear yourself styled ladyship by all your vassals."

"What do you mean, Sancho, by ladyship, islands, and vassals?" answered Teresa Panza; for that was Sancho's wife's name, though they were not of kin, but because it is the custom in La Mancha for the wife to take the husband's name.

"Be not in so much haste, Teresa, to know all this," said Sancho; "let it suffice that I tell you the truth, and sew up your mouth. But for the present know that there is nothing in the world so pleasant to an honest man, as to be squire to a knight-errant, and seeker of adventures. It is true indeed, most of them are not so much to a man's mind as he could wish; for ninety-nine of a hundred one meets with fall out cross and unlucky. This I know by experience; for I have sometimes come off tossed in a blanket, and sometimes well cudgelled. Yet, for all that, it is a fine thing to be in expectation of accidents, traversing mountains, searching woods, marching over rocks, visiting castles, lodging in inns, all at discretion, and the devil a farthing to pay."

Fame has preserved in the memoirs of La Mancha, that Don Quixote, the third time he sallied from home, went to Saragossa, where he was present at a famous tournament in that city, and that there befell him things worthy of his valor and good understanding. Nor would the chronicler have learned any thing concerning his death had he not fortunately become acquainted with an aged physician, who had in his custody a leaden box, found, as he said, under the ruins of an ancient hermitage then rebuilding: in which box was found a manuscript of parchment written in Gothic characters, but in Castilian verse, containing many of his exploits, and giving an account of the beauty of Dulcinea del Toboso, the figure of Rozinante, the fidelity of Sancho Panza, and the burial of Don Quixote himself, with several epitaphs and eulogies on his life and manners. All that could be read, and perfectly made out, were those inserted here by the faithful author of this strange and never-before-seen history; which author desires no other reward from those who shall read it, in recompense of the vast pains it has cost him to inquire into and search all the archives of La Mancha to bring it to light, but that they would afford him the same credit that ingenious people give to books of knight-errantry, which are so well received in the world; and herewith he will reckon himself well paid, and will rest satisfied; and will moreover be encouraged to seek and find out others, if not as true, at least of as much invention and entertainment. The first words, written in the parchment which was found in the leaden box, were these:β€”

The Academicians of Argamasilla,
A Town of la Mancha,
On the Life and Death of the Valorous
Don Quixote de la Mancha,
Hoc scripserunt.
Monicongo, Academician of Argamasilla, on the Sepulture of Don Quixote.

epitaph.

La Mancha's thunderbolt of war, The sharpest wit and loftiest muse, The arm which from GaΓ«ta far To Catai did its force diffuse; He who, through love and valor's fire, Outstripped great Amadis's fame Bid warlike Galaor retire, And silenced Belianis' name: He who, with helmet, sword, and shield, On Rozinante, steed well known, Adventures fought in many a field, Lies underneath this frozen stone.
Paniaguado, Academician of Argamasilla, in praise of Dulcinea Del Toboso.

sonnet.

She whom you see the plump and lusty dame, With high erected chest and vigorous mien, Was erst th' enamored knight Don Quixote's flame, he fair Dulcinea, of Toboso, queen.
For her, armed cap-Γ -pie with sword and shield, He trod the sable mountain o'er and o'er; For her he traversed Montiel's well-known field, And in her service toils unnumbered bore. Hard fate! that death should crop so fine a flower! And love o'er such a knight exert his tyrant power!
Caprichoso, a most ingenious Academician of Argamasilla, in praise of Don Quixote's Horse Rozinante.

sonnet.

On the aspiring adamantine trunk Of a huge tree, whose root, with slaughter drunk Sends forth a scent of war, La Mancha's knight, Frantic with valor, and returned from fight, His bloody standard trembling in the air, Hangs up his glittering armor beaming far, With that fine-tempered steel whose edge o'erthrows, Hacks, hews, confounds, and routs opposing foes. Unheard-of prowess! and unheard-of verse! But art new strains invents, new glories to rehearse.
If Amadis to Grecia gives renown, Much more her chief does fierce Bellona crown. Prizing La Mancha more than Gaul or Greece, As Quixote triumphs over Amadis. Oblivion ne'er shall shroud his glorious name, Whose very horse stands up to challenge fame! Illustrious Rozinante, wondrous steed! Not with more generous pride or mettled speed, Or his mad lord, Orlando's Brilladore.
Burlador, the little Academician of Argamasilla, on Sancho Panza.

sonnet.

See Sancho Panza, view him well, And let this verse his praises tell. His body was but small, 'tis true, Yet had a soul as large as two. No guile he knew, like some before him But simple as his mother bore him. This gentle squire on gentle ass Went gentle Rozinante's pace, Following his lord from place to place. To be an earl he did aspire, And reason good for such desire; But worth in these ungrateful times, To envied honor seldom climbs. Vain mortals! give your wishes o'er, And trust the flatterer Hope no more, Whose promises, whate'er they seem, End in a shadow or a dream.
Cachidiablo, Academician of Argamasilla, on the Sepulture of Don Quixote.

epitaph.

Here lies an evil-errant knight, Well bruised in many a fray, Whose courser, Rozinante hight, Long bore him many a way.
Close by his loving master's side Lies booby Sancho Panza, A trusty squire of courage tried, And true as ever man saw.
Tiquitoc, Academician of Argamasilla, on the sepulture of Dulcinea del Toboso.
Dulcinea, fat and fleshy, lies Beneath this frozen stone; But, since to frightful death a prize, Reduced to skin and bone.
Of goodly parentage she came, And had the lady in her; She was the great Don Quixote's flame, But only death could win her.

These were all the verses that could be read: the rest, the characters being worm-eaten, were consigned to one of the Academicians, to find out their meaning by conjectures. We are informed he has done it, after many lucubrations and much pains, and that he designs to publish them, giving us hopes of Don Quixote's third sally.

"Forsi altro cantara con miglior plectro."

The noble mind may be clouded by adversity, but cannot be wholly concealed; for true merit shines by a light of its own, and, glimmering through the rents and crannies of indigence, is perceived, respected, and honored by the generous and the great.

a short story of what happened once in seville.

A certain man, being deranged in his intellects, was placed by his relations in the mad-house of Seville. He had taken his degrees in the canon law at Ossuna; but had it been at Salamanca, many are of opinion he would, nevertheless, have been mad. This graduate, after some years' confinement, took into his head that he was quite in his right senses, and therefore wrote to the archbishop, beseeching him, with great earnestness and apparently with much reason, that he would be pleased to deliver him from that miserable state of confinement in which he lived; since, through the mercy of God, he had regained his senses; adding that his relations, in order to enjoy part of his estate, kept him still there, and, in spite of the clearest evidence, would insist upon his being mad as long as he lived.

The archbishop, prevailed upon by the many sensible epistles he received from him, sent one of his chaplains to the keeper of the mad-house to inquire into the truth of what the licentiate had alleged, and also to talk with him, and if it appeared that he was in his senses, to set

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