dust, never to rise again, while the third, badly wounded, effected his escape; and again Bernardo owed his safety to the courage and gallantry of his wife. As for the traitors, unaware of the subsequent events, they appeared to claim their reward, but the tale which the wounded soldier related, seemed to portray them as double traitors, in having handed the escort over to the robbers-little imagining that any of the three lancers could escape to repeat the event. This, together with their having failed in delivering the chief into bondage, according to their promise, was sufficient to seal their doom. They were identified as having been connected with many a scene of bloodshed, and finally they suffered in their own persons the violent and painful death which they had so frequently inflicted on others. Such, and in many instances similar, were the escapes of El Colorado from justice, but the time was fast drawing nigh, when his exploits were destined to end, and when the preserving arm of his faithful Pepita should no longer be empowered to shield him from danger, nor avert the deep-laid plans of his relentless foes. A few short months glided by, and Pepita, the devoted though misguided Pepita, was no more. Exhausted both in body and mind-harassed with perpetual watchings and constant alarms -exposed to the scorching rays of the mid-day sun; and alike unprotected from the cold, damp dews of night, her slight frame and broken constitution at length sunk under the accumulation of miseries by which she was surrounded, and the once pure and innocent girl breathed her last sigh upon that breast, which, however stained with crime, was to her the casket of all that was generous and good. From the moment of his wife's death, the bearing of the brigand chief underwent a thorough change; he became gloomy and thoughtful-morose and savage, careless in enterprise, and wholly divested of that energy which had hitherto been ever coupled with his name. Finding therefore that little was to be gained through his instrumentality as a leader, the band once more opened a communication with Government; and this time El Colorado was delivered in safety, and without opposition, into the custody of the alcalde of his native village. The story of his former life, and the untoward cause which drove him from his native home, were alike forgotten, but the ruthless deeds of the remorseless brigand were fresh in the memory of all. For him no eye-lash glistened with a sympathising tear-no voice was uplifted in extenuation of his sins-neither did he look for commiseration or pity. With a bold stare of defiance he gazed around, and conscious that to him no mercy would be extended, his proud spirit forbore to seek in abject entreaty, for that which he too well knew would never be accorded. The proceedings in his case were brief, and ere he had stood within his native hamlet, the dread and wonder of the lookers on for one short hour, the escort was ordered to convey him to Malaga, where final sentence would be passed. Iu his way through the village, the road lay by a habitation which once had beeu his own. It appeared exactly as he had left it, save that it was newly painted, and flowers of various hues were trained around the rustic building; he heard music and the soft voices of women-men were grouped listlessly around the porch; the appearance of the party arrested their attention; they called the females by name to gaze on the captured robber. Young and blooming faces responded to the summons, and as their blanched checks and averted eyes told the detestation with which they gazed on a fellow creature stained with blood, El Colorádo in vain endeavoured to recollect even one of the many beings who apparently now dwelt in his once happy home. But the scrutiny was fruitless: he knew them not, for they were strangers,-all. A little further, and at the end of the still smiling village, stood a heap of dark and mouldering ruins; the garden before the door had long since been trodden down and neglected; the roof was fallen in; a few noxious weeds sprung up where the kitchen hearth formerly was placed; the very window frames flapped mournfully in the breeze, and all within the precincts of the crumbling paling spoke of utter desolation and of death. For an instant the wretched Bernardo cast a wondering glance at the dilapidated tenement, as if unconscious of what it had been, but as the vivid remembrance of his beloved and ever constant Pepita sprung up before him in all the radiance of innocence and beauty, as when last he strained her to his guiltless bosom at the threshold of that now deserted ruin, the unbidden tears streamed swiftly, though in silence, down his seared and furrowed cheeks, and the heart of the miserable outlaw was bent and crushed with very anguish to the core. Our story is now fast approaching to a close. The authorities at Olias, apprehending that if by possibility again let loose on the community, El Colorado might become more desperate than ever, gave secret instructions to the soldiers, which the termination of this narrative will prove were but too faithfully executed. "Bernardo!" exclaimed one of the men, as the escort and their prisoner emerged from a deep defile into an open plain"El Colorado, Amigo mio-what would you give, were we to connive at your escape?" The brigand paused for a moment, cast his eyes upon his shackled limbs, and as if convinced the question was only put in derision, slowly shook his head without reply. "Nay, but I am in earnest, man," again repeated the lancer; nothing easier than to cut the cords that confine you, and then, dropping from your saddle, what is there to prevent your regaining your liberty?" "If I thought you were sincere," replied the robber, his countenance brightening-for to the most wretched life has charms -"if I could believe you sincere, I would guarantee the payment of three thousand dollars on your presenting a note at Malaga, which, had I materials, could be written here." "Agreed," replied the soldier, " and to prove my sincerity, I now unbind you," and in accordance with his words, the lancer cut the cords which pinioned his prisoner, and producing writing materials, was speedily put in possession of the coveted paper, together with full instructions as to how and to whom it was to be given. "I have yet one favor to beg," continued the soldier, as he deposited the order for the money in his breast; "one small boon to ask, and that is the loan of the crucifix hanging round your neck." "This," energetically exclaimed the other-" this crucifix: of what avail can such a trifle be to you? The intrinsic value can be nothing to a stranger, but to me it is worth more than all the wide world can offer;" and pressing the golden relic to his lips, El Colorádo, with a brief farewell, turned to depart. Neither was his progress impeded, until having advanced a few paces, the escort, as if by one accord, levelled their carbines at the retreating figure, and the next moment the robber-the illfated El Colorádo, lay bleeding and expiring on the turf. "And this, Senor," exclaimed the lancer who had detailed the story, "this, Senor, is the identical cross," and drawing forth the emblem of the Catholic faith from his bosom, he offered it for my inspection. "And were you one of the men who shot him!" I exclaimed, in a tone of horror and surprise. "Truly, Senor," was the calm reply, " and was I not justified in obeying orders ?" Argument on this point was useless; therefore, hurriedly lighting my lamp, I collected my still wet garments together, and leaving the escort to recount whatever additional praiseworthy acts they could boast of, I sought the uninviting couch which had been prepared for my repose. THE MAIDEN'S BURIAL. BY C. A. M. W. An ancient village stood embowered in trees, And close beside the orchard trees stretched forth There was a sadness in the scented air- The sunshine e'en assumed a mellower hue; I saw an open grave-and on a Sabbath morn Grand in its own simplicity. The aged pastor, good and gracious man, A chaplet of white roses hung suspended She is saying hallelujahs-in her far off home of light, bright; Mourn not for her-the young-the pure-cast the sweets upon her bed Happy spirit! to her Saviour she in faith, in trust, hath fled. Our gentle dove hath flown away to her native place of rest, With her plumage all unruffled, to the mansions of the blest. No sullied crest, no drooping wing, thus a raukling wound to hide, On outspread wings, soaring high, she sought her Saviour's side! Angels of the fair abodes, white and shining bands of Heaven, All rejoicing o'er the sister to their prayers and wishes given, Guard the living, strew their path with the sweet celestial flowers Wreathed around God's Holy Book, culled from ever blooming bowers. O WORLD! THY SLIPPERY TURNS! BY MRS. EDWARD THOMAS. O WHAT a world! of it I'm weary, Its friendship's ever changeful mood, O what a world! its soulless aim, To grope through ways which should be bright, |