seen again united, and correspond in such a manner that they may be read in succession."

The lady charged the host to bring up her daughter as a peasant's child; and, after shedding tears over the babe, and taking an affectionate leave of the hostess, she departed, leaving behind four hundred crowns in addition to her former present. Constantia remained two years at nurse in the village, and was then taken home to the inn. The host concluded by stating, that fifteen years, one month, and four days, had now elapsed since the day of the lady's departure; and although, in that interval, many persons of quality had visited the inn, none had appeared to be at all connected with the circumstance, nor had the maiden yet been claimed. He then fetched the chain and parchment, and shewed them to the corregidor. On the parchment were inscribed the letters ETEL SNV DDR, each letter having a space left betwixt it and the following one, the intermediate letters having been removed, in the manner before described. The corregidor, marvelling greatly at this singular story, returned home, resolving in his own mind to place Constantia in a convent; but, for the present, he charged the host, that if any person should make his appearance with the tokens to claim her, he should give him timely notice, previously to exhibiting the counter-tokens.

Thomas, who understood that the host was closetted with the corregidor about Constantia, remained all the while in deep suspense; but, neither to him, nor to his wife, nor to Constantia, did the host communicate what had passed. The following day, two aged cavaliers, apparently of rank, arrived at the inn, accompanied by four servants on horseback and two foot-boys. Constantia арpearing to receive them, one said to the other: "I think, Don John, we have found what we are in search of." Thomas, who went to take charge of the horses, immediately recognized in-the four attendants two of his father's servants, and two belonging to the household of Carriazo's father; and guessing that these were the old cavaliers, it immediately entered his head that they had traced his friend and himself to that city, and were come to surprise them; so, covering his face with his hand, he passed by the servants unnoticed, and went to seek Constantia. To her he said in an agitated tone of voice:

"Constantia, one of these old gentlemen who have just arrived is my father; it is the one whom you have heard called Don Juan de Avendano; enquire of his servants whether he has a son named Don Thomas de Avendano; I am that person, and you may thus satisfy yourself that I have told you the truth with respect to my rank, and that the offer I have made you will also be fulfilled. Adieu for the present, for, till they depart, I shall not re-enter these doors."

Constantia replied not a word; neither did Thomas wait for a

reply, but leaving the house, with the same secresy as he had entered, he went in search of his friend Carriazo, to warn him that their fathers were at the inn. One of the cavaliers, in the mean time, after making some enquiries of the other female servant about Constantia, took the host aside, and spoke as follows: "I am come, Mr. host, to claim of you a pledge, belonging to me, which you have had some years in your possession; and I bring you a thousand crowns of gold in exchange for it, together with these links of a chain and this parchment:" and, so saying, he took the tokens out of his pocket. The host evaded a direct answer, and took the opportunity of leaving the room and sending for the corregidor, who hastened to the inn, and immediately recognized, in the stranger, an old friend and relative. After mutual · salutations, Don John introduced his travelling companion to the corregidor by the name of Don Diego de Carriazo, and began to relate the business which had brought them to Toledo. He was interrupted by the host, who told him that the corregidor was acquainted with all the previous circumstances, and had the parchment in his possession, which being produced, the host at the same time taking the chain from his pocket, the links brought by Don Diego filled up the gap in the latter, and the two pieces of parchment, on being united, were found perfectly to accord: between the letters, in the moiety left in the host's custody, which, as before stated, were ETEL SNV DDR, the intermediate letters appeared to be SASAEALERAEA, which, on being joined together, composed the sentence: Esta es la Senal verda dera-this is the true token. The corregidor then became extremely curious to know the meaning of all this, and enquired of Don Diego, who was the father of the beautiful pledge. “Î am her father," said Don Diego; "her mother is no more; suffice it to say, that she was of so high a rank that I might well have been her servant." He then related the story of this unfortunate amour, attaching all the blame to himself; and stated, that, after a separation of many years from the lady, and after hearing that she was dead, only twenty days ago, he received a message, entreating him to visit the steward of the deceased, then likewise at the point of death. At his interview, with that person, he was apprised of the circumstances, which had been detailed by the host to the corregidor, and learned, moreover, from the steward, that when the lady was upon her death-bed, she confided to his care the chain and parchment, together with the sum of 3000 crowns, which she designed as a dowry for her daughter; but, stimulated by avarice, this faithless servant had kept the money, until, feeling the pangs of remorse torment him, he had, in his last moments resolved to send for Don Diego, as the person whom it most imported to know the circumstances. Don Diego continued that, immediately on receiving the testimonials, he consulted with his

friend Don John, and it was determined that they should both set out for Toledo in search of the lost treasure. He had just concluded his story, when a noise was heard in the street, and a voice exclaimed: "Tell Thomas Pedro, the hostler, that his friend the Asturian is a prisoner, and they are conveying him to gaol." On hearing the words "prisoner" and "gaol," the corregidor sent to desire the alguazil would bring the offender before him. The Asturian made his appearance, with the blood flowing from his mouth, and sadly bruised: on entering, he recognized at once his father and Don Diego, and concealed his face with his handkerchief, under pretence of staunching the blood. The alguazil, on being asked by the corregidor what offence the prisoner had committed, and how he came in so woful a plight, replied: "Please your worship, this lad is a water-carrier, whom the boys run after, and cry: Asturian, give up the tail; give up the tail, Asturian;" and then he told the story of the ass's tail, which made the whole. company not a little merry. He further stated, that as the watercarrier was crossing the bridge of Alcantara, the boys followed after, and called to him, as usual, to give up the tail; when, alighting from his ass and pursuing his tormentors, he at length caught one of them, whom he so belaboured that he left the boy almost lifeless; and the police coming up to take him into custody, he made a stout resistance, which was the reason why he had been used so roughly. The corregidor ordered him to shew his face, on which the alguazil removing the handkerchief, a full discovery ensued. Carriazo threw himself on his knees before his father, who embraced him with tears in his eyes; and when the agitation of the moment had subsided, Don Diego enquired of the truant what had become of his companion, Thomas Avendano, and learning that he and Thomas the hostler were the same person, sent the host to look for him, who soon dragged him from his hiding-place, and brought him into his father's presence. After the young men had made a full confession, and received their pardon, Constantia was introduced to Don Diego, and, being informed that he was her father, threw herself at his feet, and, seizing both his hands, kissed them and bathed them with tears. We will not attempt to describe the scene which followed: in conclusion, however, the corregidor insisted upon taking the whole party home with him. Avendano took an early opportunity of communicating to his father his love for Constantia, declaring that he would gladly have made her his wife, even in her humble situation at the inn. His father approved of his choice, and obtained the consent of Don Diego to their nuptials. Don Diego de Carriazo, the water-carrier, also solicited the hand of the corregidor's daughter; and the corregidor's son, finding that Constantia was disposed of, begged to be admitted to pay his addresses to the daughter of Don Juan de Avendano.

"Thus all parties remained contented. The news of the several espousals, and of the good fortune, that had befallen the illustrious scullion, soon made a noise in the city: multitudes assembled to behold Constantia in her new attire, in which she shewed herself a perfect lady. They likewise saw the hostler, Thomas Pedro, metamorphosed into Don Thomas de Avendano, and dressed like a gentleman: they remarked that Lope, the Asturian, was a very genteel young man, now that he had cast off his old suit of clothes, abandoned his ass, and laid down his water-carrier's yokes. Nevertheless, there were not wanting some, who, as he passed through the streets, in the midst of all his splendour, called after him for the tail. They all remained a month at Toledo, at the expiration of which period, Don Diego de Carriazo, with his wife and her father, repaired to Burgos, accompanied by Constantia and her husband: the corregidor's son also went to be introduced to his relation and affianced bride. The Sevilian was enriched with 1000 crowns, and with many valuable jewels, which Constantia gave her mistress, for so she always called the hostess, who had brought her up. The story of the illustrious scullion gave occasion to the poets of the golden Tagus to exercise their pens, in celebrating and extolling the matchless beauty of Constantia, who, as well as her husband, the worthy hostler, is still living. Carriazo, too, is in being, and has three sons, who neither following their father's example, nor dreaming that there are places like the tunny-fishery of Zahara in the world, are all students at Salamanca: he himself never beholds a water-carrier's ass, without thinking of the occurences at Toledo, and dreading lest, when he is least aware of it, a satire should make its appearance with the words: "Give up the tail, Asturian; Asturian, give up the tail."

M.

THE SCIENCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.

THIS science was little attended to until comparatively a late date; it was indeed so wholly neglected, as not to have been formed into any thing deserving the name of a system, until Dr. Adam Smith produced his immortal work. This was followed by several others, both in this country and in France; but its progress was exceedingly slow. The truth of the principles, contained in Dr. Smith's work, was indeed contested by few; but several writers here, and in France a whole sect, many of whom were very learned and enlightened men, employed themselves in shewing that some of its principles were paramount in the consideration they claimed, on account of their importance; and long disputes were entered into, for the purpose of proving that the land paid all or none of the taxes. Others, again, were occupied with the question of supply and demand, all of them drawing inferences more or less erroneous; and these erroneous conclusions were almost every where,

and by every body, admitted as facts, until they were corrected by Mr. Ricardo, in 1817.*

Several distinguished writers had, however, taken up the subject; and observation and experience, since the time of Dr. Smith, had enabled them to correct some of the errors, which might naturally be expected would be found in so large a work, embracing the whole of a subject so very extensive, and in many parts altogether new.

Considerable light was thrown upon the subject, and the attention of many thinking men was drawn to this very important science, by the "Traité d'Economie" of Mons. Say. He was the first person in France, who brought this, as it had hitherto been called, abstruse science before his countrymen as a whole; and if we may be allowed to judge from the rapid sale of his second and third editions, we may, perhaps, be warranted in concluding, that at length it has become tolerably familiar to the more enlightened portion of Frenchmen. In Germany, and in Italy, its progress has kept pace with France; while, in this country, Mr. Ricardo has drawn the attention of a very large number of his countrymen to a serious consideration of its principles.

This too-long-neglected science has now many able expounders, who are all, as they ought to be, well attended to; and it may not be unreasonable to expect, that the time is at no great distance, when not to be familiar with its principles will be considered disgraceful in a public man.

"The produce of the earth," says Mr. Ricardo, "all that is derived from its surface, by the united application of labour, machinery, and capital, is divided among three classes of the community; namely, the proprietor of the land, the owner of the stock or capital necessary for its cultivation, and the labourers by whose industry it is cultivated.

"To determine the laws, which regulate this distribution, is the principal problem in political economy; much as the science has been improved by the writings of Burgot, Stuart, Smith, Say, Sismondi, and others.

It will be seen, from this clear and precise statement, that it embraces a vast field, and includes all the operations of the society and of the government, in producing and distributing every thing that is produced and distributed.

Undoubtedly, the first point to be ascertained, is the operation of those laws which govern production, and of which it may be asserted, that they cannot be controlled without injury to the community, and are, therefore, properly called "principles."

See "Principles of Political Economy and Taxation;" the chapter, "On the Influence of Deinand and Supply on Prices."

In 2 vols. octavo.