his last in a lazaretto at Naples. It
was not till he lay upon his dying bed that he could summon courage
to address his deserted child. When all earthly hope was over, and
the awful realities of a future state presented themselves to his
appalled vision, he thought of the misery he had caused one who had
ever been an affectionate and devoted daughter to him; and as this
epistle expressed the deepest penitence for the errors of his
misspent life, Amy clung to the hope that it was sincere.

Thus Leonard Beaufort, with genius which would have done honour to
his profession, died a miserable outcast, through its misuse; whilst
his noble-minded daughter, by industry, integrity, and perseverance,
rose by slow but sure degrees to competence, and enjoys that peace
known only to those who pursue a virtuous course.

THE BLIND MAN OF ARGENTEUIL.

A NORMAN TRADITION OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

At Rouen, in the antique-looking library of a vast and gloomy hotel,
sat a venerable old man, seemingly engrossed in meditation and study.
He was Laurence Bigot of Thibermesnil, king's counsel to the
parliament of Normandy, a wise magistrate, and a learned and virtuous
man. At five in the morning he was wont to commence his daily
employment, and after giving sage and just advice to the parliament,
the indefatigable old man would devote himself, as now, to other
toils, which seemed to him like amusement; namely, laying the
foundation of a rich collection of books and manuscripts, which
afterwards became celebrated, and, though now dispersed, is not
forgotten. Bigot was employed in examining an ancient manuscript
which he had lately obtained. His son, Emerie Bigot, and a young
companion, Etienne Pasquier, were reading Horace at another part of
the library.

The studies of all three were interrupted by the sudden entrance of
a magistrate--at least his costume bespoke him so; but at this moment
his extreme paleness, changed features, and humiliated manner, made
the lieutenant of Rouen appear like one of the criminals that daily
trembled before him; for he was a severe and upright judge.

'I have been foiled, I confess it,' cried he to Laurence Bigot. 'I am
guilty, but do not condemn me unheard.'

The king's advocate listened calmly, while the young men, with the
curiosity of their age, paid eager attention to the lieutenant's
recital, which was as follows:

'A citizen of Lucca, named Zambelli, went on business to England,
where he