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and if his hand was practised in filling and emptying the goblet, his arm knew well, too, to wield the battle steel; more than once had he distinguished himself against the Turks, for the defence of Christianity. The portals of science had opened before him, and the sages of Arabia and of Grenada regarded him as their favorite pupil. I ought not, however, to omit to mention that Vincenzio had had a difficulty with our holy mother the Church, and had even fallen into the hands of the Inquisition, for having dared to maintain that damnable heresy, that the earth revolves around the sun! But the power of gold had cleansed him from that mortal sin; and he took very good care, at least in public, no longer to manifest an opinion so absurd.

"But, after all,”-thus reflected Vincenzio-" may it not be possible that this Astaroth, if he is indeed a supernatural being, was only amusing himself with a little jest, and may have entirely forgotten me? Within ten years, he must have seen so many things, and traversed so many different countries-how can he have retained the recollection of so trifling an adventure? However, let him come-I await him-and nothing in the world should induce me to shrink a step before him. We will play; he cannot deceive me; the contract was made after the laws of men, and it is as a man that he must execute its conditions. But, what an idea!--let me call in the aid of our Venetian cunning! Let us see, at our coming encounter, how far he approaches the nature of man. I have read somewhere that the spirits of darkness are mortal at certain times, and are invulnerable only at other periods of their existence. And, moreover, the ducats that I have received from him were certainly material enough--why may not himself be the same? He cannot be of a purely ethereal nature, else how came it that my dagger, after piercing his garments, was only repulsed by his skin, harder than steel? God knows, it was not my fault that my blade did not penetrate farther. We shall see! Meantime, I am determined that on my side no chance of success shall be neglected. Though I should lose, it would be but one game in three; and within the space of ten more years, with the advantage of the experience of this first trial, I shall have time enough to find out some means of triumphing over him. Come, come then, my good friend of the other world, the field of battle is not your own yet!"

Vincenzio gave his favorite page, Montalto, numerous instructions, without betraying his great secret;-and then he awaited calmly the bursting of the storm. He had not to wait long.

At the Buondelmonte palace, the most illustrious personages of Venice were seated at a sumptuous banquet, and the gaiety had mounted to its highest pitch. The bursts of laughter of Vincenzio resounded through the saloon, when Montalto handed him, from a stranger who was awaiting him in his cabinet, a collar ornamented

with precious stones. It was the chain of sapphires which he well knew already. "The devil confound him!" muttered Guadagnaro; and then, politely begging his noble guests to excuse his abrupt departure" Remember my instructions, Montalto," he said as he left the room; "the hour has struck, and the man is come!"

"Here I am," said Astaroth, as he saw Vincenzio enter; "I was afraid you might have forgotten the period of my visit. A lapse of ten years destroys attachments and friendships more intimate than ours. Is your chess-table ready? Let us make haste, for in four hours I am expected in India."

At a sign from his master, Montalto placed before them a chessboard, and the mysterious being sat down to play with his victim. The countenance of Vincenzio was firm but sad. He had more than once met death face to face; but at this moment it was against the angel of death himself that he had to engage. He began by examining the countenance of Astaroth, whose features at their former meeting had been covered with a mask. The expression was there to be seen of pride and of scorn, with a mixture of nobleness and even of beauty. Upon his pale lips played a spirit of sarcasm, and his smile was full of irony and malignity. His eyes flashed such a fire that Vincenzio could scarcely endure its brilliancy. He appeared to be in the very prime of life. He offered Vincenzio the advantage of the move, which he accepted without Lesitation, and the game commenced.

Do you know that celebrated picture, the master-piece of one of the greatest painters of Europe,-I mean the picture of Retsch, in which Satan is playing at Chess with a man, who has his soul staked upon the game? Such was about the physiognomy of our two antagonists; and I might venture to assert that they possessed a still deeper interest. The youth in the picture exhibits in his countenance such an expression of gentleness and innocence, that even with the assistance of the angel by his side, he seems scarcely capable of a struggle against his adversary.

Our two players had essayed but a few moves, when Vincenzio ordered refreshments to be brought. Immediately Montalto offered them, in golden goblets, the sparkling liquors of Chios and Xerez. To the astonishment of our hero, Astaroth emptied all the cups that were presented to him; and under the apparent influence of these generous wines, the infernal spirit redoubled his laughter and his jests. But, alas, poor Vincenzio! the more freely Astaroth talked, the more profound were his combinations. The page still continued to fill his goblet, and the demon still to cry-"Holà! page, wine!"

Montalto was overwhelmed with astonishment, and crossing himself devoutly, he exclaimed apart: "What may this man be? The first cup that I presented him contained poison enough to be the

death of a hundred, and yet he still continues to ask to drink! Most assuredly this man has taken some counter-poison, or some other protecting antidote. Since my master's stratagem is thus baffled, well, I will put into execution the plan I have myself conceived."

"This wine is delicious," said Astaroth; "but still it does not please me as much as the first. Vincenzio, have you any more of that which you first had poured out for me?"

Vincenzio, agitated with deep anxiety, was about to reply, when he heard a burst of Astaroth's infernal laughter. The page had just brought down a terrible blow of a battle-axe upon the back of the head of Astaroth.

"What mean you, fair page?" said the demon; "if I were of as delicate a complexion as your master, you might have prevented me from continuing the game.-Oh, wretched mortals! Wo to whosoever has to do with you, if he be not proof against fire, steel, and poison!"

Montalto rushed from the apartment, and addressed I know not how many vows to the Virgin, if he should live till the morrow. The game continued with various fortune. Vincenzio brought out his whole skill, whereas Astaroth, as he played, scarcely seemed to pay any attention to the march of his pieces.

"You have much improved," he at last remarked, "since that night that I saw you play against the princess Buondelmonte. You have indeed acquired a great deal of practice. But take care! if you place your Knight on that square, as you intend, you will be forced to lose it."—"I am indeed lost," thought Vincenzio— "the demon reads my very thoughts!"

The chance seemed, however, to turn against Astaroth. He exposed one or two pieces in succession, which he lost, and our Venetian almost flattered himself with an expectation of success. Infatuate! his adversary was but mocking him! Astaroth made still several sacrifices which Vincenzio was compelled to accept; and by this manœuvre he scattered the pieces of his enemy. The King was left unguarded. The demon remained with only two miserable pawns and a Bishop, against the Queen and the principal pieces of the board; but Vincenzio perceived that this series of sacrifices was the result of scientific manoeuvring and profound calculations; and presently, what was his consternation on perceiving that he was under an immediate checkmate which it was no longer in his power to avoid. Such was the position of the players: WHITE.-King at Queen's Bishop's fifth square; Bishop at King's sixth; Pawns at Queen's Rook's third, and Queen's Knight's third.

BLACK.-King at Queen's Rook's fourth square; Queen at King's Rock's sixth; Rooks at King's Bishop's square, and at King's Knight's square; Knights at King's Bishop's sixth, and at Queen's Bishop's square; Bishop at King's fifth Pawns at King's Bishop's fourth, and Queen's Knight's fifth.

Astaroth had the White, and in three moves he gave checkmate. This devil was truly worthy of being a member of the Chess-Club of Paris!

The sensations of Vincenzio were those of a man awakened from sleep to be conducted to the scaffold. "In ten years we shall meet again," cried Astaroth to him, as he disappeared like the wind. Vincenzio rolled over the floor of his apartment, uttering the wildest cries of despair.

[TO BE CONCLUDED IN OUR NEXT.]

TADMOR OF THE WILDERNESS.

BENEATH the arch of Eastern skies,
On Syria's barren wild,

Where oft the scowling sand storm flies,
And hides the desert child,
How beautiful to catch the sight

Of Tadmor's mountain's purple height,

And while the flush of evening glows
Upon the western sky,

Unequalled by the blushing rose

Where Sharon's zephyrs sigh,

How sweet to hear the camel train
Come tinkling home across the plain.

Gigantic loom the 'desert ships,'
As steadily they come,
While joyfully the Kabyl skips,

Along his houseless home,

And shakes his spear with child-like glee,
And cries," the boundless waste for me!"

The boundless waste, the fruitless sea,

Where scorching rays are cast,——
The steed that with the wind can flee,
When danger gathers fast,-

The scanty tent, the brackish spring,
And night that comes with jewelled wing.

The solitude where foot prints die,
And prowling lions tread,

Where caravans of wealth sweep by,
In watchfulness and dread:

And sink to sleep, and wake to know
That Ishmael is still their foe.

And now behold from towering hill
The howling city stand,

In silver moonlight sleeping still,
So beautiful and grand,

No sadder sight has earth than this,
'Tis Tadmor of the Wilderness.

Half buried in the flowerless sand,
And whirled by the eddying blast,
Behold her marble columns stand,
Huge relics of the past;

And o'er her gates of solid stone
The sculptured eagles front the sun.

Palmyra! thou wert great indeed,
When through thy portals passed
The Persian on his weary steed,
And found a rest at last,

From Samiel's breath, and war's alarms,
Beneath thy tall and waving palms.

Zenobia, mistress of the East,

In glory rested here,

'Neath yonder porch she held her feast, While Satraps bowed in fear;

And oft the silver strain came up,
While Bacchus filled her golden cup.

And here she oped her portals wide,
And called the wise around,
And hither in her days of pride

The sage a refuge found;

And Arab chief and Rabbin hung

On gray-haired wisdom's silver tongue.

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