but by vague suspicions mustered up twice seven years after the birth of the prince? And must we then prove the birth of our children? I tremble—I shudder at the consequences. They are big with danger and destruction to society. Shall those brave officers whom I have chosen—whom I have sent out—whom I have inspirited—shall those souls of fire who have carried the Spanish arms to the most distant corners—who have been victorious—who have shook the thrones of Europe—shall those brave officers, nay shall any of the gallant soldiers who have had children born abroad—shall they, when returned home to enjoy the blessings of peace, every man under his own vine, and every man under his own fig-tree—shall they be obliged to bring legal evidence of the legitimacy of the children whom they acknowledge, before they can be received as citizens? And if a succession should open to these children—shall we at the distance of twelve, fourteen, or perhaps twenty years, allow foreign proofs to be imported to deprive them of their estate, and their very name? No, signors! While my blood is warm, I hope Spain shall never adopt such unjustifiable measures. I speak with more confidence, that upon this occasion, I see not the least doubt. The defendant's honour is cleared from every stain; and as I heartily disapprove of the temerity of the plaintiffs, I think we should award the defendant very large costs of suit, that those who bring such odious actions before us may see what sort of a reception they are to meet with—The court of Sevile has been too indulgent—It is true, the prince of Arvidoso is a minor; but let him call his guardians to account when he comes of age. In this great assembly we are moved by no particular considerations—we know no private parties—our views are enlarged and extensive—let our sentence be issued with the proper authority of the grandees of Spain.' The whole assembly, except a very few, unanimously agreed with the eloquent minister—and by a great majority it was carried, that the plaintiff should pay 50000 zechins as costs of suit. Thus was the prince Ferdinand of Dorando raised to the illustrious state of which he had been so long deprived. His dignity sat very easy upon him, for it was natural to him. Envy and malevolene gradually decayed; and even his bitterest enemies began to repent. He was one day out a hunting in a large forest, which belonged in common to him and to the prince of Arvidoso, who was now come of age, and was a prince of great virtue and accomplishments; but was prevented by those about him from ever having any intercourse with the prince of