was informed that "Don Quixote was already booted," and preparing for another sally. It may seem strange that the author, considering the great popularity of his hero, had not sent him on his adventures before. But he had probably regarded them as already terminated; and he had good reason to do so, since every incident in the First Part, as it has been styled only since the publication of the Second, is complete in itself, and the Don, although not actually killed on the stage, is noticed as dead, and his epitaph transcribed for the reader. However this may be, the immediate execution of his purpose, so long delayed, was precipitated by an event equally unwelcome and unexpected. This was the continuation of his work by another hand.

The author's name, his nom de guerre, was Avellaneda, a native of Tordesillas. Adopting the original idea of Cervantes, he goes forward with the same characters through similar scenes of comic extravagance, in the course of which he perpetrates sundry plagiarisms from the First Part, and has some incidents so much resembling those in the Second Part, already written by Cervantes, that it has been supposed he must have had access to his manuscript.

Cervantes was much annoyed, it appears, by the circumstance. The continuation of Avellaneda reached him, probably, when on the fiftyninth chapter of his Second Part. The best retort of the latter, however, was the publication of his own book, which followed at the close of 1615. Cervantes correctly appreciated his own work. He more than once predicted its popularity. "I will lay a wager," says Sancho, "that before long there will not be a chop-house, tavern, or barber's stall, but will have a painting of our achievements." The honest squire's prediction was verified in his own day; and the author might have seen paintings of his work, on wood and on canvas, as well as copper-plate engravings of it. It has been translated into nearly every European tongue, over and over again; into English ten times, into French eight, and others less frequently.

He had now reached the zenith of his fame; and the profits of his continuation may have relieved the pecuniary embarrassments under which he had struggled. But he was not long to enjoy his triumph. Before his death, which took place in the following year, he completed his romance of "Persiles and Sigismunda," the dedication to which, written a few days before his death, is strongly characteristic of its writer. He died on the 23rd of April, 1616. His remains were laid, without funeral pomp, in the monastery of the Holy Trinity at Madrid. No memorial points out the spot to the eye of the traveller, nor is it known at this day.

We are indebted for some masterly criticism on the life and writings of this illustrious man to Mr. Prescott, whose researches connected with the History and Literature of Spain, are more ample than those of any preceding English or Anglo-American author.

Among recent literary discoveries, perhaps the long-lost work of Cervantes holds the most remarkable place. The loss of the "Buscapie" has been a matter of regret in the literary world for upwards of two centuries. Some months ago, a manuscript copy of the work was found among some old books, the property of an advocate, about to be sold by auction at Cadiz. A translation of this singular and caustic production has just been published in English.

VIENNA DURING THE LATE INSURRECTION.

The Archduke Charles Hotel, Kärnthner Strasse, Oct. 7th, 1848.

WHO, at the commencement of the current year, would have imagined that this capital, which I had hitherto regarded as the Chef lieu du luxe et de la tranquillité would become so suddenly changed.

Surely, the love of disorder and revolution must be deeply engrafted by nature in the human heart, to have caused the hitherto pacific Viennese to break out as they have done. No one wonders at the unruly acts of a Parisian mob; a chartist row every now and then is a matter of course in our own country, notwithstanding its general character for loyalty; while an Irish rebellion excites no more surprise, and just as much ridicule as the burlesque of a successful tragedy. But a revolution in Vienna is incomprehensible, what had the Viennese to complain of? A capital, more favoured by its Government never existed, its inhabitants were as the children of a kind, indulgent father; indeed, if there ever were a happy city of earth, it was Vienna, previously to the unlucky month of February, which has not only brought anarchy and confusion upon that unhappy country, France, but the tide of revolution having overflowed its banks, its waves have found an entrance into the Austrian capital, and transformed a loyal, quiet, and orderly people, into a set of discontented rebels. The last time I wrote to you, was just as I was quitting Paris for Vienna at the commencement of July. I had hoped that the sort of revolution that had previously taken place among them, would have contented my friends the Viennese, and I had made up my mind to a peaceable residence of several months in a city, where, as you are aware, I had formerly passed so many happy days. To be brief, I had been staying ever since my arrival at the hôtel from which this letter is dated; occasionally, it is true, having my repose somewhat disturbed by those unruly young fellows, the students, who in England, would be kept in order with the rod, for the greater portion of them are mere boys. These ingenious youths imagine themselves to be cut out by nature, for constitution and republic makers, and are deluded into the idea of their being the regenerators of humanity: fortunately, however, they have experienced a set-down, which will suffice them for at least some time to come.

Yesterday, the 6th, I had just returned from a visit to Schoenbrün, and was taking my luncheon at the excellent restaurant affixed to my hôtel, when I heard some persons talking very loudly and energetically outside, and on looking through the window I perceived a number of National Guards (not dressed as they are in Paris, but in hideous black and yellow uniforms) running quickly in the direction of St. Stephen's cathedral. Anxious to learn what was going forward, I hastily quitted the hôtel, and on reaching the open space before the cathedral, found a crowd congregated there, consisting of National Guards, chiefly from the Faubourgs, and students in their new revolutionary uniform. Á large party was striving to sound the tocsin, while the black and yellow, or, as I will call them for shortness, the Imperialist National Guards were opposing the attempt. These latter had entered the steeple of the cathedral, and suddenly poured down a volley on the crowd below, by which

several persons were killed and wounded: a dreadful yell now arose, and the armed men around me began to fire upon the National Guards in the church. As you may imagine, I tried to get away as fast as possible, but this was no easy matter, for I was hemmed in by the crowd; but at length I managed to get at some distance from the scene of action, when I came upon a regiment of Imperial soldiers, accompanied by artillery; upon this I rushed through the porte cochère of a house, and running up stairs to the first floor, with several other persons, who, like myself, were non-belligerents, I looked upon the fight that was taking place in the street below. The regular soldiers were soon put to flight, and several cannon captured by the National Guards (not the yellow-blacks), the people, and the students, or rather, as these latter term themselves, the Academic Legion. As I considered my quarters as anything but safe, I quitted the house during a temporary lull, and went off to a Viennese friend of mine, who lived in the Graben. This, however, was going out of the frying-pan into the fire, for shortly after my arrival, a barricade was thrown up nearly opposite the house, which was attacked by some infantry and artillery. Soon afterwards a cannon-ball passed through one of the windows and buried itself in a mirror over the fireplace. Fortunately, no one was wounded by the pieces of broken glass, A few minutes afterwards the apartment was entered by a dozen armed men, chiefly students, one of whom, addressing us very briefly, exclaimed:

"We have to apologize, gentlemen, for disturbing you, but we require the loan of this room to fire from," and without more ado, the party proceeded to open the windows and fire from them upon the military. You must be certain that I was by no means desirous that the insurgents should gain the day, upon this occasion; but I must frankly confess that in this one instance, I did somewhat hope that the Imperialist soldiers might be repulsed from this quarter, for I felt assured that if the barricade below were taken, that the troops would enter the house and shoot every person in it, on account of the firing from the windows. My friend, who was a most loyal subject to his Emperor, evidently entertained the same fears as myself, so that we both awaited the result in great anxiety. The defenders of the barricade, however, not only held good their own, but actually drove the troops from their position, and gained possession of the artillery after some very sharp fighting. Our unwelcome visitors then retired, having civilly thanked us for the use of the windows.

Shortly after this affair, several persons called upon my friend, bearing the lamentable news of the murder of Count Latour, the minister of war, who, after having been stabbed in many places, had been hanged up to a lamp-post opposite his own door, notwithstanding the efforts made by M. Smoka, one of the vicepresidents of the Diet, to save the nobleman's life. It was a cold-blooded, ferocious deed, worthy of the demons that disgraced the first French Revolution. I had dined at Count Latour's only two days previous to his murder.

As the fighting had ceased in the environs of the Graben, I ventured to return towards my hôtel. I came, however, almost immediately upon a picket of Imperialist troops; the soldiers of which, having arrested me, conducted me to their officer, who, on my informing him that I was an Englishman, and producing my carte de séjour, allowed me to proceed, and at about seven o'clock I reached my own quarters. The booming of cannon and the reports of musketry kept me awake

all night; and at daylight, on my descending to the court-yard, the master of the hôtel informed me that the arsenal had culated after a severe struggle. On going out into the streets, I found barricades erected at almost every corner, which were being fortified by cannon. During the combat in the streets very few barricades had been raised, and the present ones were for the purposes of defending the city against any attack that might be eventually made, should the troops return. A good many dead bodies were lying about, one of which I recognised as that of a very handsome young officer of the Imperial Guard, whom I had frequently met in society. I must, in justice to the rebels, remark, that his corpse had not been plundered, although he wore several valuable rings on his fingers, and round his neck was a beautiful Maltese chain, to which was suspended a gold chronometer, by Barwise, of London. I assisted in carrying the body into an adjoining house.

At ten in the morning the news arrived that the Emperor had fled from Schoenbrün, with his court and escort of four thousand cavalry, which was considered by the Viennese as an act of treachery on his part; as if they expected that his Majesty would quietly submit to their dictation, and surrender all his prerogatives, just because a handful of rebellious subjects chose to murder his minister of war, and get up a rebellion in his capital. Surely the Viennese might have contented themselves with the immense concessions already granted them by their generous sovereign, had they possessed the slightest feeling of gratitude. Anyhow the garrison, consisting of ten thousand men, has quitted the capital, and here we are under the rule of an infuriated populace, whose power within the precincts of the city are unlimited. All respectable persons are naturally terror-struck. How all this will end, I know not; anyhow I have no intention of quitting the place, as I consider it to be the best plan, in cases such as the present, to remain where one is. Those who quit Vienna at this moment, will in all probability find the country in a dreadful state of disturbance, and will run the risk of being plundered and murdered by roving parties. Even when the Imperial armies attack the capital, which they are certain to do, before long, should they regain possession of the city, foreigners will have nothing to fear, if they keep quiet and refrain from meddling with what does not concern them.

Oct. 31.

Since writing the above, we have been going through a series of events sufficient to satisfy the most ardent seeker after excitement; for my part I have had a little too much of it, for it is by a miracle only that I am alive. You must have seen in the newspapers many accounts of what has occurred since the commencement of the insurrection. At this moment, thank heaven, Vienna is again in the power of its proper authorities, and good measures are being taken to ensure the preservation of order.

During the first few days that followed the departure of the troops, matters within the city went on without much disturbance, and had it not been for the barricades which remained standing, and the constant parading of National Guards, the Academic Legion, and the armed populace, we should have scarcely imagined that we were in the midst of a besieged city. Contradictory accounts kept coming in. At one moment we were informed that the Hungarians had attacked Jellachich,

and routed his my, while at other times, it was asserted that the provinces were in open revolt, and were attacking General Windischgrätz. Every succeeding day, however, affairs became more serious, and the constant firing and booming of cannon proved to us that we were in the midst of war. I ascended St. Stephen's steeple several times, and could perceive the Imperial forces quartered around the city, and I felt assured in my mind that the place could not possibly hold out against such well disciplined troops. At length the attack began in real earnest, a proclamation found its way to within the glacis, by which Windischgrätz declared that everyone found carrying arms should be immediately shot by the Imperial troops. You may imagine my dismay, when a counter-proclamation was issued by M. Messenhauser, that every able-bodied man, whether foreign or native, who should refuse to take up arms and aid in the defence of Vienna should be immediately shot. Bitterly did I repent of my not having quitted Vienna on the out-breaking of the insurrection; for on the 29th, a band of armed men entered the Archduke Charles's hôtel, and forced me and several other foreigners, among whom was a Dutch Quaker, to accompany them to the Leopoldstädt, to assist in defending that Faubourg against the troops. On arriving there, we were compelled to fire from a barricade, which was being attacked by a battalion of Grenadiers of the Guard. There was no use expostulating, for several infuriated insurgents in our rear levelled their muskets at our heads, and swore that they would blow out our brains should we make any attempt at escape. I remained for some time in the midst of the firing, and you may easily imagine the feelings of a peaceable man like myself, on finding himself in such a dreadful position. All round me appeared a dream, and I loaded and fired mechanically, my shot indeed could not have occasioned much damage. At length the barricade was carried and the troops rushed forward, putting us to flight; I say us, for although with the troops in spirit, I was corporeally with the insurgents. It was a regular sauve qui peut, and I ran until I got among the ruins of a house that had been burned down and which were still smoking. I had not been long there before a company of Light Infantry passed by, following in the steps of the battalion by which the barricade had been taken. On perceiving their captain, Í recognised him as a Baron de Lederer, with whom I had been many years acquainted. Darting from my hiding-place, I ran towards him, exclaiming, "Lederer, my dear fellow, save me for the love of God," adding immediately afterwards, with a loud voice, in order to prevent the soldiers from firing at me, "Vive l'Empereur, Vive Windischgrätz." Notwithstanding these precautions I narrowly escaped being shot down, and would, indeed, certainly have had my body riddled with bullets, had not the Baron recognised me, and taken me under his protection. I marched with the company into the capital, over scenes of blood-shed and horror, such as I fervently hope never to witness again.

Thank God, I am at this moment comfortably housed at the "Archduke Charles," recovering from the effects of my fright and bruises.

Yours very truly

HENRY WALTER D'ARCY.