here we come to Scene
the last, and Valencia is besieged and captured by the Christians.

Who is the first on the wall, and who hurls down the green standard of
the Prophet? Who chops off the head of the Emir Aboo What-d'ye-call'im,
just as the latter has cut over the cruel Don Beltran de Cuchillay &c.?
Who, attracted to the Jewish quarter by the shrieks of the inhabitants
who are being slain by the Moorish soldiery, and by a little boy by the
name of Ben Davids, who recognizes the knight by his shield, finds Isaac
of York egorge on a threshold, and clasping a large back-kitchen key?
Who but Ivanhoe--who but Wilfrid? "An Ivanhoe to the rescue," he bellows
out; he has heard that news from little Ben Davids which makes him sing.
And who is it that comes out of the house--trembling--panting--with
her arms out--in a white dress--with her hair down--who is it but dear
Rebecca? Look, they rush together, and Master Wamba is waving an immense
banner over them, and knocks down a circumambient Jew with a ham, which
he happens to have in his pocket. . . . As for Rebecca, now her head
is laid upon Ivanhoe's heart, I shall not ask to hear what she is
whispering, or describe further that scene of meeting; though I declare
I am quite affected when I think of it. Indeed I have thought of it
any time these five-and-twenty years--ever since, as a boy at school, I
commenced the noble study of novels--ever since the day when, lying on
sunny slopes of half-holidays, the fair chivalrous figures and beautiful
shapes of knights and ladies were visible to me--ever since I grew to
love Rebecca, that sweetest creature of the poet's fancy, and longed to
see her righted.

That she and Ivanhoe were married, follows of course; for Rowena's
promise extorted from him was, that he would never wed a Jewess, and a
better Christian than Rebecca now was never said her catechism. Married
I am sure they were, and adopted little Cedric; but I don't think they
had any other children, or were subsequently very boisterously happy. Of
some sort of happiness melancholy is a characteristic, and I think these
were a solemn pair, and died rather early.

THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION.

[FROM A FORTHCOMING HISTORY OF EUROPE.]

CHAPTER I.

It is seldom that the historian has to record events more singular than
those which occurred during this year, when the Crown of France was
battled for by no less than four pretenders, with equal claims,