of exiles went over the Shipka Pass, the Patriarch at their head leaning upon his staff and shedding bitter tears for the woes of his Church and country. On the south side of the mountains Euthymius had to part from the rest. The Bulgarian exiles fell on their knees around their beloved father in GOD, they struggled to kiss his hands, and the very hem of his garment; mothers held up their children for his blessing. The Patriarch exhorted them to hold firmly to the Christian Faith, then knelt and prayed with them. As he gave his last blessing to his weeping flock, some cried out, "O, good pastor, to whom dost thou leave us ?" "To the Holy Trinity, now and for evermore!" he answered, and the Turkish escort constrained him to depart. The hapless exiles from Tirnovo disappear in the interior of Asia Minor, and of their fate no record remains. Their native city underwent great changes, a colony of Turks was settled on the Tzarevetz to keep a firm hold on the town; the learned men and students whom Euthymius had gathered round him mostly fled to Russia, where they were hospitably received. The long cherished independence of the Bulgarian Church perished with that of the State. Its native Patriarch being torn away, the Patriarch of Constantinople was able to bring it into dependence upon his own patriarchate. Many of the nobles and others in Tirnovo, unable to withstand the temptation and the pressure of the evil days, forsook their faith and turned Mahometans to keep their privileges; but there always remained a remnant of Christian Bulgarians in Tirnovo who cherished the national traditions of their old royal city; and in the last hundred years they have again become the most numerous part of the population. The Patriarch Euthymius after his banishment was allowed to dwell in Macedonia under the protection of one of the Christian vassals of the Sultan, a prince named Constantine, from whom the town of Kustendil has its name, and who was the maternal grandfather of the noble Emperor Constantine Palæologus. In Constantine's land Euthymius spent the last years of his life, journeying from place to place, preaching unceasingly to the people, warning them against Mahometanism, and exhorting to amendment of life; the rich gifts which the nobles bestowed on him he divided among the poor, the Gospel was his only treasure. From these holy labours he was after some years called to his rest, and the Bulgarian Church and people enrolled the revered name of their last Patriarch among those of their national saints.

F. M'P.

MALIBA.

CHAPTER I.

THE Castle of Andear, in Southern Castile, built on the top of a steep hill, seemed intended by nature to be held always as an impregnable position, while its warlike lord had taken care that all which art and human skill could do, should help nature in that task; the Castle itself with walls of tremendous thickness, rose up over the little village of Andear, which consisted of one street built along the top of the hill, with a strong gate at either end, the whole surrounded by a very thick wall, while so steep was the hill on which Andear was built, that it was inaccessible save by two narrow winding paths that led up to the gates.

On the day on which our story commences (the latter part of the eleventh century) the lord of Andear with most of his men, was absent, having gone to attend a cortes held by the king at Burgos, and only the usual guard of trusty veterans left in charge of Andear. These, though there was no fear of an attack from their enemies, kept strict guard and watch in the absence of the Count, because though nominally at peace, frontier incursions by both Moors and Spaniards were common at all times, and moreover, the Count's only child, a little girl of five, had been left in their charge, the Count not meaning to remain long at the capital, but to return as soon as the cortes was over, and finish spending the summer at Andear. As far as the eye could see, the country round belonged to the lord of Andear, together with numerous other places he had conquered from the Moors. A rich and fertile lowland spread itself around; down in the valley below, the peasants could be seen working in the fields, the cattle grazing by the river, while all around, signs were not wanting that the high state of cultivation to which the land had been raised by the Moors was being diligently kept up by their Spanish successors, but it was not this scene of peace and plenty that attracted so earnestly the warder's gaze; far away in the distance he could see a column of smoke rising, it was the signal used among the Spaniards to announce that Moors had crossed the frontier! Quickly, messengers were sent to tell the country people what had happened, and soon numbers of them driving their cattle, were seen making their way up the steep paths into Andear, a motley crowd, men, women and children. Messengers had been sent off asking for help, but alas, long before they arrived at their destination, the

dreaded Moors appeared before Andear; they at first meant to starve the garrison into submission, but finding from the unmistakeable sounds made by the cattle imprisoned within, that this would take more time than they could afford to spend, and being also anxious to get back before the whole of that part of the country was aroused, they determined to take the place by assault. It was a bold undertaking, but they were very numerous, perfectly armed, and elated with their successful foray; they applied wooden rams to the gates and walls of Andear, and so fierce and determined was the assault, that at last one of the gates gave way; the scene that followed was awful, the few tried soldiers were soon killed, and the peasants, unarmed, save by agricultural instruments of the most primitive description, massacred. The Moorish leader not having enough men left to garrison Andear, and also defend the immense amount of plunder he had won during his foray, determined to set fire to the Castle and village. Even after the Castle was on fire the Moors were busy looting it, and while thus engaged one of them saw a woman lying dead on the ground, evidently killed by a falling beam from the roof, while beside her lifeless nurse, clinging to her, and calling her while tears poured down from her dark wistful eyes, there sat a lovely little child. It was the Count's young daughter, she had inherited her dark eyes from her mother a Moorish princess, who had embraced Christianity in order to marry the lord of Andear. The Moor, filled with compassion, took the poor little child in his arms saying, "Thou art worthy to be one of the faithful, thou fawn-eyed little one," but the fawn-eyed little one cried and struggled dreadfully as her turbaned benefactor, the bête noir of naughty children in Spanish nurseries in those times, took her away to his chief.

A cry of sorrow and compassion arose from the captives assembled outside, who in the midst of their own great sorrow had yet hearts to feel for those of others, as they saw their little mistress carried out a prisoner. The order was soon given to start, and along the fields where in the morning had been busy workers, happy homes, peace and plenty, havoc and death lined the way, the air was full of cries and lamentations, and by the winding river, a crowd of prisoners was being driven towards the Moorish frontier.

By the time Count Andear's little child had arrived at Granada, (to which kingdom the Moors who attacked Andear belonged) the first agony of her fright and misery was over, and as she was carried

through the beautiful courtyards of the Alhambra, the fountains, and birds, and bright colours, pleased her so much that she became quite excited, talking of them all in her baby Spanish Latin; few of the Moors could understand her, but the admiration she excited was immense, as with heightened colour and bright eyes, she stretched out her beautiful little hands and arms to the fountains, and called to the birds in soft clear tones. The Wali, or King of Granada, Abdallah Ben Balkin, to whom she was shown, declared that the only name for her was Maliba, (beautiful,) and every year showed better how the name suited her. She was sent to the harem to be brought up till she should be old enough to be married to the king, as befitted her noble and royal descent; and as she grew up, the women of the harem prophesied a brilliant future for her. She made no particular friendships among them, but then neither had she any enemies, and so none were envious of her, but all liked her, for every one who had anything to do with her found something in her which he or she admired above all things, and yet had never found in such perfection in any one else. Some said it was the perfect innocence expressed in every look and action, a characteristic all the more marked, owing to the character of the women by whom she was surrounded; others said it was her voice which constituted Maliba's chief charm, a voice so clear yet soft, with occasionally a slightly melancholy ring in it that gave an indescribable fascination, so that sometimes when she ceased speaking people felt as though they had been listening to a song. Then also her face was perfect, her figure so slight, and all her movements so graceful, that when she danced and sang with the children, in the Arab dances, the inmates of the harem would crowd round to watch her. So at last it came to pass, that seeing how Maliba's growing loveliness fulfilled all the promise of her childhood, some of the women and slaves would talk to her about the great lord she was to marry some day, how rich and powerful he was, and how handsome, and they would describe him to her, "with eyes like the blue heaven." Ah, how beautiful! thought Maliba, none of the people she had seen had eyes like that, only some of the children, and then as she looked in a mirror at her own dark ones, she sighed as she thought how disappointed her lord would be at their ugly colour. Then they told her that the king's hair was in colour like a ray of sunlight pouring into a dark room, or like gold when the sun shines on it. So she would lie on a luxurious couch, and looking out towards heaven, dream for hours of her blue-eyed lord,

with hair as the sunlight, and skin white as the spray of the fountain. Of religion she was taught little beyond the La Allah illa Allah, &c., at the hours of prayer, but the grace of her baptism kept her eyes and ears closed to much of the evil that went on round her. Still love, with or without religion, is an important part of the life of most women, whether it be a love spiritual and self-sacrificing, or else human, past away perhaps into the far distance, but ever remembered and rising up in the soul as a cherished memory, or else present, but hardly acknowledged, still verging on the borderland of mingled doubt and hope, or finally a future happiness longed for and awaited. And Maliba was no exception to the rule, only with her love was wholly the life of her soul, for she knew nothing of a higher life, and so her happiness, and all her highest faculties were occupied with it, day and night she offered unceasing worship to this dear idol, and the god of her worship was the yet unknown Abdallah. When the women talked to her of him, as they often did, seeing how it interested her, she would listen eagerly, anxious to learn every detail concerning her lord, but when they talked of other things their conversation wearied her and she would turn away and leave them, to go towards the gardens with an irresistible longing to be alone, because now when alone she was never alone, but absorbed in happy day dreams of him; in imagination he always accompanied her now, wherever she went and whatever she did she imagined him with her, she would talk to him and invent his replies; sometimes he was sad, ah! she would know how to comfort him, but sometimes he was merry, and then how well they would amuse themselves; sometimes he was tender and smiled on her, what happiness to be loved like that! often he would be very serious; how could one expect such a great king to be otherwise, he who had to govern such a kingdom? and she would not know what to say to him then, but worship him with awe and reverence, and revel with a proud happiness at being loved and thought of first and best by such a great man. And then he was to be so handsome, this lord of hers, that it would be happiness only to sit near him and be able to look at him, and so clever and learned; there were many things that puzzled her, and the people in the harem could not explain them, but sitting at his feet, holding his dear hands, she would ask him about them all, and he would teach her about the flowers and trees, the sun, and moon, and stars, the thick white veil that lay always on the top of the Sierra, and of the people who lived down in the valley below so far away, and numbers of other things. And so, with nothing to break