gallant and interesting to be found in the records of human actions. The knights amounted but to 700 men; they organized a force of 8000, and with this they had to oppose a fleet of 200 sail, carrying an army of 50,000. After incredible acts of heroism and devotedness, they compelled the Turks to withdraw the remnant of their forces; and the first effectual check was given to their hitherto resistless power. The character of Soliman, as drawn by historians, is more perfect than that of any other sovereign who occupied the throne of the Osmanli. His love of literature, his enlightened mind, his inviolable faith, placed him in strong contrast with his fellow-sultans; yet his private life is stained with more than Oriental barbarity. He had children by two wives, one of whom was the celebrated Roxalana; the elder, Mustapha, was heir to the throne, and a youth of great promise, but Roxalana was determined to prefer her own, and to that end stimulated Soliman to put Mustapha to death. He sent for him to his tent; and as soon as he entered, caused him to be seized by several mutes, who were in waiting with a bowstring to strangle him. The young man made a vigorous resistance, when the father, fearing he might escape, raised his head above the canvass partition of the tent, and with menacing gestures threatened the mutes with his vengeance if they did not despatch him. The unhappy youth caught his father’s eye, and passively submitted to his fate. He was strangled, and his body thrown on a carpet, to be exposed in front of the tent. Mustapha had yet another brother, whom it was necessary to dispose of also. He was a mere boy, and, as his mother kept him carefully secluded within the walls of her apartments, the wily Kislar Aga, who was sent to visit her, was obliged to have recourse to stratagem to separate them. He represented to the mother that Soliman was tortured with remorse for the death of her eldest son, and wished to repair his fault by affection for the younger. He was afraid his health would suffer by confinement, and it was his wish that he and his mother should take air and exercise; and for this purpose a horse, splendidly caparisoned, was sent for the boy, and an arrhuba for herself and her female slaves. The credulous mother was persuaded, and they set out to visit a beautiful kiosk on the shores of the Bosphorus. The boy rode on “in merry mood,” with the Kislar Aga, and she followed in the arrhuba. When arrived at a rough part of the road, the carriage, which had been previously prepared, broke down, and the truth instantly flashed upon the wretched mother’s mind; she sprung out, and rushed after her son, who had by this time entered the kiosk with his companion. She arrived breathless, and found the door closed; she beat at it with frantic violence, and when at length it was opened, the first object that presented itself, was her only remaining son, lying on the ground, strangled, his limbs yet quivering in his last