One of the principal literary men of Spain, Don Juan Hartzenbusch, assisted by the publisher, Senor Rivadencyra, has commenced a reprint of the works of her most distinguished authors, from the earliest ages to the present time. This reprint is entitled "Biblioteca de Autores Espanoles," and it is a more difficult undertaking than things of the kind in western and northern Europe. For as very many of the works of the principal authors never having been printed at all, the compiler has to hunt after them in libraries, in convents, and in out-of-the-way places; while others, having been negligently printed, or "improved" by friends, or disfigured by enemies, have to be revised line by line. Some idea of the importance of this gentleman's labors maybe formed from the fact, that he has brought to light not fewer than _fourteen_ comedies of Calderon de la Barca, which previous editors were unable to discover. The total number of Calderon's pieces the world now possesses is therefore 122; and there is every reason to believe that they are all he wrote, with the exception of two or three, which there is not the slightest hope of recovering. In addition to this, M. Hartzenbusch has carefully corrected the text from the original manuscripts in the Theatre del Principe, or authentic copies deposited elsewhere; and he has added notes, which throw great light on the most obscure passages. Moreover, he has given a chronological table of the order in which Calderon produced his plays. But what, perhaps, is the most curious thing of all is, that he demonstrates that "le grand Corneille" of France actually borrowed, not plots alone, but whole passages from Calderon. His play of _Heraclius_, for instance, has evidently been taken from Calderon's comedy called _En esta vida todo es verdad y todo mentira_. Some of the passages are literal translations. * * * * * Daily, about noon, writes the _Weser Zeitung_, the loungers "Under the Linden" at Berlin, are startled by the extraordinary appearance of a tall, lanky woman, whose thin limbs are wrapped up in a long black robe or coarse cloth. An old crumpled bonnet covers her head, which, continually moving, turns restlessly in all directions. Her hollow cheeks are flushed with a morbid coppery glow; one of her eyes is immovable, for it is of glass, but her other eye shines with a feverish brilliancy, and a strange and almost awful smile hovers constantly about her thin lips. This woman moves with an unsteady, quick step, and whenever her black mantilla is flung back by the violence of her movements, a small rope of hair, with a crucifix at the end, is plainly seen to bind her waist. This black, ungainly woman is the quondam authoress, Countess IDA HAHN-HAHN, who has turned a Catholic, and is now preparing for a pilgrimage to Rome, to crave the Pope's absolution for her literary trespasses. * * * * *