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A Tale of the Revolution

“I am now going to relate a story, consisting partly of misfortune and partly of love.”—Boccaccio

 

The time at which our story commences was about the middle of the War of Independence, and the incidents are laid in the valley of R––––, a beautiful and romantic spot.

 

The day was retreating to the west, and evening seemed preparing to cast her gloom around, for as yet it was scarce possible to say that the brightness had diminished; the hour appeared as though a thin cloud had mellowed the light which hung in the valley, yet the glowing appearance of the forest on the western hills, showed where the sun was sinking—a few clouds, that had been floating to and fro in the Heavens during some hours past, were gradually melting away and leaving the wide blue arch pure and unobscured; throughout the valley all was silent and calm; a Mill was there, but its noise which had echoed amongst the rocks during the fore part of the day, was now hushed and still, and the slight murmur of the water from the dam alone could be heard; this was a beautiful sheet of water on which the dark shadows from the neighboring hills were fast gathering. A solitary urchin stood on a rock projecting into it, and was winding up his fishing line and preparing to depart.… Read More