annul his engagement with Theresa, which might probably have made the young man shy of writing. The anger and disgust of all parties was now changed into excessive alarm for the safety of Leopold, and poor Theresa went nearly frantic, at the bare supposition that he might have been robbed and murdered during one of his journeys, amidst the ancient, awful, and trackless forests, with which Germany and its neighbouring provinces abound. I was then making my usual annual visit at Rosenmüller, and seeing Theresa, who was inestimably but hopelessly dear to me, thus distracted by grief and apprehension, I endeavoured to alleviate her sorrows, suggesting that, in my opinion, the count was alive and well, but, that if he were, indeed, leading the rambling uncertain life, which his last letter intimated he would be obliged to do, he really might not be able to give her any written account of himself. It may be so,' replied the poor girl in tears, but he has seemed to me so very cool and indifferent in his few last letters-always writing as if he had but a minute to live, or as if I,-and to write to me at all, were the greatest bores in the universe; that, granting he is still in life, other apprehensions fill my mind, more cruel perhaps to endure than even the certain tidings of his demise; for that God should take him from me, no matter how, I could endure; but that he should withdraw himself from me, piqued, I know not why,-angry or disgusted, for no fault of mine, or prompted by the infidelity of his own heart, I do not think I could bear! And yet, my dear Theresa, my sweet cousin,' I replied, this also, you know, would be a trial sent unto your affectionate heart from above, though the hand of Heaven might not be so immediately visible in it as in the former case.' Ah! yes! yes Frantz! she rejoined, I know that very well-but-but-no!— Leopold can never be unfaithful! He is too good,-too noble! Besides, who could have caused him to withdraw his affection from me?" 'Who indeed?' I replied, "no one, sweet Theresa, that I know of, unless,' in a bantering jocose tone, unless he fell in love with the beautiful portrait of Ermengarde, which I remember, when last here, so fascinated his fickle fancy, and is gone to seek the fair original. Did you ever tell him, by the way, that she was DEAD No, hauswered my cousin, you heard, Franız,”

n

what then passed,-in my fondness for Count Schoënburg, I must needs treat him like a spoiled and petted boy, and so, pretending to be angry with him for meddling with the picture, deferred giving him any account of Ermengarde, until some time in the indefinite future, which, you perceive, has never yet arrived, so dangerous is delay! But surely surely, Frantz, a young man of his sense could not be so stupidly foolish as to fall in love with a picture. O! impossible! unless by the power of witchcraft! Nay,' said I, willing to encourage her in almost any idea rather than that of his death, and, in act, by this means to enable her mind gradually to contemplate her lover's inconstancy, which I strongly suspected,→→ Nay, Schoenburg is an enthusiast; and, with minds of his stamp, BEAUTY is the witchcraft-sole and omnipotent-to draw them into innumerable devious courses; and I really think, Theresa, his sudden journey to Prague looks something like a visit to the Duke of Paderborn's portrait of Ermengarde; whilst these subsequent indefinite flittings some. what resemble a search for the fair original.' I spoke at random, but not quite contrary to my own private surmises and opinions: Theresa, smiling through her tears, answered: If, good Frantz, you are serious in this supposition, all may be right in the end; some one can go to Prague, trace Leopold from stage to stage, and when he is found, tell him how vain is his pursuit, the object of it having been dead these three years and then-then-you know, with self-reproaches for his fickleness and folly, he will be glad to return to me!' 'Well, Therera,' 1 replied, to prove how serious I am, and to set your mind at rest, (only you must promise to keep up your spirits, and good looks, or you'll not be fit to see Schoenburg on his return) I'll go in search of the truant myself and bring him back to you, if possible, ere long; at any rate, should fancies like those I have jocularly supposed may have entered his brain, be, indeed, ruling his mind and procedings, richly as he deserves to be left to his folly, plain, sober, rational statements, on my part, shall expel such delusions, and at once restore him to his senses and to you.'Theresa was profuse in her expressions of gratitude; my offer embraced the very thing she had most desired, though she had not liked to request of me so troublesome a favor; and then, we were cousins, gentlemen, so, think no harm, the betrothed

bride sealed her acknowledgments with a kiss, as I had previously signed my deed of service with a similar token of tenderness. To confess the honest truth, I was madly in love with my charming cousin, an afflicting circumstance, which I endeavoured, as far as possible, to conceal within the depths of my own racked and worn heart; but her penetration had not failed to discover it, and whilst she awarded me extreme pity she was delighted, as in times after these she was pleased to inform me, with the delicacy, honor, and generosity of my silent, hopeless passion, and ever felt that she had in me the warmest and truest of friends. In brief, the day after this conversation I left Castle Rosenmüller for Prague, convinced that of Schoënburg I must hear some tidings at the lodgings in that city which he had so recently occupied ; of course, having no idea, from his last letter to Theresa, that he could be still in the town, I started as if I had beheld an apparition, when, on entering it, I encountered ere long his servant; stopping the fellow I asked him whether his master were in Prague, and whether I could see him? Michel, almost as much astonished and confused as myself, replied: He is, sir, to-day, but leaves to-morrow, for the little village of Droski, where his marriage is to take place. His marriage?' I exclaimed thunderstruck; for that the count should have carried his infidelity thus far, I had not contemplated. 'His marriage, say you?-With whom pray? and how long has he been engaged?'-'What! did you not know it, sir? asked Michel, in feigned or real astonishment; I doubt then I shall scarce have my master's pardon for telling you; but truly, I fancied that you, who are so frequently staying at the castle, must know, that my lord count has broken off his engagement with Ma'am'selle Theresa, and is going to marry a lady, something to my thinking like her, but whose name, at this moment, I forget: Er-Ar Armine-Arminegardt-I believe-yes-that is it, Arminegardt;d- -1! that's a man's name!' "Ermengarde, Michel, Ermengarde it is; that is, it must be; and you have then seen this lady''Ay, sir,' he replied. fifty times if once; but, but Here must be some great mistake!' I observed, 'this lady cannot be the Er mengarde that I mean-that your master imagines her to be, and Count Schoenburg will detect the imposture when too

་

late. But, what Michel? you were going to say something.' Only this, sir, that whenever I have chanced to see the lady, 'twas like, as one may say, in a queer way; I know no harm of her, to be sure, but have still a sort of mistrust, handsome as she is, and good as she ought to be; besides, I do dislike that old Papist priest, who is always philandering about with her, worse than herself; and, between 'em, I feel as if no good would come to master,' Can I see the count !' I asked; I wish instantly to speak with him.' Michel directed me to Schoenburg's original lodgings, he had not then ever quitted Prague, and his mysterious conduct 10 my poor cousin was occasioned by a new and private engage ment! How shameful! How base! I sought and obtained admittance to the perfidious young man; long and stormy was our conference, until he talked and reasoned me imper. ceptibly to myelf, into a calmer, cooler mood; and I elicited from him the history of his new passion and proceedings up to that period, in all its details, more minutely, gentlemen, than I have given it to you. But, my dear count, argued I, as he concluded with a rhapsody on the beauty and graces of the original of the portrait, this lady cannot possibly be Ermengarde, the cousin of my cousin Theresa, because it is well known that she died a nun at Tours, about three years ago; you have therefore been imposed upon.' Indeed not,' replied the count, for, between ourselves, thereby hangs a tale; and, believe me, had I not good, solid reasons for silence and secrecy, I should not so assiduously have veiled my proceedings from the inhabitants of Rosenmüller; the fact is, as Ermengarde has told me, she did not die; but being forced into a convent, far from her own country, against her will, in the very bud of youth, and in the blush of a beauty rarely bestowed on woman, is it wonderful that, aided by the sisters of the establishment, who pitied her fate, whilst the kind-hearted abbess connived at their proceedings, she should have escaped? and is it quite incredible, that as a blind to this proceeding, the story of her death should have been promulgated to amuse the public ear, stifle inquiry, and secure the safety of all parties? Bernard, the venerable man who acts as a father towards her, touched also by a compassion for the fate of one so young and so lovely, and albeit dis gusted with the monotony of the conventual life, was the

partner of her flight, and is her guardian o now ow-nothing more.

believe me, for Ermengarde is innocence itself; she is of the Roman Catholic persuasion, and, in order to please her, I have abjured Protestantism, at least for awhile, so that Father Bernard will find no obstacle to uniting us according to the b rites of his own church; this he will do, (nay, don' opposed it, for I tell you it shall be, as I can never again love Theresa after knowing Ermengarde) this, I say, he will do to-morrow night, to avoid all publicity, in a certain little chapel with which he is acquainted, about three leagues from hence, near it Droski, oubado aorta and bas

26

I

"

INAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH SAILOR. Whilst the French troops were encamped at Boulogne. public attention was much excited by the daring attempt at escape made by an English sailor. This person having escaped from the depôt and gained the borders of the sea, the woods on which served him for concealment, constructed, with no other instrument than a knife, a boat entirely of the... bark of trees. When the weather was fair, he mounted a tree and looked out for the English flag; and having at last observed a British cruizer, he ran to the shore with his boat on his back, and was about to trust himself to the waves in his frail vessel, when he was pursued, arrested, and loaded with chains.-Every body in the army was anxious to see the boat, and Napoleon, having at length heard of the affairson sent for the sailor and interrogated him. You must," said Napoleon, "have had a great desire to see your country T again, since you could resolve to trust yourself on the open sea in so frail a bark. I suppose you have left a sweetheart. there?" No;" said the sailor; "but a poor and infirm mother, whom I was anxious to see.' And you shall see her," said Napoleon, giving at the same time orders to set him at liberty and to bestow upon him a considerable sum of money for his mother, observing that she must be a goodos mother who had so good a son.

"