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school thus embodied; and we know that some of our first artists are both able and anxions to lend their aid towards effecting this wish. The Manager may rest assured, that such exhibitions will answer in a financial point of view—that they will give a tone of elevated feeling to his establishment-and help to disperse many honest prejudices. They will also have a good effect in ALFRED. forming the taste of the actors.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

TO A FRIEND.

O Gioventu!

O Primavera! gioventa dell' anno,
O Gioventu! primavera della vita?

YES! years have pass'd, and many more may be,
Before 'tis ours again to meet, if ever;

Yet, oh! beloved friend, the thought of thee

Still lives, and leaves my faithful spirit never!

My soul—none reads; thy name—I breathe it not;
Apart from mine thy changeful lot is cast ;—
Perchance even thou may'st deem thou art forgot,
We met in smiles, and smiling parted last.

But thou wert with me in that vernal time

When childhood's dreams made summer in the heart,
And who that shares with us life's early prime,
But claims remembrance never to depart!
We ne'er may meet again!—yet is it nought

That we have met in that bright fleeting spring
Of purest joy, whose bloom but once is caught,
And leaves behind but woe and withering?

Oh! is it nought to think that we have trod
The same green haunts, in summer's radiant weather?
And roaming thus with Nature and her God,
Have smiled, and wept, and hoped, and prayed

For ever, and for ever in my mind,

Farewell!-the sound bath never slept,
Since first on Eden's bowers 'twas wept ;
It hath been shriek'd on every shore,
Choked in the ruthless waters' roar,
And every spot we tread can tell
Its tale of many a wild farewell!
Farewell!the saddest and the last
Of earthly sounds-hath voiced the past,
And through the future still 'twill mourn
The partings that have no return;
Till death-divided friends shall dwell
In lands where there is no farewell!

LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES.

THE REV. J. T. Becher is about to publish "A System of Endowment for the Provident Classes in every station of Life, exemplified by the rules of the Southwell Endowment Society."

In the press-A Picturesque Pocket Companion to Margate, Ramsgate, &c., with 120 Engravings on Wood, including every object of interest on the river.

OUR STUDY TABLE is ornamented at present with a new series of Mrs S. C. Hall's Irish Tales. Beside them lies Fitz-Raymond. A little further over is the second edition of Ellis's Polynesian Researches. There lie Fuseli and Davy, looking a mild reproach upon us, as if they feared we were neglecting them. The Pulpit is here, too, preaching to no unwilling ears. A new volume of Oliver and Boyd's Cabinet Library beckons us away to Egypt, the land of solid structures and shadowy legends.

POPULAR SCIENTIFIC LECTURES.-Mr W. Rhind will commence, early next month, a course of popular lectures on Natural History, in the George Street Assembly Rooms. In his introductory lecture, he will explain the object of the science, illustrate its importance and utility, and give a sketch of its progress. He will, in his subsequent lectures, lead his audience from the history of unorganic matter, through the vegetable and animal kingdoms, up, finally, to man. The lectures will be illustrated by numerous specimens of objects in natural history. We know Mr Rhind to be a man of talent. Indeed, we are happy to see so many young men

of abilities and acquirements striking into this path.-Mr Cheel,

the able editor of the Edinburgh Journal of Natural and Geogra together?phical Science, contemplates delivering, this summer, a course of lectures on Practical Anatomy.-Dr William Gregory has prodr. ced a favourable impression by his Chemical Lectures; and Mr Russell, by his course upon Mechanical Science.

With all youth's brightest and most glorious things, Thy name is link'd, thy memory is enshrined,

Nor time, nor change, can loose the golden strings!

Whene'er I look upon the sunset skies,

Whene'er I catch the breath of mountain flower,
Whene'er I gaze on childhood's laughing eyes—
Thou comest to me with many a faded hour!

The summer morning, full of dews and light,
The simplest tones of music sad and wild,
The calm of ocean in the starry night,
Whate'er brings back the feelings of the child-

All speak of thee! and oft unconscious tears,

Not sorrowful, but sweet, will gently start, To think the friend of earlier, happier years, Is great and noble, as I feel thou art!

We ne'er may meet again! yet do I love

To ponder on those days long fled for ever;

A thousand blessings crown thee from above-
While memory lives, thine own shall perish never!
GERTRUDE.

FAREWELL.

By John Malcolm.

FAREWELL!-Oh! what a countless hoard
Of sorrows wake at that lorn word!
In moments crowding griefs of years,
Whose mute interpreters are tears
Wrung from the heart, that hears its knell
In the dread, withering word-Farewell!

BENTLEY . HORACE.-(From a Correspondent.)-The critics seem to have agreed in exploding Dr Bentley's arbitrary substitution of "ter natos," for "tornatos," in the following verse of Horace :

"Et male tornatos incudi reddere versus."

DE ARTE POETICA, V. 441. That is, gentle reader, or is supposed to be-" And to send the illturned verses back to the anvil."-" What an absurd mixture of metaphors!" exclaims the doctor; "a turner's lathe and a smith's anvil!" &c. &c. Even the defenders of the old reading—and the oldest is generally the best, especially if old enough to be the author's own-admit that there is a little confusion of metaphor, Gesner admits it. Hunter, by quoting him without any remark, seems to homologate the charge. But Baxter had shown, more than a hundred years ago, that there is no confusion,--that the metaphor is quite unique. That tornus is-a "minter's die" forma monetaria. What, then, is more common than to return/ the ill-coined pieces to the anvil? Critics appear not to be acquainted with a most excellent work on the "Connexion of Roman, Saxon, and English Coins," by the Rev. W. Clarke-grandfather of the celebrated traveller, Dr Clarke-to which Cowper acknowledges himself indebted for the rectification of what had been absurdly rendered the Two Bottoms of Nestor's Cup. They were two vine branches, upon which the doves were perched. Mr Clarke's note is too long for me to transcribe at present; but he clearly proves, from Bentley's own quotations, particularly Propertius" angusto includere torno," that tornus must have been used to denote a die. Such as have access to the book, will find the passage by the Index, under "Bentley." E. T.

LONDON. We venture, without leave asked or given, to print part of a letter we have just received from one of our most valued correspondents-one of those pleasing acquaintances whom we know better, and esteem more, without ever having seen their faces, than most of those with regard to whom we have enjoyed that privilege:-" Our town just now is quite alive with literary stars. Wordsworth appears in sound health, and though his hair is grey, and his noble brow wrinkled, yet his poetic feeling and

exquisite taste are fine and lofty as ever.-Miss Edgeworth is still in town. I believe you have never had her in the north. In per. son she is very diminutive. Though her features may be called plain, there is a simplicity and frankness in her address, and a mild and mental beaming in her eyes, which command attention and respect, even did you not know the right she possesses to veneration and esteem."- Macdonald has made a bust of The Poet. Of course, we mean him who is named in the above extract. The sculptor writes to a friend that it is his most successful likeness, and in these matters we have great faith in the artist's own opinion. -- Messrs Phillips and Westmacott have concluded their lectures at the Royal Academy. The Exhibition opens, as usual, on the first Monday in May.-Immediately after the death of the Duke of York, a private subscription was entered into for the purpose of erecting a monument to his memory. The most eminent sculptors and architects were invited to send designs; but the latter were warned not to have an equestrian statue, as his late Majesty thought such a distinction should be reserved for crowned heads. (We trust this folly has been unjustly imputed to him.) Mr Westmacott's design for a statue has been preferred: it is to be erected in Waterloo Place, if the permission of the proprietors of the adjoining houses can be obtained. Wyatt has also been appointed to erect, on some spot, not yet designated, an exact copy of Trajan's pillar, with the exception of the sculptures. The shaft will be of red-the base of grey granite; and the whole is to be surmounted by a bronze statue of the Duke.

CAPTAIN HALL'S NAVAL LIFE, AND
EARLY VOYAGES.

FRAGMENTS of VOYAGES and TRAVELS

By CAPTAIN BASIL HALL, R.N. 3 vols. 15s. Just Peb lished.

"These volumes do infinite honour to their author-may be of infinite service to the naval profession-and are sure of being pro ductive of infinite pleasure to the very many who will certainly read them."-Literary Gazette.

"This is worthy to rank in the juvenile library along with Sir Walter Scott's Tales of a Grandfather, and we could not say more in its behalf if it were our own."-Edinburgh Literary Journal. II. CAPTAIN BASIL HALL'S NORTH AMERI CA. 3 vols. L.1, 11s. 6d. And ETCHINGS, 10s. 6d. III.

DESTINY. By the Author of "Marriage." 8 vols. L.1, 11s. 6d. Just Published.

"A most excellent Novel."-Literary Gazette. "We regard the author of these volumes as standing among living female writers, second only to Joanna Baillie-Destiny is worthy of the Author of Marriage "-Edinburgh Literary Journal.

"The character of Destiny will be best understood by the admirers of Pride and Prejudice, and Northanger Abbey, when we say that the Authoress is entitled to the high distinction of being called, without qualification or drawback, the Miss Austin of Scotland."Spectator. IV. MARRIAGE. 2 vols. Third Edition. L.1, Is. V. THE INHERITANCE. 3 vols. Second Edition. L.1, 11s. 6d. Robert CadeLL, 41, St Andrew Square.

Theatrical Gossip. The Atlas thus expresses itself regarding the prospects of the star-system: "The patrician order of actors is rapidly on the wane. We believe, with one or two exceptions, nightly remuneration is altogether abolished, and a sensible reduction has taken place in the weekly salaries. This is the first step to a renovation of the drama. By a fair distribution of the means placed by the public in the hands of the managers, we may hope at last to get good plays well acted throughout instead of By Messrs COLBURN and BENTLEY, London; and BELL and having a solitary star shining in a round of lead." We are also inclined to look for benefit to the drama, from the number of new theatres that are starting up in the metropolis. It will soon be found impossible to keep up the huge establishments, which en

WORKS

Nearly Ready for Publication,

BRADFUTE, 12, Bank Street, Edinburgh;

I.

In a few days, the Third and concluding Volume of

courage and render necessary an exaggerated style of acting. THE LIFE of LORD BURGHLEY, Lord High

Massinger's "Maid of Honour" has been revived at Covent-Gar. den, for the purpose of introducing Fanny Kemble as Camiola.Arnold has gained nothing by his speculation at the Adelphi. His establishment was on too expensive a scale for so small a theatre. -The French comedians at the Haymarket continue to give satisfaction.-Pritchard has succeeded poor Denham as secretary to the Edinburgh Theatrical Fund. We are happy to learn that this excellent institution is flourishing. Is it to have a benefit, or a dinner, this year?

SAT.

MON.

WEEKLY LIST OF PERFORMANCES.

APRIL 16-22.

Masaniello, Three Weeks after Marriage, & Shakspeare's Dream.

The Two Friends, Mr Tomkins, & Do.

Treasurer of England, in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. With Extracts from his Private and Official Correspondence, and other Papers, now first published from the originals. By the Rev. Dr NARES, Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford.

II.

The Fifth and concluding Volume of

Mr D'ISRAELI'S COMMENTARIES on the LIFE and REIGN of CHARLES I. King of England, III.

THE DIARY of Dr DODDRIDGE, forming the Supplement to his Correspondence, now completed, and including many curious particulars in his Life hitherto unknown. Edited by his Great Grandson, JOHN DODDRIDGE HUMPHREYS, Esq.

Just published,

In a handsome volume of 560 pages 12mo, with Fine Portrait, Price 7s. 6d. in extra cloth boards,

TUES. The Barber of Seville, Shakspeare's Dream, & The Sleep-THE LIFE and DIARY of the Rev. EBENEZER

ing Draught.

WED. Cinderella, Mr Tomkins, & Shakspeare's Dream.
THURS. The White Phantom, Charles XII., & Brother and Sister.
FRI. Der Freischutz, The Lancers, & Shakspeare's Dream.

* Our friend is mistaken. Miss Edgeworth visited Sir Walter Scott, at Abbotsford, a few years since.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

ERSKINE, A.M., Minister of Stirling. Father of the Secession Church.-To which is prefixed, a MEMOIR of his Father, the Rev. HENRY ERSKINE, Minister of Chirnside.

By the Rev. DONALD FRASER,

Minister of the United Associate Congregation, Kennoway. Published by WILLIAM OLIPHANT, 22, South Bridge Street, Edinburgh: and sold by W. COLLINS, Glasgow, and all Booksellers. Just published,

In One Volume, 8vo, price 128, or 12mo, price 83. 6d.

We must request our friends to have patience with us for this AN INQUIRY into the PREVAILING

week.

[No. 128, April 23, 1831.] ADVERTISEMENTS,

Connected with Literature, Science, and the Arts.

FRENCH LITERATURE.

MR SURENNE, F.S.S.A., French Master in the

Royal Military and Naval Academy, will, on Saturday, the 30th of April, at one o'clock, in the Hopetoun Rooms, deliver, gratis,

A LECTURE ON FRENCH HISTORIANS,

INTERSPERSED WITH READINGS FROM THEIR WORKS.

After which, the Two Prizes which have been promised at the beginning of his Course of Lectures, just finished, will be awarded. Subject of the prizes: Lequel des Gouvernements Despotique, Monarchique ou Démocratique, peut plus assurer le bonheur des

nations.

8, Nelson Street.

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THE BYSTANDER.
No. I.

GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF WHO AND WHAT THE BYSTANDER IS.

Ir has frequently been asked why we have no Spectators or Ramblers now-a-days. Various reasons may be plausibly assigned for the non-appearance of such publications. In the first place, the small follies and vices of society against which they were directed, have been either eradicated by their efforts, or have grown more cunning to hide themselves. Like game in the battue of a keen-eyed sportsman, an occasional jubilee is requisite in order that a new generation may spring up. In the second place, the division of labour, superinduced by the progress of literature, has materially narrowed the sphere of the periodical essayist. Steele and Addison might range, chartered libertines, in their narrow sheet, through the whole range of moral preaching, literary and theatrical criticism, politics, and what not. But, in our modern periodicals, criticism is a distinct department, formally lined and marked out. The theatre, it has been discovered, requires the undivided attention of one labourer, Politics never thrive beyond the columns of a newspaper. The essayist has consequently been so restricted in his topics, that he has found it impossible, as It is expressed in the emphatic language of the ring, "to come to time."

Undeterred by these considerations, a small knot of friends have determined to attempt the revival of this style of writing. Each of them has of late tried his hand at an essay in the Edinburgh Literary Journal, and more than one of them has been rewarded with some small degree of public approbation. It has struck them that, by uniting their forces, by giving that unity and continuity to their fragments, which is the result of publishing under one name a series of essays, harmonizing in their general tendency, they may each, in the narrower sphere to which the periodical essayist is now confined, make themselves useful in their day and generation.

Price 6d.

"Old Bachelor," the author of "An Essay on Flirts,' and the sentimental savage, who perpetrated the tirade entitled "April Fools," make their bow to the public. If they fail, they only share the fate of better men.

The Bystander is a designation which they have not assumed hastily, nor without some reference to the times. From their previous lucubrations, to which they, have just referred, the reader will naturally conclude, that the tone of their contemplated writings is to be chiefly light and playful-not without a dash of the humourist. And he is correct in his inference. At the same time, the increasing acerbity of party spirit points out to them a field, in which their labours, if successful, may be of the utmost importance. They will seize every opportunity to impress deeply upon the minds of their readers, that, however they may differ upon the great question which now agitates the nation, they possess an immense preponderance of sentiments, opinions, even prejudices, in common. They will ever seek to remind the angry combatants that they are proud of the same fathers, that they have revelled in the same intellectual banquets, that they have sat, and may sit again, at the same feasts, that their minds have been expanded by the aid of the same manly language. We can discuss a metaphysical question, and be angry as heart could wish, without retaining an after grudge. We have all been involved at times in squabbles about matters of local interest, and scowled angrily at our opponents, and kissed, and become friends again. An why not thus in the present instance? The question as issue is one of vital and pervading interest. Let it be contested strenuously as may be-let neither side give or take an inch of ground without a struggle. But why add to the bitterness of public strife that of private rancour? Why admit unamiable and misery-bringing feelings to taint with their pollution the battle of principle?

This warning is not uncalled for. We do not allude to the unseemly exhibition, in what has ever, until this occasion, been the most decorous of our legislative assemblies. We speak neither of those who all but scowled defiance in their sovereign's face, nor of him who, by an ill-timed bravado, augmented their vindictive anger. We

But

The

The time seems not altogether unpropitious to such an attempt. A marked change has taken place in the man-speak of signs-slight, indeed, but of fearful augury— ners, and indeed in the whole organization of society, since the last of their predecessors closed his wearied lips. There is a wide field for useful and interesting remark, in the contrasted manners of Scotland as it is now, and Scotland as it was in 1790. The process by which the change has been effected affords likewise a pleasing object of contemplation. It is like standing in autumn just where the mountain district subsides into the level country, and watching the shifting clouds, as driving before the wind they unwreathe themselves from one hill to settle upon another. Nor is it the intention of the contributors to the Bystander, to confine their animadversions to our own firesides, they embrace within the range of their remarks the sister-kingdom, and the continent and past times as well as present. No characteristic feature of humanity is devoid of interest to them. With such themes to descant upon, the "Lounger," (a name of good omen in a work of this kind,) the

that have met us in private circles. We have heard
words thoughtlessly and foolishly dropped on one side,
of an appeal to arms-we have marked the bent brow
and suffused face with which this silly speech was re-
ceived. We know that these were but the pettish effu-
sions of a hot debate-forgotten as soon as uttered.
it is ever thus with the first suggestions of evil.
thought passes through the mind, startles us, and dis-
appears. Afterwards, when some chance association
recalls it, with its novelty it is found to have lost much
of its terror. It is permitted to take up a permanent
lodgement in the brain, as a fancy which never can be
reduced to practice. And, finally, in an unguarded mo-
ment, when passion is awake, and reason slumbers, this
hated, despised thought is hastily caught at, to give form
and utterance to our fury. We return to ourselves only
to become aware of a deed, the memory of which blasts

our future existence.

Perhaps we are unduly apprehensive of civil commotion. Having spent a portion of our life in a country which had suffered dreadfully from its blighting influences, we have had occasion to mark the deep and festering wounds it leaves behind, and are, perhaps, over apprehensive. But even though matters should not come to this extremity, it is fearful to think of the alienation of friends, the heart-burnings in families, which political strife too often occasions. Of what avail is it that we triumph, if it be at the expense of all that makes life endurable? Or will it soothe our disappointed spirits to feel that we have rudely burst the bonds of natural affection, and made others as miserable as ourselves? If, in the course of its labours, the Bystander be able, by its jest or by its earnest, to bring one individual to a right way of thinking upon these topics— to save, in one instance, fond hearts from being rudely separated-it will be a proud reflection to its conductors. Although it is not our intention to harp continually upon this theme-lest, by continued iteration, we render both it and ourselves hateful-it is with reference to our adoption of these pacific principles that we have selected our title. We do not seek to insinuate that we belong to neither of the two great parties which divide the state; nor are we anxious to conceal that our heart is with all those who are generally included under the vague designation of Liberals. Did we think that this avowal of our sentiments might in the least interfere with the attention which we hope may be paid to the remonstrances of the Bystander, we might have hesitated to confess so much. But honesty is ever the best policy. And we suspect that our "inclinings" are already more than guessed at by many of our readers. We appeal to our future lucubrations, as the only competent vouchers for the impartiality with which we shall discharge our office of arbiters between the reforming and conservative par

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the witching cup of Catholicism,-one who has prostrated his intellect to acquiesce in the broad and unmodified doctrine of the divine right of kings. He is one of your whiners over the gone glories of chivalry, and of the undivided church, and the honesty and quiet of the middle ages. To sum up his character, he is a beautiful reader, and the great happiness of his life has been, to excite the admiration of a circle of blues-youthful and ancient-by his delicate and impassioned reading of Shakspeare; and to kiss daily the withered hand of the faded beauty who, in virtue of her possessing a small portion of wit, is acknowledged patroness of all in Dresden who would be thought to possess it.

In describing Tieck, we have drawn the picture of a pretty numerous class of German literati, and one which we suspect not a few of our readers have been taught to consider the representative of the whole. This mistake may be accounted for in a manner more true than flattering to our national vanity. This morbid portion of German literature has been more largely translated into English than any other-solely because it attracts more readers. This trash finds as large a public to devour it here, although they may gulp it down in secret, having the fear of ridicule before their eyes, as it does at home. The only difference is, that the Germans manufacture their own love-philtres and other sickening drugs, while we beg or steal from them.

Our objection to this unwholesome mental food, is not merely that it unfits those who indulge in it for the du ties of daily life; although that is no light charge, seeing that a sound and healthy literature sends back its admi rers refreshed and invigorated to their respective tasks, It unfits a man for clear and vigorous thinking-it taints and enfeebles the imagination-it diffuses languor through his whole being. It pollutes the heart and deranges the head. It is the fruitful parent of selfishness, continued craving after excitement, cowardice, and superstitious atheism. It is intellectual opium-eating.

We must, however, do Tieck the justice to admit, that, although subdued to the nature of the element he has so long breathed, he has a capacity of better things in him, and has published several works composed in a sounder and more manly tone of feeling. His burlesque dramas, to which he has given the venerable names of "Puss in Boots," "Little Thumb," and the like, are playful and just satires upon the fashionable weaknesses most predo

The Old Man of the Mountain, The Lovecharm, and
Pietro of Albano. Tales from the German of Tieck.
Small 8vo. Pp. 335. London. Edward Moxon.minant at the time of their publication. With the hap-

1831.

TIECK is a name of reputation among the tea-table coteries of Germany. He ranks in the same class with the Schlegels, Uhland, and La Motte Fouqué. He is acute, fanciful, passionate, and effeminate. He has translated portions of Shakspeare with great truth and delicacy. He has wrote poems innumerable, against which no one can urge any other objection than that they are sweet even to cloying, and every one of them most pertinaciously and tiresomely like all the rest. He has wrote romances; some of which are expositions of what he thinks the proper mode of educating the human mind in art and science, and for the active duties of life; while others are of that class so much approved of by German subscribers to circulating libraries-tales of diablerie, in which the magic is a shadowy allegory of the workings of human passion, and passion is expressed in that excited, fervent state, where it is on the very verge of melting into madness. Tieck is a free-thinker too, and above believing any thing in the way that common mortals believe it. But, then, according to him, the power of conceiving the existence of a Supreme Being (whether such a Being exists, is, in his eyes, a matter of comparative indifference) is the noblest attribute of man, and ought to be carefully cultivated. In accordance with this principle, he is, with all his scepticism, not like Frederick Schlegel in outward show, yet, in his inner soul, one who hath bowed his knee to the idolatries, and drunk deep of

piest and most sportive wit, he alternately directs his arrows now against those very errors into which he has himself given now against the opposite extreme. In the former of these works, we have a regular drama manufactured out of the adventures of the faithful adherent of the Marquis of Carrabas. But the gentlemen haunting the sixth bench of the pit are also introduced criticising away with all their might. The heads of the mystical, rationalist, and antiquarian schools of Germany, canvass the merits of the piece in a most edifying style, and many of their little imitators join in the discussion. Peculiarly happy are the remarks of the sage, insisting upon the truth and accuracy with which the actor who represents the cat imitates the motions of the feline species. and thereupon kneeling down to him as a godlike actor. Equally profound is the mystic who discovers the poet's hidden meaning. In the other drama we have named, some of the over-refinements of modern education are delicately exposed.

It is not, however, any of this class of Tieck's works that the present translator has brought before the public. He knew better what was most likely to go down, and selected from the author's legends and tales of overstrained sentiment. The first is a moral tale, warning against such perversions of sentiment as none could fall into but the self-willed idle brooder over his own imaginings, who could conceive them-a medicine, in short, needed by none but incurables. The other two are stories of witch-rhymes

ers as may wish to know how to raise the dead, after the most approved German fashion :

and incantations, and of people who have sold themselves "With a voice as if he would split his breast, he read to the devil. There is power in the whole of them not and conjured again; his breath seemed often to fail him; unfrequently beauty and fine sentiment-and yet withal it was as though the gigantic effort must kill him. Herethey are but convulsive efforts of misdirected genius. upon a medley of voices were suddenly heard as in a quarrel, We give an extract for the benefit of such of our read-then again as in talk; they whispered; they shouted and laughed; songs darted from among them, together with the jumbled notes of strange instruments. All the vessels grew alive, and strode forward, and went back again; and out of "In the city on that same night strange things had been the walls in every room gushed creatures of every kind, vergoing on, which as yet were a secret to every body. Scarcely min, and monsters, and hideous abortions in the richest had the darkness spread thickly abroad, when Pietro, whom confusion. people commonly called by the name of his birthplace, Apone, "Master!' screamed Beresynth: 'the house is growing or Abano, retiring into his secret study at the back of his too tight. What shall we do with all these ghosts? they house, set all his apparatus, all the instruments of his art, must eat one another. O woe! O woe! they are all with in due order, for some mysterious and extraordinary under-cub, and are come here to whelp: new brutes keep sprouttaking. He himself was clad in a long robe, charactered ing out of the old ones, and the child is always wilder and with strange hierogylphs; he had described the magical frightfuller than its dam. My wits are leaving me in the circles in the hall, and he arranged every thing with his lurch. And then this music into the bargain, this ringing utmost skill, to be certain of the result. He had searched and piping, and laughter athwart it, and funeral hymns diligently into the configuration of the stars, and was now enough to make one cry! Look, master! look! the walls, awaiting the auspicious moment. the rooms, are stretching themselves, and spreading out into vast halls; the ceilings are running away out of sight; and the creatures are still shooting forth, and thicken as fast as the space grows. Have you no counsel?-have you no help?

"His companion, the hideous Beresynth, was also dressed in magical garments. He fetched every thing at his master's bidding, and set it down just as Pietro thought needfal. Painted hangings were unrolled over the walls; the floor of the room was covered over; the great magical mirror was placed upright; and nearer and nearer came the moment which the magician deemed the most fortunate. "Hast thou put the crystals within the circles?' demanded Pietro.

"Yes;' returned his busy mate, whose ugliness kept bustling to and fro merrily and unweariably amid the vials, mirrors, human skeletons, and all the other strange implements. The incense was now brought; a flame blazed upon the altar; and the magician cautiously, almost with trembling, took the great volume out of his most secret cabinet.

"Do we start now?' cried Beresynth. "Silence!' answered the old man solemnly: 'interrupt not these holy proceedings by any profane or any useless words.' He read, at first in a low voice, then louder and more earnestly, as he paced with measured steps to and fro, and then again round in a circle. After a while he paused and said, Look out, how the heavens are shaping them

selves.'

“Thick darkness,' replied the servant on his return, has enwrapt the sky; the clouds are driving along; rain is beginning to drip.'

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They favour me!' exclaimed the old man: it must succeed.' He now knelt down, and murmuring his incantations, often touched the ground with his forehead. His face was heated; his eyes sparkled. He was heard to pronounce the holy names which it is forbidden to utter; and, after a long time, he sent his servant out again to look at the firmament. Meanwhile the onrush of the storm was beard; lightning and thunder chased each other; and the house seemed to tremble to its lowest foundations.

"Hearken to the tempest !' shouted Beresynth, coming back hastily: hell has risen up from below, and is raging with fire and fierce cracking crashes of thunder; a whirlwind is raving through the midst of it; and the earth is quaking with fear. Hold with your conjuring, lest the spokes of the world splinter, and the rim that holds it together burst.'

"Fool! simpleton!' cried the magician; 'have done with thy useless prating! Tear back all the doors; throw the house-door wide open.'

"The dwarf withdrew to perform his master's orders. Meanwhile Pietro lighted the consecrated tapers; with a shudder he walked up to the great torch that stood upon the high candlestick; this too at last was burning; then he threw himself on the ground, and conjured louder and louder. His eyes flashed; all his limbs shook and shrunk as in convulsions; and a cold sweat of agony trickled from his brow. With wild gestures, as if scared out of his senses, the dwarf rushed in again, and leaped for safety within the circles. The world is at the last gasp,' he shrieked, pale and with chattering teeth: the storms are rolling onward; but all beneath the voiceless night is dismay and horror; every living thing has fled into its closet, or crept beneath the pillows of its bed, to skulk away from its fears.'

"The old man lifted up a face of ghastly paleness from the floor, and with wrenched and indistinguishable features, screamed in sounds not his own, Be silent, wretch, and disturb not the work. Give heed, and keep a fast hold on thy senses. The greatest things are still behind.'

"In complete exhaustion Pietro now raised himself; his whole form was changed, and he seemed to be dying. 'Look out once more,' he said, faintly: turn thine eyes towards the dome, and bring me tidings of what thou seest.'

"I am treading the rabble here on the head,' roared Beresynth, totally bewildered; they are disporting themselves in twining about me like serpents, and are laughing me to scorn. Are they ghosts? are they demons, or empty phantoms? Get away! Well, if you won't move out of my path, I'll stamp downright upon your green and blue snouts. Everybody must take care of number One, even if a devil is to be the sufferer.' He stumbled out muttering.

"Things now grew tranquil, and Pietro stood up. He waved his arm, and all those strange forms which had been crawling about the floor and twisting around each other in the air, vanished. He wiped off the sweat and tears, and drew his breath more freely. His servant came back and said: Master, all is quiet and well; but sundry light forms flitted by me, and lost themselves in the dark sky. Thereupon, while I kept staring immovably towards the dome, a mighty crash sounded, as if all the strings of a harp were breaking at once, and a clap came that made the streets and the houses all tremble. The great door of the church burst open; flutes warbled sweetly and lovelily; and a soft light brightness streamed forth from the heart of the church. Immediately after, the form of a woman stepped into the radiance, pale, but glancing, bedecked with crowns of flowers; she glided through the door, and gleams of light strewed a path for her to tread along. Her head upright, her hands folded, she is floating hither toward our dwelling. Is this she for whom you have been waiting?'

"Take the golden key,' answered Pietro, and unlock the innermost richest chamber of my house. See that the purple tapestries are spread out, that the perfumes are scattering their sweetness. Then away, and get thee to bed. Make no further enquiry into what happens. Be obedient and silent, as thou valuest thy life.'

"I know you too well,' returned the dwarf, and walked off with the key, casting back another look of something like mischievous delight.

"Meanwhile a lovely murmur approached. Pietro went into the entrance-hall, and in glided the pale body of Cre scentio, in her robe of death, still holding the crucifix in her folded hands. He stood still before her; she drew up the lids from her large eyes, and shrank back from him with such a quick start that the wreaths of flowers dropped down from her shaking head. Without speaking a word he wrested her fast-clasped hands asunder; but in the left she kept the crucifix tightly clenched. By the right hand he led her through room after room, and she moved by his side stiffly and with indifference, never looking around.

"They reached the furthest chamber. Purple and gold, silk and velvet, were its costly garniture. The light only glimmered in faintly by day through the heavy curtains. He pointed to the couch; and the unconscious holder of a charmed life stooped and bent down like a lily that the wind shakes; she sank upon the red coverlet and breathed painfully. From a golden vial the old man poured a precious essence into a little crystal cup, and set it before her mouth. Her pale lips sipped the wondrous draught; she again unfolded her eyes, fixed them on her former friend,

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