ed, with new surprise, that their eyes were not the soft blue of northern Europe, but of a tincture dark, steely, and glittering, like those of Spain and Italy; and as their mysterious forms whirled round him with appalling velocity, the alarmed student could not dispel an instinctive apprehension that some inscrutable and tremendous evil was maturing amidst all this portentous festivity. He fancied himself gazing on a Shaksperean mask, or midnight revel, and dreaded that, like the ill-fated Romeo, he should see the splendors of this princely hall too soon succeeded by the sepulchral gloom of tombs, the death of his sweet Cordula, and the sudden annihilation of all his earthly felicity. "Enough! enough!" exclaimed the Countess at his elbow, as she made a signal to the band to cease. The dancers paused to refresh themselves, and the sweet converse of his lovely mistress soon roused the dreaming Arnold from his tragic visions, and restored him to a full sense of his happiness. The large folding-doors were now thrown open; the vivacious Florestan bounded into the hall, and summoned the Countess and her guests to view his fireworks from the castle gardens. Immediately the mob of maskers rushed like a torrent through the portal, and spread themselves in gay and laughing groups along the margin of the lake. Upon an island in its centre appeared an illuminated tower, modelled after the castle of St. Angelo at Rome. A signal rocket rose from the castle roof, and immediately a girandole of a thousand rockets rushed with volcanic force and brilliancy from the island-tower, filling the vault of heaven with its blaze, and dazzling all beholders with its splendid coruscations. The tower disappeared, and the vivid outlines of temples, palaces, and pyramids, appeared in magical succession, concluding with a lofty altar of colored lamps, before which stood two colossal candelabras, whose innumerable tapers blazed with serene and steady lustre in the tranquil night air. A venerable man, with silver locks, and clad in priestly garb, was kneeling in prayer before the altar, and by his side stood a young and blooming chorister, swinging a golden censer. "My beloved Cordula !" exclaimed the delighted Arnold, "let not that splendid altar blaze in vain. Confirm at once my promised happiness, and bid that venerable priest unite our destinies for ever." The blushing and agitated Countess answered not, but gazed upon him for some moments with mute and tender significance; then took his offered hand, and accompanied him to the margin of the lake, where rode a galley, gorgeous as that which bore the Queen of Egypt, and manned with numerous rowers. A velvet couch under a silken canopy received the beauteous pair, and the stately vessel, yielding to the efforts of the rowers, glided majestically over the tranquil bosom of the lake, while strains of solemn and triumphant music resounded from its shores, and white-robed nymphs in light gondolas, with each a Chinese lantern on its prow, flitted like water-sprites around the galley. A flight of marble steps, descending from the altar to the lake, was crowded with a group of choristers, each holding in his hand a blazing torch. They welcomed the enraptured Arnold and his Countess with a hymeneal chant, and accompanied them to the foot of the altar, where the aged priest greeted the happy pair with a benevolent and approving smile. He joined their hands, and in deep and impressive tones proceeded to bestow upon them the final benediction. At this moment the bridegroom thought he heard a voice whispering the fatal questions in his ear, "Arnold! Who are you? And who is your bride ?" He turned hastily round to look at his beauteous Cordula, and, oh horror! her bloom and freshness had disappeared; she was pale and deathlike as a marble statue, and the position in which she reclined before the altar, was that of the Egyptian Sphinx. Glancing hastily at the priest and chorister, the alarmed student beheld the fiendish smile of Mephistopheles of the tottering islet. Clinging with lurking on the old man's lips, and the the last energies of despair to a contiboy, before so different, was now the guous shrub, the breathless and halfvery image of the laughing Florestan. drowned youth regained his feet after No, by all that's sacred! Cordula ! the wave receded, and as quickly as thou art no human being;" exclaimed the darkness would permit, sought a the gasping and horror-struck Arnold, tree, in the branches of which he as he started on his feet. The Coun- might attain at least a temporary retess uttered a wild and unearthly fuge. He succeeded in finding a stem shriek, and in an instant the torches, strong enough to support him, but his lamps, and tapers were extinguished powers were so exhausted that he by a fearful gust which swept with could ascend only a few feet above the blasting speed over the lake and isl- ground. Again the lightning blazed and. The bride, and priest, and cho- upon the lake, and by its flitting glare, risters disappeared, and the stars were Arnold beheld the boiling labyrinth of veiled in darkness; the giant's harp waters articulate with life, and all the broke out in loud and wailing mur- slimy worms and bloated reptiles of the murs, the rain streamed down in tor- Nile gliding and quivering with open rents, hot lightnings hissed, and horrid jaws around him. With an inarticuthunders rolled around the heavens. late shriek of horror he made a final The sleeping waters of the lake rose and desperate effort to escape the up in madness, enormous waves threw teeming waters, and succeeded in up their foaming tops, on which the gaining a higher branch. Vain hope! lantern-boats, magnified by the dis- succeeding waves covered the yielding eased vision of Arnold into Sphinxes island, and the bending tree tottered of colossal bulk, floated like argosies. and creaked beneath its trembling ocPointing their monstrous paws and cupant. A monstrous gust came on eyes of livid flame at the crazed and with lightning speed, and lashed the breathless student, they jeered him waters of the lake to fiercer efforts; with devilish grins, and in voices the giant's harp rang out, and pealed, which rung through the hurricane like and labored in the storm, louder than Indian gongs, tore his distempered battle-trumpets; and, at length, a ears with the horrid enigmas, "Who mountain-wave, rising above the head are you? And who am I?" The of the devoted Arnold, swept man, and agonized youth was on the brink of tree, and island into the yawning absolute insanity: his brain collapsed gulf. with horror, his joints shook, his arteries swelled almost to bursting, and every fibre of his frame was racked with torture. He felt the foundations of the little island loosening beneath him, and it was too evident that it could not long resist the repeated shocks of the agitated and rising waters. Exerting his last remains of strength and consciousness, he clung to the highest of the marble steps, and awaited his inevitable fate in silent agony. Soon a loftier wave rushed up the staircase, drenched the luckless Arnold to the skin, tore up the solid marble, and covered the highest level At this awful moment-a shrill voice shouted in the ear of Arnold, "You have dropped your stick into the garden, sir!" Opening his eyes, the amazed student found himself seated by moonlight in his verandah, and the old woman who took care of his apartments standing by him with the Sphinx stick in her hand. “Thank God!" exclaimed the inexpressibly relieved youth, as he wiped his streaming forehead, and threw his stick into the garden well- Thank God! 'twas but a midsummer-night's dream, and that cursed Sphinx was nothing but a nightmare." THE SUPERIORITY OF THE WORKS OF NATURE ABOVE THOSE OF ᎪᎡᎢ . What skill, what force divine, Deepfelt in these appear! a simple train, To the mind possessed of a refined taste, and which delights in the exercise of its reflective powers, the works of nature, as they are generally termed, have ever been pregnant with the most satisfying and delectable sources of investigation. They have yielded, and still continue to yield, innumerable objects for the natural philosopher to examine, as well as for the unlettered to admire; and, replete with the most positive beauties, and communicative of the most agreeable sensations, they will never cease to engage the attention, till all that is beautiful and sublime in nature loses the power of captivating, and the mind becomes incapable of receiving delight. Wherever we turn our eye, some object of admiration presents itself; into whatever recess we penetrate, our attention is arrested by the charms of some natural curiosity; and the more extensively we examine, and the deeper we search, the richer will be the conquest we attain. A more delicious feast cannot be presented to the curious and contemplative mind, than to roam amidst all the luxuriances of nature, and view her sporting in a thousand blooming and fascinating charms, or sublimely moving amidst the stupendous and wonderful works of the universe. Above and around us, in the illimitable regions of space, roll the millions of orbs, which afford to us the blessing of light-which, it is presumed, bear a strong analogy to our own globe; these display the sublimer glories of nature. Scattered over the diversified surface of the earth, for various useful and important purposes, the innumerable tribes of animal and vegetable nature exhibit amazing skill and contrivance; the depths of the ocean, the womb of the earth, and the regions of the air, all unite to set forth the glorious and inimitable perfections of the works of nature, while all conspire, by the regular and harmonious performance of their respective functions, however more or less operative, to send up a grateful song of praise to their wise and benevolent Author. That the works of art assume to themselves the extensive and wellearned meed of approbation and admiration, will not be denied. That they may well be held up to the observation of the wise and good, and that they should be generally patronized as conducive to the comfort and pleasure of life, will be conceded without hesitation. But that they fall infinitely short of the nice and inimitable perfection, the well-regulated utility, and the positive beauty which characterize those of nature, is a fact which few can venture to disclaim, without sacrificing truth and judgment at the shrine of ignorance and impiety. No very deep insight into nature, or very extensive experience in art and science, is requisite to determine so obvious, though interesting a point. The superiority of the works of nature may be argued-first, from their originality. Here all is fully, legitimately, the sole production of an allwise Author: here all bears internal evidence of originality-for as they were called into being from nothing, they could not be copied from any thing antecedently existing. But with regard to the works of art, they are only copies from the masterpieces of nature, and few will be bold enough to deny, that many of the most splendid and elaborate works of art, become so, simply from their unequalled models. Scarcely a performance is executed by man, which does not glory in being a transcript from nature; not an invention is made, without being analogous to some principle or operation of nature, whether more or less secret. It is truly to the hidden sources of nature, that men look for the most brilliant trophies of their talent and research; it is with delight they hail any appearance of nature, upon which they may display or exert their genius; and with no less ardor than pleasure, do they avail themselves of whatever may present itself to notice. The works of nature are superior to those of art,-secondly; in their workmanship and perfection. Examine any of the former with the most scrutinizing eye, and you will find it to be framed with the nicest skill and proportion; all the parts exactly correspond and harmonize with one another; all perform the respective parts assigned them by eternal Wisdom, without the least deviation; and thereby the great ends of nature are regularly and effectually accomplished. There is not a single object in nature, that may not court the strictest investigation as it regards its perfection; and though many objects of course far exceed others in wonder and beauty, yet each in itself lays open an interesting view of consummate skill-a pleasing exhibition of divine goodness. The tints which adorn the petals of a flower, and the delicate wings and body of an insect, may well bear the test of examination; and the finest and most delicate specimens of the pencil, in comparison of such, cannot but appear coarse and imperfect. The color, the frame, the texture, of the multifarious diversities of coloring for the brute creation, and the nice adaptation thereof to their natures, are so exquisite, as to outvie every attempt of art to rival them. Even the beautiful verdure which clothes our fields and meadows, in its several varieties, is so replete with divine skill, that it has been frequently said, "a single blade of grass contains more than will ever be discovered by the most patient and minute investigator." Nature, while she sports in her wildest vagaries, is never inconsistent. All her works, though surprisingly diverse, are yet not less regular; and while beautiful to the eye, they will bear no less extraordinary investigation. The modern discovery of the microscope has unfolded the hidden beauties of nature in a manner never before known. Unexpected wonders have been by this laid before our eyes. Specimens of nature have been brought to light, which were before unknown, and unthought of; and not only so, but we have been enabled to become better acquainted with whatever was before known. Subject, then, the most delightful productions of nature to microscopic observation, and, notwithstanding the magnitude to which it is thereby increased, its finest parts will appear not more blunt or less elegant: but let any of the works of art, however fine in their workmanship, be put to a similar test, and they will lose all the beauty and skill with which, to the naked eye, they seemed invested, and appear unsightly, and unworthy of attention. Among the many mechanical inventions of men, none, however perfect and regular, can ever equal the extensive and admirable mechanism which constitutes the frame of man. Here, amidst the vast diversity of bones, and muscles, sinews, veins, and other apparatus of this machine, all is in the most positive and valuable harmony, each part being adapted to the other, and in systematic and perfect operation. Thirdly; in their variety, extent, and utility, the works of nature excel those of art. It is really astonishing to behold the vast diversity which prevails in the grand system of animal and vegetable nature, both in the number, peculiarities and properties of its subjects. It is calculated, that ner. there are at present known between ostensible, but not less certain manfour and five hundred species of land animals, six hundred of birds, of fish five thousand, and of insects it may safely be concluded nearly two hundred thousand. Exclusive of these, there are doubtless a vast number of the brute creation, which are unknown to man. Of plants, it is not improbable, that their number would almost defy the powers of calculation. Every thing in nature partakes of this amazing variety; and to direct our attention to the heavens alone, would be a decisive proof, that her works are indeed incomparable and multitudinous. The works of man, diverse as they may be, cannot, in any degree, equal those of nature. It is recorded of a certain ancient artist, that he carved figures of animals in ivory with the most exquisite skill, and of which an astonishing number might be contained in a very contracted space: but what shall we say, when not less than a million of animalculæ may be held on the point of a needle, and to which a spoonful of water is, as it were, an unbounded ocean! What shall we say, when an incalculable number of insects, all perfectly and delightfully formed, invisible to the naked eye, roam and sport over the leaves of plants and trees, as in a spacious meadow! Surely these display skill more than human; wisdom of more than earthly mould. But what constitutes, in no small degree, the superexcellence of the works of the great framer of all things, is, their general utility. The most beautiful productions of art are mostly those which are only calculated to please and captivate-to which the epithet of elegant may be appended, rather than that of useful whereas in the system of nature there is not a plant or animal, or any inanimate substance, but is of some service in the great plan, and performs some function devolving upon it, however more or less indirectly. One is adapted to the support and nourishment of the other -this, tends to the benefit of man in a more positive degree; that, in a less The works of nature claim to themselves unquestionable preeminence, fourthly, in their durability. Turn once more to the orbs of heaven, and see with what uniform regularity they have performed their revolutions, from the period when they were called into existence by the Divine fiat-and still perform them, without the least diminution of efficacy, or irregularity. Very many of the other works of nature have remained with equal perfection, from the moment of their creation to the present. And even all the animal and vegetable tribes, notwithstanding they decay and die at stated and regular periods, may be said to have endured from the beginning; since they have been, and still are, continually reproduced in succession: and thus, one continued series exists, and the animal world is ever replenished. But it is too true, that mutability and corruptibility are inseparable from the works of man; they, like himself, are frail, and a few fleeting years are sufficient to mar their beauty, and spoil their excellence. The most ancient relics of art we possess, are frequently so mutilated and defaced by the consuming hand of time, as to become valuable, not for the skill exhibited in their workmanship, but solely on account of their antiquity. Nature's works, however, are always blooming, are always beautiful in themselves. Nature, in many of her operationsif at any time she appears to advance in age, may be said to renew her youth; she frequently seems to undergo, in her own system, a renovation, which gives a perpetuity to all her works: while the beautiful and costly works of man, notwithstanding the props and patchings they sometimes receive, eventually yield to time, whose breath completely scatters and destroys them. The comparison might be carried further than in the four preceding particulars; but certainly where originality in design, beauty and perfection |