beautiful and straight by long inheritance. But if a monster spoke to me thus, I should love him! Come to my bosom, my blessed child! and dispel these wild dreams! Come, Violanta !"

Giulio attempted to raise his arms to his father's neck, but the strength that had sustained him so well, began to ebb from him. He uttered some indistinct words, lifted his hand to his mask as if to remove it for breath, and sunk slowly to the floor.

"It is your son, my lord !" cried Bettina. "Lift him, Count Cesarini! Lift your child to the air before he dies !"

She tore off his mask and disclosed to the thunder-stricken count the face of a stranger! As he stood pale and aghast, too much confounded for utterance or action, the black domino tripped into the gallery, followed by the red-cross knight, panting under his armour.

"Giulio! my own Giulio !" cried Violanta, throwing herself upon her knees beside her pale and insensible brother, and covering his forehead and lips with kisses. "Is he hurt? Is he dead? Water! for the love of heaven! Will no one bring water?" And tearing away her own mask, she lifted him from the ground, and totally regardless of the astonished group who looked on in petrified silence, fanned and caressed him into life and consciousness.

"Come away, Violanta !" said her father at last, in a hoarse voice.

"Never, my father he is our own blood! How feel you now, Giulio?" "Better, sweet! Where is Biondo ?"

"Near by! But you shall go home with me. Signor Malaspina! as you hope for my favour, lend my brother Bettina, call up the chariot. Nay, father! he goes home with me, or I with him. We never part

an arm.

more !"

The red-cross knight gave Giulio an arm, and leaning on him and Violanta, the poor youth made his way to the carriage. Amieri stood at the door, and received a look only as she passed, and helping Giulio tenderly in, she gave the order to drive swiftly home, and in a few minutes they en

tered together the palace of their common inheritance.

It would be superfluous to dwell on the incidents of the sequel, which were detailed in the Diario di Roma, and are known to all the world. The hunchback Count Cesarini has succeeded his deceased father in his title and estates, and is beloved of all Rome. The next heir to the title is a son (now two years of age) of the Countess Amieri, who is to take the name of Cesarini on coming to his majority. They live together in the old palazzo, and all strangers go to see their gallery of pictures, of which none are bad, except some well intended but not very felicitously executed compositions by one Lenzoni.

Count Lamba Malaspina is at present in exile, having been convicted of the crime of drawing sword on a disabled gentleman, on his way from a masquerade at La Pergola. His seclusion is rendered more tolerable by the loss of his teeth, which were rudely thrust down his throat by this same Lenzoni (fated to have a finger in every pie) in defence of the attacked party on that occasion. You will hear Lenzoni's address (should you wish to purchase a picture of his painting) at the Caffé del Gioco, opposite the trattoria of La Bella Donna, in the Corso.

tiously take a little "ease in mine inn ! " Whereupon I ignited my cigar with a self-enkindling apparatus, a gift from my considerate landlady -(pray heaven, she charge it not in her bill!)-to save her candles, and ascending the three steps to my window dormant, I seated myself in my accustomed chair, and forthwith began to speculate upon things external. It was that calm, lovely time, which is wont to usher in the twilight of a summer evening. The roll of wheels beneath me in was ceaseless. Bright forms flashed by in gay carriages ! The happy, the gallant, and the beautiful were all forth to take the air on the fashionable evening drive! Why was I not with the cavalcade? Where was my Rozinante? Where was my "establishment?" Echo answered "where?" I puffed away silently and vigorously for a few seconds, as these mental queries assailed me; and, blessed soother of the troubled, oh, incomparable cigar! my philosophy returned.

on

Diagonally opposite to my window stands one of the proudest structures It is costly with stone and marble, lofty porticoes and colonnades. This edifice first attracted my attention by its architectural beauty, and eventually fixed it by a mystery that seemed, to my curious eye, surrounding one of its inmates! But I will throw into the story-vein what I have to narrate, for it is a nouvellette in itself. I can unveil you the mystery, lady!

A lady of dazzling beauty was an inmate of that mansion; and, for aught I knew to the contrary, its only inmate. Every afternoon, arrayed in simple white, with a flower or two in her hair, she was seated at the drawing-room window, gazing out upon the gay spectacle exhibits of a pleasant afternoon. I saw her the first moment I took possession of my dormant nook, and was struck with her surpassing loveliness. Every evening I paid distant homage to her beauty. Dare a poor scribbler, a mere penny-a-liner, aspire to a nearer approach to such a divinity, enshrined in countless wealth? No! I worshipped, like the publican, afar off.

"'Tis distance lends enchantment to

One

the view." But she was not destined to be so worshipped by all. afternoon she was at her window, with a gilt-leaved volume in her hand, when a gentleman of the most graceful bearing-rode past my window. He was well mounted, and sat his horse like an Arabian! He was what the boarding-school misses would call an elegant fellow! a well bred man of the world, a remarkably handsome man! Tall, with a fine oval face, a black, penetrating eye, and a moustache upon his lip, together with a fine figure, and the most perfect address, he was, what I should term, a captivating and dangerous man. His air, and a certain indescribable something, bespoke him a gentleman. As he came opposite to her window, his eye, as he turned it thither, became fascinated with her beauty! How much lovelier a really lovely creature appears, seen through "plate glass! Involuntarily he drew in his spirited horse, and raised his hat! The action, the manner, the grace, were inimitable. At this unguarded moment, the hind wheel of a rumbling omnibus struck his horse in the chest. The animal reared high, and would have fallen backward upon his rider, had he not with remarkable presence of mind, stepped quietly and gracefully from the stirrup to the pavement, as the horse, losing his balance, fell violently upon his side. The lady, who had witnessed with surprise the involuntary homage of the stranger, for such, from her manner of receiving it, he evidently was to her, started from her chair and screamed convulsively. The next moment he had secured and remounted his horse, who was only slightly stunned with the fall, acknowledged the interest taken in his mischance by the fair being who had been its innocent cause, (unless beauty were a crime,) by another bow, and rode slowly and composedly onward, as if nothing unusual had occurred. The next evening the carriage was at the door of the mansion. The liveried footman was standing with the steps down, and the handle of the door in his hand. The coachman was seated upon his box. I was, as usual, at my

window. The street door opened, and with a light step, the graceful form of my heroine came forth and descended to the carriage. At that moment(some men surely are born under the auspices of more indulgent stars than others) the stranger rode up, bowed with ineffable grace, and-(blessed encounter that with the omnibus-wheel!) -his bow was acknowledged by an inclination of her superb head, and a smile that would make a man of any soul seek accidents even in the cannon's mouth." He rode slowly forward, and, in a few seconds, the carriage took the same direction. There are no inferences to be drawn from this, reader! All the other carriages passed the same route. It was the customary one! At the melting of twilight into night, the throng of riders and drivers repassed. "The lady's" carriage (it was a landau, and the top was thrown back)-came last of all! The cavalier was riding beside it! He dismounted as it drew up before the door, assisted her to the pavé, and took his leave! For several afternoons, successively, the gentleman's appearance, mounted on his noble animal, was simultaneous with that of the lady at her carriage. One evening they were unusually late on their return. Finally the landau drew up before the door. It was too dark to see faces, but I could have sworn the equestrian was not the stranger! No! He dismounted, opened the door of the carriage, and the gentleman and lady descended! The footman had rode his horse, while he, happy man! occupied a seat by the side of the fair-one! I watched the progress of this amour for several days, and still the stranger had never entered the house. One day, however, about three o'clock, P. M., I saw him lounging past, with that ease and self-possession which characterised him. He passed and repassed the house two or three times, and then rather hastily ascending the steps of the portico, pulled at the bell. The next moment he was admitted, and disappeared out of my sight. But only for a moment, reader! an attic hath its advantages! The blinds of the drawing-room were drawn, and impervious to any glance from the street; but the leaves were

turned, so as to let in the light of heaven and my own gaze! I could see through the spaces, directly down into the room, as distinctly as if there was no obstruction ! This I give as a hint to all concerned, who have revolving leaves to their Venetian blinds. Attic gentlemen are much edified thereby! The next moment he was in the room, his hand upon his heart

another, and I saw him at her feet! Sir-would that I had language to paint you the scene! Lady-I then learned the "art of love!" I shall have confidence, I have so good a pattern, when I go to make my declaration! The declaration, the confession, the acceptation, all passed beneath me most edifyingly. Then came the labial seal, that made his bliss secure. By his animated gestures, I could see he was urging her to take some sudden step. She at first appeared reluctant, but gradually becoming more placable, yielded. In ten minutes the landau was at the door. They came out arm in arm, and entered it! I could hear the order to the coachman, "Drive to St. John's Church." "An elopement!" thought I. “Having been in at breaking cover, I will be in at the death!" and taking my hat and gloves, I descended, as if I carried a policy of insurance upon my life in my pocket, the long flights of stairs to the street, bolted out of the front door, and followed the landau, which I discerned just turning the corner of

street! I followed full fast on foot. I eschew omnibuses. They are vulgar! When I arrived at the church, the carriage was before it, and the "happy pair," already joined together, were just crossing the trottoir to re-enter it!-the grinning footman, who had legally witnessed the ceremony, following them!

The next day, about noon, a capacious family carriage rolled up to the door of the mansion, followed by a barouche with servants and baggage. First descended an elderly gentleman who cast his eyes over the building, to see if it stood where it did when he left it. Then came, one after another, two beautiful girls; then a handsome young man. "How glad I am that I have got home again,' exclaimed one of the young ladies,

running up the steps to the door. "I wonder where Jane is, that she does not meet us?"

The sylph rung the bell as she spoke. I could see down through the blinds into the drawing-room. There was a

scene!

The gentleman was for going to the door, and the lady, his bride, was striving to prevent him! You sha'n't"--"I will"--"I say you sha'n't"-"Is I say I will"—were interchanged as certainly between the parties, as if I had heard the words. The gentleman, or rather husband, prevailed. I saw him leave the room, and the next moment, open the streetdoor. The young ladies started back at the presence of the new footman. The old gentleman, who was now at the door, inquired as he saw him, loud enough for me to hear, "Who in the devil's name are you, sir?"

"I have the honour to be your sonin-law !"

"You are mistaken, sir, she is my housekeeper!

A scene followed that cannot be described. The nobleman had married the gentleman's charming housekeeper. She had spread the snare, and, like many a wiser fool, he had fallen into it.

Half an hour afterwards, a hack drove to the servants' hall door, and my heroine came forth, closely veiled, with bag and baggage, and drove away. The count, for such he was, I saw no more ! I saw his name gazetted as a passenger in a packet ship that sailed a day or two after for Havre.

How

he escaped from the mansion remaineth yet a mystery! Henceforth, dear reader, I most conscientiously eschew matrimony!

THE WINTER OF THE MIND.

Oн coldly gleams the setting sun,
And the dews of eve are chill;
The flood is in the valley,

And the mist upon the hill.
November's blast comes sweeping

Through the forest lone and sere—
And the waning year goes creeping
To her cold and wintry bier.

What matter? Spring is coming,
In a path bestrewn with flowers;
And joyous summer follows,

With the laughing, rosy hours;
And warm again will beam the sun,
And gently breathe the wind-
But when comes spring or summer

To the winter of the mind?

When the glow of life has faded,

And comes on the ague-chillAnd the spirit's spring is broken, That mock'd each petty illAnd the world's cold ways are round

us

And Hope no longer cheersAnd fond, bright dreams lie buried In the ashes of past years :

Why what remains? To bear our fate And breast the downward tide ;And quell each weak and foolish plaint,

And patiently abide

Our earthly doom: and firmly keep

The spirit free from stain,-
And calmly walk in duty's path—
We shall not walk in vain :

For partial gleams of gladness

Will yet come, as of yore;— And mirth leap up from sadness, Though joy returns no more! And temperate autumn's soothing thoughts

Will gently round us windBut ne'er come spring or summer To the winter of the mind.

MISERY." Why, when nature is so full of joyousness, when, at the summer season, vegetation basks in beauty and delight, and the very clouds seem to enjoy their aerial abode in the upper sky, why should misery find an abode in the breast of man ?"

THE JUNIOR PARTNER.

It was what is called by people on the continent a "London day." A thin, grey mist drizzled down through the smoke which darkened the long cavern of Fleet street; the sidewalks were slippery and clammy; the drays slid from side to side on the greasy pavement, creating a perpetual clamour among the lighter carriages with which they came in contact; the porters wondered that "gemmen" would carry their umbrellas up when there was no rain, and the gentlemen wondered that porters should be permitted on the sidewalks; there were passengers in box-coats though it was the first of May, and beggars with bare breasts though it was chilly as November; the boys were looking wistfully into the hosier's windows, who were generally at the pastry-cook's, and there were persons who wished to know the time, trying in vain to see the dial of St. Paul's through the gamboge atmosphere.

VOL. I. (23.)

It was twelve o'clock, and a plain chariot with a simple crest on the panels, slowly picked its way through the choked and disputed thoroughfare east of Temple Bar. The smart glazed hat of the coachman, the well-fitted drab great-coat and gaiters of the footman, and the sort of half-submissive, half-contemptuous look on both their faces, (implying that they were bound to drive to the devil if it were miladi's orders, but that the rabble of Fleet street was a leetle too vulgar for their contact,) expressed very plainly that the lady within was a denizen of a more privileged quarter, but had chosen a rainy day for some compulsory visit to "the city."

At the rate of perhaps a mile an hour, the well-groomed night-horses(a pair of smart, hardy, twelve-mile cabs, all bottom but little style, kept for night-work and forced journeys)

had threaded the tortuous entrails of London, and had arrived at the arch of a dark court in Throgmorton-street. The coachman put his wheels snug

2 A