surrounded the court, and gazing earnestly at the which would have laid me under suspicion of arishouse. "Good evening, my friend,” said I, "If you are a stranger or traveller, you should know that a bright window is an invitation to every honest man. It is a long two hour's walk to the town, and the overflowing of the Zarn, has rendered the path dangerous for strangers." tocracy. In Paris, at last, I learned by chance the fate of my relations and the sale of my property. Regret availed nothing: I consoled myself as well as I could; and my suit for Therese's hand gave me a nearer prospect of happiness. My constancy, I hoped, would conquer her reluctance, and when at last the trumpet called me away, I "My friend," answered the stranger, "It mat- hoped it was to deeds which would render me more ters not where I am leave me here." "In the open air!" "I am accustomed to it." worthy of her. Fortune was at first favorable, and the Major became Brigadier; but reverses soon followed. M. Hubert remembers my unfortunate "I cannot suffer it. I am the master of this situation and the assistance he afforded me. That gold alone, rendered my existence bearable: the "You! You the master of this house! Leave treacherous rascals plundered my baggage, but the me; do not ask me further." house, and I beg "Why not? You seem to be an honest man." "I am your enemy, your born enemy. This house was mine: in that chamber I was born: I am the last of the Ponjons." "If that be the case, you surely will not go away without seeing what changes time has wrought in your former home ?" purse was securely concealed. In the Hungarian prison, to which they dragged me, I languished long without hope or friends; but generous hearts, which are as plenty in that distant region, as in our native land, at last sought me out, and lightened my captivity. I taught fencing, and was allowed moderate liberty-an inestimable favor;—but forgotten by the ever-changing government at home, "What do you mean? What are you thinking I began to lose all hope of seeing again these beauof? Go, sir. Leave me alone." In the meantime I had given the usual signal. Jacques opened the gate, and I drew the reluctant stranger into the court. My father came to meet us with a light my first glance fell on the stranger and his on me: we started. "Are you not "My God! Are you not 99 "The wounded young soldier?" "The General ?" "You a Ponjon?" "You master of this house?" "With that money, General tiful fields, when the voice of our hero opened my prison doors. I flew to Paris; there to encounter hunger and want. A former subaltern of my brigade, reported me to the minister of war as a fierce jacobin, and all my representations were vain. Despairing of restoration to my former rank, I left the capital and determined to offer my sword to the grand seignor: but first to see once more the place where I had dreamed away my childhood-to drop a tear amid the well remembered scenes, and over the graves of my parents!— no pilgrimage appeared to me too long; and thus have I reached this beloved place where so sur "Singular coincidence! That I myself contri- prising a meeting awaited me." buted " "But not in vain, General." "It is the finger of God," said my pious parents, and looked at me significantly; but the hint was "I believe it," said he; and just then Therese unnecessary-my heart had already indicated my and Milon appeared at the door. "Mons. Baudouin !” cried the first blushing, and the last growing pale. "Whence came you? We believed you dead. Explain." I guessed it at once. The General, to whom I owed my fortune, was my former rival. We drew him into the house, seated ourselves around him, and he began course. "You are my guest, General," said I to Ponjon, whose countenance was full of sorrowful emotion. "Dare I accept it!" answered he, with almost a shudder. "I have been a soldier, General," replied I. "Among companions in arms a word is sufficient." He grasped my hand and remained. too much. One evening he called me into the "This house has long been the seat of my an- For a day or two all went well. I and my family cestors. I was a wild youth, and intoxicated with were enraptured; but Ponjon could not bear it long. the new dreams of freedom, on the breaking out A stranger in the house of his fathers, a guest at of the revolution, took service with the French the table of her whose hand he had sought—it was Guards, with whom I fought on the coast and in Vendée. I dreamed not in the meantime, that my parents had been dragged to the scaffold and my elder brother had perished among the royalists. Dazzled by my rapid advancement, and distracted by the tumult of the times, I forgot family and home, and no one ever discovered my real name, VOL. VII-106 "I cannot bear it. I must do something. I must be active. This idleness kills me." "Whither do you propose going?" "To Turkey." "Will a brave man abjure his country?" 66 My country has refused my proffered arm." "Can you serve her but with the sword?" "How else I have no capital for any other enterprise; indeed I shall scarce be able to reach Marseilles, where I must trust to the generosity of some mariner for a steerage passage to the Levant." "You may command my purse." 66 By no means; I am already in despair at being unable to return you your fifty louis-d'ors." "Let me leave this painful subject. Come to my chamber." first time in my life I began to despond, but the next thought restored my confidence. I knew I was innocent, that my friends could not for a moment doubt it, and that after a short separation a happy meeting awaited us. In my silent cell my thoughts were always upon home, and my serenity was not disturbed when I heard from the tribunal the charge of fraud in fulfilling my army contract. An ungrateful fellow whom I had reared from a boy, and been at last compelled to discharge for some villainy, had, out of revenge, become my accuser. My innocence was soon made manifest; for a short examination served to detect the falsity of a charge We entered the room. "This money is yours," so entirely baseless; and while I was awaiting my said I, handing him a bill of exchange. "How is that?" discharge, the severity of my confinement was diminished. The first visit I received was from "It is the forty-four thousand livres which I re- my wife and parents, who had hurried to the capiceived from you." "Sir! would you shame me outright ?” "By no means. I only discharge my conscience of a debt. I am not able to restore you the possessions of your ancestors, but this at least I can do, and I rejoice in the opportunity." The General was silent. "I gave you paltry paper," said he, at length. "I used it as gold. It is but just and right that I return its full value." The General was again silent. "Have you deducted the fifty louis-d'ors?" "Yes." tal for the purpose of throwing themselves at the feet of the Consul. The justice of the commission had saved them this step, and the brave Ponjon, whom they had found out, undertook to remove the last obstacle to my return. With my child by the hand, he entered the prison in glittering uniform, and glowing with self satisfaction. With one hand, he reached the jailer the order for my release, and with the other, handed me a letter, which was as follows, in the Consul's own handwriting: "Monsieur! The decision of the Com'mission has assured me of your innocence, and 'the General Ponjon has informed me of your me'rits. The sum you returned to the coffers of your country, through the General, deserves my ack'nowledgments, and I will see that you lose nothing by your integrity. This day I receive your son We said no more, and Ponjon kept his resolution. Victor among the pupils of my marine, and will He departed without saying whither, but promised care for his advancement. For yourself, I have to write soon. Mother and father were content no place to offer-no distinction to bestow, but with me, and Milon's scruples put at rest. The-my friendship and esteem." rese redoubled her love, and I was richer in house I kissed the paper, my wife moistened it with and conscience, although my savings had gone her tears, and my son capered around my narrow with Ponjon. We toiled threefold, but the theme cell. The General drew me with friendly force of our evening conversation was ever our noble out of the prison. friend Ponjon. "Then I will take the rest. You have done well my friend, and I will prove to you that I also understand what is right. To-morrow I shall leave you, but you will hear from me again." One Only too soon were they interrupted. morning, gens d'armes entered my room. family had gone to a neighboring fête: Milon and I were to follow. The officer exhibited a warrant from the justice at Montauban. I was astounded, and Milon terrified almost to death. To my eager questions the stern silence of authority was the only answer. I instantly prepared to accompany them, while an official noted my books and papers. "What shall I say to your wife and family?" asked the desponding Brutus. "That I have been called to Paris on urgent business. Nothing more-on your word!" "Have I understood all right, noble Ponjon!" asked I, “you returned the money to the treasury?" 'Certainly. It was but right.” "And kept nothing for yourself?" 66 "No my friend. But do not praise my disinterestedness. I was restored to my rank, and gained the Consul's particular favor, to which I owe the ability to serve you on the present occasion." I embraced him in silence, while my heart spoke with a thousand tongues. Unfortunately he could not follow us home, whither we immediately hastened, but remained in Paris with my son, who was preparing to join his ship. Garlands awaited He gave it, but with little intention to keep it. me at Barral, but the finest were hung round the We drove to Montauban, and after half an hour's portrait of the General. My father said to me delay there, continued our way to Paris where I" you owe to the good General your release from was placed au secret in the conciergerie. For the prison, and the favor of the Chief Magistrate. You "But could you not come and live with us?" He became almost angry. are deep in his debt. The forty-four thousand livres though our income was diminished a half by Drol's are nothing to your credit. Do you not see it?" absence, we remained contented in our tranquillity. My father was right. My debt oppressed me. One evening when we were sitting together and I called the family together. They were of my speaking of Ponjon, the General himself entered. opinion, and we readily agreed to devote ourselves Our joys and congratulations were boundless; but he again to poverty. Victor was provided for by the interrupted them, and said, “I can give you but two Consul; I was in my prime, active and healthy; minutes. I am en route for Spain. Not a word Therese was skilful in household affairs; and our about Barral. You have acted honorably, and in parents were easily contented. We resolved to honorable hearts gratitude is at home. My refusal restore to Ponjon the mansion of his fathers. With would have disappointed you, and therefore I reall the forms of law, I conveyed the lands and ceived it; but go back now, and keep it in my transmitted the deed in a letter which explained name." our feelings. He returned no answer, but in a few days an attorney at Montauban, who had received instructions to that effect, despatched a bai- "Am I not a soldier?" said he. "Do not my liff to take charge of the property. We removed peace and honor call me to the field and even to the village, and I could not help thinking that were it not so, have I not loved? No! M. Huour circumstances had never been quite so narrow bert, I must be my own friend, as well as yours." as then, for we had brought scarce a sou away. The General departed. We went to Barral, The stolid Dral received me again into his counting- recommenced farming, and paid interest and rent room; Therese opened a millinery; Mother kept honestly to Ponjon's attorney. Barral became a house; Father attended to a small garden; and little paradise; but the older my parents became, Milon wrote whatever came to his pen. We were the more longingly they looked back to the old again busy and contented. The cares of the day house in Montauban, that had once been their own. gave us sufficient variety, the evening meeting suf- Hopeless longing! But what reason despairs of, ficent enjoyment. The good villagers called us fate often bestows. We received from Burgos, a the hermit family; and I believe too, they called letter. from Ponjon in these words: "Our countryus fools, who out of caprice, had plunged them-"man Drol is fast driving to ruin; his prodigality selves into poverty. Our consciences however" is bringing him to bankruptcy. I won a trifle gave it another name; and that was enough. In the meantime, the war in Germany drew our friend every day further from his country, and left us no expectation of receiving an answer to our letter. His silence excited no suspicion of his friendship, and a packet which I received from the imperial camp, though it brought nothing from him, showed that he still thought of us. On opening it, a Cross of the Legion of Honor was in my hand, with a sealed diploma, and a slip of paper whereon appeared these words, in the Emperor's hand: "from him yesterday at play, which I send you as 66 a memento of my gratitude. Your conduct with respect to Barral, is well worthy of a return. "Farewell, if, as is likely, I shall not see you "again." This enclosed a deed from Drol to Ponjon for his house in Montauban, and an assignment of the same by the General to us. In a few days we were installed by the authorities, with great rejoicings, in an old family mansion. The day I received the Legionary Cross, I called the whitest of my life; but it was not. The day we reëntered the old house, was my happiest, in observing the "Mons. Hubert. I forgot to place your name on the first list of those who deserved this Cross, but you shall not be the last to receive it. The exultation of my venerable parents. They hur• minister of war has nominated you for the commissariat at Montauban, and the place is at your ' refusal." ried from room to room; from one staircase to the other they sought recollections, and found them in every nook and corner of the building. Therese and I were happy; Milon was not. He began to think of his own house, and his pining shortened his days. He followed grandfather, quite as silently, though not so unexpectedly. I was pleased to find the purest filial piety in the grief of Therese; for it promised me, if it should be my lot to precede my parents to the tomb, they would be cherished as a sacred duty by her. This was the white day of my life. Therese tied the riband with pride in my buttonhole, and I wore it with modesty. The commissariat, however, for which I heard betimes that Drol was an applicant, I declined. He had relieved our distresses, and had I deprived him of his bread, mine would have been embittered. I preferred to take care of his business in his absence; lock up his house-formerly ours-and collect his debts. But The same year we were again rejoiced by an we all blessed the General, whose friendship had unexpected visit from Ponjon, who was hastening advanced me to such honors. The town now by post to Russia, at the same time that my Victor, bowed before us, but behind our backs still called a tall aspirant in naval uniform, happened to be us fools; for I had again refused to make an easy spending a furlough with us. In the few hours fortune. We laughed however at the town, and they were together, he completely gained the heart of the General, who, at his departure caught him to his breast, embraced him repeatedly, and called him his son. Springing into his carriage he handed me a sealed paper: "That is my will," said he; "You, dear Hubert, are my executor. My pre'sentiment has been once happily deceived, and I 'have seen you again: Fate may not be so kind 'another time, and Russia is far. Take it, open 'it at the proper time-adieu!" In the fervent hope of restoring the melancholy document to Ponjon's hands, I deposited it in court; but this time, our friend had predicted truly. An old lancer of his brigade brought me the sad intelligence, and his last farewell. My silent grief was as deep as Therese's louder lamentations, but I consoled myself with the thought that he had obtained his wish, and died on the bed of honor. My Victor was his heir. The hoarded rents of Barral, from which the General had not drawn a liard, were left to me; and by one magic word we found ourselves again in affluence-affluence dearly purchased by the loss of such a friend. Victor has become a deserving officer, and his silver-haired grandparents have just learned from his enraptured father, that he has highly distinguished himself in the battle of Navarino, where he has gained both distinction and promotion. The young Captain is still following the call of duty on the ocean; but the time of his return cannot be distant, and who shall say they will not see it? Hope and happiness sustain existence in spite of envious fate. Though our son is away from us, his future prospects enrapture us. The spirits of the seneschal, of Milon, and above all, of the good Ponjon, protect our hearth. We have a portrait of the noble General, whose image is yet more truly graven on our hearts, and the old Lancer, who recounts his deeds and repeats his words, sits at our table. THE DEAD SEA. BY E. W. B. CANNING. There is a gulf of waters, dark and deep, Sweat from the burning sands, and salt the gloom. No bird of cheerful carol wakes his note Stood, the memorial of Almighty wrath; "Twas the last day of Sodom. But the crowd And e'en the dreams of those who slumber still, A howl as loud as mingled thunderings, O horror! The very hills have burst with hellish din! Where shall the spirit find some kind Nepenthe's urn? Poor pilgrim of Ceylon! not thou That mystic urn can show,- Thou know'st not whence its flow; KORNER. ELIZA. "Ach wer ruft nicht so gern unviderbringliches an!Ach wer schätst ihn genug, diesen vereilenden Werth !"* Goethe. A more than common interest clings around the literary works of Körner, because with reverence for his intellectual gifts, are blended admiration for his self-devotion, and regrets at the speedy termination of a life, so brilliant in its briefness. Genius never gains such generous and universal acknowledgment, as when its powers are early unfolded and prematurely blighted. The world recognizes with kinder criticism, the endowments of a mind, that passed away in the freshness of its spring-time, leaving us only the proud memory of all it was, and the mournful picturing of what it might have been. Talents far from lofty, have won distinction for their possessors, when the mystery of death had hallowed them; and censure turns silently from those the gods had loved. It were profanation to examine rudely the rose which the blight had destroyed, while the morning dew yet glittered on the folded leaves; and in remembering a fallen star, we only recall its brightness. It is not singular, since lenient judgment is so generally awarded to the early lost, that admiration when justly founded should deepen into enthusiasm,—and few have obtained or deserved more ardent praise than the writer, whose swift career was a living romance, and who combined the unsullied feelings of youth with the higher and graver wisdom of manhood. Lord of the Sword and the Lyre, noble as a patriot and a poet, reverenced by the multitude, and nearly worshipped by a few, Körner realized in the morning of life all that others can scarcely win when life's night is closing. His rewards were gained, while the power to prize, and the capacity to enjoy them, were in their strength, and before the rich flush of exciting wishes had fled from a disposition, Time never taught to despond. It was not for him to toil through years of hope deferred, till the heart grew faint; to bear, or to battle with disappointments; to live on through regrets; to survive all of existence, but its sufferings. The future, in all its brightest pictures, could promise no more than it brought. Hope "smiled en *Ah! who does not love thus to bring back the irrevocable! Who values enough, that fast-fleeting treasure! |