and worth so modest a price is setby his afflicted relatives and friends!"

The Fall of Elliston.

Cities rise and fall!-empires flourish and decay!-kingdoms pass from the earth, and are heard of no more! If such is the perishability of human concerns, can we wonder, if Mr Elliston gets dead drunk, he should fall likewise? Yes! the manager, the great lessee, and the first of comedians, has given a proof that human nature is prone to frailty, and that " nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit." In playing Falstaff, a few nights since, this " veteran member of the dramatic corps," and unaffected admirer of the brandy bottle, just as he had spoken those awfully appropriate words,

Hal, if thou should'st see me down in the battle, bestride me, so-'tis a point

of friendship!

when, overcome by the force of his feelings, or the liquor he had swallowed, he staggered and fell! "Oh! what a fall was there, my countrymen!" Mr Wallack endeavoured in vain to reinstate him, but the great lessee had already risen too high in public estimation, and sank too heavily on the boards, to be raised by his stage-manager!

An attorney of the name of Fisher, residing at Lyme-Regis, has obtained a verdict against Stockdale, the publisher of Harriet Wilson's Memoirs, for asserting that he is " a ladykiller," has "black eyes," and (to what a height will this notorious woman carry her insinuations !) that he is "six feet high." In pure compassion for the affliction he must have endured, in being so horridly libelled, the Jury have awarded him seven hundred pounds damages. Without reflecting on the verdict, the charge of the learned Judge, or attempting to defend the disgusting conduct of Wilson, still, I think, there are many men who would gladly give seven hundred pounds for being charged with the identical atrocities which are laid at the door of Mr Fisher, have so grievously wounded his fair fame and reputa however, to be a married man, and tion. I understand that gentleman, the father of a large family.

So much for what I have seen, heard, and read, during the present month. If you are not sufficiently bored with the present, I promise you a fresh supply of gossip in my next; and as I have upon this occasion dilated pretty largely on persons, I shall confine myself, in my future speculations, rather more closely to things.-Vale.

Y.

VIOLANTE; A TALE A CONSIDERABLE time before the inn on the summit of Mount St. Bernard had attained its present magnificent form, a stormy winter night led several travellers to seek the shelter of the small dwelling which friendly hands had erected on that spot. A cheerful fire blazed upon the hearth, and the company, which consisted of young men of rank, or, at least, of fortune, who were all more or less acquainted, having of ten before met on both sides of the Alps, gathered round it, to enjoy, over some flasks of old wine, the conviction of having escaped from serious danger. The inspiring liquor soon raised the spirits of the guests, and the snow-storm, which continued to drift against the win

VOL. XVIII.

FROM THE GERMAN. dows with great violence, became the subject of laughter. The song went round, and every individual gave a specimen of the language and manner of his country, for which indulgence, or rather praise, was bestowed on him by the others, who, for similar communications, met with the same friendly return. This happy harmony caused, at last, the eyes of all to rest upon the only person who seemed unsusceptible of it. It was a young German nobleman, who thrust his discord into the cheerful chorus. Bernwald was his name, and he was known to all the company either personally, or by the favourable reputation which his manly character and noble manners had every where obtained for him. 4 Ꭲ

To press such a guest with indiscreet questions, or to make his silence the subject of mirthful jests, was not deemed advisable; but the wish to learn what had thrown the youth, formerly so cheerful and sociable, into this deep dejection, increasing in every breast, some of his more particular friends ventured to ask him, in a sympathising tone, why he would not to-day enliven their joy, by sharing it.

Raising his head with an expression of mild sadness in his countenance, he seemed astonished to find the social rejoicing silenced, and the eyes of all present fixed upon himself; he therefore, after a short pause, thus addressed them:-"My friends, my melancholy aspect has interrupted your joy; I feel that I owe you some indemnification for it; will you accept as such the communication of the extraordinary circumstance which has cast this gloom over my mind and my countenance? It cannot affect you so powerfully as it has affected me, who was part ly involved in it, and who am most intimately connected by the ties of early friendship with him to whom this occurrence happened; nevertheless, it may move your sympathy to hear how the delusions of the world brought destruction and grief on the noblest love."

The company having expressed their approbation of Bernwald's proposal, he began as follows:-" Some of you have known the young Count Lindan, and have loved him for his worthy mind, his affectionate disposition, and, above all, for his poetic genius, which first allured him out of his dear old Germany into this country. Notwithstanding his travels and his wanderings, a strong attachment for the place of his nativity, for its customs, its legends, and its poets, ever filled his heart, and he often expressed this feeling in songs which he used to accompany with the guitar. One evening, as he was seated on the fragments of an ancient temple on the sea shore, in the neighbourhood of Naples, he was singing one of his favourite songs, and I was stretched on the fragrant grass by his side, listening to him, when two veiled females glided past us, one of them seeming, by her dress, her figure,

and her manner, to be a high-born lady. She stopped a moment, as if arrested by Lindan's song, but when surprise at the apparition silenced him, she turned away in disappointment, and vanished amongst the shrubbery. Some soft chords from Lindan's guitar followed her, and I said, in a laughing tone, She looks like a Nausica here on the beach, my friend, for whom one would willingly submit to an Odyssean shipwreck, and a ten year's wandering into the bargain, for the pleasure of being comforted by her, and, having no Penelope at home, to marry her, if possible.' Lindan had but half heard my speech, he repeated,

Shipwreck! wandering! our whole existence is perhaps no better, and the love even of this sorceress may lead to the same end.'

"He resumed his song, but, as if seized with a prophetic feeling of approaching grief, he gave it a more tender and more melancholy expression, until a melodious female voice, from a neighbouring bower, interrupted him. The singer scolded him, in sweet Italian sounds, that he could venture to awaken, with foreign and even lamenting tones, the echo of the Parthenopean shore. Lindan, familiar with the cheerful art of the improvisatore, was replying in a similar manner, when we perceived the female figure who had first passed us leave the bower, and advance towards us. Yielding to the entreaties of my friend, she raised the veil which hid her face, and we discovered the beautiful Violante, the daughter of a Neapolitan nobleman, and the most celebrated beauty of the land. We had never before had an opportunity of closely admiring her charms, my friend's excursions and searches after old lore and legends among the country people having excluded us from the gay world; but she now, after asking our names and rank, invited us to follow her to her father's villa, that she might introduce us to him. We gladly accepted the offer, and have lived since that evening under the magic spell of the lovely apparition. We entered, in the mean time, into closer connexion with the world, and my friend strove, by the tenderest attentions, to gain the heart

emotion.

"The general silence caused the Frenchman to overhear his words; and, without waiting for Violante's reply, he expatiated on the barbarity of expecting such beautiful lips to utter such Gothic sounds. The answer of my fair neighbour is the only one that I can accept of,' said Lindan mildly; but when the Frenchman continued his gibes, Lindan would have retorted, had not Violante, perceiving his intention, endeavoured to prevent it, by adding, while her face was yet brightened with smiles, called up by the French jokes, Indeed, my dear Count, if it be doing you a great favour, I will sing the song; but as to pleasure, it really does not afford me any. You are going to scold, my good teacher; but you must confess, that you laid my poor lips under some restraint, by teaching me your German language. If ever I found any pleasure in it, you must ascribe it to the charms of novelty, and I now return to the nationality which is natural to me; neverthe less, should any thing foreign be required, you will allow me, that the pretty chansons which the chevalier has taught me are better qualified for general amusement."

"Yes, yes, if that was the meaning!' replied Lindan, in a depressed tone of voice, and sunk into deep abstraction, without noticing even the triumphant exclamations of the Frenchman. I held the German cause and myself in too high estimation to make any reply to this verbal abstract of Boileau and Batteux. He consequently let his suada take its free course, and concluded

"I was going to speak, when Lindan stopped me, and said, in German, This is my concern, my brother; by thine honour, and by our friendship, thou shalt prepare it for me.' He then arose, bowed to the company, and withdrew. Violante was struck, the others were embarrassed, and the Frenchman seemed unconscious of any thing but his triumph, until I took a favourable opportunity of whispering to him, Count Lindan expects you to meet him to-morrow morning at five o'clock, with a second and a pair of pistols, on the small island which you here see before us.' A sudden paleness spread over his features; but, true to the dictates of old French chivalry, he immediately recovered his presence of mind, and accepted the challenge with the best possible grace. I withdrew.

"The following morning we met at the appointed hour. The chevalier was accompanied by a surgeon and an elderly French gentleman, who tried to speak of a reconciliation, but was prevented by the youth, who observed Lindan's serious and determined silence. They agreed to fire in advancing, the Frenchman having disputed Lindan's right to the first shot, an advantage which Lindan was as unwilling to give up as to contend about. They stood opposite to each other. I gave the word to fire. They advanced. The chevalier fired,-a struggle in Lindan's body told me he was wounded. Blood streamed from his side, yet he advanced a few paces. His shot entered the chevalier's breast, and stretched him on the ground. The surgeon declared the wound to be mortal; and as Lindan was only hurt by a grazing shot, I hastened to save him from the dangers which the chevalier's near connexion with the Ambassador of his country might occasion to us.

"We went to Rome, and there weekly received accounts of the che

valier's state of health. My friend's mind was oppressed with grief at the destruction of his happiness, and darkened by the thought that the stranger had received a mortal wound from his hand. He recollected his having sometimes mentioned his mother; every trifling expression that had passed on the subject was now revived, and clad in tenderness, by Lindan's soft disposition. He represented to himself the unknown female, in the most melancholy and distracted state, and reproached himself as the cause of all her distress. "He lives!' cried he, one day, entering my chamber with a letter in his hand, and his countenance beaming with delight,' he lives! and is able to go about again! We now finished the perusal of the letter, of which Lindan had, in the hurry, but glanced over the first lines. What news were here in store for my poor friend! His correspondent, anxious to give valid comfort, wrote, that entire reliance might be placed in the chevalier's recovery, as he was, in the course of eight days, to celebrate his nuptials with the Countess Violante.

"We for some time looked at each other in silence, at last Lindan said, with a faint smile on his pale countenance, What better could we expect? It is not now that I first lose her. But let us go home to Germany, my friend! Oh, for the dear oaks round my parental castle! How much shall I have to tell them!"

"We set out, but Lindan's health declined, partly on account of his wound having been neglected, but more so on account of the deep dejection that preyed on his mind. In this manner we reached a small country-seat, in the Milan territory, which I had some time ago purchased, with a view of often re-visiting Italy. We intended to return home from hence through Switzerland, where Lindan had some near relations and friends; but a serious indisposition stretched my friend on a sick-bed, and the doctor's orders kept him a prisoner at my seat for several weeks after his complaint was removed.

"Amongst our former acquaintances in Naples there was one particularly remarkable for his insignificance

and dullness; the most ordinary and open situations and relations of his neighbours were to him impenetrable. This inoffensive being hap pened one day to claim the rites of hospitality at our quiet dwelling; and while we were scarcely bestowing a due degree of politeness on his presence, fate would have it, that he should thrust the sting of the deepest anguish into the heart of my friend.

"He related, that, as a friend of the family, he had been present at Violante's nuptials. Every thing bad been conducted with great magnificence, according to the general custom, and nothing had tended to damp the expectations of the guests, save the pale and quiet appearance of Violante, a circumstance which the narrator, however, imputed to a natural timidity becoming such an occasion. The bridegroom, after delighting the company with a burlesque execution of a German song, requested Violante to sing a similar one seriously, that the guests might decide whether her bewitching lips were able to lend harmony to such barbarous compositions. He asked her for the song of the terrace, by which our friend suspected he meant to designate some particular evening. Violante cast an expressive look upon her betrothed, and said, after a short silence, with marks of great astonishment, If you wish it!'She then sung, and sung with always increasing emotion, until all present were affected; at last, her eyes overflowed with tears, and she rushed from the apartment with audible sobs. She has not been seen since. A report was spread that she had been taken ill, but no doubt was entertained that she had vanished from her father's house, without leaving any trace behind.'

"Lindan's wounded spirit was unable any longer to conceal the source of its distress, and the stranger left us that very evening. My friend and I sought the shades of the park to divert our minds; he at last broke our long silence, saying, That marriage evening of Violante's has made me so sad, that I could fancy I heard the lovely scared dove cooing to us from yonder pines.'

"He had scarcely finished these words, when we actually heard soft