I shrunk back from the unfeeling wretch; but at the same time could not help asking, "Who was he that appeared to-day as my accuser ?>

"That's none of my business, master; I suppose the court knows. But, come, come-no shilly shallying-stretch your leg this way, and I'll fit you as well as e'er a tailor in Gottingen-aye, or in Saxony itself, and a much firmer fit mine will be than theirs; and the wretch chuckled again at his abortive attempt to be witty.

"Too bad, too bad, Rudolp," said one of the others, in whose face I thought I could trace some signs of compassion; "you need not add insult to what you see the gentleman is already suffering."

Rudolp looked up from the business of fixing the fetters on my legs with a grin of half pleasure, half anger on his countenance: "Would you have me wish him a speedy and sharp deliverance by the hands of my friend the headsman!" said he, to all appearance highly delighted with his successive, witti

Condemned to die!-The maddening thought shot through my brain; condemned to die! and for what? For the murder of Franz Waldenburgh-the playmate of my childhood-the associate of my boyhood-the companion of my incipient manhood-the brother of my own betrothed and beautiful Matilda-the friend to save whom I would have cheerfully sacrificed every earthly treasure. We had come together to Gottingen to finish our studies, and I only waited our return to claim Matilda as my bride. Matilda-The thought was madness. I flung myself on my wretched couch, and prayed that I might die.

The night before my execution at length arrived. It might be near midnight, but I took no note of time. The first great paroxysm of horror and surprise was over, and I lay stretched on my pallet, with my hands clasped on my burning and throbbing brow, overcome with the thought of the strange fate that had befallen me. A slight rustling, as of some garments, close by me, made me start up. I listened. The same noise again met my ear, accompanied with a sort of shuffling step.

"Who goes there?" I cried.

"A friend," was the reply. Could I mistake the voice? No: it was that of my unknown accuser

the same clear sharp voice which had exercised such a commanding influence over my judges, and which, if I had not known my innocence, would almost have convinced me of my guilt.

"Away, fiend," I cried, "are you come to exult in the agony your villainy has caused ?"

"Patience, my dear sir, patience; you mistake me. I am come for quite a different purpose.'

I disdained to reply to one whom I conceived to be such a villain, and turned away from the quarter from which the voice proceeded. To my great surprise my dungeon became suddenly lighted up. I turned round, and there stood my accuser, with a lamp in his hand.

The figure was one which would have been remarkable any where, and was still more so here. His nether extremities were cased in antique fashioned breeches of rusty black velvet, of a piece with his vest. Above this he wore a coat of a cut a century old at least, apparently of the same color and materials. A monstrous shaggy wig, from which a large queue descended half way down his back, surmounted by a little cocked hat, rose above his face, which, after all, was the most remarkable part of his person. The color of a mummy, and a thousand times its wrinkles, would give little idea of its general appearance. The nose was curved and sharp, so as to resemble nearly the beak of a hawk; the mouth was pursy and drawn together, and his little dark eyes shot occasionally sharp glances from behind an enormous pair of old-fashioned spectacles, which rested upon the bridge of his little hooked nose, and seemed a heavy burden to it.

The agitation of my mind had prevented me from thinking how this strange personage came to be beside me; but now the question, how got he in? flashed on my mind. The door of the dungeon had not opened, otherwise I would have heard its grating sound. He stood regarding me for a few moments with a sidelong glance, in which, if not mistaken, I could perceive a sort of concealed but malignant triumph.

"How did you get in here?"

I exclaimed. "Why, my dear sir, do you suppose I could get in any other way than by the door? "

"How dare you show yourself in my presence, after the irreparable injury you have done me ? You knew I was innocent."

"Perfectly so-perfectly so, my dear sir," replied he, quite coolly " and I have now come to atone for it by setting you at liberty.".

The sudden hope of escape flashed across my mind like lightning across the gloom of night. I suppressed my rising wrath as well as I was able, and answered, aye, that shows some conscience; but can I believe you?

"Believe me! my dear sir, there is not a more honorable personage in the world than I am," bowing.

"Who are you?" said I.

"Who am I? Why-hum— that's a question not so easily answered; at present I choose to be called Dr. Vanbruggen."

"Doctor!" exclaimed I, my curiosity increasing, "do you prescribe? Are you a physician?”

"Prescribe !" answered he, in apparent amazement; "I thought you would have known by this time. Prescribe? why-yes, I do prescribe for my friends in a certain way. He, he, he, he, he, he ;" and he chuckled at his own reply.

"You execrable old villain,' cried I, "I see you come to laugh at the effects of your iniquity."

"Coolly, coolly, my dear sir, these rages are exceedingly detrimental to the system. Be careful of yourself."

You old rascal, you get me condemned to die for what you know I am not guilty of, and then talk about being careful of myself."

""Tis all of a piece with my conduct, my dear sir. He, he, he, he, he, he;" and he shot from behind the enormous spectacles some of those sharp glances, which I could scarcely endure.

"Fiend," screamed I, "do you think I am in a condition to be facetious."

"Facetious-yes-he, he, he, he, he, he; facetious-yes-he, he, he 'tis a good joke."

"Joke!" I almost involuntarily exclaimed, gazing on him. My blood seemed to congeal in my veins at the exquisite cruelty which he thus displayed in mocking and torturing me. A momentary suspicion came across my mind that he was a madman, and that I had been the victim of one of those fancies which persons so afflicted are sometimes found to indulge in, and to carry through with so much the appearance of rationality. But this suspicion passed away almost instantly. For the short time that it did occupy my mind he stood eyeing me askance, with a half malignant, half mirthful aspect. At length he observed,

"I thought you would soon be calm. Now tell me, would you like to escape from this place?"

Can you, who know my innocence, doubt it?" said I.

"Ah! well," said he of the queue and spectacles, your wish shall be granted; only I expect a little service in return; " and fumbling in one of his large coat pockets with his disengaged hand, he lugged out a piece of most antique-looking parchment; "you have only to write your name on this, and you are free."

"What good can that do?" said I, inquisitively.

“Oh, none at all, my dear sir; it's a mere matter of form; I only like a small acknowledgment from my friends, lest they should be burdened with a load of gratitude. Nothing I like worse than that people should think they are any way under an obligation to me.'

"You are very generous," said I, rather amazed.

"Good reason it has to look old to you, my dear sir; for I took it with my own hands from the Alexandrian Library, on the day on which the last parcel of it was consumed."

I started back in utter amazement, only able to articulate, "You!"

"I thought you had known me better, my dear sir. I recollect things of much older date. Why, to me 'tis an event of very modern occurrence! Besides, it was I who suggested the plan of destroying it in this way!"

"You knew the Caliph Omar, then!" said I.

"Perfectly, my dear sir-better than you seem to know me. The Caliph was one of my most intimate friends!"

I was utterly overwhelmed by this declaration. All I had heard of in romance or fable, was nothing to this. I could only gaze at the person who had made such an assertion, and make a sign to him that I was ready to do what he required.

"Aye," said he, appearing to understand my gesture; "I thought you would not object to such a trifling concern. Hold there, my dear sir," handing me the lamp and parchment, "till I afford you the means of doing it conveniently."

I took them without saying a word. The old gentleman now commenced pulling from his large pocket something that appeared difficult to be extracted. My surprise had been great before, but it was now infinitely increased by seeing him lug out, by a good deal of exertion, a very commodious writing table. A desk to correspond soon followed; and, in a trice, all proper implements for writing were placed before me. The thing appeared so incredible, that a table and desk should come out of his pocket, capacious as it was, that I allowed him to take the lamp from me, and to place it on the table, as well as to dispose the parchment for being written on, without being able to

ask a single question of explanation of what appeared so wonderful.

"In the name of wonder," said I, at length, "do you carry an upholsterer's shop in your pocket?" "Nothing surprising, I hope, my dear sir; I, who travel so much, require to take such trifling conveniences with me; besides, I like to be always ready to accommodate my friends, among whom I reckon you in particular," bowing.

"How comes it that I should be one of them ? I am sure I never saw you before the day of my trial."

"You astonish me, my dear sir," said he, "it is seldom that I have been at any great distance from you.

"I declare I never saw you before the day of my trial."

"Now you are in jest; you would not surely deny me for an old acquaintance."

"I should be glad to hear where I ever met you before."

"Ah, now you are facetious," he cried, pushing his little pursy face towards me, and darting through the enormous spectacles a glance, which made me turn away. He, he, he! you are pleased to be facetious. Do you recollect the White Eagle ? You are facetious. He, he, he."

The mention of this house recalled a thousand bitter recollections to my mind. Few students at Gottingen are ignorant of the locality of the White Eagle, and the excellent cheer it affords. It was in this, after indulging in the bottle, and the engaging in some games of chance, two things forbidden by the code of the university, that a misunderstanding had arisen between me and Franz Waldenburg. A casual remark by one of our companions, which I seconded, and which Franz conceived to apply to him, kindled up his indignation more against me than against the author of it. A scene of confusion and altercation ensued. Neither Franz nor I were masters of our

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selves. I swore that the devil might take his will of me if I ever thought of speaking to him again; nay, more, that I would have vengeance for the insult. Franz was equally desperate. With the greatest difficulty we were separated. By next morning I was convinced of my folly, and went early to his lodgings to reconcile myself to him. I knew, that though of a fiery temper, he had the most generous and forgiving disposition in the world, and would be more than ready to meet my advances. My surprise was great when told that he had not returned home the preceding evening. Several days passed, and Franz could not be found. From some information, the civil authorities of the town had me apprehended as the murderer. This information, I now saw, must have proceeded from the person who stood before me, and by his evidence my guilt had been too apparent. reverted to the evening I had quarreled with Franz, and a dim and dream-like recollection of the personage at my side-of the queue and enormous spectacles, and antique dress-was mingled with the remembrance of all that had then been done. I stood overcome before the wonderful being who seemed able to associate his presence with any action of my life he pleased. While these thoughts were chasing one another through my mind, my eyes wandered over his face. Human language has no terms to express the feeling that seemed to sit upon it. Triumph, malignity, scorn, veiled under an appearance of mirth, would give but a faint conception of it. He looked at me as if he would read my thoughts; and, with the manner of one who has prevailed, took the parchment, placed. it on the desk, and presented me with the pen. took it in silence, and was about to subscribe my name without once looking at some writing which I perceived on it. Suddenly the thought came upon me to glance at

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it. What was my horror on reading a bond, agreeing, in return for personal liberty granted me, to make over to him who should deliver me, all right over my body and soul after the period of my death. My pen was arrested-I looked up at my strange visitant and said, firmly,

"I will never sign that bond." "Not sign, my dear sir, not sign! you are not serious, surely." "Away, fiend," I cried, starting back; "I know you; tempt me no more; not content with taking away my life, you would ruin my eternal salvation."

"A mere trifle; a mere trifle, my dear sir."

I crushed the parchment which I still retained in my hand, and flung it to the farthest extremity of my dungeon. "To you, an undone evil spirit, it may be a trifle; to me it is all-all."

He walked to where I had thrown the parchment, took it up, and smoothing it, came towards me, and, in a coaxing tone, said, "I know you will do it now.

"Never," I exclaimed, resolutely, and turned away. A moment's silence ensued. But you shall," said he ; "turn and look."

I turned. Instead of the rough black stone walls of my dungeon, I beheld the appearance of a room, such as is found in country inns; on a low couch lay the figure of Franz Waldenburg. His flushed and feverish cheek told the distress under which he had labored. I would have sprung forward, but my chains kept me back. I screamed in the bitterness of my grief.

"He yet lives," said my tormenter; "he lives unconscious of your fate, and before he rises from that couch you will have died the death of a felon, if you comply not with my desire."

A sudden mist seemed to cover my eyes, but soon passed away. The scene was changed-God of mercy! what did I behold-my own Matilda, my beautiful, my betroth16 ATHENEUM VOL. 5, 3d series.

ed. She seemed to kneel in an agony of grief. I saw her bosom heave as if her heart would have burst. The vision moved its hands, and I saw the very features of Matilda-but oh ! the unutterable agony that was pictured upon them smote me to the heart. My dungeon-my tormenter-my utter helplessness, were forgotten. I rushed forward, but my chains again kept me back. I wrenched at them, but in vain. I screamed, till my dungeon rung, Matilda, Matilda, I am innocent. I stretched my hands towards her. I tore my hair in an agony of grief.

Sign, and all are yet yoursFranz, wealth, happiness, the possession of Matilda-in herself worth all you can lose. Refuse, disgrace and death-a life of misery to your friend-the death of Matilda by a broken heart. Sign; and the deepening voice sunk into a fearful whisper.

My brain was on fire. Forgetful of all the consequences, I grasped the pen which the tempter held out. Sign," again repeated the voice, still deepening; "sign, and all is yours."

At that very moment, when I was about to seal my eternal perdition, Heaven, or my good angel, seemed to whisper to my heart, "What, resign heaven for a few fleeting years of such joy as earth can confer! The good principle prevailed. I flung the writing materials from me, and exclaimed, “I will not barter my hopes of eternal happiness for a few miserable years on earth."

The arts of the tempter were exhausted. As I gazed upon his features, they grew into demon blackness, and a scowl of inexpressible hatred and disappointment took possession of them."

"Fiend, tempter, away!" I cried; "Heaven will guard me against thy farther wiles." I flung myself on my pallet of straw, and mentally prayed to be delivered from his power.