Richter, therefore, was a domestic leaps ; or he must speak French, in which man in the highest sense of the word. he placed wonderful value on the nasal Would you know what domestic hap- sound, which no one made as well as he. piness means? Take the following— It sounded, indeed, curiously and made itis from a daughter :

my mother laugh.

In the twilight he told us stories ; or “ I love to represent the dear friendly spake of God and other worlds ; or he man, with brown study-coat and socks would tell us of our grandfather, and hanging down, as he entered our mother's other splendid things. We ran to gain chamber the first thing in the morning to the wager, which of us should get nearest greet her.

The hound springs on before to him on the sofa. The old money-box, him, and the children hang about him, hooped with iron, with a hole in the and seek, when he leaves the room, to cover, that two mice might conveniently thrust their little feet into the slippers pass through, was the stepping-stone by behind, when he raises his feet a little, which we jumped over the back of the so as to hang on him more securely. One sofa, for in front it was difficult to press springs before, (at that time my blessed between the table and the repertory for brother lived,) the other two hang on his papers. We all three crowded between coat-skirts until he reaches his own the back of the sofa and the father's outchamber-door ; where all leave him, for stretched legs; above, at his head, lay the only the dog must enter there.

sleeping dog. At last, when we had "When we were very small, we lived pressed our limbs into the most inconvein a two-story house ; my father worked nient postures, the story began. above, in the attic. We crept on our « The father knew how to create for hands and feet over the stairs, and ham- himself many little pleasures. Thus, he mered on the door till the father himself made all the boxes for his tame animals, arose and opened it, and after our noisy after his half-hour's nap in the afternoon. ingress, closed it again--then he took It was a special satisfaction to him to from an old chest a trumpet and a fife, prepare ink, which he did much oftener with which we made noisy music while than was necessary, for Otto wrote long he continued writing. We ventured in years after with the rejected part. He again many times in the day to play could never wait to perfect it, but tried with a squirrel that he had at that time, it an hour after it was made. If it was and that in the evening he took out with already black, he would come joyfully to him in his pocket, and always made one us, and say,— Now, if it be black already, of the family circle.

what will it be to-morrow, or after four“He had, usually, animals that he teen days? tamed, about him. Sometimes a mouse; "The mere thought of destruction was then a great, white, cross spider, that he painful to him, especially the loss of the kept in a paper box, with a glass top. work of man's mind. He never burned a There was a little door beneath, by which letter; yes, he treasured even the most he could feed his prisoner with dead insignificant. All loss of life,' he said, flies. In the autumn he collected the may be restored again, but the creations winter food for his little tree frog and his of these heads, these hearts, never! The tame spider.

name should be erased, but the soul that “The father was good to every thing: speaks its most intimate sentiments in lethe could not bear to witness the least ters, should live. He had also thick books pain, not even in the lowest animals. written full of the remarks and the haThus, he never went out without opening bits and peculiarities of his children, the cage of his canary birds, to indemnify “At meals he was very cheerful, and the poor animals, who would be melan- listened to every thing we told him with choly in his absence. He took at one the greatest sympathy, and always made time the most sedulous care of a dog, something out of the smallest relation; who came in one evening after the loss so that the narrator was always wiser of the poor dead Alert, as he knew in the for what he had said. morning he should exchange him for “In eating and drinking he was exanother, and he would have no opportu- tremely moderate. He never gave us nity to feed him again. You will smile direct instruction, and yet he taught us at the connexion, but he did the same for always. Our evening table he called a a departing servant maid : providing French table-d'hote, that he furnished every thing for her convenience the day with twelve dishes taken from the arts before, and delighting the poor girl in and sciences. We tasted of all without the most unusual degree.

being satiated with any, and we all ven“ The children were permitted all sorts tured to utter any joke to the father about of practical jokes towards him. “Father, himself or his entertainment. dance once ;' then he would make some “ His punishments for us girls were rather passive than active; they consisted confusion of pens, paper of all colours, in refusing some request, or in a severe glasses, flowers, books, among which last word; but my brother sometimes received were the small English editions of Swift corporal punishment. My father would and Sterne. At the other window stood say-Max, this afternoon, at three a sinall piano, and near this a smaller o'clock, come to me to receive your whip- table. Depending from the cage of his ping.' He went punctually, and suffered birds was a little ladder, that led to his it without a sound."

own work-table, where the birds were But we become diffuse. There are permitted to roam among the confusion, many scenes in the quiet life of sprinkling with water from the flower glass Richter, that, like the above, are per

the sheet upon which the poet was writing. fect domestic idyls — but we must

Often was Paul seen to stop in his most

excited passages, to let his little canary, hasten to the last ; 'tis like those

with her young, travel, undisturbed, over which preceded it, surpassing lovely. the page, where the water she scattered Never have we encountered, in the from her feathers mingled with the ink wide world of biographic books, a from his pen. In the corner of the room death-bed scene, so full of love, and joy, was a door by which, unobserved, Richter and peace, as the death-bed of Jean could descend the steps into the garden, Paul Frederick Richter. Nothing and on a cushion near it rested his white, more, however, than one might have silky-haired poodle. A hunting pocket expected; for men generally — so

and rosewood staff hung near. All three experienced clergymen observe-die had often been the companions of his as they live. One thing only we

wandering, when, on beautiful days, he

went through the chestnut avenue to the must remark, before giving our last

little Rolwenzell cottage. extracts; towards the close of his

«All in the room retained its usual career, the bright, sun-gazing genius position, but the ruling hand appeared to of Richter was struck, like Milton's, have been absent. The light was shaded, not with celestial, but with terres- and the windows hung with green curtrial blindness. For some space before tains ; the robust form that in former he died, his favourite world of flowers years, even before the snowdrop had and green fields was already a blank loosened the icy crust of winter, had to him. In the month of October 1823, worked long hours with uncovered breast his nephew, Otto Spazier, to whom in the open air, lay supported with we are indebted for the principal part sofa ; his body drawn together, and eyes

cushions, and shrouded in furs upon the of these biographical details, shortly for ever closed. Heaven, said he, before his death, being called to

chastens me with a double rod, and one visit the blind old poet, writes as is a heavy cudgel ! (meaning his blindfollows:

ness); but I shall be well again now. « Such a call from the immortal old

Ah! we have so much to say and to do. man, as it entered my solitary apart

But we shall have a thousand hours — at ment,' says his nephew, filled me with least, minutes.' His voice was weaker, delight. The reverend image of his his words slower, and it cut me to the beautiful old age, a just reward for a

heart to hear him speak of himself. It holy life, rose before me, and with joyful

was late—and soon his wife, ever watchhaste I travelled through the wet days ful, called me away, to return to him of October, and entered his study on the again in the morning.' evening of the twenty-fourth of that

Early next morning he began a commonth. The same joyful tremor affected plete revision of his works. The nephew me as formerly, when, at the twilight read aloud, and Paul inserted his alterahour, I had listened here with his family tions. When Spazier thought one necesto the voice of wisdom. The windows of sary, he indicated it by pausing, to draw his room looked towards the rising sun,

his attention. With great mildness and and far over the garden and over scat

patience Paul listened to every objection; tered trees and houses, towards the

and himself related, explained, praised, Fichtelgebirge, that bounded the horizon.

and blamed. He reconsidered and overA mingled perfume of flowers and grapes

lived thus his whole spiritual life in his led the fancy to southern climes, to beau.

works. In the comparisons scattered tiful blue June days, or to the vintage through his sixty-four volumes, of which on the Rhine. His sofa, where he usually indeed every page is filled, he found only read in a reclining posture, was opposite

"Noon had by this time arrived. Richter, thinking it was night, said-'It was time to go to rest!' and wished to retire. He was wheeled into his sleeping apartment, and all was arranged as if for repose; a small table near his bed, with a glass of water, and his two watches; a common one and a repeater. His wife now brought him a wreath of flowers that a lady had sent him, for every one wished to add some charm to his last days. As he touched them carefully, for he could neither see nor smell them, he seemed to rejoice in the images of the flowers in his mind, for he said repeatedly to Caroline-My beautiful flowers, my lovely

flowers!'

"Although his friends sat around the bed, as he imagined it was night, they conversed no longer; he arranged his arms as if preparing for repose, which was to be to him the repose of death, and soon sank into a tranquil sleep.

Deep silence pervaded the apartment. Caroline sat at the head of the bed, with her eyes immovably fixed on the face of her beloved husband. Otto had retired, and the nephew sat with Plato's Phaedon in his hand, open at the death of Socrates. At that moment a tall and beautiful form

entered the chamber; and, at the foot of the bed, with his hands raised to heaven, and deeply moved, he repeated aloud the prayer of his Mosaic faith. It was Emanuel, and next to Otto, the most beloved of Richter's friends.

"About six o'clock the physician entered. Richter yet appeared to sleep; his features became every moment holier, his brow more heavenly, but it was cold as marble to the touch; and as the tears of his wife fell upon it, he remained immovable. At length his respiration became less regular, but his features always calmer, more heavenly. A slight convulsion passed over the face; the physician cried out "That is death!' and all was quiet. The spirit had departed!

must have consecrated the deathbed of Richter, as if Nature herself stood reverinterpreter laid down the garment in ently still, when her worshipper and which he had ministered in her temple.

"Richter was buried by torch light: the unfinished manuscript of Selina* borne upon his coffin, and the noble ode of Klopstock

"Thou shalt arise, my soul!' was sung by the students of the Gymnasium at the burial vault."

Thus have we, by favour of your attention, kind reader, endeavoured to open up to the British eye, a few sunny glimpses of one of the choicest spirits whom "the Fatherland" delighteth to honour. JEAN PAUL, der einzige-the unique, is the received designation of Richter in Germany; a title in his case as deservedly earned by literary labour, as military and political services have earned it likewise, in his proper sphere, for the great Frederick. Pity only that it is by no means such an easy matter to render the works of the author's genius as appreciable to general admiration, as the actions of the soldier and the policy of the king. Guns and trumpets make a noise over the wide world, from the Arctic circle to the Antarctic, pretty much the same; and, provided the stages of their explosion be large and open enough, the actors will not fail to be noted of all men, and admired. But the voices of wise and good men in books, are of a more curious and delicate melody; and sometimes even the rarest of them cannot be made to vibrate in their full harmonious chords, otherwise than to the nicely-fitted structure of the national ear. This is the case with the French Beranger, and in an eminent degree with our own Burns. The translators, we know, have tried their hands with these men-as what will they not try ?-but let them carve and polish as they will, the Frenchman will still limp awkwardly in his Wellington boots, and the Scotsman, though he may retain his warmth, will lose the finest tints of his colour in Deutschland. So even more strikingly is the stamp of indelible nationality imprinted on all the writings of Jean Paul; and it will require peculiarly skilful handling

No

indeed, to take away the point from the cannot be translated at random: nor French lady's criticism above quoted, can he be simply transposed, as many and make all or any one of Richter's a decent sentence-monger may, line works, like Schiller's “Wallenstein,” after line, and paragraph after paraor Goethe's “Faust," a familiar occu- graph ; he is freakish, and will conpant of a cultivated Englishman's found a methodical wit lamentably. shelves. These works consist almost One decided advantage, however, by exclusively of novels or fictitious way of an introduction to the English tales, and these of two kinds: the Richter, has been gained by the apphilosophicalorideal novel—for which, pearance of the present biography. even in its most perfect character, John We have learnt to know the man ; Bull has no peculiar faculty ; and the and the man in this case is as good, novel of common life, in which de- perhaps better, than his works. partment the same most unphiloso- well-conditioned person, we are conphical Bull has attained such an admi- vinced, will lay down the biography rable mastership, that to his practical of Richter without an earnest desire eye the most manful feats of a purely to know something more of such a German genius like Richter, are apt to

He will be convinced also that appear puerile and even apish. Never- the novels of such a writer will not be theless, we do by no means despair of made up of mere playful arabesques a selection being made from this to amuse, of mere pepper and spices great man's works, such as will not, to stimulate; he will have felt the indeed, popularise him on British breath of a moral regeneration in these ground — for popular in the widest pages, and that a novel of Jean Paul sense he is not even in Germany - is in fact a sermon; an evangelic but such as may command the ear of address, where the gospel is preached, all educated men for whom the higher as wit is vented in the old drama, departments of imaginative literature oftentimes by a clown. Next to a have a charm. Such a collection to our mind of extensive culture, and a heart knowledge has not yet been made in this of wide sympathies, a moral preparacountry. When it shall be made, every tion of this kind is the grand key to thing depends on the workman. Richter the writings of FREDERICK RICHTER.

A TALE OF THE MASORCHA CLUB.

AT BUENOS AYRES.

CHAPTER I.

TOM TRORNE was a bachelor, who Liverpool; and probably more hides lived in one of the best houses, had or bullocks, gin or ginghams, are the best horses, and gave the best bought and sold at the dinner or dinners and suppers, of any merchant billiard table than at the desk or exin Buenos Ayres. The head of the change. "house," or firm, he was his own For such irregular kind of trade, master ; and this privilege he used Tom was peculiarly adapted. His to the utmost. Wherever a ball was was not the character to plod at a to be held in that dancing city, there desk over intricate speculations, nor be sure you find Tom; and few dinner was it necessary in a trade confined parties, pic-nics, or country excur- within narrow compass and certain sions, were complete without him. seasons. Trade would sometimes be Little mattered it to him, whether he brisk, vessels would require to be were invited or not-he knew every loaded and discharged ; then Tom body, and every body knew him; and would write night and day, with deshis jovial good humour, his hearty perate energy, and then, as if he had laugh and frank address, won him the earned a holiday, he would idle away good graces of any party upon which for weeks. What was the use of the whim of the moment induced him clerks if not to write? or, according to to intrude.

Tom was

a restless, an old proverb, what is the use of rattling blade, and delighted in ex- keeping a dog, and barking yourself ? citement of every kind. He could no Tom Thorne, when sent out to South more have sat still on a chair for half America, in the first instance, came an hour than he could have passed under great advantages. He was the over an entire day without drinking son of the head of one of the richest champagne, where it was to be had, firms in Europe, and with an ill-judged or brandy and water where it was not. liberality was allowed lots of pocket

Courteous and gallant to the ladies, money; and more consideration was he was noisy and jovial with the men; paid to him than to other clerks by and although he was well known to the managers of the house in Buenos boast of his liberty as a bachelor, Ayres. Thus he had both more time yet this probably only made him more and money to spend than other“young of a favourite with the fair. There men” with more limited prospects. could be no harm in firting and co- Tom was not one to throw away these quetting with one who openly defied advantages; and so his horse was the their attractions. The shy and timid swiftest, his coat the tippiest, his cigar could be pert and playful with Tom the longest, his gloves were ever the Thorne the bachelor, without any whitest, and his bouquet the richest of feelings of indelicacy; while those all the riding, smoking, flower-giving who were less reserved, considered it youths of Buenos Ayres; and it may fair play to entangle him in the nets be conceived, that with all “these of their raillery-probably not without appliances, and means to boot,” he was a distant hope that the gay flutterer more an adept in the ways of gallanmight yet singe his wings in making try than scriveny. In the course of his circuit round the flame of their time Mr Thorne, in spite of all his attractions.

failings, arrived at the dignity of reIt will be thought surprising how presentative in Buenos Ayres of the our hero, with such roving and un- rich firm of Thorne, Flower, & Co. steady habits, could transact business Once established as his own master, as the head of a mercantile house. Tom's natural levity of character was But in South America, business is not long of displaying itself; pleasure not conducted in the same system, was his business, and business his atic way that it is in London or pastime. The lute or the piano (he