Colonel St. Preux was one of the bravest officers of the French army, and was actively employed during the greatest part of his life. Kind, generous, and intrepid, nature had fitted him for all the delights of friendship, and all the advantages which a well-born, noble-minded man could enjoy in society; but an early passion for the noble profession of arms made his young heart beat with ambitious anticipations of glory, and he gave himself to his king and country at an early age, and lived a great portion of his time in the tented field, the cold bivouac, in foreign climes, and distant scenes of warfare. Nevertheless, in one of those intervals which gentle peace affords to the soldier, and which enables him to taste the refined enjoyments of love, he became enamoured of a neighbouring nobleman's daughter, with whom he was happily united in wedlock, but whose fortune was not adequate to keep up the rank in the world (as it is called) which her birth, her beauty, and her habits required; so that the Colonel still looked to his sword for her support, and was incessantly employed, until valour and perseverance raised him high in his profession, and brought emolument as well as honour to reward his toils.

In the intervals of the reign of peace, or the mere cessation of hostilities, he returned to the partner of his heart, and then enjoyed the felicity of having an only daughter, the dearest pledge of affection and fidelity, to bless a father's eyes; nor was she his only care; for, previous to his union with the woman of his choice, he had taken upon him a sacred charge, which exalted friendship called upon him to support, to educate, and to make his own. The comrade of his juvenile years, the intrepid brother in arms, who had fought and bled by his side, and had once saved his life at the risk of his own, breathed his last in his arms on the field of honour, bequeathing to him a motherless child (for she had expired in giving him birth, who was now about to be deprived of his father also ;) he was an enfant de troupe, and, at the period alluded to, an orphan; a trifling pittance was left with

him, but which the high-spirited brothersoldier destined to be expended in his education, after which the same career as his father's was before him, for he had been a soldier of fortune, of great merit but no interest; nor had the blind goddess favoured him in his skirmish through life's campaign, which had been short, brilliant, and perilous. Theodore, the orphan in question, was a child at the time of Saint Preux's marriage, but so handsome, so interesting, that the Colonel's lady adopted him as her son, and determined to bring him up with whatever family the destinies of Hymen might mark for her. The child grew in beauty, in goodness, and in talent, and he added to natural advantages of person, a certain sensibility of mind, and a pensiveness of countenance, which made him, even in boyhood, an imposing object to the studier of nature, to the philanthropist, and to the man of feeling. The childish stages of his life differed little from those of other boys gifted with talent, gentleness, and application; but after he came from school, and when he attained the age of emerging from his studies and entering the army, he assumed a character which marked his future life, and endeared him, not only to him who protected him with paternal care, but to all around him, and to none more than to Madame St. Preux, who considered him as her son.

The absence of Colonel St. Preux from home so very frequently, and for such very long periods of time, determined his affectionate partner on living in the utmost retirement; and in this seclusion, which was only departed from when he returned at intervals on leave of absence, she watched over the improvement of the minds of Virginia, her only daughter, and of Theodore, when at their castle in time of vacation, so that the youth felt attached to her as if she had been his parent, whilst what he considered a feeling of fraternity bound him to the lovely child who was now ascending the acclivity of years, and rapidly breaking into attractiveness of no common cast; her heart was as pure as the most limpid stream reflecting the azure heavens in its bosom; her temper was all gentle

ness and warmth; her deportment all unstudied grace, unconscious fascination; she was the delight and pride of both parents, but more particularly of her father, of whose heart she seemed to form an inseparable portion; and he was now returned home, covered with honours, to repose upon those laurels of which he had gathered in a rich harvest for his approving country.

It was pleasing for the General (such he now was) to contemplate the growing loveliness and talents of his only child, and to look proudly on the orphan, who, under his fostering care, was the last scion of a noble although indigent family, and whose. youth begun with such high promise. The couple grew like neighbouring plants of exquisite beauty, side by side, the male plant supporting its associate, which bent towards and looked up to it, giving and receiving the mutual sweets, which the warm breath of a vernal sun wafted to and fro, in the gentle exchange of reciprocal attachment; they grew side by side, they acquired similarities, their sympathies were perfect, they wished that fraternity had bound them together, the society of the one became absolutely necessary to the other, for there was a gentle perpetual intelligence of hearts; but, alas! this attachment was not brotherly, although they did not, they dared not, examine and analyse it: pangs at short partings, sighs exhaled in solitude unwitting and undetected, joys excessive at meeting after such separation, the interrupted respiration of the youth and the burning cheek of the maiden, when palm embraced palm, or when a greater proximity than usual took place in the rural walk, the light dance, or when Theodore leaned over the shoulder of Virginia whilst instructing her in Italian, or accompanying her in a duet, and when his imprisoned heart beat with such violence and rapidity that it seemed as if it were about to burst its tenement to give itself to the mistress of its soul,-all these were powerful indications that something more than friendship or brotherhood attracted them to each other; but they flew from inquiring reflections, and fought feebly and unsuccessfully against the war of their passions.

This was not unperceived by St. Preux, nor by his lady; but the great partiality which she felt for the youth, excited by his orphan state, and augmented by his dutiful and devotedly attached respect and

regard for her, made her indifferent as to the consequences, well acquainted, as she was, with the purity of her daughter, and with the honour and high sentiments of the young soldier. St. Preux felt not thus; he truly loved the son of his deliverer and brother in arms, but his affection carried him no further, so that he rejoiced when an opportunity offered for the youth's visiting St. Petersburgh, persuaded that absence and time, a variety of objects, the embarking in the profession of arms, together with the many changes and chances in life, could reduce a growing passion to what prudence and their different views would dictate: thus confident, he presented Theodore with a sabre and a purse, a ring, and a family missal, as his inheritance, on his quitting the castle to take service in Russia, recommending him to follow his brave father's example in his military career, to keep religion and honour continually and unitedly in view, in all the perils and vicissitudes of life, and in the softer but not less dangerous temptations of pleasure; adding, that he (Theodore) had every thing in his favour-youth, fine person, natural bravery, and many accomplishments which nature and science had conspired to bestow on him, and which his assiduous studies had highly cultivated and polished, and concluding by giving him his blessing, and his advice to form high connections, and to look out for a noble and rich conjugal engagement, which he would have a favourable opportunity of doing, well introduced as he was, and equally well qualified to gain esteem and admiration. At this piece of advice, the voice of Theodore lost its manliness, it faultered, his lips quivered, the blood mounted to and forsook his countenance alternately, and the big tear trembled in his full eye. The General mistook this for gratitude (not that he did not possess that just feeling), and pressing him to his bosom, bade him begone, speedily leaving the room himself, lest the infection of weakness might unman the veteran of many a field of fight.

Theodore was formed to gain admiration, and to be a candidate for wealth and title in the lottery of Hymen; he excelled in those graceful and manly exercises which suit the soldier and the gentleman, and to those accomplishments which recommend the possessor to the approving smile of lovely woman. He was a great linguist,

a fine musician, and generally well read; and he had bestowed much pains on his enchanting pupil, Virginia, to perfect her in these last branches of education; nevertheless, he looked not further than for the smile of complacency from the softer sex, save only for one, nor sought to gain an ascendancy over any heart but one, for which his own had long and irrevocably been exchanged. His parting with his benefactor with him who had been a second father to him, cost him a pang; but it was no way comparable to what he endured by severing himself from her whose enchantment held his captive soul, whose presence was his sunbeam, in whose eyes he read the only interest which he felt on earth, for whom he prayed with fervour, and sighed with agony, who occupied his many thoughts, and had been, up to the present moment, the charm of his existence.. It is dangerous and dreadful to love thus, but it is sadly sweet: such is a first and indelible love, or such after passion, which, in the excess of its ardour and the perfections of the beloved, transcends all former feeling, and for ever seals up the heart;-such was that of Theodore towards the object of his idolatry. The precautious parents prevented, as they thought, a final bidding adieu: a ball was given, and the soldier, starting for the first time in the race of glory, was hurried into a travelling carriage, and sent forth from those scenes on which regretful memory and tearful eye lingered when they had faded from reality; but Virginia and Theodore could not part thus; and the latter, when he had been gallopped away with for a couple of miles from the temple where his goddess claimed his exclusive devotion, returned on foot to utter a sad farewell, and to plight vows, which the confessions of reciprocal feeling drew from the deepest abyss of the heart, and which died away in a last sob, drowned in a shower of tears, which left silence more eloquent than words, and a last look, lost in the delirium of the moment. ginia retired to her chamber, which she left not the following day; feigned indisposition was assigned as the cause, which, however, was attributed by both parents to a far more serious source, but they had the good sense and feeling not to probe too deeply the wound which concealment kept from the eye, and to respect the tender susceptibility of her virgin heart.

Vir

"Time," repeated the father, "is a great worker of cures; and the less we name Theodore the better." Every kindness, every attention, were bestowed on the suffering maid, and every invention resorted to, in order to wean her from her sorrows, to dissipate by locomotion and change of amusement the early passion with which a very worthy but fortuneless object had inspired her. They were unsuccessful in their efforts, yet not aware of the fact to its full extent, Virginia having substituted placidity for contentment, and smiling gravity for the aridity of a mind wasted by care and consumed by unavailing regrets. Theodore, it was hoped by St. Preux, was now all alive to the brilliant novelty of a military life, occupied by the pleasures of the Russian capital, and diverted from his first passion by the flattering debut which he made in courtly circles; but he knew not the real state of his mind; absence only seemed to increase the flame which burned within his bosom, and which became more fatal by being thus stifled; nevertheless, he pursued his career with assumed buoyant spirit, and, in his letters to the castle kept within the line of prudence, lest he should offend his benefactor. At first, his letters were named to Virginia, but, in the course of a little time, the symptoms of emotion, which she could not conceal, and the fall of half-hidden tears, made the General determine not to communicate their arrival any more to his daughter; he thought that apparent long silence might weaken the attachment of Virginia; but, unfortunately, she felt it so agonizingly, that her mother confessed to her this ruse, and let her know secretly when she heard from Theodore, observing, at the same time, that she had her husband's commands that in future his name should never be uttered.

Theodore, not aware of this order, obtained, after two years' absence, leave to return to the chateau, where he flew on the wings of love; he was now at a period of life when two years alter the features, by giving what had been of a boyish appearance the greater dignity of manhood; he had now passed his twentieth year-and being more formed, and more confident, he might fairly be called a strikingly handsome man. His manners were still more courtly-his air more dignified-his voice still more persuasive his gestures more graceful, more studied,

more perfected; nor did he need all this accession of means to welcome him, nor to render him an object of high and exclusive interest to Virginia. His arrival at the castle made every heart leap with joy; nor could St. Preux help receiving him with emotion, seeing in him the image of a truly dear friend, strong in the resemblance, but still more striking and more correctly handsome: all former restrictions were now forgotten, and, for a while, the hospitable walls of friendship rang with the sounds of mirth and joy; but bliss is short-lived-true felicity is no inhabitant of earth-brief are our joys, fleeting and uncertain; what is pleasure? the liveliest, the earliest, and least unsullied;-that pleasure which has the charm of novelty, and the ignorance of future alloy; in a word, what is pleasure? but what the immortal Scottish bard tells us

"Pleasures are like the poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow-falls on the river,
A moment white, then melts for ever;
Or, like the Borealis race,
That flits ere you can point the place;
Or, like the Rainbow's lovely form,
Vanishing amid the storm."-BURNS.

As transient, as evanescent, as quickly fled, as soon dissolved, were the moments of bliss which love and friendship had hoped to perpetuate; scarcely were the brief days of welcoming gone by, when an altered countenance, an air of business-like care, obscured the father's brow-when the glowing cheek of Virginia looked pale, and the sparkling eye was downcast in languor and dejection, and when guests and household, returning to their former places, an intended union was announced, by St. Preux, for his lovely daughter; a union which, from the wealth and influence of one party, was to build up the future fortune, and to establish the consequence of the family. The father was an old and an able commander, so that he was well aware of the necessity of making a diversion, by removing the grand obstacle first, ere he could hope to succeed in bringing up the suitor to commence his attack.

Theodore was daily gaining on the affections of the object of his love; and it was to him, not to the gentle maiden, that the general deemed it most effective VOL. I.-No. 3.

to apply first. Taking him, one day, into his study, and showing him the portrait and cuirasse of his gallant sire, he said, "Theodore, my child, there is the resemblance of him who was the soul of honour, of him who was ever ready to sacrifice his personal interest, nay, even his life, to delicacy and sentiment- gratitude and friendship to chivalrous principle, and to the point of honour in arms, above all to a comrade or a friend; do thou imitate him, for thou hast a great sacrifice to make at the shrine of honour and exalted feeling-a great debt to discharge to gratitude and justice." The young man's cheek assumed the deepest crimson, his eyes flashed fire, his heart beat full and strong, his voice was subdued, and his articulation became uneasy and almost inaudible. "What can my second father exact of me," said Theodore, laying his hand upon his breast, "that I am not ready to perform at the risk of my life."

"A bitter task," replied his benefactor," one that will cost thee a severe pang."-"Well"-boldly answered the young soldier," and what is bodily, or even mental pain, to him whose duty calls upon him for this tribute ?"" Wilt thou swear."—" ."—"Ay, my dear patron, by my faith and sword, by all that is dear to me, by all that man can hope for, I swear," placing his hand on his sabrehilt, and then disengaging it and grasping that of St. Preux in his. "Then,', gravely and solemnly accented the latter "thou must fly from this spot immediately, without explanation or adieu; it must be so, or ruin will attend my best anticipations; the prospects of my house, that house which has been thy shelter, will be destroyed for ever.". "Never"

"What!" exclaimed the old warrior. "Never," resumed the agonized youth, "shall it be said, that Theodore should disobey the father of the orphan-should return ingratitude for beneficence-should consult self-interest when its immolation was called for by cruel yet imperious circumstances; I go, my benefactor-I tear my heart-strings from this hallowed roof; but I must fly on broken and bleeding wings, deprived of that which enabled me to soar to the regions of hopeful felicity, deprived of a better half of my being, a second self, dearer than my forlorn, imperfect existence; I go at your command; I bless the house to which I once be

P