No. CXCIII.

VOL. XXXIII.

THE gilded spires of Venice had long faded in the distance the blue lagunes, the splendid palazzas of that city, rising with her tiara of proud towers, still lingered in glorious beauty upon the eye of memory, though the fair original lay leagues behind me, as I wended my weary way towards my native land. Many years had rolled over since I had last seen it. I had long been a wanderer in strange countries, but beneath the cloudless sunny skies of the sweet south I had not forgotten the land of my birth; as I passed the river and approached the frontiers, and the dark mighty mountains rose before me, looming in the distance, I felt all that inexpressible delight, known only to him who, after years of absence, returns to his home again. And yet in the country I was leaving behind me had been spent the happiest hours of my short life. I had gone to Italy in order to perfect myself in painting and sculpture, but the temptations so incident to youth in that delightful country had naturally impeded my progress. As I ceased to be industrious I had become enervated by idleness, and the not very agreeable reflection now arose in my mind that I knew rather less about my art than when I had departed from home. Occupied in the perilous pursuit of pleasure, I had begun to despise my profession. The pains required for mastering the minute details of art seemed intolerable drudgery to me,and at last I began to think that I had not sufficient power through the medium of the pencil and the chisel to shape into existence those bright and beautiful images of which I had dreamed. What would I not have given to be able to

VOL. XXXIII.-NO. CXCIII.

recall the departed past. I thought of the time I had wasted, and the opportu nities I had neglected, and I now wished that the years I had spent in Italy had been less agreeable and more profitable. Tortured by reflections such as these I wandered on. The rainy weather, which had lasted for some days, adding materially to the discomfort of my journey, a voice seemed sounding in my ears the word "return," and yet an irresistible impulse was urging me forward. I became at length so miserable that I often wished for death. A fresh torrent of rain impelled me to seek shelter under a tree, where having seated myself on a fragment of rock, I mused long and sadly over the broken hopes and futile strivings of my past life. Before me lay the desolate region of a vast mountain solitude, disturbed only by the noise of an angry torrent, whose dark waters were swollen by the incessant rain. I looked down into the eddying pools of that sweeping river, and the dark thought crossed my mind that in their depths my sorrows might have rest; then I was suddenly seized by a vague and unaccountable terror of death, and, afraid to trust myself further, I sprang up and fled as if from my own thoughts.

After travelling for many weary leagues, I arrived at length at a large solitary house, situated at no great distance from the town of Ancona. The combined effects of darkness, rain, and fatigue, induced me to pause beneath the ample doorway which invited the traveller's approach. As I entered, a shiver ran through my frame, and again I was seized with the same vague and unaccountable apprehension which I had experienced when seated on the moss

B

covered rock, beneath the lonely tree, and beside the sweeping river.

As soon as the genial glow from the warm room of the inn breathed upon me, I immediately recovered, and felt myself better than I had been for several days. I received a cordial welcome, and, throwing my knapsack upon a table, was shown into an adjoining apartment, where I could divest myself of the clothes which were thoroughly soaked by the rain. While I was undressing myself I heard a noise of footsteps running rapidly up and down the stairs, and a voice eagerly inquiring if I had come on foot with a knapsack, and if I was about to remain in the house all night. Returning to the "salle" I felt at a glance that I had attracted the observation of the whole company. I could no longer control my curiosity as to the reason I had been so particularly inquired after, and at length asked if there were any other strangers in the house. The answer was in the affirmative, for it had so happened that a large party had arrived in the course of the evening, detained partly by the inclemency of the weather, and by the illness of a young lady who belonged to it.

This party consisted of a noble family of four persons, an old gentleman, a young lady, of exceeding beauty, an old lady, who was supposed to be the mother of the younger one, a doctor, two servants, and two ladies' maids. At the same time I was informed that both the old gentleman and the doctor, witnessing my arrival, had made particular inquiries about me in the pub. lic room. The landlord assured me that they were particular friends, and I was desired to go up to their room. I shook my head, convinced they must be wrong, as I could recollect no friend of such consequence in the whole world.

An old servant of the party shortly afterwards entered the room, where in broken Italian he asked for some wine. I addressed him in German, and he seemed rejoiced once more to hear the accents of his mother tongue. "His master," he said, "was a certain Graf von Rosenthal, who was on his way to Italy with his family, in order to procure for his daughter the benefit of a change of air." In proportion as he

drank he became more communicative. I informed him that I was on my return to Germany, and the tears stood in his eyes as he exclaimed with much solemnity, "Oh! that I could only return with you. I cannot," he continued, "endure it any longer; I believe there is a curse hanging over my master's family. I can get no one to trust in-few would believe me."

By the time we had cracked our third bottle, Heinrich, for such I found was the old man's name, became more confidential.

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Countryman!" said he, in a solemn tone, and casting an anxious glance round the whole room, in which, the company having departed, none save ourselves remained, and we sat alone by the side of a dim wood fire, whose flames fell fitfully upon the silent wall, "I cannot be blind. In the midst of the blessings of wealth and plenty, the old evil spirit is doing his work, the curse has come home to roost, God help us! The Graf, my master, is as rich as a Jew, but he goes prowling about like a malefactor, and seldom speaks. He never seems happy. The old Gnadige Frau seems also to be in a continual flurry. for the young lady, a child of paradise could not be more lovely, but I fear the old graf has married her to the devil. But, Lord bless us! what is that?" exclaimed Heinrich, as the casement came rattling in with a sudden crash.

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As

Nothing," exclaimed I, "but the rain and wind."

"It is no wonder," replied Heinrich, "I live in perpetual apprehension of some dreadful event. Some one of the family must soon meet his fate. The fraulein Kathern told me that; and if I could not occasionally, with my comrade Thomas, refresh myself with a little wine-for eating, drinking, and money are not at all scarce with us-I would have been off long ago."

"But why do you think one of you must soon die?" I inquired, believing the old man was becoming fuddled under the influence of the three bottles of sweet wine.

"It is certain," said Heinrich; "the countess told me, and what she predicts is sure to happen. At Juden