4

reliance, and his history was told to me in very nearly the following terms :

His father was a small proprietor in the neighbourhood of Berlin, and cultivated his own farm. This was his only son, and he had been sent at the proper age to the university of Berlin, where he had been distinguished as much for his superior abilities as for the warmth of his feelings. He was destined to the medical profession, and the progress he had made in the various studies of that important calling, held out the brightest prospects of his future success and eminence. Whilst in his attendance on the medical classes, he had formed an intimacy in a family to which accident had gained him an introduction. A powerful attraction induced him to spend his evenings in the bosom of this family, which was that of a respectable merchant and banker. He had become deeply attached to the daughter of the merchant, and he had every reason to believe that his passion was returned. She was a beautiful young girl, and the graces of her person did not surpass the beauties of her mind. Amiable and accomplished, she was formed to charm; and in the ardent eyes of the young student, she seemed more than earthly.

It was long perhaps before any absolute declaration had revealed to each other the feelings of their hearts; and, by a thousand little incidents, their affection was increased and strengthened, until it became to each the absorbing passion of the soul. The history of their love had in it nothing which removed it from the usual course in which attachment is developed. It will suffice to know, that they lived in the ineffable consciousness of a mutual affection, and that their minds, tinged with the deep romantic feeling so prevalent amongst the youth of Germany, considered the vows that had passed between them as a linking of their destinies, sacred and indissoluble. It was not, however, an easy task, to overcome the scruples of the financial father as to the prospects of his future son-in-law; and though the reputation of the young student was spotless, the calculating banker re

quired more than the inclinations of his daughter, and the amiable properties of her admirer, to induce him to consent to their union. Money was a necessary possession in the eyes of a worldly-minded man, who shook his head when they talked of love and mutual happiness. How the old man became at length softened into an approbation of the match, did not clearly appear; but certain it is, that, after the student had passed his examination and obtained his degree, a day was appointed for the betrothing, with his full consent. It may be imagined with what feelings the young physician looked forward to an event which was in his eyes the most important in his life.

The great fair of Leipsic occurred a short time before the auspicious day which was to unite these two happy beings, and the physician hastened to buy his mistress a bridaldress from out the vast magazines of manufactures which are there collected. He selected one which was equally rich and engaging, being a white satin festooned with worked flowers of the most brilliant colours. His present was received with a smile of approbation, which repaid him tenfold for the labour he had undertaken, and the promise to wear it on her betrothment rendered

his joy supreme. The ceremony was performed with

every circumstance that could heighten the prospects of the parties concerned. Their parents were there consenting, and friends surrounded them whose smiles added their cheering influence. The bride wore the dress which her lover had procured for her, and in his eyes she had never appeared so attractive. The vows were at length pronounced, and the contracts signed. The marriage-day was fixed for the following week. After the ceremony, a sumptuous feast was prepared, in the midst of which a feeling of indisposition compelled the young bride suddenly to seek her chamber. She threw herself on the bed, and-such are the insecurities of a fleeting existence -rose from it no more. A virulent fever attacked her delicate frame, and carried her unresistingly and remorselessly to the tomb. The feelings of an impassioned youth, thus robbed of her who was so shortly to have become

his wife, may be more easily imagined than described. To say that he wept, and raved, and tore his hair, would perhaps little express the deep intensity of his anguish. Only one request he made: it was, that she should be buried in the dress which she wore at their betrothal. He followed her to the grave, and, overpowered by his feelings, threw himself upon the coffin as it was about to be covered up, and, with a frenzied vehemence, insisted upon having one more look before the grave was closed for ever. The coffin-lid was taken off, and he gazed upon the clammy features of the decaying corpse until his head grew dizzy, and he was drawn senseless from the grave.

It was not only to the bereaved lover that the view of the dead body of his mistress had been of moment: the grave-digger had perceived with emotion the magnificent habiliments which adorned the corpse, and his cupidity was excited. In the dead of night, he despoiled the body, and presented to his own daughter the flowered satin frock which had formed the bridal-dress of the deceased young lady. It was long after these events that she wore this identical dress at the masked ball at the Colosseum. The girl herself was ignorant of the mode by which her father had gained possession of it, though the richness of his gift had in some measure excited her surprise. She therefore adorned herself in the spoils of the grave, in perfect unconsciousness of the unhallowed violation that had been committed. It is needless to add, that it was this dress which caused the young man's sudden horror, which I have described. It was a garment so peculiar as scarcely to allow a doubt as to its identity; and when it suddenly flashed before his eyes, he thought he saw his departed mistress arisen from the grave, to upbraid him for the levity which permitted his presence at a ball. It was stated that a remarkable resemblance existed in the figures of the two females; and as the grave-digger's daughter was masked, the horrible conception of the young enthusiast will not be considered as altogether unnatural or incredible.

From the notoriety which the circumstance gained, an inquiry was instituted into the affair, and, by an inspection of the rifled tomb, the guilt of the grave-digger was made apparent, and he is now expiating his crime as a convicted felon. From the information I acquired respecting the physician, it appeared that he overcame the shock which he had received, though he had passed through many fits of delirium, and had suffered from a fever which had often threatened the extinction both of his reason and of his life.*

DUELLING:

A THING OF THE PAST.

Now that duelling may be said to be extinct, or nearly so, in every country aspiring to civilised usages, it becomes curious and interesting, as a matter of history, to look back on times when the practice was all but universal, and to observe the reasons for its decline.

Private encounters in mortal combat for the settlement of disputes, was not known in ancient Greece or Rome. Several examples are certainly found, both in sacred and profane history, of champions being delegated from opposing armies to fight with each other, preliminarily to the general mêlée. But these cases had no analogy with the more modern duels. They were always between public enemies, and not between private friends or fellow-citizens. The inhabitants of Rome or Athens did not slay each other upon points of honour. Cæsar relates that two of his officers having a dispute, mutually defied each other-not to single combat, but to shew which of them should perform the most glorious action in the succeeding battle;

Every circumstance related in the above article is strictly true, no addition whatever being made to the facts as they really occurred, and the tale, however romantic it may appear, being quite well known in Berlin,

and that one of them, after beating back the enemy, was on the point of falling a victim, when he was rescued by his adversary. A similar instance of heroic emulation is mentioned of two of the officers in Alexander the Great's army. This is certainly a much more estimable way of arranging a personal difference, than by retiring into a corner, and committing an inglorious murder. It would be vain to pretend that the Romans and Greeks were not as brave as the modern Europeans, and that on such an account the duel was not in use amongst them; nor can it be predicated of the Turks and Tatars, who, though proverbially reckless of human life, have never adopted the custom.

Duelling sprang into existence among the ancient Gauls and Germans during the barbarity of the middle ages. Law being for a time obscured, the sword became the engine of arbitration. The military education of the feudal chiefs and their retainers, tended to perpetuate and confirm the practice of settling private quarrels by fighting; and at length duelling was actually sanctioned to a certain degree by legal and ecclesiastical institutes. It would seem that the law, being unable to put down private fighting altogether, adopted the next best, and placed the practice under regulation. Hence judicial combats were held in every state for the settlement of civil questions. Even the rights of the church, its domains and revenues, were subjected to this singular ordeal, and sometimes the zeal of an ecclesiastic carried him into the lists as a champion. By a statute of William the Conqueror, the inferior clergy were forbidden to fight without the consent of their diocesan. But in the generality of cases, the cause of the church and of females was committed to the care of some sturdy warrior, who was ready to risk his life for the benefit of others.

Judicial combats or duels are to be distinguished from the tournaments which were so much in vogue in the days of chivalry. The latter were somewhat after the manner of the gladiatorial games in ancient Rome, except that, instead of fighting by the hands of slaves, the