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mere shadow, Francisca!' Indeed! then, Signora, I must reckon myself more fortunate, for I saw the substance.' What was it?' It-it was a man to be sure-a tall, handsome cavalier, a beautiful figure; and such a voice!' I heard that!' said Luisa, sighing, And there was a dapper, compact, impudent, sweet little fellow, with such a look-and such an air. The moment I set eyes ou him I marked him for my own.' · Oh! shocking, Francisca,' exclaimed Luisa, how can you talk so lightly?' Ah! Signora,' cried Francisca, with an arch look, I verily believe, if our thoughts were compared, there would be found little difference in their true meaning! And, doubtless, Francisca was right, for although Donna Luisa had only a peep, love had taken advantage of the favourable opportunity, and wounded her beyond any cure-matrimony, of course, excepted.

For several nights the serenading was repeated, but Donna Luisa no longer complained of her rest being disturbed, although, between love and music, she was unable to close her eyes.

As for the Arragonese, she was love-mad, fluttering about like a wild thing, and prating eternally of the dear little man, her mistress's lover's valet.

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The guitar, as they had anticipated, aroused the Argus-eyed duenna from her snoring slumbers. She, too, complained of broken rest; but, added to the great and inexpressible amazement of Donna Luisa, and her maid, Well, well, it cannot be helped, Signora, where there is beauty, gallantry will fly. It's natural enough, but take heed, and do not lend a too willing ear to the nonsense of every pert cavalier who has the audacity to tell you that you're handsome. Take heed!" And, with this admonition, Donna Rodriga limped leisurely

away.

Luisa looked increduously at her maid, and Francisca was completely dumb-a certain sign that she was unusually affected.

Scarcely had the duenna vanished, when they were startled by the noise of some one approaching. Looking up, they beheld a man tripping towards them, and casting a quick and cautious glance about him.

Luisa was rather alarmed, and would have precipitately retreated, but the delighted Francisca instantly recognized her incognito valet, and persuaded her mistress to remain.

'What is your business, sirrah?' demanded Francisca, with a well-feigned dignity of demeanour; for Luisa was too much frightened to speak.

'I have none hear, Signora,' replied he, with a pleasant smirk.

Your pleasure, then?'

·

Exists only and solely in your smiles,' answered the valet, gallantly. Nay, don't frown, or I shall instantly breathe out my last sigh at your little feet. For six long and tedious nights I have enduredAh! what have I not endured! and will you now obscure the sunshine just has it breaks in upon my dark and despairing soul, by such unkind and cruel glances ?' Who could resist such an eloquent appeal? Francisca had no heart to do so; and her favour indicating itself in a sweet smile, the valet felt his happiness complete.

During their parley, Donna Luisa looked with a new and extraordinary pleasure on the interesting scene.

It was a kind of rehearsal of her own part; and when

her cavalier, by her tacit permission, soon afterwards threw himself at her feet, she was enabled to answer his rhapsodies with a great deal of decorum; and, as Francisca judiciously and feelingly observed, there could not possibly exist any objection to entertainment of such an elegant and accomplished youth. His name was Don Juan de Salzedo, and his valet's Andre Lorca, than whom no one could execute the escalade of a wall, a gate, or a balcony better.

The lovers, speaking the same lauguage, soon understood each other, and the country-seat at Leganez was a paradise of love and delight.

Rodriga did not countenance these proceedings, for she was never present. And the lovers somehow always contrived to meet about the happy hour when the duenna was taking her customary siesta, or afternoon's nap.

It is really wonderful how rapidly love thrives in the country; it never progresses half so fast in the town air. One day, however, when Don Juan de Salzedo and the lovely Luisa were fondly calling each other by their Christian names, and mingling their soft sighs with the odorous breath of the roses around them, Francisca suddenly broke in upon them, Andre Lorca following in the rear. The utmost dismay and terror were depicted in her countenance.

Don Manoel had just arrived from Madrid, with a large party of friends, and even now accompanied by Donna Rodriga de Cantillana, (whom he had unseasonably aroused from her siesta,) was eagerly seeking her in every corner of the garden. Here was a situation!

What was to be done? They had scarcely asked themselves this simple question, when Don Manoel and the duenna stood before them.

Francisca uttered a little shriek of despair, and attempted a swoon in the ready arms of Andre Lorca. Donna Luisa was struck dumb, motionless, and pallid as a fair piece of statuary.

Her, papa, naturally appeared rather surprised, and although he said nothing, seemed to look for an explanation of this addition to his family. In the endurance of a few moments more of this chilling silence, Luisa's scarcely throbbing heart would have been frozen in her snowy breast; but the voice of her beloved Don Juan de Salzedo at once broke the spell, and wooed back her fast fleeting spirits.

Signor Don Manoel,' said he, advancing, to the surprise of all, without the least apparent constraint or discomposure, I now only require your sanction to render me completely happy. Donna Luisa's heart is already mine; her hand is in your gift!'

Bravo!' exclaimed Don Manoel, warmly embracing the gallant. • Thou hast nobly won the prize, and thou shalt wear it!'

Francisca recovered in a moment. She and her bewildered mistress exchanged looks of wonder, curiosity, and pleasure. This denouement was utterly incomprehensible.

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perquisite; then, after the manner of Don Juan de Salzedo, he exclaimed, Francisca's heart his mine; her hand is in your gift!' Andre Lorca's prayer was granted; and he bore away the black-eyed Arragonese on the same day that his master was united to Donna Luisa.

The mystery was soon unravelled. Don Juan de Salzedo was a young, rich, and noble cavalier; and having heard much of the beauty, simplicity, and accomplishments of Don Manoel's daughter, he had made a romantic excursion to Leganez on purpose to determine, with his own eyes, whether rumour's assertions were true, or exaggerated. Having gained a view of her, and lost his heart, he quickly returned to Madrid, and made formal proposals to Don Manoel. The old man was delighted; but knowing the refractory and rebellious spirit of the very best intentioned and most amiably disposed young damsels, in the affairs of the heart, he concerted the scheme of this clandestine courtship, in which, upon reflection, Don Juan heartily concurred; esteeming it a far greater pleasure to woo her heart to love, than to receive the hand of cold and formal obedience from her father.

Donna Rodriga de Cantillana was made a kind of sleeping partner in the plot, and took especial care to be napping at the fit opportunity.

Thus every thing ended happily and merrily; and Don Juan de Salzedo and his lovely bride were the handsomest and happiest couple that then figured in the gay circles of Madrid.

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IN the district of in Lower Hungary, are still remaining the ruins of a baronial castle, whose lords were distinguished for their valour in battle and for their zeal and liberality to the church.

Julian, the 5th baron of that name, joined the Christian standard on the plains of Palestine, and like his ancestors was distinguished by his Christian hatred of the Saracens, and the zeal with which he pursued the good work of Pagan destruction. Masses and Te Deums were sung in the monastery near his castle, on every fresh account of his valiant deeds, and Pope Gregory

sent over a consecrated banner and a special indulgence to Julian and his followers; exhorting them in the meek name of Jesus not to cease the hallowed work of extirpation, but to carry fire and sword to the eternal desolation of the infidels, who had dared to keep possession of the Holy Sepulchre. Alas! that such holy aids should be ineffectual, or rather that they should have tended to his ruin; for the pious baron, willing to prove his sense of the Holy Pontiff's notice, wrought such furious and bloody acts among the infidels, as caused him to be way-laid and taken prisoner, when being bound hand and foot, he was cast into a deep dungeon, lone and dark.

When the dreadful news arrived at his castle, Adelaide his wife offered rewards and ransoms; but in vain the " Paynim king" refused every offer, and swore by his Prophet's beard he would keep the relentless blasphemer of his God as a sacrifice and atonement for the many faithful he had slain in combat.

Enthusiasm in love and religion was the prevailing characteristic of that age; and Adelaide, with every grace of mind and person, was highly gifted with that quality. She took the habit of a Pilgrim, joined a band of Devotees (who were seeking the Sepulchre of Christ) and arrived at the holy city.

She was lodged in the convent of Mount Carmichael, and in less than a month had acquired the rudiments of the Saracenie tongue. At the end of which time, arrayed in the magnificent costume of her country, resplendent with gems, she threw herself at the feet of Adalem (the Syrian Monarch) and besought her hus band's liberty. Her youth and beauty, the fervency of her manner, joined with the touching inaccuracy of her newly acquired dialect, moved the Sultan. One by one she unclapsed the jewels from her neck, arms, and waist, and laid them at his feet, as tempting earnest of her Lord's ransom. Their costliness and workmanship made them worthy an Eastern bride; yet well might the form of Adelaide spare those lesser aids, more especially, when unwinding the long string of pearls from amidst her hair, its clustering profusion gathered round her pale face, in which anxiety strove with despair, and lent to her bending and imploring attitude a desolate yet touching aspect. the heart of Adalem was generous; nor had he ever shown a dislike to diamonds or golden crowns. Julian's pardon was pronounced ; and the delightful task of unclosing his prison gates was Adelaide's. They lost no time in departing from Syria, fearing the Sultan's opinion might alter as to the propriety of yielding to his compassionate feelings.

Now, who so grateful as Julian, or who so blest as Adelaide ? Each look, each word of his, how fondly dwelt upon her eye rapturously following him, or tearful with much joy, for did she not watch by the side of her rescued husband? Arrived at their castle, mirth and largess were liberally bestowed upon the peasantry and retainers of their domains; while unvarying delights dwelt with the princely owners. Time however, which seemed to increase the affection of Adelaide, acted counterwise upon the baron. Whether the heart of man disdains an obligation from its weaker' partner, or whether Julian's mind, unused to the refinements of books, or the "lascivious pleasing of a lute," symphathised not with his wife in those tastes, but yearned for bustle and variety-true it is, his esteem and gratitude were hers, but not his love.

D 2

About this period, Clarice the sister of Adelaide became their guest and ward; her beauty was dazling, her spirits of the gayest; health and joy laughed from her clear eyes and dimpled her full lips. Her presence gave a new enjoyment to the occupations of the castle; she was an expert horsewoman, and, according to the usuages of those times, took an active share in the chace; not only in pursuit of the "dappled burghers of the forest," but of the ferocious bear and snarling wolf. In all these the baron could join, could approve or direct; much of their time was consequently passed together, until choice, not chance, made them seek each others society. Adelaide saw with delight the renovated cheerfulness of her lord, and her grateful heart overflowed with tenderness to the sister who thus made her husband happy. Hers was not that selfish love which pines when the beloved object is pleased with ought save itself had she thought, before the arrival of Clarice, that her own presence would have given addi tional zest to Julian's sylvan pastimes, she would have become his pupil; but now she was contented to see him happy and joyous with her sister; and in the evenings with her music and her sweet voice sought to charm them into social tranquillity.

Adelaide, like some few females of that period, was an exception to the ignorance to which her sex are generally condemned. Yet her reading had been mostly confined to religious legends, which have a peculiar tendency to exalt the imagination, particularly when united with high birth and station. Enthusiasm and devotedness were (as I have before remarked) Adelaide's ruling passions; it was not unlikely therefore that the glowing descriptions of female martyrs and youthful champions should excite in her similar feelings. The heroism of the Crusaders, their sufferings and disinterestedness, even in this reasoning age awaken our sympathies; how much more then in those chivalrous times, when every church and castle were daily visited by the welcome Palmer returning from Palestine, or setting forth on his pious errand, careless of hardships, and seeking death as an especial mark of divine favour?

Adelaide was well skilled in the arts of her needle, and would sometimes with her maidens create the flowers she best loved; but more frequently leaving her attendants to their toilsome idleness, she wandered forth among the woods of the castle, where, having heated her imagination with some chivalrous or monkish story, her steps would instinctively turn towards the neighbouring convent, where the high wrought feelings of her mind found relief in religious effusions of sensibility and love. To all these emotions, Clarice and Julian were strangers, except indeed those which related to chivalry; then, when the harp recorded some feats of knighthood, her bright eye rested with exultation on the baron, whose martial features, kindled by the strain, looked the hero of the minstrel's tale. Yet were neither of them insensible to the superior accomplishments of Adelaide. Repeated acts of kindness had endeared her with more than sisterly affection to Clarice; nor could the baron refuse his tenderness to her gentle yet rapturous love.

Slowly therefore eame conviction to the mind of Adelaide that the heart of Julian was no longer hers, and yet a pang more bitter, that she stood between him and happiness. The religion she professed forbad the patriarchal custom of more than one wife; and well she

knew the high honour of her lord and sister denied the indulgence of unlawful passion. Yet, though deferred by many lingering, specious hopes and delusions, conviction came at last; and Adelaide suffered not her wavering purpose long to delay the happiness she could bestow on two persons so dear to her.

Under pretence of a religious vow, she retired for a week to the neighbouring convent, where, acquainting the Abbess with her determination, she feigned sickness, and at the end of eight days her death was announced at the castle. The body was exposed in the church on a superb catafalco, and a solemn requiem chaunted for the lady's soul. Though regret might be

the first feeling in Julian's mind on hearing of his wife's decease, yet it was not unaccompanied with the thrilling sensation that he might now marry his beloved Clarice. His influence at Rome would easily remove the trifling impediment of consanguinity; and no sooner were the arrangements concluded, than their nuptials were celebrated with the high dignity attendant upon their station, but divested of all public rejoicings from delicacy to the memory of Adelaide.

Poor forlorn one! she had overcalculated her powers of endurance; she had thought that the consciousness of their happiness, exalted in the contemplation by the recollection of the sacrifice she had made, would have quieted every selfish regret, and have atoned for absence, loneliness, and want af sympathy. She knew not, until the sad proof, that the presence of the beloved object is alone a delight and a want of the fond heart; nor anticipated the dreary feelings which pressed upon her heart almost to suffocation, when she felt herself alone for ever. For could a soul so full of tenderness as hers find aught of equal in the apathy and cold formality of the nuns, whose sensibilities, if not extinct, must never kindle to less than heavenly aspirations? Religious enthusiasm alone supported her; her long and frequent prayers, her tears, and meditations (not wholly of a pious nature) caused her to be considered in the convent as a saint; her wasting form and pallid cheek were adjudged to be the effects of a too severe penance. Alas! they were indications of the slow, sure decay of a broken spirit. Meanwhile, Julian and Clarice lived in fortune's smile; days, months passed on, and their happiness, which seemed incapable of addition, was heightened by the birth of a son. wish for offspring was with the baron a predominant passion, and his feelings partook of this nature when he first took the boy in his arms; not only the mingled emotions of gratitude and pleasure which all parents experience, but in him the big tear which started unbidden, had its swelling source as much in pride as tenderness; his imagination pictured him, when in the bloom of manhood, beauty, and prowess, he would step forth the worthy representative of his house's dignity and honour. To exultation for the mother's well-doing was superadded, that she lived and bloomed anew in increased health and beauty. As soon as the strength of Clarice permitted, the castle gates were opened to visitors and festivity; the poor, as was usual in those hospitable days, partook substantially of their lord's happiness, and the church failed not of its share in the baron's liberality.

The

The day at length arrived when the child was to receive the baptismal benediction: a long and brilliant train of relatives led the way to the convent church.

The

sponsors, who represented royalty, followed in canopied magnificence, their lofty plumes dancing in the summer's wantonness, their embroidered trains sweeping as in rivalry the flowered footway. The cavalcade was terminated by the healthful, well-clad vassals of the domains, each bearing some rustic offering of fruit or flowers, to be blessed at the altar and presented to the infant in token of feudal homage. The superior of the convent, with the brotherhood, came out to meet the procession; and at their entrance into the church, the organ's sweet prolonged note rolled through the long arched aisles, hushing the footsteps. of the entering multitude. The edifice was gloomy, grand, and spacious; its long painted windows, though lighted by a strong evening sun, but dimly illumined its gothic tracery, and the pale light of the lamps gave a yet more ghastly hue to the recumbent and kneeling figures of armed knights and cowled monks, whose effigies were ranged around. Innumerable chapels were raised on either side, whose gloomy recesses, disfigured by grotesque and tinselled statues of saints, were rendered yet more obscure by the heavy fretted screenwork surrounding them, confusing the inquiring glance with a thousand shadowy and fearful imaginings.

child.

ever (in support of the dignity of the order) he had said in extenuation, her crime called for ecclesiastical chastisement and public reprimand for this purpose he desired an interview with the Abbess, and charged her to see the culprit punished, as an example to the community. The Abbess, whose heart was good and kind, guessed the offender could be no other than Adelaide: she had kept her secret faithfully, and judging of the emotions which had impelled her to such conduct, assured the superior she would not fail to reprimand her severely; but threatened, only to prevent the Abbott's interposition.

His holy zeal was not so easily satisfied; he talked of a chapter being called, and ultra rigors inflicted. The Abbess pleaded the Novice's recent indisposition, and the languor to which she was reduced in consequence; she likewise urged her saintly character, and that on the very eve of her taking the habit of the order, it was impolitic to treat her with harshness and lower her in the opinion of her sisters. Obedience is however the first of duties in a monastic institution: she therefore consented that the Nuns should be assembled to witness the humiliation and listen to the rebuke which the Abbott was to bestow upon the delinquent, and went herself to bring her before the august tribunal, meaning to soothe her agitation with the voice of friendship.

The Abbott now led the way to the font; the sweet though tremulous voices of the Nuns responded to the deep chaunt of the Monks; high rose the fumes of the fragrant incense; flowers were strewed, and the rich sponsorial offerings presented. At this moment a figure, habited in the white noviciate habit, slowly advanced to the principal group, and taking the infant from the arms of the astonished godmother, pressed it closely to her heart, kissing it repeatedly; then sinking on her knees and bending lovingly over the babe, in a low, sad voice, ejaculated blessings on both father and A feeling of awe from the solemnity of her Prevented interference; a death like silence and suspension reigned for a few instants, which was interrupted by the stern voice of the Abbott. "Wherefore, daughter, this interruption to our holy rites? retire, your cell await the penance which your indeappearance has drawn upon you." The Nun arose from her kneeling posture; but instead of giving the infant to the lady from whom she took it, turned to the baron Julian, who stood some paces distant, and placed it in his arms: once more she stooped to kiss the little one, gently clasping the warrior hands that

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tled the quiet of her mind; yet her sanctity and exdevotion make her an especial favourite of and it augur's well for your illustrious house,

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the ceremony was concluded without further

She was not in her cell she sought for her in the garden, for Adelaide had been allowed greater privileges than the rest of the community, and would often, from the garden's coolness, seek that refreshment which the busy workings of her memory denied her in sleep. The evening was one of stillness and delight. Night, as though jealous of the protracted day which still lingered on the horizon, had sent forth her starry attributes, and the reaper's moon hung full and luminous. Even the Abbess was touched with something more than her usual calm devotion, and wondered not that her unfortunate friend should often commune with God in this temple in preference to the one built by mortal hands. Something like human regret passed through her mind as she thought of Adelaide, beautiful, accomplished, and full of youthful energies, doomed to be imprisoned for life; subject to the constant jealousies and littlenesses of a conventual life, its apathy and extinction of human feelings. But then her blighted affections made a convent her only refuge; and while she was superior, she could protect her from much of suffering, bodily and mental.

interruption; and when the gallant pageant returned to the castle, but few remembered the miraculous visitation, amidst their revelry and wassail. Not so the holy abbott; he could not so easily overlook the want of discipline and decorum which this strange appearance bespoke among the Nuns committed to his paternal charge A choir Novice to intrude before such an assembly, to interrupt the service of the church! what

"Unable to find her in the garden, she proceeded to the chapel the lamps used at the recent ceremony were mostly extinct, or burned dimly. · Adelaide, daughter, are you here?' said the Abbess; but the low echo of her own words was the only reply. She turned to leave the place, when the red glare of evening pouring through a window discovered the object of her search, kneeling by the font, with one arm hanging over the marble basin, against which her head reclined. Her attitude and statue-like appearance made her seem part of the sculpture. The Abbess thought her wrapt in pious ecstacy and drew near to arouse her. In vainthe consolations of friendship, the chidings of religious austerity were alike equal; her withered heart could resist no longer; she had returned to the chapel where she had last beheld her lord, and pressed his infant to her heart. Again she traced its blooming features, and

dwelt upon its father's delighted countenance; till, overcome by one of these bitter pangs which swell the heart to bursting, her spirit yielded to the struggle, and left her fixed and lifeless, has she has been described."

THE REIGN OF SPRING.

WHO loves not Spring's voluptuous honrs,
The carnival of birds and flowers?
Yet who would choose, however dear,
That Spring should revel all the year?
-Who loves not Summer's splendid reign,
The bridal of the earth and main?
Yet who would choose, however bright
A dog-day noon without a night?
-Who loves not Autumn,s joyous round,
When corn, and wine, and oil abound?
Yet who would choose, however gay,
A year of unrenew'd decay?

-Who loves not Winter's awful form?
The Sphere-born music of the storm?
Yet who would choose, how grand soever,
The shortest day to last for ever?

'Twas in that age renown'd, remote,
When all was true that Esop wrote;
And in that land of fair Ideal,
Where all that poets dream is real;
Upon a day of annual state,

The Seasons met in high debate.

There blush,d young Spring in maiden-pride,
Blithe Summer look'd a gorgeous bride,
Staid Autumn mov'd with matron grace,
And beldame Winter purs'd her face.
Dispute grew wild ; all talk'd together;
The four at once made wondrous weather;
Nor one (whate'er the rest had shewn')
Heard any reason but her own,
While each (for nothing else was clear,)
Claim'd the whole circle of the year,"

Spring, in possession of the field,
Compell'd her sisters soon to yield ;'
They part,-resolv'd elsewhere to try
A twelve-month's empire of the sky;
And calling off their airy legions,
Alighted in adjacent regious,
Spring o'er the eastern champaign smil'd,
Fell Winter rul'd the northern wild;
Summer pursued the Sun's red car,
But Autumn lov'd the twilight star.

As Spring parades her new domain,
Lovo, Bauty, Pleasure, hold her train;
Her footsteps wake the flowers beneath,
That start, and blush, and sweetly breathe;
Her gales ou nimble pinions rove,
And shake to foliage every grove;
Her voice, in dell and thicket heard,
Cheers on the nest the mother-bird;'
The ice-lock'd streams, as if they felt
Her touch, to liquid diamond melt;
The lambs around her bleat and play;
The serpent filings his slough away,
And shines, in orient colours dight,
A flexile ray of living light,
Nature unbinds her wintry shroud,
(As the soft sunshine melts the cloud,)
With infant gambols sports along,
Bounds into youth, and soars in song,
The Morn impearls her locks with dew;
Noon spreads a sky of boundless blue;
The rainbow spans the evening scene;
The Night is silent and serene,

Save when her lonely minstrel wrings'
The heart with sweetness, while he sings,
-Who would not wish, unrivall'd here,
That Spring might frolic all the year?

Three months are fled, and still she reigns, Exalting queen o'er hills and plains;

The birds renew their nuptial vow,
Nestlings themselves are lovers now:
Fresh broods each bending bough receives,
Till feathers far outnumber leaves;
But kites in circles swim the air,
And sadden music to despair.

The stagnant pools, the quaking bogs,

Teem, croak, and crawl with hordes of frogs;
The matted woods, th' infected earth,
Are venomous with reptile-birth;
Armies of locusts cloud the skies!
With beetles hornets, gnats with flies,
Interminable warfare wage,

And madden heaven with insect-rage.

The flowers are wither'd ;-sun nor dew
Their fallen glories shall renew;
The flowers are wither'd; germ nor seed
Ripen in garden, wild or mead:

The cornfields shoot;-their blades, alas!
Run riot in luxuriant grass.

The tainted flocks, the drooping kine,
In famine of abundance pine,
Where vegetation, sonr, unsound,
And loathsome, rots, and rankles ronnd;
Nature with Nature seems at strife;
Nothing can 'ive but monstrous life,
By death engender'd;-food and breath
Are turn'd to elements of death;
And where the soil his victims s rew,
Corruption quickens them anew.

But ere the year was half expir'd,
Spring saw her folly, and retir'd,
Yok'd her light chariot to a breeze,
And mounted to the Pleiades;
Content with them to rest or play
Along the calm nocturnal way;
Till heaven's remaining circuit run,
They meet the pale hybernal sun,
And gaily mingling in his blaze,
Hail the trne dawn of vernal days.

ELEANOR.

The room was very crowded; it was a musical party, but I chanced to arrive just at the termination of a song so that some short time passed in the general hum of conversation which commonly intervenes between the pieces of music at a concert. But of a sudden, there was an endeavour to obtain silence-some one was going to sing. I was engaged in conversation, and did not pay much attention to the prelude, which was played on a harp. It was a simple air, just played over, as it seemed, to give the key to the singer, and to accord the instrument to the voice; but, as I have said, I continued my conversation, heeding it but little. I happened to be speaking on some subject that interested me; and I continued talking earnestly, but par bienseance, in a low tone of voice, when the singer began. I stopped instantly; the most perfect silence by this time reigned in the room, and gave full effect to the notes of a voice, clearer, fuller, and far, far more sweet, than any I had ever heard. The song was of that style which may be termed pensive gaiety; which may be supposed to speak the feelings of one naturally joyous and buoyant, but saddened by the visitation of early sorrow. The singer

gave what is so rare-the words of the song with the utmost distinctness; and they were uttered with a truth of feeling and expression which, added to the wild, simple, and beautiful air to which they were breathed, sank to my very soul. There was, however, no parade of feeling-none of that displayed and spurious sensibility which so often reigns in the atmosphere of piano

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