prehend; how did this all appear to Him, who at or three years will have scraped together enough she sang and joked the whole day through, and had one and the same moment beheld the affluent to take us out as emigrants to America.' not caresses enough for the child. They told me mother encircled by the warm embrace of affection, "I confess that this story did not affect me many anecdotes of her whenever I called, and we and the one here crouching homeless upon the much; I had already heard so many such, partly all laughed at her extravagant spirits. It is amazsnow-covered steps?—I could not solve it; and at made up of truth and partly of lies. But when, ing how inventive passion is, in words either of love length was obliged to satisfy myself with the con-after a few days, the bridegroom made his appear- or of abuse. There is nothing too extravagant for fident belief that profound wisdom forms the basis ance-a handsome young fellow, with a fearless it. Whenever Christiana seemed to have exhausted of this apparent perplexity, which in time will be-expresssion of countenance, though now as much herself in expressions of love for the child, she alcome clear, and that the Divine Spirit who rules all cast down as if he were a criminal—and when he, ways found something new, and she would say, things moves in a mysterious manner. with a trembling hand, offered me a small sum of setting her teeth together the while, 'Oh you—you money, and fearful of offending, added that per-golden lentil porridge-you-you-sugary firehaps I would let Christiana have something good tongs!' and such like. I fancy poor Christiana and strengthening, I began to have a somewhat wished to silence the cry of misery in her heart, to better opinion of the two young people. The forget herself; and to some extent she did so. On young man pleased me greatly. He was one of every hand I was met with praise and thanks for those who are not accustomed to express thanks; having procured such an excellent nurse. I refrom whose lips words of humility come with an ceived the thanks of the slave-dealer. effort, because they prefer receiving that only which is their right. I confess a liking for such characters. There is so much of the spirit of mendicity and cringing in the world, that it is very agreeable to meet with that kind of independence which requires favors and kindness with a manner that seems to say, if I ever have it in my power to return these to you, it shall be done with the same good will.

room.

"On the following morning I found the stranger invigorated, and almost recovered from her late fatigue. I also had recovered somewhat from that compassionate spirit which had overcome me on the preceding night. I visited the stranger in her I knew before the kind of dismal story I should have to hear, interrupted by sobs. I had already been too often cheated and imposed upon not to be sternly on my guard against its repetition. That is the lamentable part of it. Lies and deceit close our hearts, and often make us blind to the truth. And yet it is the principle of every benevolent heart-better shew kindness to ten undeserving objects, than let one single worthy person fall short of the tenderness and the humanity which his sufferings merit. But it is well that we are often less prudent than we wish to be-that the generous heart should run away with the wisdom of

reason.

"On the tenth day after her arrival, Christiana gave birth to a fine boy. It would be impossible to describe her joy at the sight of the child. At this moment all sorrow and all sense of discomfort was gone; she was an entirely happy mother. And when she said that the child was as like his father as if cut out of his face, her countenance beamed as if it were overspread with a glory.

"Eight days later, the lady of the rich merchant likewise bore a son. I proposed to Christiana to take service there as wet-nurse, as by so doing she would get a good sum of money. She looked at me with an agitated countenance, pressed the baby in her arms, and large tears filled her eyes. It was some time before she could speak, and then she said: 'I cannot say anything about it now; my bridegroom will be here to-day at the christening.'

"I found the stranger cheerful, and in a comfortable state of mind. She expressed her gratitude to me in a straightforward, simple manner. She was, according to her story, the daughter of a peasant, who inherited a little property, which, how ever, he had lost through mismanagement; and then, from too frequent change of abode, had sunk into poverty. She had seen better days in the paternal house. But her father and mother were now both dead, and she-her name was Christiana -took service at the postmaster's at where she lived for three years. Here she became acquainted, to her misfortune, with a man-servant. She wept bitterly as she told this part of her story; but again she dried her tears, and her eyes beamed with an expression of pleasure as she spoke of her bridegroom, as she always called him. She described him as a genuinely brave-hearted and industrious young fellow, and did not seem to have words enough for his praise. He would at once have married her; but as they were both without property, and had nothing to live upon but the labor of their hands, they could not raise between them the small sum of money which the police requires a young couple to have before it will grant a license of marriage. She spoke of the solitary nights she had spent in weeping, and that her mother could "The child accordingly was placed in the hands not have rest in her grave, because her daughter of a well-known woman who took in nurse-children; had strayed from the path of virtue. She said that and the same evening I conducted Christiana into her bridegroom was ready to put an end to himself the family of Mr. Freidenberg. A shudder seemed because he had led her to this great error; and to pass through her whole frame as she laid the then she said, 'Our Lord will punish me for my stranger child to her breast, from which it turned sin; but I will uncomplainingly bear all, if only this poor little innocent thing may be spared to I will gladly work till the blood comes from my finger ends, and I and my bridegroom in two

us.

"The child was christened. They wanted me to stand godfather, but I had no time, and, candidly to confess, no great inclination. I might have been godfather to all the world if I had accepted all the invitations that were given me. However, out of respect and gratitude to me, the child bore my name. It was called Anton. The bridegroom wished to take the child with him to a village, where it should be well cared for. I advised this also; but Christiana made it as a condition that, if she took the situation of nurse, her child should remain in her own neighborhood.

away crying. The child, however, was soon right, and Christiana was located like a princess, in a room, the warm temperature of which was regulated by the thermometer. Whatever was most nourishing was provided for her, both for meat and * It must be remembered that Christiana was a German, drink; everything was done for her, and the child and in Germany, when lovers are betrothed, they are spoken-Hermann, it was called-grew from hour to hour. of as bride and bridegroom, even if they are not married for Christiana looked now quite rosy and handsome; seven years. Translator.

"Winter soon wore on into spring; and Christiana was permitted, during the warm hour of noon, to walk on the sunny public promenade. Mr. Freidenberg had ordered for her a handsome new dress; it was made according to the costume of the peasants in the part of the country from which she came. She would have been better pleased to have had such a dress as was commonly worn in the city, so that she might have gone out as if in a foreign disguise; but her employers were better pleased to let the world see that they had a strong nurse from the country, and therefore she was obliged to put on the handsome dress. She carried the child upon a soft and beautiful cushion, over which was spread a rich cover, and held carefully over it a parasol, so that the sunbeams might not incommode it. The young lady-mother watched them go out from her window.

"I met Christiana as she thus walked along the street. She looked bashfully around her, and then told me that she seemed to herself as if she were sold; as if she was someway exchanged-was some strange person, and not herself; for she felt anxious and queer. She said she had to walk up and down the promenade, that they might surprise the child's father as he came home from the Exchange.

"Other nursemaids were taking their walks on the promenade; they were mostly giddy creatures, and gave more attention to the soldiers who were exercising than to the infants in their arms. One of them asked Christiana whether her child had yet said "adieu" to her. At these words a sort of feverish anguish overcame her. She had only once seen her own child since she had parted with it, and that was on the day when the great christening dinner was given; on which occasion the old woman was permitted to bring the little nurse-child, and received herself plenty to eat and drink. Christiana was by that time almost a stranger to her own child; a strange feeling had overcome her, and her heart seemed almost as if it were under a mask.

"The thoughtless words which had been addressed to her produced in her a singular excitement; she felt as if driven by an irresistible impulse to seek her child: she ran through damp and narrow streets, nor stopped till she reached the house. She found her child alone in the room, crying bitterly a half-peeled potato lay on its wretched cradle. It was like a little skeleton, and had a ghastly, yellow look. When she glanced from it to the little Hermann-and this I bad from

and dashed the innocent baby from her arms upon the floor. It moaned but once. It was dead!

the old woman who had by this time entered-it house. Onwards she flew, and at length reached was with an expression as of merciless resentment; the house where her child was. Late as it was, the as if her glance said, 'See, there is the robber who door stood open; for the old woman was gone to "At that frightful moment I entered the room: has deprived thee, my darling, of thy mother, thy gossip with a neighbour. Christiana found her the child lay dead on the floor; the mother lay in nourishment, thy life! She sank down upon the child quiet in its bed; it no longer cried; it only a fainting-fit beside it, and Christiana rushed wildly cradle, and sobbed as if her heart would break, moaned. The full moon, which stood now calm about the room, singing. I was horror stricken. whilst the two children cried in concert. Then she and clear in the heavens, looked down upon the That same night Christiana was removed to a madrose, snatched up her child, embraced and kissed mother, who with tearless eyes bent over her child. house. It was what people call a milk fever. it, and laid it to her breast; but it refused the The old woman came in with a light; Christiana | After a few weeks of the most violent paroxysms nourishment. She lifted it up playfully: now she uttered a cry that pierced through bone and mar- of insanity, she died. scolded the old woman, but soon again was over-row as she beheld her child: she tore her hair, and whelmed by anguish, as she remembered that here then again she was still. She laid the child to her she must not stay; and tearing herself from her breast, and, oh, bliss! it opened its eyes, raised its child, she hurried home with the tenderly cared- little hand, as if to the lips of the mother, and for little Hermann in her arms. sucked. She carefully laid it again in its bed, and kissed the little quilt that covered it, and under which it slept-or at least closed its eyes.

"Arrived at the merchant's house, she was met by a violent outbreak of anger-as violent, at least, as they dared, on account of the nursling, for they feared that it should receive injury through her agitation. Everything during her absence had been in the utmost state of excitement. The father had returned from the exchange, but the child was no where to be found. Christiana would not confess where she had been, but pretended merely that she had lost her way; it was now, therefore, determined, that she was no longer to go out unattended. The little Hermann cried and wrangled through the whole day. Against my own will I betrayed where Christiana had been, and the terrible shock which she had sustained now produced its effect on the child. The indignation was great against her, and they were quite disposed to send her at once from the house; but I interfered for her, and promised to have a watchful eye upon her child-I had had that already; but of what avail was it?

"Christiana was once more calm and cheerful as formerly. The third evening from this time, Mr. and Mrs. Freidenberg spent with their parents. Everything in the house was still. Christiana was singing one of those melancholy songs of the people which are so abundant in our land. In the adjoining room sat one of the house-maids at her work. Suddenly Christiana started up, and opened the window hastily. The housemaid opened the door between the two rooms, and asked her what she was doing, and that she must shut it immediately, as the cold evening air would be injurious to the child.

"It happened that I was out on my rounds, and just passing the house at that time, when, hearing a loud sound of voices, I entered. Christiana rushed towards me, exclaiming joyfully, 'My child lives! my child lives!'

"I looked in the cradle, but saw that it was at the point of death, and that any minute it might close its eyes for ever. I wished, therefore, to induce Christiana to return home; but she was obstinate, or lost in thought, and seemed scarcely to hear my words. She sang a cradle-song, and rocked the child. I felt its pulse, and while I did so, its beating stopped for ever-she rocked a dead child! I now endeavored to compel Christiana to leave the house, and return home, as I hoped by this means to conceal, for the present, the fact from her. She again tried to lift the child; and now I saw that the dreadful discovery passed through her frame like a death-stroke. She fell, without a sound, over the cradle. When we had restored her to consciousness, she smiled, and said, 'Yes, it has said adieu, my little Anton: but I have suckled it, for all that; yes, yes!'

"The marriage of the Freidenbergs has remained childless; but they have now left the city."

Such was the narrative of the surgeon. "Horrible!" exclaimed his two friends, after a pause.

"It was," continued the younger of the two, "terrible vengeance on an individual for the fault of thousands. It is lamentable, that amid such a disgraceful state of things, we should so miserably fashion our happiness. But a remedy must be

found."

"Christiana," said the surgeon, 66 was the last wet-nurse I ever engaged. I have lost the half of my wealthy employers by my views on this subject. The true way of remedying this crying sin, however, after all, is to bring up our girls in a more healthy manner, in order that they may be able to become mothers in the true sense of the word. If they would but be content to spend less time at the piano-for before everything else we want a healthy generation! But where it is absolutely necessary to engage a wet-nurse, the parents ought to consider it an indispensable duty to watch over the wellbeing of her child—or, better still, receive her child into their own house. A society which would establish itself purposely to carry out these views would not be adverse to the spirit of the age."

"Certainly the remedy must be sought for in this way," said the elder of the three. "There are "She then wandered up and down the room, difficulties in the plan," no doubt. But the first nodded her head the while as if she was saluting duty is to show to the world that they are guilty some one. As I had yet several patients to visit, I of murder, and are the means of sin and unspeakable desired her to remain here for a short time, wish-misery. Once prove this, and the remedy will not ing, in her present condition, to conduct her back be far off, let it be what it may. Who will lend a helping hand.

to Freidenberg's myself. She made no objection
at the time, to this arrangement; but, when I was
gone, she persuaded the old woman to accompany

CAMP AT BOULOGNE

"Christiana replied by inquiring if she had not her. She walked by her side along the street as THE DUEL: AN ANECDOTE OF THE heard something; for it seemed to her as if some-quiet as a lamb, and just as they reached the house, body was calling her by name in the street below. The house-maid replied that she heard nothing, and that it was only her own fancy.

"But Christiana could not be calmed by this assurance ; she rushed about the room like a wild

the carriage drove up to the front door, having
brought home the merchant and his wife.

"Let me get into the house before them!" said
Christiana. She sprang forwards up the stairs and
into the nursery as silently as possible; snatched

[TRANSLATED FROM THE BOULOGNE ALMANAO FOR 1854.]

beast in a cage. She then stood against the win- up the little Hermann, asleep as he was; kissed AT the beginning of the year 1805, Boulogne had

singing

"Sleep, my baby, sleep;

Thy father tends his sheep;
Thy mother-

"At that moment the mother opened the door and entered the room. 'How is my child?' asked she.

dow, and listened; all was still without, and yet and embraced him, and then sate down with him,
again she seemed to hear something. She opened
the door softly, and went out; she then took off
her shoes, and stole down stairs. The house-door
was locked; she opened a window on the ground-
floor, but found it secured by iron bars. She crept
softly to the servants' room; fortunately for her it
was empty, and the window unsecured; by its
means she was quickly in the street. Scarcely had "Your child!' exclaimed Christiana, in a wild,
her foot touched the ground, than she sprang for- insane voice. Away, away!-your child! my
wards through the streets. The watchmen, who saw child!-yes, your child, the murderer of mine!
her flying onwards, were greatly terrified. Unheard And as she uttered these words she stared wildly
and unperceived by any one, she had fled from the around her. 'Murder! murder!' screamed she,

reached her climax, as far as the imperial era was concerned. The great number of ships that were equipped for sea were the means of spreading ease and prosperity amongst all classes of the population. Swarms of vessels, which became famous under the name of corsaires, swept up and down the Channel, and inflicted serious injury upon English commerce. The Boulogne fishermen, a brave and hardy set of fellows, displayed traits of courage worthy of being registered beside those of Jean Bart and other illustrious mariners, and were often rewarded with the Cross of the Legion of Honor, by the hand of the Emperor himself.

The crew, then, of the "Etoile" were celebrating their good fortune in the large room at the Petit Tivoli d'Hiver, which displayed on this occasion the usual character of such meetings as these. Strong excitement, not difficult to comprehend, reigned throughout the whole course of the feast. Wine flowed in all directions, like water, in honor of many a patriotic toast. The revels were pro- the weapons?"

THE ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK JOURNAL.

the valley of the Adige, which seems to have been formed, originally, of a single rock, broken many ages ago, in some convulsion of nature, into fragments. Several of these vast masses appear to pierce the clouds with their jagged pinnacles; others, more hideous, bend over the valley, as if laughing at the law of gravitation; while many, subdivided into portions, individually huge, but comparatively minute, encumber the mountain side with their unwieldy ruins. One enormous cliff, however, in front of the picture, attracts more particularly the observation of the traveller. It is wholly unconnected with the mountain, with which it seems to vie in height, and is of a form singularly terrific to the imagination. Everywhere it presents sides that appear to be inaccessible from their steepness, even to the chamois; and, next the mountain, especially, the gulf between, darkened by the eternal shadow, looks like the entrance of hell, itself. The top is broken into pinnacles, hung with ivy and lichen; and, perched on these pinnacles, are the ruins of the Castle of Salurn.

I could learn very little of the history of this remarkable object. Salurn, it seems, was a ritterbourg, or knightly castle, of some importance in the middle ages; but the immediate causes of its falling into decay are unknown. Neumaier von Ramzla, an old German traveller, says boldly that it was impregnable till stormed by spirits; when the family immediately took to flight. A later visitor, Professor Schubert of Erlingen, assures us in his "Wanderbuchlein," that he himself saw something. For my part, I saw nothing but old walls, most romantically situated; and I should have been very well satisfied to have attributed their dilapidation to the change that has taken place in the system of warfare and the habits of the people, had it not been for one of my fellowtravellers.

This person was a Bavarian, apparently of the military order, and bore the marks of having been handsome in his youth. He was, however, much disfigured by hard service; and, over and above a most ghastly complexion, had a pair of eyes that no one could meet unmoved. What was their particular form or color, I know not; but perhaps Mr. Coleridge can tell-for I am sure they resembled those of the Ancient Mariner. When I inquired the name and history of the Ritterbourg, he gave shall never forget. Nay, he me a look which seemed to be on the point of speaking; but, glancing suddenly at our companions, he leaned back in his dark corner of the vehicle, where nothing could be seen but the glare of his singular eyes in the gloom.

Several times in the course of the journey to Botzen, where we were to rest for the night, my thoughts recurred involuntarily to Salurn. As we left the magical influence of the place itself, however, I was able to smile at the hold which had been taken of my imagination by the stranger, in connexion with the ruined castle. It is true, thought I, he is an elderly man, but he cannot be six or seven hundred years old; in spite of his remarkable eyes, he is not the Wandering Jew! He is old enough, however, to know something which may be forgotten by other people, and that may be interesting to a dreamer like myself. I will ask him to supper.

The invitation was given, and accepted. We no balls, no dinners, no promenades; the inhabit-
arrived at Botzen on a cold, dark, uncomfortable ants were either less civilised in their recreations
night. When entering the room appropriated to than we of Bavaria, or even then their fit of sulleness
me, an object I encountered at the door still more had commenced, before they could point out a
unhinged my feelings. It was the representation, pretext for discontent.
admirably well executed, of a corpse standing erect
-naked, ghastly, wounded, and dabbled with
blood. From the cross and other peculiarities, I
perceived that it was one of those statues of our
Saviour which are met with at every turn, both in
and out of doors, in this part of the Tyrol. It was
The room was large, carpetless,
the first I had seen, and made my blood run cold
with horror.
floored with tile, and without fire. The rain beat
against the casements, which rattled in reply. As
the wind rushed groaning down the chimney, the
flames of the candles wavered, forming winding-
sheets innumerable on the white tallow. I wished
that I had not asked the stranger to supper.

He came.

We were, in fact, shunned-sent to Coventry, as the English say; and it is not to be supposed that we received with any affectation of mildness the tacit insult. Some disorders took place not strictly in consonance with civil etiquette. The inhabitants no longer remained silent; and, instead of keeping what too much familiarity: in short a series of aloof as heretofore, they closed upon us with somemutual aggressions took place, which kept the town in a perpetual ferment.

One day, in the midst of this anarchy, being themselves uninvited at an evening party, which we somewhat heated with wine after dinner, it was proposed by two or three young officers to present He was a silent, but not an unsociable understood was to be given at a house in the neighHe ate his supper without much speaking; borhood of the town. In a perfectly sober moment man. and when the substantials had given place to I should have thought the frolic too boyish: howwalnuts and a bottle of Burgundy, he hemmed ever, out we sallied, to the number of four, and our cards, we followed upon the heels of the asseveral times, and fastening his eyes upon me, took the way to the scene of action, laughing boisterawaited the signal which he knew was to be forth-ously at the idea of a Tyrolese soirée. Sending in room filled with apparantly genteel company of "Touching this Castle of Salurn," said I, "and tonished servant, and speedily found ourselves in a coming. "I know nothing of its history and antiquities." both sexes. its history and antiquities." said he.

"You surprise me, sir!"

"Why so? I am indeed a sort of antique myself
"That is just what I was thinking." The stranger
but I am not the Wandering Jew."
"I mean," continued I, “that I should not
smiled.
take you for so elderly a personage. But the truth
is, I imagined from a certain intelligence in your
something about the castle if you would."
expression as we passed Salurn, that you could tell

"You were right. My story, however, is a
modern one, and one that, connected as it is with
my family history, and reviving recollections,
some of pain, and all of interest, I do not choose to
recite in a public company. My visit to Salurn
was attended, most unexpectedly to me, with cir-
cumstances of public moment: and, as you appear
to be actuated by nothing more than literary
curiosity, you are welcome to listen to a page of
Tyrolese history." I apologized to the old man for
my folly (discovering at the moment, as the warm
hue of life was spread over his complexion by the
effects of the wine, that his eyes were not so very
remarkable), and requested him to proceed with
so I said, more interesting than all the ghost stories
his narrative, which I knew I should find, at least
in the world. The following is, as nearly as I can
recollect, the substance of what he told me.

The conversation stopped; all eyes were turned upon the intruders; and, after a moment's pause, to sit down. This was a very unexpected recepthe master of the house, bowing politely, asked us tion. We had come prepared to find informality repelled by rudeness, and, after a little badinage with the "country girls," to get back to our quarreadiness of one of my comrades-a young Frenchters sword in hand. We, indeed, looked a little man-we should perhaps have slunk away as sudfoolish, and had it not been for the good sense and denly as we had entered. He apologised with great frankness, bewailing the dullness of a garrison life, and imploring the ladies to mediate between us and the prejudices of their countrymen; There was one of the ladies to whom I more parand in a very short time we found ourselves as much at home as if we had come by invitation. ticularly attached myself. She was very young, but possessed a splendour of beauty which constituted her the star of the evening, and entitled her to the exclusive homage of the senior officer. Dorathen herself did not seem displeased with her conquest, but on the contrary paid me every attention ing; and, indeed, the whole party by degrees began that was consistent with delicacy and good breedand cordiality, with the exception of one man. This individual, whose name was Rusen, possessed to exhibit unequivocal symtoms of good humour My regiment was stationed at Trent, from 1806, not a line of the German physiognomy, but was when the Tyrol was ceded to Bavaria by the treaty evidently a decided Italian, although residing here of Presburg, till 1809, the commencement of the in the confluence of the blood of the two races. The latter was peasant war. This period, of three years, I number His features were handsome, but his complexion among the most remarkable in my life. The early singularly dark, and his eyes of a fierce and sinister part of it, however, was spent in the lassitude, expression, which contrasted strongly with the inboth of mind and body, which garrison-troops are genuous blue orbs of Dorathen. so liable to fall into when they find themselves evidently not only his mistress but his affianced suddenly in a place destitute of the unmeaning bride; and there appeared to exist between them peace, under the name of amusement. There were observed among lovers. nothings which fill up the life of a soldier during the kind of mysterious confidence which is usually

By degrees, as my sudden acquaintance with Dorathen seemed to approach towards familiarity, Rusen became first uneasy, then indignant, then cold and distant. His mistress, who treated his frowns with almost contempt, became alarmed at his desertion, and put in practice a thousand femi-acquainted even with the geographical position of nine wiles to lure him back to her chair. Was not Bavaria and Austria!" this like love? And yet I could read something in her eyes that told a different tale. There seemed to be nothing tender in her uneasiness; and once or twice I detected in her stolen glance an expression of fear rather than timidity.

The hour of parting came, and I requested permission to escort Dorathen home, understanding that she resided at some distance on the Botzen road. This was declined on the plea of a similar engagement with Rusen. The latter, however, although within earshot, would not hear. He did not stir from his place; the company had almost all 'Now, tell me," said I, seizing her hand, and left the house; and Dorathen, at last, with height-bending forward to snatch the salute which I knew ening colour, put her arm within mine, and calling the custom of the country authorised on such occasher servant, we went out together. ions--" tell me, Dorathen, are you engaged to that dusky Italian?"