young, active lad, by name Andrew Wolfe, had entered into the service of Mein-herr John, the butcher. He was a ready penman and accountant, and soon became indispensable to his master, whose business, after Andrew's arrival, was rapidly improved, and he himself was reconciled with customers who, for a long while, had been estranged. Mein-herr John therefore moderated, in some degree, the usual roughness of his temper and demeanour; and Andrew himself bore much with patience, on account of the sincere love which he cherished for Louisa. Their attachment was mutual; and as the good diligent youth had gathered together a little capital of his own, he hoped in a short time to be able to undertake some business for himself, and provide for the worldly comfort of his intended bride. He had just made mind to disclose those intentions to his master, when one up his evening the wicked Martin, a graceless journeyman, in whom no one had any trust, contrived to entice him into a game of hazard, in which Mein-herr John also joined, and both tacitly conspired together to pillage the of the little fortune he had so anxiously saved. Contrary poor lad to their expectations, however, he won from both; and when it grew late, on Louisa making signs to him to go, he broke off at last, and retired to his apartment, having first hastily embraced his mistress, and whispered her, that to-morrow all would be finally arranged for their marriage, and that she should have no fears for the future. Several people in the house had overheard Mein

herr John whispering that same evening with Martin on the stairs, and seen them afterwards go up to Wolfe's chamber. The following day Andrew had disappeared, no one knew where or how. His master gave out that he had deserted to the French army, and had marched away with them.

After these disclosures were made, it was found that the villain Martin was missing; and, on enquiry, it appeared, that in the morning early he had fled on horseback, no doubt, sooner or later to be overtaken by merited judgment.

Louisa, with calm resignation, attended Wolfe in his illness, who in lucid intervals was still able to converse with her, and often folding his hands with deep sighs, said, "God has avenged us, and we must forgive the guilty!" These indeed were his last words, and in uttering them he closed his honourably unstained existence. Louisa laid the Cypress Crown (which she had taken down from the nail in his apartment) upon the coffin, and she and Lynx followed at a distance, when his comrades bore him to the grave, and deposited his remains beside those of his brother, who had previously been interred with christian rights.

Often Louisa still weeps over their grave; yet her heart is more tranquil, for Andrew was not faithless, and God has judged his murderers. With pious submission waits this poor drooping flower, till the storm of life shall wholly lay it in the dust, and refuge is found at last in the night of the grave.

ALEXIEW VON LIEBEN.

FROM THE GERMAN OF BLUMENHAGEN.

was disturbed

THE castle chapel of the Duke of by unhallowed scenes. The sepulchres of princes were open, and the servants conveying trunks of jewels and plate, (useless treasures to the dead), down the marble staircase. On the first step of a side altar of the chapel were placed numerous maps, on which two officers were marking out various military positions. Opposite them, at the narrow entrance of the steeple stairs, stood a red bearded Cosack as centinel, who beheld with the most covetous looks the riches which were being confided to the dead.

The Russian General Alexiew von Lieben had, by order of his grey-headed commander, entered the small capital of the Duchy to oppose the approaching enemy, and was preparing himself to fill with honour the post

allotted to him.

The town was situated at the entrance of a narrow valley, and commanded by the strength of its situation

the pass into the interior, which formed a ravine, through which poured a torrent bounded by a solitary road. Before the town, a spacious plain extended itself to the foot of the distant mountains.

The watchfires of the enemy were discoverable at night amongst the higher ridges, but hitherto only a few companies of light cavalry, accompanied by small detachments of infantry, had ventured into the plain, of which the Russians had taken possession.

On this day, however, they assumed a more formidable appearance. They descended in regular battle array, protected by some pieces of artillery, under cover of which a body of cavalry made towards the walls. The Russian commander ascended the steeple to observe the movements of the enemy, and his aid-de-camp awaited his commands in the chapel, ready to communicate them to the troops ranged in order in the square of the town.

The duke entered at this moment with hasty steps, followed by his secretary and confidant, Sir Giulo Vasaldo. The tall and thin form of the prince, his sharp Italian countenance, his dark and somewhat greyish hairs, and above all his deep and burning eye, indicated the violence of his passions, and their predominance through the whole of his career. His favourite was a short and thick figure, on whose inexpressive features dwelt a continual smile, which partially mitigated the treachery discoverable in his small colourless eyes.

"Who opened the castle chapel?" asked the duke,

as he entered. "What folly to commit such treasures to their hiding place before these witnesses. We are desirous of concealing them from our friendly enemies, and place them here at the convenience of our hated friends, ready to load their miserable waggons whenever they please. Who opened this chapel to the strangers ?" “His_command—please your highness!” answered the knight, shrugging his shoulders. "That great key of war. The general has ascended the steeple, and is observing the approach of the enemy."

"Would that a cannon ball would find him there, like a Salisbury before Orleans," said the duke, striving to conceal his passion. "I am no longer sovereign master in my dominions, since he entered my capital at the head of his troop of barbarians. The beardless youth is become duke, and I must descend from my dear bought throne, and see my crown hang on the bloody point of his sword. Vasaldo, I have borne everything— the hatred of my uncle, the envy excited by my cousin's happiness, the gnawing worm of jealousy, the cold hell of an unhappy marriage, but all this I bore easier than the proud steps of this general in my own house, who seems to say that he could, if he was so inclined, crush us to atoms, and stamp on our humbled bodies. Vasaldo, the very thought is poisonous, and I will no longer

bear it!"

Fortune is changeable," said the knight.

"What