now only bitter ones. He kept himself much indoors, walked his hall with his hands in his pockets and head bowed dejectedly on his breast, and sighed and smoked incessantly. His seat at the club, too, remained vacant; and when some of the hunting members of that amicable association, halted at his door on their return from a splendid day's sport, they found him poor company, and made a report accordingly at the subsequent dinner.

Mr. Edward's reflections ran in this wise: He had not been befooled; it was no stale coquetry of which he had been the victim; no, at his own door alone could lie any charge of folly. Yet one thing disturbed him, by the reiterance of the conjecture, if nothing else; had shedid she love him? To what other cause could he attribute the agitation and tears of the parting interview? She did not say that she loved, but only that she was engaged. Might not the result have been different if he had pleaded more earnestly and at greater length? By heavens! when he looked back to that scene in the summer-house, it appeared to him as brief and chilly (compared with what he might have uttered) as the transit of a train through a great tunnel; what was cisalpine had become, on a sudden, transalpine, and the mountains towered between, he scarce could relate how. But such doubts as these, of what might have been, were usually combated by the sad little face that rose up at the thought; that sad face so eloquent of a struggle with duty-anguish, perhaps-and pleading for everlasting silence and separation. It was so hopeless a case-so desperately hopeless-was it not the part of the soundest sense and philosophy (which are one) to wean his mind of the pang, if not of the tenderness; that he could never lose; to the latest day of his life he must carry the memory of one woman, and of her only, green in his heart. So our hero began meditating how the first result could best be attained, and, while doing so, sighed less (if he smoked more-but a cigar is a great help, assuredly, to meditation) and walked less with his chin upon his breast.

The change in Rutridge was noticed in due time, and commented on at Cypress Hall. "What the deuce ails Ned?" his father said one day at table. "He used to be here twice a week to dinner, and I believe it's ten days since the fellow has put his foot in the house."

"He came here this morning, and I thought he looked far from well, but he would not admit it," Hetty replied. “He only looks blasé," Harriet said, with a laugh. "If his fit of blues continues

much longer, I shouldn't wonder to hear of his preaching somewhere; he's as solemn as a parson now, and didn't even laugh at the number of flounces on my new dress from town, as I expected he would; and, what is more, he wears crape on his hat, and would not tell us who he is mourning for."

"Why, none of us have died lately— have we?" the head of the family asked, somewhat frightened, and rode over that very afternoon to learn all about it.

"Why, Ned, you're looking like a ghost, sir!" the senior cried, eyeing him. "Hetty said as much, and Hatty thought you were turning parson because you did not notice her new gown. And what the deuce is the reason, sir, of your never giving us the honor of your company at dinner, nowadays ?-and which one of us are you in weeds for, eh?" With a look at the hat-"Who's dead, Ned?"

"No one is dead, sir. I-it's a whim of mine which I would rather keep to myself for the present," his son returned, turning very red in the face and looking extremely woe-begone. "And as for dining at Cypress Hall, sir; when I am cheerful enough to make nobody uncomfortable, I will take my usual seat."

"Poh! poh! one doesn't lose his cheerfulness, like a fox's tail, without something to show for it. I know your secret, sir! (at which words our hero gave a percep tible start.) Pooh! Ned, I've thought it over, and I don't see why you should be worried about that popinjay Gossimer. I don't believe he will get two dozen votes." Upon which Mr. Edward broke into a contemptuous laugh. "I care for Gossimer's canvassing, sir!" he said. "And if his graces were likely to win over the parish, I do not think the loss of my seat would concern me so much as all that."

"You don't care whether you are returned to the legislature or not-what the deuce ails the boy!" the old gentleman ejaculated, elevating his bushy eyebrows. "It is a good enough stepping-stone," was the rather moody answer; "but I do not believe much of a name is to be made by merely speechifying in the State Capitol, sir, and one cannot be earned any where with small effort."

Name, sir-by George!" the representative of a great family ejaculated breathlessly. "The first name in the country not good enough for you! Why what the D- does the boy mean!"

And our hero, who had found out the inefficiency of a great name in winning a little French brunette, to say nothing of the consent of Madame (though in all this he may have argued erroneously), now gave words to convictions long held, which

late events had only served to strengthen. "The best name in the world could not remain fresh for ever, and the farther one receded from one's illustrious ancestors, the weaker must become one's influence by association with greatness on the public mind, unless something were done from time to time to revive the flagging attention of posterity; it would be a wonder, before long, if they even recollected when the Governor lived, or whether their name had been written among the signers of the Declaration. And I cannot think, sir," he ventured to add, getting on a forbidden subject, "our uncle John is likely to advance, or even keep stationary, the honor of which we are justly proud. Why, neither Hetty nor Hatty will soon forget the mortification of being claimed by him in public at-at a gate in the city. And, I beg pardon, sir, but the life you have led, and which you now recommend to me, if highly respectable and fully capable of maintaining dignity in one's parish, you will admit is not at all calculated to keep the memory of our original services alive."

“I believe you are right," the senior responded with a great sigh, and fell into a train of musing on the brevity of human greatness, quite unusual with him. His seat in the saddle, too, as he rode homeward, was less stately than customary, and it was not until near twenty-four hours had intervened that he settled into the consolatory belief "that it was best to take the bull by the horns, by George! and Ned was such a clever fellow he might live yet to see him governor or ambassador somewhere, and the family name in every body's mouth, as in colonial times." Soon after which, he surprised the sisters at supper by an account of his yesterday's discussion, and by prophecies of Mr. Edward's greatness, at which Miss Harriet rather sneered.

"I think it more likely he will lower himself by his democratic views," she said superbly. "I don't understand how our family can need exertion to keep it on the summit. It is perfectly ridiculous to suppose a Rutridge ever occupying a secondary position in society," a sentiment Twitty would have subscribed with entire faith.

Henrietta made little comment; her thoughts were hastily connecting events which had occurred during the past three weeks, and it appeared quite marvellous she had not surmised the truth before. "Poor fellow, he has wanted sympathy sadly, I am sure, and feared to ask it"--she reflected many times that night; and when the sun rose next morning, she was cantering her pony by a short cut across the fields to Ponpon.

"Why, what brings you here so early, Hetty?" Rutridge asked while helping her off'; and the pair sat together on one of the lawn benches.

But Miss Hetty, instead of replying, took one of Rutridge's hands and pressed it very tenderly between hers and looked him wistfully in the face. "Oh Edward!" she said presently, "why did you bear your grief alone-why didn't you share it with me, brother?"

"What grief?" Edward stammered, with a miserable attempt, indeed, at appearing innocent.

"If I had thought for a moment you were in earnest," Hetty pursued, gently shaking her head, "I would have told you I heard she was engaged. Now tell me what chance you have of winning Mademoiselle's favor-you know I don't ask from curiosity."

"None!-and-and you're a noble girl, Hetty!" our poor friend answered; and bowed his head upon his sister's shoulder, and there, for any thing I know, shed a few tears in secret.

"I will tell you the history of my love from first to last, Hetty," our hero said, raising his head after an interval; and let it be conceded, there is no reason for accounting him less a hero in the popular sense, for shedding a manly tear or two; no doubt Plato and Howard (for example) wept in their times, if Caligula and Sardanapalus did not.

The end of that history we all know. But that he got the better, in the end, of his discomfiture, and so far forgot his private griefs as to give his attention to public affairs and make a figure some time later in the political world, we who have read reports of his speeches on the French Spoliation Bill, Foreign Interference, and other great questions affecting the peace and prosperity of the commonwealth, may believe. Nay more, if the purport of a certain paragraph be recalled, which began, On Wednesday last by the Rt. Rev. Dr. Surplice, Miss Celeste Eabut this is going beyond our limits.

It is a history of Miss Peck's friend we have written, and with the only incident of public note in her humble life, must end. She, poor thing, never married. The events of those few days had opened wounds not so easily cured as Twitty's. The Frenchman-twenty years her senior, who resided in Switzerland-never came back; he may have died abroad or proved inconstant, as other people have: and whether Madame was ever after justified in her conscience for having stepped in to avert an unequal match, is a thing to be decided only by experienced mammas. Years after, when Miss Henrietta, no

longer Miss, but with a daughter old enough to be put to boarding-school, called for that purpose in the establishment under control of the Sisters of Mercy, wasn't it odd that she should stare as she did in the meek, pale face of the sister who attended her summons in the

convent parlor, and end by kissing it very kindly.

And oh, what a red little face that was, on the instant, under the hood which should have been a sign of the world forgotten!

THE day was just breaking, as a man in a military frock, unlocked the doors of the car, and asked for our tickets to Vienna. Rubbing my eyes, and putting my head out of the window, I saw a glorious spire rising out of a wilderness of houses and trees.

"That," said an English gentleman who sat beside me, "is the city of Vienna."

"And the glorious spire, which has just caught the sun while all the rest lies in darkness?"

"Is the tower of St. Stephen's, the noblest cathredal, in my estimation, in all Europe."

We were all preparing to admire it, when the train shot into the station-house, shutting off the view.

"Do you think," inquired the same gentleman, "that they will allow you to remain in the capital?"

"Why not?" I responded with some surprise.

"They are just now rather shy of English and Americans, of the first because of the drubbing old Haynau got in the Brewery, and of the second, since the magnificent reception they gave Kossuth."

"But what have we to do with either?" "Nothing perhaps ! but let me tell you a short story. A few weeks since two young men from Boston, arrived in the city, and applied at the police for the customary aufenhaltschein, or permit of residence, which was refused, and they were told to quit within twenty-four hours. 'Why?' they asked somewhat indignantly, when the official replied, 'That is our business.' In vain they expostulated, assuring the worthy dignitaries that they were simple travellers, knowing nothing of politics at home or abroad, and caring less about them, and proffering the amplest references to friends to whom they had brought letters. All the satisfaction they could get was an order to go, which they did, on to Venice, where I met them and heard their complaint. They seemed perfectly confounded by so singular a proceeding, and vented their spite on European despotisms generally in no measured terms. Now, what do you suppose was the reason

why they were singled out for this mark of imperial disfavor?"

"I cannot for the world conceive," said I. "Why, their name was Perkins, and the stupid agents of the police, fancying that they might be connected in some way with the Perkins of Barclay & Perkins's brewery, where the woman-whipper was taken by the beard, took this sublime revenge!"

I shouted with laughter until the neat and comfortable fiacre into which we had flung ourselves was stopped at the ramparts of the city. What does this mean? exclaimed my old comrade Bison, who seemed to be just awakening—when a gray, sleepy, dirty, tobacco-reeking old militaire poked his nose in at the window, and grunted something in German about passports and baggage. We alighted and entered a small house at the side of a gate that looked like a toll-house, where another antiquated soldier or escaped convict was coolly unstrapping our truuks. Haben sie etwas estbares,-any thing to eat? he asked, 'No!' said Bison, when the thing was interpreted,—" wish I had!” Any cigars? No again! Any letters? No, once more we replied.

"What is this, then?" he muttered, having turned the last shirt out of a portmanteau, and finding a small note at the bottom. "Nothing but a letter of credit on Mudie & Co. of Venice, which we had no occasion to use."

"How!" said the old mouser; "that must be seen to," turning the paper over a dozen times, peering into it, smelling it, trying to read it, and finally carrying it into an inner room, where he kept it ten minutes.

Then another fellow came out, and asked us where we were from, where we were going, what the letter meant, whom it was written to, why it had not been used in Venice, and if not used, why it had not been destroyed, and about a dozen other equally pertinent questions. We replied as patiently as we could, and then both of them retired for consultation once more into the inner room. After another ten minutes a third of their number came

forth, asked us the same questions, looking very dubious all the while, and examining each word of the suspected document as if it was going to reveal some tremendous mystery.

Finally he retired, and after detaining us some minutes more, returned with the poor harmless letter sealed with the double eagle of Austria, and a charge of 19 kreutzers. "What the d-1!" I shouted, forced into a temporary profanity; nineteen kreutzers for sealing a bit of waste paper, which you are welcome to ?"

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"Ah, but now," one of the fuglemen calmly remarked, "you can carry it any where, without further trouble!"

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But we do not want it," said I, though we found it useless to talk, and so carried off the double-headed eagle as our first Austrian trophy. Our passports were kept to be delivered at the central police office, when the time should come for us to depart.

We drove into the city, then through what appeared to be an immense circular park, then under a huge wall or bastion, and then into the city again, alighting at last at the Stadt London, a not over comfortable hotel, as we afterwards found.

What we had taken for a park as we entered, was the public ground which surrounds the inner or old city, and is called the Glacis. Vienna, you know, is constructed like a spider's web, with the streets radiating outward from a common centre. The original walls have been turned into a broad promenade, beyond which is a still broader open space, planted with trees; then the Forstadt or suburbs, much the most populous region; finally the outer rampart, and then the open country. It forms thus two alternate layers, or circles of town and field, and seen from above would probably resemble one of those round targets at which the New-York militia shoot on their holiday excursions. The inner city is the most fashionable, but the outer the newest and handsomest, and far the most desirable residence for those who would live cheaply. But there is no part of either division which does not appear tidy and comfortable.

While Bison was ordering the breakfast, I took a stroll up one of the principal thoroughfares. There were no footpaths, and each house had a picture of the business carried on within it, instead of a sign, while the streets were narrow and the buildings tall. All at once I emerged upon a small square, in which stood one of the grandest objects that I ever saw. It was the old cathedral of St. Stephen's, black with the time-stains of

seven hundred years, yet perfect in symmetry, and of an infinite fulness of beauty. Its lofty tower, rising some five hundred feet from the ground, and wrought into endless turrets and pinnacles, has been well compared to a stately giant, hung with an army of fairies. As my eye wandered from point to point, amid an opulent variety of ever graceful forms, and then rose gradually, from point to point again, to the lofty spire, tipped with the silver light of the morning, this work seemed the embodiment of the purest aspiration that the human soul had ever sent up to God. It was an eternal prayer, and my spirit mounted with it into the skies. Nor was the profound religious feeling broken, when I entered the interior, and found hundreds of working-men and women, with their implements about them, kneeling in adoration before the shrines. The early twilight; the deep shadows of a thousand projecting beams; the innumerable figures of martyrs and saints, that in the obscurity appeared like the white-robed beings of another sphere; and the profound silence, filled me with an unutterable solemnity and awe. Men of reason often wonder at the tenacity with which the Catholic clings to his faith, but men of imagination never!

In the vaults under the church, into which I accidentally strayed, through a long, gloomy corridor, are the tombs of emperors and nobles, and others of less note once, but equal now, that have long since quitted the pomp of life. It is crowded from floor to ceiling with sarcophagi and coffins, some covered with inscriptions, others surmounted by emblems of the ancient state of their occupants, and many huddled together in apparent confusion. But what impressed me more than all was an open or glass case, in which a leathery corpse, scarcely withered in the dry, warm air of the vault, and decorated with rings, jewels and fillets of gold, appeared to be grinning a ghastly smile at the vain memorials of his departed glory. It was a sight too revolting to dwell upon, and a burden of dark thoughts rolled away, as I came out into the garish day.

Returned to the hotel, I discovered Bison laboring with a task which had been set him by the Police, who left a brief printed document of questions for us to answer and sign. It may gratify the curiosity of the reader, in more than one respect, to see how my friend disposed of his part of the performance, so I copy the paper as near as I can remember:

Question. What is your name? Answer. Elihu Bison.

Quest. How long do you wish to stay in Vienna? Ans. Till I can get out of it.

Quest. Have you any friends in Vienna? Ans. No! bless God.

Quest. With whom do you stop? Ans. The Stadt-London.

Quest. Describe your person? Ans. Tall, straight, black hair, high cheek bones, black eyes, huge mouth, blue coat with brass buttons, Panama hat, striped trowsers, ruffled shirt, and cowskin boots.

"But," said I, "my dear Bison, these answers are scarcely respectful to the government!"

"Not half as impertinent as the questions they put to me, a perfect stranger!"

"They may occasion you trouble."

"No they won't, for the Police always give you twenty-four hours to quit, and that is just about as long as I want to stay under their infernal despotism!"

"Well," I replied, "chacun à son gout, and so let us go down to breakfast."

It was an excellent meal, well washed down with a flask of delicious Hungarian; but it was scarcely concluded before a most gentlemanly man, at the next table, handed us the London Times, and began a conversation in English. We were both taken with his politeness, and learned a great deal from him of the points of most interest in the city, and how they could best be seen. He even offered to accompany us in a stroll, which we declined, because we were unwilling to put his kindness to that stretch. Ah, you are Englishmen," he remarked, "and like to go about alone."

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No," we answered, "Americans."

Americans! do you know I am delighted to hear you say that--I have the highest regard for the Americans, those noble and prosperous republicans! Perhaps, then, you have seen Kossuth, who has lately figured in your country?"

"Seen him," exclaimed Bison, who was in ecstacies at hearing his nation so liberally patronized by an Austrian-" seen him! aye, and taken the glorious patriot by the hand! He is the noblest creature God ever made!" "Speak lower," resumed the stranger, "for you know that walls have ears in Vienna," and then passed a stirring eulogium himself upon the great Magyar. Indeed, he manifested so strong an interest in him, asking such a variety of questions about his prospects, movements, and especially our own connection with him, that I began to suspect he must be a Hungarian himself, and

when he rose to depart gave him a cordial grip of the hand.

Two days afterwards, when we went to the Police office to get our passports, and permit to depart, we saw that identical gentleman sitting at a desk in one of the inner rooms. "Who is that?" I whispered to the valet who accompanied us. 'Oh that,” said he, “is one of the officers here-"

"Which means," interrupted Bison, growing red in the face, and with an oath, a-spy!

When we sallied forth the first morning, our instructions to the valet de place were that he should take us to the most attractive object in Vienna. Allerdings, shouted he with true Austrian vivacity, and soon pointed to a large oblong stone structure that we imagined might be a great picture gallery or perhaps a wing of the imperial palace. But it was neither: it was the imperial stable, where some five hundred horses are kept for the pleasure of the Emperor and their own satisfaction; and where, besides, the state carriages, all bedizened with gold and crimson, are the awe and admiration of the populace. The latter interested us little, but the horses were among the handsomest creatures that eye ever saw. They were of all colors and of all nations, Arabians, Barbs, Hungarians, French, English, and Mexican, each in a broad clean stall by itself, copiously littered with straw, and with its name, age, and pedigree painted on a post at one side. short, a more splendid stud, more carefully lodged, fed and provided with grooms and jockeys, could not be imagined. The stable was large, light, airy, well watered and well ventilated, and the arrangements in every respect were such as must have given the amplest satisfaction to the equine aristocracy.

In

I said as much to valet Joseph, who perfectly agreed with me, adding with unconscious treason, that the horses fared much better than many of the people. "Which is strange," interrupted Bison, "seeing that they are all regarded as mere animals together! But I suppose the quadrupeds have this advantage, that while they are quite as useful as the bipeds, they cannot get up a revolution in an emergency."

Yet, it is but just to say that the people of Vienna, even the poor, are not badly lodged. One wonders at first, as he passes the latter in the streets, in ragged, shabby dresses, where they live; all the houses are large and palace-like; and it would seem, from their external aspects, that none but rich folks could afford to occupy them. But the mystery is explained on