not think of entering into service. The city in which I was staying, was not far away from Wiesbaden, and I had heard of the gamingtables there. To Wiesbaden, then, I went; and, living humbly, and doing such needle-work as I could without being observed, I slipped evening after evening into the salon of roulette, and from the first, was very fortunate. I began with only pieces of silver, but grew more bold, and soon staked gold coin; sometimes, it is true, losing very much, but fortune favored me mostly. Especially, I was lucky one evening, when, after losing for several nights in succession, I determined, in a fit of despair, to risk all my fortune at rouge et noir.

The rules of the table did not then limit the sums staked, so much as now; and I gathered up all my coin, and even pawned my valuable jewels, to make the amount as large as possible. I carried it tremblingly to the hall - a very heavy weight it was for me- and placed it, after a little hesitation, upon the rouge. My heart beat violently. I won; and seemed rich.

'The next day, I went to Baden, and established myself, with a servant, in lodgings. I frequented the fashionable drives, and sometimes ventured with success into the gaming-halls. It is not well to be without a title at the German watering-places: I was known there as the Countess de GUERLIN, though before only as simple Mademoiselle. With the wealth that I seemed to enjoy, and with fair beauty' — and the Countess lowered her voice, as if in apology-'there were many who admired me. The poor Baron SCHEMLINN was, I believe, earnest in his attentions; nothing could exceed his devotion: but he had desperate rivals. Ah! my dear FUDGE, it has been my fate to draw many into misfortune!

'The Prince GOROWSKI, a magnificent Russian, was at the same time a suitor of mine. Oh those fearful Russians! they love as they cat, with prodigality and with fierceness! They are barbarians in all their appetites. The Prince would not yield to the Baron. I saw it, and deplored it. The Prince sought a quarrel with poor SCHEMLINN, who was but an indifferent swordsman. I foresaw the result, but could

do nothing to prevent it.

They met early at morning: the Baron sent me a lock of his hair, the dear, poor man! Yet he stood his ground manfully, and the duel lasted for an hour. At length, the force of SCHEMLINN gave way, and he fell. The Prince, with his sword at his breast, bade him renounce all claim to my hand: the poor Baron refused, and was killed with my name upon his lips.

'As you may suppose, cher WASH., I was desolé. GOROWSKI was cruel in his triumph, and claimed my hand as his reward. How could I yield myself to his blood-stained arms! He persecuted me by his demands there seemed no safety but in flight. Upon this, then, I was resolved; but the Prince watched jealously all my motions; I could not escape him. As a last resource, I determined to appeal to my neighbor in lodgings. This was a middle-aged man, of resolute aspect none other, in short, my dear FUDGE, than that Colonel DUPRE whom you already have such unfortunate occasion to know. He saved me, indeed, from the Russian persecution; but I found myself consigned

I had only sought temporary aid.

constrained to marry the man of whom

pre

Why need I tell you more?' said the Countess; but continued sently CARA I saw once again, under the name of Mademoiselle de GUERLIN, which she had assumed, by what right I know not. She had married a stranger; perhaps, my dear FUDGE, the gentleman through whom the claim is now made upon the American estate.

'Monsieur de GUERLIN I never saw again; but the wretched man had traced me cut, and upon his death-bed left me the little fortune which he had received from his wife, my poor mother; and with it a pacquet of letters, which, I am sure, my dear FUDGE, will satisfy you of the truth of my story, and convince you, as they have done me, that my mother must have been the widowed sister of the old gentleman whose estate is in dispute. Yet, how little did I think, when first addressing one clandestinely, in a tempest of admiration that I was not able to subdue, that, in reality, I was drawn toward him by ties of kindred; and that in him alone I should find a truly generous protector, through whom, at length, my rights should be made good, and my pour mother's name cleared from all reproach.'

The Countess was painfully subdued; so was WASHINGTON.

The pacquet of letters to which reference had been made, was produced. They were certainly suspicious in their contents, and would have satisfied, perhaps, a less ingenuous and open disposition than that of my cousin WASH. Many of them were signed CLARA BODGERS; others, still, CLARA de GUERLIN; and others again, in a strong hand, bore the signature of S. BODGERS. They were letters, generally of affection the Countess was melted to tears as she suffered her eyes to run over them.

As a man of honor, there was but one course open to WASHINGTON. At the same time, as the Countess intimated, there was need for extreme caution. First of all, the Colonel DUPRE must by no means be advised. There was not reciprocity of feeling, at least of affection, between the two. Young FUDGE had perhaps observed this. For private ends of his own, the Colonel had insisted that the Countess should retain her original name. Under connections of that kind, the circumstance was not unusual.

Most of all, the Countess rejoiced in the opportunity which now seemed dawning upon her, of being able to repay the generous services of her friend WASILY. She should be delighted, indeed, to give token of her indebtedness to the whole FUDGE connection; and voluntarily bound herself, by a solemn promise, to relinquish to the dear friends of the FUDGE family a full third of the estates which she inherited from her mother.

I should do injustice to the tender sensibilities and innocent heart of my cousin WASH., if I omitted to say that he was altogether captivated by the united grace and generosity of the Countess de GUERLIN.

It was arranged that WASHINGTON should not leave the city alone. The presence of the Countess would doubtless be necessary, in the prosecution of the legal claims. With generous confidence, he volunteered his escort. He wrote to his friends at home of the triumphant disco

very which had been made, and expressing confidence, that if the estate was to pass out of their hands, as seemed probable, they could not wish a better disposition, than that in favor of the Countess.'

'He felt sure, moreover, that his father would freely pardon a somewhat larger draft than he had anticipated, in view of the rather straitened circumstances of the Countess, and the obligations which duty enjoined.'

The preparations for departure were made with secresy and dispatch. On a certain evening in the month of our friend WASH. set off from Paris, for his return. He was polished by the gay capital; taught in the little arts of the world; scarce to be recognized by his old friends. The fond Countess was with him: herself his gratuitous instructor in very much of that savoir faire, which was presently to kindle the affections of his doting mother into transports.

He felt, doubtless, an honest pride in these accomplishments, and formed pleasant fancies of the surprise he should excite, and of the astonishment he was sure to kindle. I am inclined to think that, like most young New-Yorkers on their return from Paris, he had formed an exaggerated estimate of the sensation he was about to produce. The town, taken as a mass, does not, I observe, feel the shock of such a young gentleman's return. I cannot ascertain that it creates any decided movement at the Board,' or that it influences Mr. GENIO Scorr's report of the fashions. These travellers err, in imagining that their air and education is to form a striking contrast with what they will find around them. They discover, however, in the majority of instances, that the tailors and hair-dressers have been before them, and have already diffused among the young natives of New-York a Parisian aspect and an elegant air. I should say that the young gentlemen of the New-York Club, of the short canes, of the new polkas, and of affluence generally, were as much indebted to a study of the opera-artistes, and the foreign managers of domestic drapers, as to any principles they imbibe from returned travellers. And it would not be at all surprising, if our cousin WASH., upon his very first entrée in New-York society, should be mortified by a sigh of higher shirt-collars, more bushy mustache, and smaller pantaloons, than he brings with him, in the company of a Countess.

By a hint from the GUERLIN, and as a measure of precaution, WASH. accompanies his friend under a common passport, in which they are designated as man and wife. It is but a simple bit of illusion, lasting only as far as their port of embarkation.

They reach Havre a day before the sailing of the vessel which is to bear them to that free land, where the Countess shall receive her own, and the elegant WASH. enter upon his brilliant career.

In beguiling thought of what this may be, our hero whiles away the evening with his graceful companion; interrupted, however, once, by a slight tap at the door.

It is the maid, perhaps.
'Entrez!' says WASH.
There is a tap again.
'Entrez!' repeats WASH.

It is not the maid: but the Colonel DuPRE!

LITERARY NOTICES.

A MEMOIR OF THE LATE REV. WILLIAM CROSWELL, D.D., Rector of the Church of the Advent, Boston, Mass. By his Father. In one volume: pp. 528. New-York: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.

THERE are certain delicate matters referring to the personal and ecclesiastical relations of the subject of this volume inwrought into its most absorbing part, which, however interesting, we are compelled to leave untouched, because we will not be so bold as to state our conviction of their merits, and they fall without the province of this Magazine. With controversies of this kind we do not interfere, but leave them to organs which are professedly devoted to their adjustment. The right will triumph in the end.

Independently of this, however, there is more than enough in this ample volume to suit the purposes of our review. If there is any truth in physiognomy, the sweet and placid and intellectual presentment which fronts the title-page is proof enough that his life is worthy to be written, and that his path was that of the just, which 'shineth more and more unto the perfect day.' But how is the order of things reversed in the work before us! In the course of nature it should fall to the son to do justice to the memory of his sire, and to smooth his white locks reverently for the grave. But this is the testimonial of a father to his 'dear departed son,' smitten down in the flush of life, in the hey-day of his manly labors, and in the very midst of usefulness. It is a monument inscribed with filial virtues, but sprinkled with paternal tears. 'At the age of three score and ten,' says the author, 'the parent, admonished by a severe visitation of sickness, devoted as much time as his duties would permit to the arrangement and preparation of his own manuscripts for the final inspection and revision of his son. But alas! how were his fond anticipations defeated! That son, on whom he thus relied, by a mysterious PROVIDENCE, was suddenly stricken down in the midst of his days and his usefulness, and numbered with the dead. And now, with trembling hand and aching heart, the parent, relying on the mercy and help of GOD, undertakes to gather up the materials and prepare a record of his life.'

And beautiful are the marks traced by this 'recording-angel,' although they are written with a trembling hand!

WILLIAM CROSWELL was born in Hudson, New-York, November seven, 1804. His boyhood was passed in New-Haven under the eye of his father, the Rev. HARRY CROSWELL, Rector of Trinity Church in that city. At the age of fourteen, he was admitted to the Freshman-class of Yale College, where he was graduated in 1822. In 1825, he devoted some time to the study of law, but he never thought seriously of pursuing it as a profession. He cherished his passion for poetry; and it is supposed that some of the most interesting and popular juvenile productions of his pen were written at this period. Soon after, having taken due counsel, he became fixed in his purpose, and turning away from all other pursuits, resolved to devote himself to a calling, for which he was in all respects peculiarly fitted, and entered the General Theological Seminary of the Protestant Episcopal Church at the opening of the term in the autumn of 1826. His letters at this time display the usual pleasantry of his disposition. 'If Professor MOORE,' he writes, 'were not one of the most mild and unassuming men of learning in the world, he could never tolerate the stammering and blundering of such full-grown novitiates in the Hebrew horn-book. But he is Clement by nature as well as by name. It is related of HUTCHINS that he once indulged his disposition for pleasantry by playfully translating a passage of Scripture, 'I love CLEMENT C. MOORE (clemency more) than sacrifice."

He was ordained deacon by the Right Rev. Bishop BROWNELL, of Connecticut, in 1828. In the few years preceding, he had written much of his sweetest poetry. On Sunday, May thirty-first, 1829, we find this record in his diary: Entered into the service of my first parish, Christ Church, Boston.'

From this time he proceeded with manifold labors, often preaching, notwithstanding his father's admonitions, three sermons beside performing many other services during the day. As early as the twenty-sixth of July, he writes, in his playful manner: 'I have inflicted three discourses on the patient people of this good city on this blessed day.'

In 1840, with many expressions of regret on the part of his parishioners, and parting testimonials, he left Boston to assume the Rectorship of St. PETER'S Church at Auburn, and in 1844, returned to Boston, where he remained Rector of the Church of the Advent until his death, which occurred on November ninth, 1851.

Such is the meagre outline which we have been able to make of the principal facts contained in this most interesting memoir, preferring to leave the materials untouched, except so far as they are necessary to substantiate a correct opinion of the man's character. To this end, we shall quote some passages from the work at large.

It is the record of an affectionate, true heart, overbrimming with human kindness, and expanded by the largest charity; of a nature pure, meck, modest, and unoffending; of a zealous and most devoted servant of his MasTER; in short, of a Christian, a scholar, a gentleman, a MAN. Such do not die; for, although no one write their epitaphs, the good seed they have planted springs up and blossoms with perennial beauty, and grateful tendrils twine about their very names.

It is impossible to peruse the carly letters of the gifted CROSWELL without being struck by their freshness and almost pastoral innocence of expression.