the jest of the gay Lady Marcia, and he almost fancied that he heard the clanking of the fetters to which she had so lately alluded. Certainly the very last visitor whom he would have coveted at such a moment was Sydenham; and, with a feeling of inexpressible vexation, he now distinguished his voice as he ascended the stairs. "I have followed you from Lady Dashabigh's, De Lacy," said Sydenham as he entered, "whither I went in hot pursuit, but you out-charioteered me." "I was striving to drive away a headach," replied Gerald, "but I have not succeeded." "Tell it not in Gath!" cried the intruder; "bring away a headach from Lady Dashabigh's! fie on you for a Goth, De Lacy!" "To be candid with you, Sydenham, I am annoyed by a whim of Caroline's; here has she positively left London and a civil letter for me at the same time, without waiting to take leave of me before she started: it was full of a wellturned conceit of a sick relation, and wound up with 'have the goodness to address your letters to Asham Park.' As for her contemptuous conduct, it is, thank my lucky stars, to be survived, and, perchance, to be revenged also; and for her tender and affectionate communication, there it lies piecemeal.” "Had you seen her to-day?" "Yes, I was with her in the morning, not quite so long as usual, certainly, for I was pressed for time." "And therefore spent four hours at Lady Dashaby's.-Poor Caroline! it would not have been thus two short days ago." Ha! am I watched then?" cried De Lacy, jealously; "this is too much, Mr. Sydenham, even from you; know, sir, that I am likely to be at Lady Dashabigh's to-morrow, and the following day; ay, and during the week, even though Miss Melville and her friends may object to the proceeding." "I "Be it so," said Sydenham, coolly, as he took his hat from the table. will not presume to thwart so commendable a resolution, nor will I longer intrude on your solitary feelings; may they be pleasant ones.' De Lacy replied only by a haughty bend of the head, and Sydenham quitted the apartment. At length the evening arrived which was to realize one of De Lacy's beatific visions; when he was to be near Lady Marcia, to feast upon her looks, her tones, and her smiles; and, though he did not confess this even to his own heart, to her flatteries-never had he spent so much time at his toilet: every garment became him less than usual, every mirror mocked him with a less favourable reflection. De Lacy was singularly handsome; and it was a fact which he had not now to learn, yet he felt dissatisfied as he drew on his gloves to depart. Gerald arrived at the rooms some twenty minutes before the countess's party, and his watch was in his hand at least a dozen times ere they entered. He had learned to number half hours. Lady Marcia was more lovely than ever; she was on the arm of Pennington Lester, reflecting back every smile on the lip of her handsome companion; and those smiles were more radiant than even Pennington's were wont to be, and more frequent. "So you have preceded us, Mr. De Lacy;" commenced the volatile beauty, as Gerald approached her, "do you know we have been at the most charming Menagerie in the known world-here's your cousin who makes an excellent exhibiter -come, show them up once more, Lester -first Lady Greenaway, and her amiable boys-" "The authentic sledge-dragger, brought by Captain Parry from the North Pole, and her three whelps," declaimed Lester in a subdued tone. "Positively is the most elegant looking man in town;" said the lady raising her glass, " except two." "Sabettin is doubtless one of the exceptions ;" said Pennington," and the other is "Yourself, of course;" smiled Lady Marcia-she spoke to Lester, while she glanced at De Lacy. "But come, do not let us forget the natural curiosities-my Lord Faverby-" "A laughing hyena from-I forgot where, and it signifies not-somewhere between St. James's Street and Cochin China-a real curiosity-laughs without a jest, and has fine teeth." "Mr. Belmont-" "A greenland bear-answers every civility with a growl, and is often savage when there is nothing to snarl at-cele There's Mamma quite shocked, I protest-but we must positively have Honeywood Gordon." 66 A curious parrot from Guinea-it moulted after it was caught, and lost its original dark-coloured plumage; it is now finely feathered, scarlet and yellow -noted for the volubility of its utterance, and the interesting innocence of its remarks." "I think your ladyship must have exhausted your subject;" said De Lacy, who could not avoid suspecting that there was some ill-nature, as well as amusement in the passe temps which she had selected. "No, I believe it to be quite inexhaustible; but I am tired of it nevertheless, and so, I dare say, is your cousin. Are you musical, Mr. De Lacy?" "Triflingly so in practice, but enthusiastically in spirit." "I like it well enough, too, but it gives one the headach so horribly." Gerald started. "I have made a party for Somerset House, to-morrow," said the Countess, bending forward to address De Lacy, "will you join it?" Of course Gerald complied. "What an odd whim of Mamma," said Lady Marcia, and her fine brow darkened. "Vile, stupid work. However, one is not obliged to look at the pictures, to be sure.” Another day was extinguished in the halo which the fancy of De Lacy had shed over the new idol of his wavering admiration-music and painting! two of the most cherished passions of his heart; but she could not be serious. At the Exhibition, on the morrow, Lady Marcia was a new creature, a perfect amateur of the arts!-talked of the last night's concert with rapture-declaimed volubly on majors and minorsexpatiated on cadenzas and roulades-to not one of which De Lacy had believed she could possibly have listened and exhausted herself in encomiums on Cra VOL. II. mer and Lindley. Then, in the next moment, she was all the artist-rapturously pointing out effective accessories, fine flesh-tints, taking positions, and skilful draping-talking of lights and shades, three-quarter faces, and fore-shortening. Gerald was wrapt in wonder. Then came a burst of architectural lore, and she lost herself among Saxon arches, Norman monuments, and Gothic tracery; five minutes afterwards she was immersed in the labyrinthine maze of ancient armour, and running rapidly over the names of morion, cuish, corselet, visor, gauntlet, barretcap, habergeon, and cuirass-De Lacy was all amazement. The transition was slight from battle-gear to war-weapons, and Lady Marcia was just beginning to discuss the merits of cross-bows, culverins, and howitzers, when the countess broke up the conversation by her departure. One day "the fair inconstant" voted poetry a bore, and poets a mere refined species of madmen; the next, she quoted with fine emphasis, and finished taste, from Byron, Moore, and Scott; Southey, Keats, and Shelley; and even from Wordsworth. Her real opinion appeared an ignis fatuus, which it was impossible to grasp; she was every thing by turns, and nothing long;" sometimes embodying her assumed character with admirable tact and talent, and sometimes merging into the finished woman of fashion; throwing off the trammels of affected unsophistication, and looking with a keen and steady eye, on the world, and the world's ways. In her moments of apparent simplicity, even although he felt that they were but the more refined portion of a manœuvring existence, De Lacy looked on Lady Marcia with a feeling too tender for his peace; and even her bursts of fearless sarcasm and worldly policy, failed to present an effective antidote to the poison of her beauty and her flattery. Lady Marcia was the fashion, and there was cause of pride in thus monopolizing so large a portion of her time, her attention, and her smiles. One circumstance appeared, to say the least of it, singular to De Lacy; it was the evident indifference with which his cousin Lester looked on his rapidly-increasing friendship with the object of his own avowed and undisguised admiration; but so it M was. Pennington loitered away his days in the drawing-room of the countess, betrayed no symptoms of jealousy, and although De Lacy had accidentally learnt, from undoubted authority, that Lady Dashabigh had unequivocally negatived his suit to her daughter, was to the full as light-hearted and as gay as ever. But the riddle was soon read: De Lacy parted from Lady Marcia one night at the door of the opera-box. She had been a degree more thoughtful than usual, and Gerald thought many degrees more tender and more beautiful. He went home and dreamed a thousand fantastic follies; put Caroline's head on Lady Marcia's shoulders, had a confused vision of a petticoat duel, and terminated his sleeping adventures with an earthquake. He took a hasty breakfast, and drove as usual to Lady Dashabigh's. The house was in confusion-the Countess in hysterics. Her unsophisticated daughter had eloped with Mr. Pennington Lester ! De Lacy turned from the door, humbled and heart-sick; he had, then, been made a cover-plot-a dupe-a cat's-paw! He would fight Lester-(when he returned from Scotland)-he would despise Lady Marcia-(for having preferred his cousin to himself)-he would forswear society, and communion with man, woman, and child! It was a fine spirited resolution; but unfortunately, like most other ephemeral projects, it was never destined to become matter of worldly edification, for by the time Gerald reached home, he felt how utterly both nature and circumstances were at variance with it; and an affectionate letter from Caroline which awaited him there, announcing the recovery of her relative, and her own immediate return, gave a new impulse to his feelings. Caroline was ignorant of the occurrences of the past week, and he in consequence made a second resolution as heroic as the first-he would forgive her abrupt departure for the country, in consideration of her not having uttered one reproach for his silence-he would be ready to receive her on her return-and he would adore her from that day, as never woman had been loved before! "And first," said De Lacy, as he carefully refolded the letter, and put it into his bosom, "I will perform the most difficult task which the madness of the past week has entailed on me-I will go and confess my folly and my error to Sydenham.” S.S. A DAY IN VENICE. BY A YOUNGER SON. my "I stood in Venice on the bridge of sighs."-BYRON. "VIVA!" said I, as I awoke with a bright sun in my eyes, and the sound of merry laughter and plashing oars in my ears." After all my disappointments, and my hopes, my anticipations and fears, here I am at last in Venicebeautiful Venice !" And then, as I lay luxuriously on my pillow, I mentally ran over every description, prosaical and poetical (by the way, I should have said poetical and prosaical); for I have committed by my transposition as great a solecism as the country orator, who after counting heads, and finding the males preponderate, commenced his speech with "Gentlemen and ladies," and was consequently called to order by his wife. I have acted on the same principle, and in this prosing world have a huge majority on my side: nevertheless, I correct myself; for what would this life be, divested of its poetry? I mentally ran over them, every description poetical and prosaical, which I had ever heard or read of this "city of enchantment," from the immortal breathings of Byron to the very mortal mutterings of the "Traveller's Guide." By the time I had got through them, I had worked myself up into as fine a fit of enthusiasm as I could possibly have desired; and when my servant answered the bell, I asked for the doge instead of my dressing-gown, and a gondola in lieu of gloves. In this mood I sallied forth; beautiful! beautiful !! I would not 66 confess to myself what, however, was the case, that many of the minor canals were choked with dirt and filth. I came to Venice to be delighted, enchanted, extasie, and I was consequently determined to be so. After all, this is philosophy; but I am not going to philosophize. I had brought with me a letter from my mother to her old friend the Marchesa Della Terrali, but I resolved, ere I presented it, to have a day in Venice of wandering and witchery, without cicerone or companion. On I went, looking into the dark eyes of the Venetian girls, as they walked by me laden with water-melons, grapes, and flowers, to the market-place; meeting with many a sallow brow and sour countenance, but exclaiming, as each passed me, the soft Venetian with her large dark eye," and resolved to see every thing through the medium of poetry. I ran against two or three gaunt, filthy beggars, who were displaying their unwashed and loathsome sores to the passers by. I could scarcely extract poetry from these, so I threw them some copper coins, and passed on, for there must be something objectionable every where, and there was no occasion to dwell upon disagreeable objects. I grew weary of the market-women and the mendicants, and stepped into a gondola, which was waiting to be hired. My gondolier was a middle-aged, sallow, cut-throat looking rascal, with a beard of a week's growth, and teeth the colour of mahogany; his linen matched with his teeth, and his bare legs and feet put them both to the blush by their deeper dye: but then the romance of gliding over the waves in a gondola ! There was not a breath of air stirring; even the gentle breeze which the rippling of the water usually creates was completely absorbed by the intensity of the heat. I strove to enter into conversation with my companion, but he only uttered monosyllables, and those very sparingly, in his replies: he was a mere human flat-fish, and he contented himself with methodically flapping his fins, and carrying me down the stream, as he had been hired to do, without wasting an idea or a sentence on me. I was beginning to grow weary of my romantic gondola, and the intense heat of the broad blue sky," when a fairy vessel, gaily decked with flowers, passed close beside me: a young cava 66 lier was singing a tender canzonet to his guitar, and a beautiful girl was sitting near him, hearkening to his minstrelsy: they were rowing lazily against the current as well as myself, and before I lost sight of them, a soft glance from the bright eye of the dark beauty recalled all my waning romance. "Whose gondola is that?" I inquired of my companion. "Non savete," was the laconic reply. "Follow it, then," I exclaimed, impatiently; "I must see whence it has come." I was obeyed; my dingy Harpocrates kept in the wake of the gay gondola, and we rapidly gained upon it; in about half an hour, I was surprised by a voluntary ejaculation of "Ha! una festa!" Even my surly gondolier was not proof against that universal feeling of delight which pervades all his countrymen when a fête is going forward. I followed the direction of his eye; a stately palace stood close beside the water's edge, with a terrace of marble running far along the shore, overshadowed by luxurious trees, and gay with a thousand flowers. This terrace terminated in a flight of wide and massy steps of the same material, many of which (for it was now high tide) were under water. At the pier belonging to the lordly pile were collected at least a score of gondolas, all as gaily dressed with ribbons and flowers as the one which had lured me to this delightful scene; and many of them screened with awnings of rich silk damask. A small boat, which was evidently intended to precede the fairy fleet, was filled with musicians, two of whom, just as I approached, stood up, and sent a beautiful peal over the waters from their key bugles. Around the portal of the palace, and along the terrace, groups of splendidly-attired guests were standing, or sauntering under the trees, waiting for their respective gondolas, while those which had already embarked their courtly occupants, were moving aside to make way for the more tardy. It was a most animating scene: the halfsuppressed and graceful laughter of well-bred festivity-the cheerful greetings of the gondolierii, and the sweet strains of the aquatic band, fell on the ear together. Then I remembered the dark-eyed beauty whose gondola had mingled in the crowd, and disappeared; and almost hopelessly, I once more turned to my surly companion, as I inquired Who lives youder?""E palazzo della Marchesa della Terrali," fell slowly from his reluctant lips, and ere he had quite completed his reply, my hand was in the pocket of my coat, drawing forth my mother's letter. In another hour I was seated in one of those festal gondolas; the dark-eyed beauty, the daughter of the Marchesa, was beside me; a delightful breeze had sprung up, and tempered the heat; there was beauty, and music, and mirth upon the waters; beautiful! beautiful city!! I saw the sun go down ere I disembarked. I saw its bright beams fall like molten gold alike upon palaces and prisons. Poets had never yet said half enough to convey to the mind its Before I left the manifold delights. palazzo de Terrali, I had undertaken to teach the daughter of the Marchesa English, and she had promised with a blush and a smile to read Tasso to me -and so ended my first day in Venice. ON a calm evening, in the spring of the year 18-, a group of peasants were enjoying themselves in a vineyard on the border of the Black Forest. The toils of the day being over, they had assembled to celebrate the marriage of two young companions, who had long been attached, and were now united. The girl was a sparkling brunette, full of life and gaiety; the youth, more sedate, somewhat retired in habits, a great lover of music, and by the villagers considered a most skilful perforiner. He was an orphan, and derived his chief support from his violin, with which he was wont every night to entertain his neighbours, who, in return, stored his cottage with voluntary contributions; and many of the damsels envied Madeline for her good fortune in winning such a handsome young husband as Ursenstein, the musician. At a small distance from the rest sat the bridegroom and his bride; it might have been thought that they had thus withdrawn to indulge in their newlicensed love, but it was not so; for though the eyes of the girl were fixed tenderly upon his countenance, he met not their fond expression. He was looking earnestly through the bushes and listening eagerly for some distant sound. The bride watched him for a time in silence, content with her untold happiness. She was thinking_that_he was now irrevocably her own, her very own, and that one idea was too exquisite to need the aid of language; but as his abstraction continued unbroken, his every sense seemingly concentrated upon some unseen object, Madeline began to feel that she was neglected, and timidly inquired what attracted his attention. The bridegroom answered not, but he held his head nearer to the ground, and drew in his breath that he might listen more intently. Madeline put up her pretty red lip poutingly, and pulled, with a sudden twitch, a coral blossom from the loaded branches that drooped around her; then with the tenacity of feminine pride, she stole a cautious glance toward her young friends, as though she feared that they should witness her lover's coldness. A smile almost of triumph met her glance-it was on the face of one whose love she had rejected. She coloured, and endeavoured to seem engaged in affixing the flower tastefully to her girdle, but it |