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" Cdm thyself. I pny thee. mtdum. the Lad hath. is are. mad if â€"--â€"." " no I" she nihnud. “hing her had from her clasped hunda. .nd Iookin up with he: duh tau-ml eyes into his we. "Aye. auto in thy heart. Guiseppe! hm Guiseppe stood srslyzed. shocked. grieved. wounded by t is wild sud psseion- ate confession. yel. filled with [My for the suffering he had «used. But wishing it to 3 st that be supposed her ‘ceoed b ‘33.“ cal 0! his intended eopementy, he ssid. bep iug‘gemly toysrds he}: “ 109. you. I m n all! and she --â€". Oh. God! A) a. she hath wound homlf into that heartâ€"mat only bun when I desired to dwell. ' and witty trienaiod motion she can} qpon the groqnd and yep!" " Lady. I beseech thee â€"--â€"â€"." beam Gui- aoppe. entroatingly. but with patients wor<_l_und 3089120 she woke in pa his ugly. fair niece for whom he covets greatness and splendor ? On thee. a nameless stranger â€"a youth destitute o! iortune and of birth I It Were preposterous in thee to plead sucha suit to the haughty churchmen. in whose vein'ticws no drop of plebian blood. and who. it his ambition wills it. may command the alliance of kings. I warn thee to beware how thou dost provoke his wrath by the mention of a thought so bold. Belin- quish it. I charge thee. And so thou hast.“ she continued. fixing on him with a searching glance her keen and piercing eye; “but yet thou hast another purpose. and I read it in thy dcwncast look. Speak! speak but one word to say if thou wouldet dare. aye. dare." she repeated in tones hoarse with emotion. "to think of flight (â€" with her!" " But thou shalt not try no rush on expe- riment I" passionately exclaimed the Countess. vexed beyond her power of con- cealment, by the teuecious and unreserved expression of his love for Ienthe. No. thou shalt not. I repent; nor onnst thou it than would. Listen and I will tell thee why. Deemest thou thnt the proud BishOp o! Pedus will. et thy_asking. bestow on thee the WAKE all too plainly could he read them, but with evasive bylaws;- hg replied ; _ " Lady, the fraileet bark often rides out the ocean storm in salety. when the gallant venue]. formed to bsttle with its shocks. ts wrecked amid the breakers." " Name only was with the fulfilment of hopes so fond and foolish." said the Countess bitterly; “for novice as she is in the school of poverty and trial. believest thou her love will brave unshrinkiugly the breath of cold adversityâ€"that she. born to affluence. and from her cradle nurtured in luxuryâ€"she. whose future path. strewn With roses, opens smilingly before her, that she is one cheerfully to share the changes of a life like thineâ€"to wait and watch with anxious heart. while thou dost carve thy yet uncertain fortunes, and then perchance be doomed to weep that thou hast toiled in vain. and reaped only coldness and neglect. where thou should‘st have won reward? Oh,no. no! be not deceived! Thou art trusting thy affections to a frail bark which will perish in the first wintry storm that assails it; choose rather a stately vessel which has breasted angry sees. and yet withstood their fury. in which to freight the precious treasure of thy love. and whether the breeze be prosperous or adverse, it will sail steadily onward. true‘ tothe guiding compass which directs its‘ course. I speak to thee in riddles. yet thou canst read them if thou wilt." 7 1 devotion !" ” And with a heart so tender. and a soul so truez" replied uieeppe. " this know- ledge gsmed. will fix her roving thoughts, and bind her young affections in chains that only death can rupture. While still a. child, each glittering toy could charm her, but as the opening bud expands beneath the genial influence of the sun. into the full and perlect flower. so hath the magic power of love developed in her soul especi- ries and feelings thst have changed. as in a moment. the fickle unformed child into the tender and the conscious women. on the fulfilment of whosenew-born hopes depends her future wesl or woe." " Aye! thon would'et say, before she knew thee." again interposed the Countess, with a heightened color; “ before thy hon. ied wordsâ€"thy burning glancesâ€"thy untit- ing homage surprised her soul. and made her feel how sweet it was to move another thusâ€"to be herself the object of such deep “But that was ere she knew her heart could he awakened to any deeper emotion than the tranuenb rapture of a childish joy,’j said Quieeppe ;_ ‘before â€"â€"â€"." \ n , ,u, A Stox-v of Love, Music and Adventure. " They must have no weight." interrupted the Countess hastily; " she is a child. guided by a child's impulses. and dive'rted tom the purpose of the moment by every novelty that offers. A brief time since, dazzled by the glittering gifts showered upon her by her betrothed. she was gaily looking forward to her nuptial day. as that of her release from nursery restraints. and of introduction to the splendor and delights of a prinoely establishment, over which she was to reign in undisputed sovereignty. And now. mark her unstable fancy, a new bauble charms it. and she weeps at the slightest allusion to that noble lover, whose name she hath inwrought in many a tasteful trifle designed for his aeoeptanoe.:' n Perhepu the time 9! meeting. or the form. May chill and Wither what we've longed to say; What in the sunshine will not in the storm : What blends with twilight ju-a the noon 0! day. A eiu. when ell things seem our wish to serve. ‘ull opportunity they strike us dumbâ€" Mey sink our precious thoughts in deep reserve. And to the surface hid the lightest come. And olten ere our friend is out of sight We start ; the thing can scarce be credited, We have been silent, or out words been trite, And here's the dearest thing of All unaaid! ' Zhfi‘tih‘oiéa how in’d‘ ih'o'i do 66:11. will tell- Whet answer unne- u n the [we will play. Whet tender ht will age: over ell. But eegor eyee that watch {or one elone May grow reluctent' tot he open gate Let in. with him. penitence e guest unknown. On whom slow words or courtesy must wait. 0:. when the presence waited (or has} come. It me be dull or cold, too sad. or light ; A look t at shows the been ewe from home Can often put the dearest wo to flight. For any: and wash upo u the II bu hung A precious ”mowing polo: u) g m ouâ€" Soma under confidence but lauly up prune. Some do” oontouton am but one mun but. The 1mm row“, iimrfium sh». THE PASSIONATE VIOLINIST: l‘uuld. ntln : "T ough thou didet doe iee the wetn- ing worde I leet night utte . yet I cannot let thee rueh heedlong on to ruin with- out onoe more eeeeylng to eeve thee. Gui- eeppe. thou knoweet well how I would one thee. thou knoweet how I hne humbled myeelf before thee to gnu-d thee from denser; but than oenet never know the struggle which it ooete the proud bent of a women to ley open its eeoret depthe to the eye of Another. end one for thet 'love which. uneought. her feminine nature ehrlnhe from beetowlng. " Y» when I beheld um “ending on the verge of e feerful precipice. over which He was hastening to complete his slight toilette that he might be ready to join his fellow students in their morning duties. when a low knock at the door attracted his attention. and on opening it a note was handed him, the euperacription of which too well informed him whence it came. It was from the Countess. and tearing it open he read theee wordsâ€"and they changed again to doubt and darkneee the eon-bright hopes in which he had been no fondly luxu- In a frame of mind too happy for the intrusion of distrust or doubt. every chats- cle to the success 0! his career as s. lover. or as a man whose genius was to shape out for him a high and glorious destiny. vanished before his sanguine hopes '. he ceased even to dread anght from the pride of the lordly Bishop. or from the revengeiul mensoes of the angry and enamored Countess ; but filled with glad anticipations of the future. brightened. as his fond thought beheld it, with the presence of her he loved. he reached his quiet chamber. and soon retiring to rest, sank into that calm and peacelul sleep which tells like balm upon the senses of the happy and the rung. Sweet visions of Ianthe blessed is slnmbers, and when With the morning light his eyes again unclosed. he sighed to have those dreams displaced by the dull and sober realities of his daily studentlife. The exciting incidents of that eventful day had so wrought upon the mind of Gui- seppe that h sank down upon the damp earth as the Jountees in her angerdeparted, and there remained wrapped in a train of sweet sud bitter musings till the faint sound of a. distant convent bell. cslling the oloistered nuns to prayers. swelled on the breeze and aroused him from his reverie. Springing lightly up he pursued his home- ward path with a buoyancy of spirit which had been long unknown to him. the result of a. purpose into which. during the deep meditations of the pest hour, his doubts and tears had resolved themselves. 0! svowing to the Bishop his psesion for Isn- the, and crsvmg his sanction to those desr hopes which he presumed to cherish. "Persist in this resolve," said the Countess haughtily, " and thy ruin is inev- itable. Already it hath commenced, and thou hast yet to learn. if thou knowest it not already, that a women's revenge is not less sure then it is sweet." and with these menacing words. she *hered her mantle around her and swept ewsy. dissppeu'ing quickly in the obscurity which the deepen~ ing shades of twilight had shed over the landscape. _ "It is." be send; “ my grettitude in thine. lady. for a. preference so ill deserved. but may heaven so aid me. as I remain unahnken in my devotion to her. whom only I hgwe ever leved." “This then. is thy final answer ?" said the Countess. her ready pride rising to her aid in this moment of ehume and disap- poin_tmens. She had spoken with the wild and rapid vehemonce of desperate passion. and as he listened. contempt and indignation swelled high within him. sweeping. as they rose. all other emotions from his breast; and when she ceased. and gazed with food and eager expectation in his face, she reooiled in terror and surprise, as with startling emphasis he exclaimed :A “'Never! never! shall the image of earthly woman supplant that of the adored Ianthe in m_y soul I" “ Then.” she said. in a voice whose ten- der accents grated harshly on his ear: “ then shalt thou learn how devotedly thou art loved by one who hath drank at many springs of Joy. yet turned from all dissatis- fied till now. Guiseppe !" she said with almost frenzied passion. " thou standest calm and sold before me, while I lay bare the hidden secret of my heart, and own to- thee my loveâ€"such love as she thou dost prefer has never knownâ€"such as her less impassioned soul can never know or feel. Wealth, rank and power are mine to give. and these I offer theeâ€"thee, the embodied dream of my whole life ! None can oppose my choice, or bar thy freedom of accept- ance. and yet thou dost not speak! 0h! answer quick, nor rack me by thy silence. Thy peril and my love have led me to forego the modesty of women, and I would learn if I have stooped so low for naught â€"â€"il yet Ianthe reigns. or Bertha is to dwell ‘ enthroned in that heart." \ 5 It doth. undoubtedly." said the Countess. with an effort recovering herselbpossession, therefore I charge thee. let it rest in silence. Ianthe is the plighted bride of another. who will ere long claim her hand. It was promised with a tree and willing heart. and but for thy whispered words. no cloud would have dimmed the brightness of her marriage day. The evil which thou hast wrought must be stoned for by thy absence. and when she sees that thou dost voluntarily forsake and leave her to fulfil her destiny. she will return to her duty, nor find its performance a hard or cruel task. Then â€"â€";" she paused and hesi- tated. “ The". madam, whet is to be the issue to myself. of the course which thou dost prescribe?" asked Guiseppe. in a tone of calm and measured firmness that showed him prepared, if need be. to act with stem resolve. “God forbid !" sold Guiseppe. lervently, " thet I should be the source of sorrow to that guileless hurt. or sump the lines of one upon that Open brow. I may not spesk ot the love she huh kindled in my soul. thou would'st cell it ephemeral and weekâ€"I only know its depth and power. yer shell is henceforth remain unuttered i! in expression threaten so involve her h‘PPl'EW.’ “d.9°!“_’°°.". thinheet than the childish love of that fond girlcen eetiely the deep end pmionete crevinge of e eoul like thine ? Oh. no! than at misled by her innocence end beauty; but ehe in not formed to nuke thy happi- neee. nor cenet then ccnetltute here. Susy then thet thou wilt no more pursue her with thy loveâ€"~thet thou wilt not baptize her with misery. by seeking to link her hm with thine." "IIumhly and deeply am I grateful for all thy klndneee. and whatever {ate in mine. may thy lot be happy. and from every eeemlng ill may joy ariee to hleee and meke glad thy heart. Thie la and ever ehall he the prayer of thy unworthy eer- vant. Gamer“: anmr." Without a moment'e delay. without even glancing hie eye over the words he had eo hastily written. Guleeppe folded the note.and de ndi the etaire. bent hie steps toward t e ol abbey. where at that hour of the morning he knew it wae the euetom o! the nelghboring peasant girls to ocme for a enpply of water (tom the foun- “ In vain. madam. dost thou again appeal to a heart too entirely oceupie with one adored image to admit of a divided thought â€"too loyal in its love not to glory in the passion which it cherishes, and will never cease to cherish although it may be severed eternally by cruel circumstan- ces from her who hath inspired it. There- fore. let what Will befall me, I cannot make so ill a return for the affection with which thou dost honor me, as to avail myself of it. either to escape a threatened peril. or as the means of attaining the station and the dignitiee which I would possess only as the justly earned meed of genius and 01’ merit. And so. madam. I beseech thee be content with this answer, (or. believe me. it in bet- ter that we meet not now. lest bitter thoughts should he the fruits of our inter- vnew. ' To escape a painful encounter. and for- ever to silence her importunities. he caught up his pen and wrote 9. few brief lines in reply to her rqueet. _ They were Qbeeeâ€" . ‘ ” Reply to me quickly and with thy own lipsâ€"I will await thy coming in the cham- ber of Hugo‘s turret at the hour of noon, and by all that is dear to thee. I charge thee fail not in the appointment. for the issue of that interview must finally decide thy destiny and mine. Think seriously of this, and let manly reason forever close the flood-gates of impetuous and boyish passion. Adieuâ€"thine. Bssrm." Guiseppe throw this: impassioned letter from him with disdain the moment he had finished its perusal. and rising. paced with rapid steps the narrow limits of his cham- ber. The love of the Countess. urged in spite of repulse. with such persevering earnestness. filled him with aversion and disgust. Fully persuaded also that her statements with regard to Ianthe were dis- torted from the truth. and that her agency was at work to separte her from him for- ever. he resolved to thwart her purpose by seeking an immediate interview with the Bishop. and boldly urging his suitâ€"when, if his overtures were spurned. as indeed he had reason to sup so they would be. it should at once he is endeavor to prevail on Ianthe secretly to become his. and fly with him from Padua. " From the depth of my soul I entreat thee. cast not away thy earthly happiness, and mine! In thee I behold that being endowed with celestial beauty. and with the glorious giit of genius, who hath haunted my childhood's dreams. and stood life-like before me in the brighter visions of mature!- yeers: that being for whom hath been reserved the holiest hopes and purest affections of my heart, and who, as he accept: or casts back the offering in scorn. is to be the arbiter for weal or woe oi the yet uncertain future which awaits ” I need not tell thee how all this hath wrought upon Ianthe. who. though she hath passed the night in tears. is this morn- ing calmly submissive to the fate which she is conscious no human power can avert. I have written this that thou may’st know how impassable is the barrier which destiny hath raised between thee and the object of thy choice. and to entreat thee, from the wreck of a (end and foolish hope. to build thyself a fabric which neither time nor strength can destroy, an ark of safety wherein thou may'st securely sail over the broad and troubled sea of life. smiling at the tempests which rage around thee. while by thy side stands holy love and dove-eyed peace, to bless and cheer thee by their pre- " The Bishop communicated this request immediately. as the Count desired, to his niece. and as thou mayest suppose, it excited no little emotion in the heart where thy image at the moment reigned absolute. But as I have told thee. our [Ianthe is a child, endowed with a child’s 1plastio mind,which yields ever to the latest and most forcible impressions, so that her consent is already more than half given to her lover's wish. Perchance it may be. because she knows resistance would be vain, and so she shrinks from a useless contest; for in the first moment of surprise and agitation she betrayed the secret of her love for thee. and at the discovery the outburst of her uncle's wrath was like the irruption of tEtna, so sudden and so terri- ble that she oowered beneath its fury. 0n thee he hurled his most fearful anathemas. and vowed that the dungeon of the inqui- sition should enclose thee. it ever again thou should'st presume to cross the vesti- bule of his palace, or in any other place venture to present thyself before the object of thy daring passion. " Seek no longer to interrupt the course of Iunthe'e destinyâ€"it is inevitable. She will soon become a. wife. but never thine! Late last night a oourier arrived from Venice, bearing deaputohee from the young Count Zernundo. her betrothed. in which he announoed his intention of setting forth in ten days for Padua. and preying,tor private reasons. which he would urge on his coming. that he might be permitted on his departure to hear back with him his ohoeen hride. “ Choose. then? thy own luture; eey whether it shall be shrouded in gloom and tempest. or be lit with the rainbow hues of love and glnddened with the full attain- ment of the grandest and the noblest aims to which thy ardent spirit oen eepire. The meene by which thou meyeet ascend that height. toward which. with the kindling eye of youthful genius, thou dost cast a longing gaze. are offered thee; and while thy feet climb u ward to ite glorious sum- mit. the hnnd o watchful love shell eid thy etepe. and straw thy brightening path- way with the fragrant flowers of true and imperiehehle affection“ with rash temerity thou wert resolved to plunge. I forgot ell to reetreiu thee tram the perilous deed-even that modesty which is the prerogative and glory o! my sex. end cut at thy teet myself, my tortuue. end 11: rank. no mean unworthy bribe. but glue which have been eought by many. yet were reserved for thee onlyâ€"tor thee, the glued child of scaly and of pong! " And this from thee?" hnret with pea- eionete vehemence from his lipa-â€"leom ‘ thee whom I believed so fond, so pure. IO true! How have I laughed to acorn the tale of woman‘s iaithleeeneeeâ€"oi her embi- tion end her pride. Ay. I have worshipped her as the angel of men's lifeâ€"u the heetower of hie eweeteet hopee-the soother of hie eorroweâ€"the creotor o! a» heaven within the hollowed circle of hie home! But thou. thou (else end perjnred Ienthe! thou hast taught me henoelorth toehun thy {nil end fickle eelâ€"thou. in whom. dezzled by thy bounty. beguiled hi thy gentleneee, I hod garnered up each right But the close inspection served only to force conviction on his mind-the white and perfumed wax with its delicate impression, n violet halt hidden beneath sheltering leaves. and surrounded by the apgropriete motto. “I love the shade."â€" an the beautiful feminine hand with which his eye was so familiar. both were hersâ€" there could be no imposture; and with a sudden feeling of indignation and con- tempt over wering every other emotion he east the etter on the floor and crushed it into fragments thh hisfoot. _ “ Let this hint whisper' 1n thine ear that I do not lightly yield thee up, and despise not as thou reiardest thy life the warning it conveys. Farewell! fir-ewe!!! on earth 1we may no more behold each other. but there is a heaven above where the loved and lost meet in an eternal reunion. Fare- wellâ€"be thou happ yâ€"and may the sur- shine of thy life be unolouded by vain regrets for thy once loved Iasrns. " Guiseppe remained gazing with a vacant eye at the characters impressed on the sheet for many minutes after he had fin1shed 1ts erusal. E_very expression of regret or ection written an that pegs seemed to him designed to cover. though it did so ineflectually ' indeed an icy indiffer- ence a mocking afieotation of sorrow that chilled. and at the same time stung him to the soul. Could they have been traced by the hand of the fond and tender lanthe? ~those words so calm. so cruel. and so cold lâ€"or dictated by that young and impassioned heart, which a few brief hours beiore had seemed well- nigh ready to break with its weight of treasured love and grief! 1 Ah. no! it was impossible! And as he said this he examined with a scrutinizing eye the seal. and scanned stroke by stroke the turn of e1ery_letter. . " Yet is there one thought which softens this cruel destiny. and it is that which assures me I should hove brought thee only ruin so a dowry-for hitter yengeenoe was sworn against thee by those who have the power to execute it. and should our fates become united. it would whelm us both in destruction. Seek therefore one whom thou mey'et love in safety. and may she bring peace to thy heart. and joy to thy quiet home. But we must meet no more. {or I have promised to renounce thee. and in the fulfilment of that promise lies thy security and mineâ€"end if this be not enough to show that I am constrained to yield thee u , let me tell thee that the eyes of the terrib e inquisition watch the actions of all; and when the powerful have ene- mies. they call upon her mighty arm to remove them from their psth._ “ I write, dear Guiseppe. to bid thee farewellâ€"to tell thee that we must partâ€" that already we have met for the last time â€"and that henceforth. divided by an impassable barrier, it must be the aim of each to forget the existence of the other. Alas! that it must be so! for 1 could have loved and clung to thee through life. as well thou knoweetâ€"but fate ordeins it other- wise. and it is vain to struggle agains: her stern and iron decree. My uncle heads neither my prayers nor my tearsâ€"he ie inexorable. and I am forced to remain the week and powerless creature of his willâ€" toroed to resign thee. Guiseppe. and worse than all. to give myself to another. when thouonly dost possess my _hear_t._ _ With deep and sad misgivings Gui- eeppe retraoed his steps to his apartment, and closing the door, tore of! the envelope of a letter which bore the seal and super- soription of Iantbe. Breaking it hastily open, he read with emotions of surprise, pain and indignncion. the followingworda: The sun sank dulv to restâ€"twilight spread her soft and rosy veil over the earth, and the star of love gleamsd forth with golden radiance in the west. Guiseppe hailed its serene, unclouded lustre as a happy omen, and in defiance of secret fears that still kept gnawing at his heart, it beat with somewhat of its former lightness as he at last set torth on his adventurous mission to the palace. But before he had measured half the length of the courtyard he was accosted by a man, whom in his haste he had not observed. and who, placing a parcel in his hand, turned away and instantly departed: Firm in his resolve to seek the llishop and avow to him his love. he waited impatientl for evening to arrive. the early hours of w ieh it was the habit of the pie- ‘lste to pass alone in his librsry. and then by gaining aoeess to him, it would, he thought. he the most favorable moment to present his suit. The day wore on. tilled up with its usual svoeations and studies; but with the pain of a torturing headache. and the restlessness of an axious mind to endure. the time never before passedso wearily and heavily to Guiseppe. Alm- nately was he swayed by fear and hope. yet in the end the latter feeling redomi- nated, for he had little faith in t e truth- fulness of the Countess, when a. selfish object was to be achieved. and knowing the Bishop's doating affection for his niece, the sanguine lover wrought himself into an almost firm persuasion that it would gene- rate so sincere a desire for her happiness as to silence in his ambitious mind the whisperings of vain and worldly pride, and win his sanction to her union with the chosen object of hex: heart. Aoeoeting her now. with the aid of u tri- fllng doueeur he won her promiee to wetoh at the foot of Hugo's tower for the Countess Bertha, whom she well knew,end to whom she was to deliver the note with which he entrusted her. Quite eure from him know ledge of the girl that she would leithlully execute her commission. Guleep e hurried ewey y. and re entered his ohun r juut u the metin bell sounded its loud elunm' in thg‘eerelot the sleeping students. _ tsin. As he s prosehed it he espied two cl them just opening (tom its side. but another remeined to fill her vessel. and she wss one whom he [and often seen there. and whose melodlous voice. us she sowin- psnied her rustic employment with vnld snatches of song, hsd “treated [us music- loving est. sud led to the interehsnm of kind snd_!risndly words between them. A rmmnrr recently published by Lieut. Col. Rechberger. by order of the Militsry Archive Depsrtment of Austris, hes ceased n greet sensation in London Ind in Berlin. beoeuse it strongly recommends the lortifl~ cation of Vienna on the ground of s robe- ble qnmel with Germmy st some utnre period. "A glsnoe ct the msp.” the suthor remsrks, " shows that our Germen neigh- bors. ii they were st wer with Austrie. would make Vienna their principslstrstogiâ€" osl object. We know how deceptive end untrustworthy sllisnces ere. They usnslly isil. end all friendly reistnons genenlly bresk off. precisely when they ere most eqnired." Cm his throat with n piece 0! glen. And stabbed hie donkey utter. This unique method of shuffling 03 the morteloon‘l was also ado ted recently in Phlledelphia by a reilron oonduotor. who. in a moment of insanity. broke e. window pone. and. with a piece of glue thus obtained. inflicted wounds upon himself whereof he died. In that interestin British ballad. " Tho Rat-catchers Dang tor." it is said thus the unfortunate lover of the young womnn For the first time since the Reformation, the Daughters of St. Benedict have opened Leonvent and boarding-school in the Isle of Wight. John Bright. has been having some (air luck with the rod so Tweedeide. lending several salmon, the hesviesn weighing twenty-two pounds. Untwlszed all the strings that tie The hidden soul of harmony. till at length the glowmg cheek grew wan. the lustrous eye waxed dim, the cunning hand relaxed its wondrous movement. and the exhausted youth sank fainting on the floor. They gathered around him in alarm. and raising him, placed him in bed and summoned medical assistance to his side. 1 His face was flushed with the crimson lhectio at (ever. and around it the rich clusters of his chestnut hair waved in dishevelled curls. while his dark eyes. lit up with intense and burning lustre. were raised upwards with an earnest gaze. as though their vision pierced the thick veil which separates the finite lrom theinfinite. and beheld revealed the glories of that invisible world. with which borne on the wings of harmony, his soul seemed now to hold communion. His grace, his youth.his exquisite beauty,so purely clsssioin its char- acter, likened him as he now stood. to that magnificent statue of Apollo. which repre- presents the Deity interceding with the terrible Parcm for the life 0! his friend Admetus; and the resemblance suggested itself to more than one of those who stood regarding the unconscious youth with min- gle_d admiration and pity. But indifferent to their game. he still played on. filling the chambers and the corridors with airy melodyâ€"and louder and wilder, and more varied grew the strain as with all the fire and passion of genius the inspired musician. with hie art ivine, The sound of his violin, heard with the first dawn of day, disturbed the sleepers in the neighboring dormitories. and many aroused themselves and sought the chamber of the musician to learn the extraordinary cause of his early performance. But instead of remonstrating they remained to listen. as standing halt dressed in the mid~ die of the room. Guiseppe played with new and infinite variations. and with sur- prising skifl and execution the Sonata, which though the conception 0! his own fenius, he persisted in asexihing to the aspiration of the demon with whose name he_had_baptized i_t. _ But broken and disturbed were the uneasy slumbers of Guiseppe through the dark and silent watches of that weary night- A raging {ever changed the health- ful current of his blood into a stream ot fire, and scorched his clouded brain with its burning heat. Wild and disjointed images flitted continually before him. He fancied the earth changed into one vast burial place, in the midst of which he stood desolate sud Borrowing. calling aloud upon the perished objects of his low. or singing with touching pathos a low requiem for the dead. At other moments he believed him- self sitting with Isuthe in the chamber of the old turret, and in whispered tones, sometimes of remonstrance, sometimes of tenderness, he discoursed of their affection and their fears. He w.“ awakened. alter several hours of heevy slumber by a. iellow student, who having knocked for some time at his door Without receiving any enswar ventured in. end guided through the thick darkness, (or the evening was {or advanced. by the hesvy breathing of Guieeppe. he With some ditfi~ culty awoke him to eels for the book of which he came in Bench. Receiving only incoherent replies to his inquiries. the young men fetched s lamp from his own room. and no its light fell upon the counte- nance of his friend he was struck with its pslenese, end with its wild expression, and perceived immediately thet he wuslebor- ing under severe mental or bodily indiepo. sition. So, after u. little persuasion he prevailed on him to retire to bed. when trusting that all would be well in the morn- ing. he left him to repose. and returned eggin to_ his own room._ i All he pronounced these words he strode [butin through the npertment. the tearful iworking of hie eoul Viaible in hie agitated «step and futures. Yet Were the loan of quthe lens teerible to him then the utter heortleeiineiie which her letter manifested. and of which he had not believed her caper ble. It chided him eorely to {eel that he hiid nuchord euch deep coniiding love on oneeo unworthy of the noble sentiment. and with wounded sensibilities end a heart bleeding With bitter disappointment he continued to traverse the chumber.breiik~ ing forth at intervelu into home ejaculations and pressing hie clasped halide upon his throbbing temples us if to quell the fire which raged with leulul violence in his brain. And no hour alter hour passed on. while seemingly luaeneible to their lapse. Guieeppe remained the prey o! overwrought emotion that almost bordered upon frenzy. till exhnuiited nature could no longer endure the fearful etrile. and sinking into his study chair he tell into a deep lethar- gic_ eleep. wd precioua- hopesâ€"hopes 0! which. dimmed by am suyy Word. or won by u glittering bribe..thou don make mo“ cruel wreck. und then II cold and unwanted wordu dost bid me smile amid the lug- mauu. With which thy hwd huh sum": the tlgouhlod ocean 9! guy lite." _ _ (To be continued.)