breathe the fresh air;" and, throwing open the window, stepped out upon a large balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. The ground was shrouded in its virgin mantle of snow, and a cold wintry moon lighted with pale effulgence the silent magnificence of the scene: all was still; even the wind slumbered among the leafless branches of the trees, and upon the earth and in the skies no sound broke the mute melancholy of Nature. "How calm is everything around us!" said Ottilie, seating herself upon a stone bench, and making Ebersdorf place himself by her side. "Do you see the willows that fringe the lake below? Do you hear Ophelia and Desdemona weeping beneath them? I, too, have often wept during the last year. Oh Frederic! how much have I suffered! But it was only at the price of sufferings like those that the happiness I now enjoy could be obtained. How sublime is this happiness! In my despair I blasphemed my Creator-I no longer believed in his goodness; but, since my peace is restored, He has shed his holy light and warmth upon my erring soul. I hear the celestial melody of the stars,-I behold the portals of eternal life opening to receive me,-joys divine surround and envelope me like a garment of light! Frederic, my beloved, place your hand upon my heart. Can you feel it?-that poor heart, whose sick throbbings they all pronounced to be disease? It panted to be near you; but you were too far away. Now that I feel you here, it is calm." "Miserable wretch that I am!" exclaimed Ebersdorf, forgetting the doctor's precautions in the violence of his despair; "all is over for me! Oh! happiness, hope, existence-lost, lost for ever!-all sacrificed to my pride!" "Pride!" repeated Ottilie slowly; "it is that which has made me suffer so much-pride and jealousy. And why, then, did you dance with the Frankenthal?-why did you appear to speak to her with such pleasure? Jealousy had taken possession of my soul, and you saw it not; my heart was bursting, and you thought not of it! Where are the roses you gave me? It seems even now that I inhale their perfume again; and the kiss I refused you-ah Frederic! if you knew all I then felt! Tell me that you never loved her — answer me, Frederic, did you love her?" "Never!" he replied, in a voice hollow from emotion. "And did you always love me?" "More than my life!" and the tears that gushed from his eyes attested the truth of his asseveration. "Oh! what a prospect of happiness and love is opening upon us!" continued Ottilie, gently laying her head upon Ebersdorf's shoulder. "We shall pass through life leaning on each other for support. Oh God! I am too happy!" She ceased to speak, yet her lips continued to move, although no sound issued from them; slumber appeared to be stealing over her, when suddenly the first notes of a waltz were heard, and Ottilie, as though touched by an enchanter's wand, sprang to her feet. "Do you hear, Frederic? It is the midnight waltz-the same that was played last year-Der Frosinn mein ziel-the waltz I best love! Henceforward you must dance it with me-always with me!" And, leaning upon Ebersdorf's arm, she re-entered the gallery. With a bound she traversed the double row of waltzers, and, taking her place, commenced dancing with an impetuosity that admitted of no pause, flying round the circle as though driven by a whirlwind. 66 Quicker!" she exclaimed at each turn-" quicker! And the orchestra precipitated its measure until Frederic could scarcely keep pace with the frantic movement. Midnight struck— breathless, exhausted, extenuated, Ottilie sank back in his arms. "The kiss-which I refused you," she murmured, gasping for breath, "that kiss-take it now!" "Ottilie, my life! my only love!" exclaimed Frederic in frenzied accents; and, straining her passionately to his heart, he joined his lips to hers. A piercing shriek rang through the gallery, as Ottilie, breaking away from Frederic's embrace, fell in violent convulsions at his feet. "Good heavens! Count Ebersdorf, you have awakened her," exclaimed the Grand Duke. "The danger is over now," said the doctor; "nobody will ever awaken her again!" THE FALLING STAR. BY WILLIAM JONES. "FATHER! a star is flown! To another home in yon radiant zone: "My child, thou hast seen How shades 'midst the beautiful intervene ; "Sweet child, let it raise Thine heart in love, and thy voice in praise; And there from the changes of earth and skies Our spirits immortal and pure will rise!" EARLY YEARS OF A VETERAN OF THE ARMY OF WESTPHALIA, BETWEEN 1805 AND 1814. AFTER remaining some months in Gellenhausen, we marched back to Cassel, because the threatening posture which affairs took after the battle of Jena, made it desirable to draw several regiments of cavalry together in the vicinity of the capital. We did not break up without regret, in so far as regarded our social position; for we youngsters had met with a kind reception in some of the best families of the place, and made many a cherished acquaintance, now painfully to be renounced. Before reaching Cassel, however, its fortunes as well as ours, were decided; for the French, under Mortier, took it by surprise, and the Elector was constrained, since half the town was already captured, to flee out at an opposite part. In our quarters in Upper Schwerin, we had not the smallest apprehension of such a vicissitude, though many reports, always contradictory, kept us in perpetual expectation of extraordinary events. During many days and nights our saddles had not been taken off; we stood, sat, and slept with our sabres buckled on, our pistols and carbines loaded. Early in the morning of the 1st of November (All Saints' day), the regiment was suddenly called out, and to our great alarm, we were, without any reason assigned to us, instead of being marched forwards, ordered to fall back to our former garrison at Frizlar. The march took place, not as usual, in exemplary order, but in the most disorderly haste; and upon our arrival at Frizlar, the colours were taken to the guardhouse, instead of to the General's quarters, according to custom. After this command followed another-to deliver up our arms: it was like a clap of thunder to us. I cannot describe what I felt ; let my comrades place themselves in that time and in our circumstances, and picture to themselves the scene which after such an order must necessarily ensue in a corps, who, in rooted fidelity to its sovereign, and unchangingly devoted, was ready under whatsoever circumstances, at home or abroad, to shed the last drop of its blood in his service. And now must they, and I with them, without a struggle or a blow, offer up their weapons which they had so long bravely exercised, and by means of which I had looked forward to running an honourable career, or to die with them in my hand for honour and renown! Imprecations against such a fate-against the blighting disgrace—were heard on all sides; outpourings of useless rage contrasted with those of real despair, and scalding tears gushed from the eyes of grey-bearded warriors; but all this availed us nothing. We officers retired with heavy hearts to brood in solitude over our lost hopes, and the dreary, aimless future; but the dragoons remained in the market-place, and now first gave vent to their hitherto restrained wrath in the highest degree enraged, they shattered their weapons into a thousand pieces-those weapons which they had now no prospect of exercising with honour: the stocks of the carbines and of the pistols were broken short off, the blades of the sabres splintered; and when all was done, they turned dejectedly homewards, singly or in small parties. About two-thirds of the men took their horses with them; having some means for their support the others were left on the spot. The inhabitants of the town, who until now had only seen us in the regular performance of our every-day duties, appeared planet-struck on beholding our disorganized return, and the strange doings in the market-place on one of their most solemn festivals. They would not trust their eyes nor believe what they saw; there was a running to and fro, a string of questions, a general consultation of what awaited themselves, which no words can describe; and the tranquillity out of which they had been awakened, as by the wand of an enchanter, only returned in a certain degree when the regiment, completely disbanded, dispersed itself through the country: at least, they then for the first time, with their fears and anxieties, returned back to their houses. I can relate nothing further of what occurred in the town; for, I too, left the place within two or three days, after having given up my precious, well-beloved steed, which was amongst the best in the regiment. My intention was to go home to Wesel, where my mother lived, in order to consult with my family as to my future mode of life; so carrying my light baggage in a haversack, I set out on my road to Frankenberg, where I met with the kindest reception in a family of our intimate acquaintance. Here I laid aside my uniform, as my way was through a country in possession of the French troops; and, soon resolved, I got a passport made out for me as a painter's boy-acquired the terms of the trade-and my coarse, dark-blue jacket did me such excellent service in the handling of it, that in the course of a few hours my face and hands acquired a tinge which might have put to shame a master in the craft. Followed by the cordial good wishes of my acquaintance, per pedes apostolorum, and, true to the motto of the Wandsbecker Almanac— "Omnia mea mecum porto"-I quitted the frontier of the territory where I had once anticipated a successful future, cast out of my chosen calling at seventeen years of age, and without a prospect of being replaced in it. These early bitter experiences disturbed me, in truth; however, God be thanked, they overwhelmed not my courage. More sad and severe ones followed them; yet, praise be to Providence, I maintained my hopes and my reliance upon it. Fine as the weather had been at my departure, it became stormy at the dawn of the next day; between intervals of snow and rain, the tempest raged in short, violent gusts; whilst on I went,-all natural objects looking dead about me,-by the solitary footpaths, pursuing my way with a heavy, sorrowful heart, over hill and dale, or struggling against the storm. Many a towering height had been left behind me, one hour passed after another, yet my eyes could not spy out one sheltering roof to repose under after my wanderings. The wind was so strong, that I could no longer keep my feet upon the high ground, for which reason I hastened towards a large tree standing somewhat in a hollow, which promised me some defence against the fierceness of the tempest. Without looking up, and covering my face as much as possible with my handkerchief, I was trying to attain my object, as the sound of a human voice struck my ear, which in my desolation seemed to me like a voice from heaven. I looked up, and saw sitting in the hollow of the tree now close to me, a man dressed like the peasantry of the country, who called aloud to me, "What! what! How came you here, my lad, and without a bit of a stick, too, in your hand, in all this storm?" I sat down by him in his asylum, and when I was able to draw breath a little, he divided bountifully with me the contents of his basket, which were excellent, even without the zest imparted to them by my sharp appetite. They consisted in a rich provision of sausage, bread, and cheese, which I helped him to consume, and at the diminution of which he looked truly gratified. Meantime our conversation went on in its peaceful course. I discovered, to my great joy, that my companion was a letter-carrier from Werle, going to Arnsberg as well as myself, and I hoped, therefore, for some time, not to lose sight of him or his basket. He was surprised to see such a youngster wandering about alone, inquired where my journey was to end, and promised to provide for me as well as possible during the time of our travelling together; this the simple, honest man did, and discreetly too; for since, as carrier, he was closely acquainted with the whole country round, he knew, also, the best places to stop at, and led me by the direct road, in the continuous bad weather, in three days to Werle, where he lived. Here I was absolutely obliged to partake with him in his modest dwelling of a dish of eggs and bacon, before he brought me to the inn, and as, upon our separation, I wished to give him in money a recompense for his trouble and attention, he would accept of none; but, on the contrary, when I had discovered myself to him, offered to furnish me with some, if I needed any to carry me on. I was, however, sufficiently provided, nor would I under any difficulties have accepted such a sacrifice. I now set out for Shermbeck, where my nurse was married, from whom I was sure of a kind reception; but in order to arrive there, I was obliged to traverse the high road upon which reinforcements were marching to the French army, and in the inn at Camen, I found, as I expected, the whole room filled with the French; but I walked boldly in, determined to interfere with them as little as possible, and with that intention sat down with my bread and cheese and a glass of beer in the farthest corner of the spacious parlour. It soon occurred to me that the young hostess was observing me fixedly, and she then called off the attention of her French guests to some insignificant circumstance which was passing in the court, on which account they all immediately quitted the parlour, which thus during a few moments was entirely empty. The young hostess advanced hastily towards me, and said, taking my hand, "You are Fritz B-: I cannot mistake." Astonished, indeed half alarmed, I immediately assented; however, she soon tranquillized me by saying, "Have no uneasiness, I will not betray you. I knew you in a moment, notwithstanding your disguise; for during several years I saw you every day. I am the daughter of the baker at Ham, who lived opposite to your boarding-school, and many is the cake you have had from us.' We had a hearty laugh, as well at my terror on her addressing me, as at recollections of that time-she taking care, however, that none of the soldiers might remark on their entrance that we were acquainted. She informed her husband of my history, who forthwith became interested in it; and after treating me to the best-an attention which at my years was highly acceptable-he brought me himself next morning early through the Lipper Heath, and on taking leave urged strongly upon me a loan of money to aid me on my journey; I was touched by his kind offer, but did not avail myself of it. " After a very tiresome and fatiguing walk I reached Shermbeck late in the evening, found out the house of Madame Gottfrinks, and was welcomed by the true-hearted soul with expressions of joy, which in these our times are rare enough in her class. At first she did not |