nothing had escaped his observation, and a judgment so solid, that every incident was turned to advantage. His youth had not been wasted in idleness, nor overcast by intemperance. He had been all his life a close and deep reader, as well as thinker; and, by the force of his own powers, had wrought up the raw materials, which he had gathered from books, with such exquisite skill and felicity, that he had added a hundred fold to their original value, and justly made them his own.

An Apparition.-CLUB-ROOM.

THE sun was hastening to a glorious setting as I gained the last hill that overlooks the forest; and, late as it was, I paused to gaze once more on this most brilliant and touching of the wonders of nature. The glories of the western sky lasted long after the moon was in full splendour in the east; on one side all was rich and warm with departing day on the other how pure and calm was the approach of night! If I had been born a heathen, I think I could not have seen the setting sun, without believing myself immortal who, that had never seen the morning dawn could believe that wonderful orb, which sinks so slowly and majestically through a sea of light, throwing up beams of a thousand hues, melting and mingling together, touching the crest of the clouds with fire, and streaming over the heavens with broad brilliancy, up to the zenith-then retiring from sight, and gradually drawing his beams after him, till their last faint blush is extinguished in the cold, uniform tints of moonlight-who could believe that source of light had perished? Who then could believe that the being, who gazes on that magnificent spectacle with such emotion, and draws from it such high conclusions of his own nature and destiny, is even more perishable ?

I remained absorbed in such reflections till the twilight was almost gone. I then began rapidly to descend, and, leaving the moon behind the hill, entered the long dark shadow it threw over the wood at its foot. It was gloomy and chill-the faint lingering of day was hidden by the

trees, and the moon seemed to have set again, throwing only a distant light on the rich volumes of clouds that hung over her. As I descended farther, the air became colder, the sky took a deeper blue, and the stars shone with a wintry brightness. The thoughts which came tenderly over me, by the light of the setting sun, now grew dark and solemn; and I felt how fleeting and unsatisfactory are the hopes built on the analogies of nature. The sun sets so beautifully it seems impossible it should not rise again; but in the gloom of midnight, where is the promise of the morrow? In the cold, but still beautiful, features of the dead, we think we see the pledge of a resurrection; but what hope of life is there in the dust to which they crumble ?

I arrived late at the inn. It was a large and ruinous structure, which had once been a castle, but the family of its owner had perished in disgrace: their title was extinguished, their lands confiscated and sold, and their name now almost forgotten. It stood on a small bare hill in the midst of the forest, which it overtopped, only to lose its shelter and shade, for from it the eye could not reach the extremity of the wood. I knocked long before I was admitted; at last an old man came to the door with a lantern, and, without a word of welcome, led my horse to the stable, leaving me to find my way into the house. The spirit of the place seemed to have infected its inhabitants. I entered a kitchen, whose extent I could not see by the dim fire-light, and, having stirred the embers, sat down to warm me. The old man soon returned, and showed me up the remains of a spacious staircase, to a long hall, in a corner of which was my bed. I extinguished the light, and lay down without undressing; but the thoughts and scenes of the evening had taken strong hold of my mind, and I could not sleep. I did not feel troubled, but there was an intensity of thought and feeling within me, that seemed waiting for some great object on which to expend itself. I rose, and walked to the window: the moon was shining beautifully bright, but the forest was so thick that her light only glanced on the tops of the trees, and showed nothing distinctly-all was silent and motionless-not a breeze, not a sound, not a cloud-the earth was dim and undistinguish

able, the heavens were filled with a calm light, and the moon seemed to stand still in the midst. I know not how long remained leaning against the window and gazing upward, for I was dreaming of things long past, of which I was then, though I knew it not, the only living witness; when my attention was suddenly recalled by the low but distinct sound of some one breathing near me—I turned with a sudden thrill of fear, but saw nothing; and, as the sound had ceased, I readily believed it was fancy. I soon relapsed into my former train of thought, and had forgotten the circumstance, when I was again startled by a sound I could not mistake-there was some one breathing at my very ear-so terribly certain was the fact that I did not move even my eyes; it was not the deep, regular breath of one asleep, nor the quick panting of guit, but a quiet, gentle respiration; I remained listening till I could doubt no longer, and then turned slowly round, that I might not be overpowered by the suddenness of the sight, which I knew I must meet-again there was nothing to be seenthe moon shone broad into the long desolate chamber, and, though there was a little gathering of shadow in the corners, I am sure nothing visible could have escaped the keenness of my gaze, as I looked again and again along the dark wainscot. My calmness now forsook me, and, as I turned fearfully back to the window, my hand brushed against the curtain, whose deep folds hid the corner near which I was standing-the blood gushed to my heart with a sharp pang, and I involuntarily dashed my hands forward -they passed through against the damp wall, and the tide of life rolled back, leaving me hardly able to support my self. I stood a few moments lost in fear and wonderwhen the breathing began again, and there-in the bright moonlight-I felt the air driven against my face by a being I could not see. I sat down on the bed in great agitation, and it was a considerable time before I could at all compose my mind-the fact was certain, but the cause inscru table. I rose, and walked across the chamber.

I made three or four turns, and gradually recovered my tranquillity, though still impressed with the belief that what I had heard was no natural sound. I was not now in a state to be easily deluded, for my senses were on the alert,

but my mind perfectly calm. The old floor groaned under every tread, but the noise excited in me no alarm; I did not even turn when the planks sprung and cracked behind me long after my foot had left them. But, good God! what were my feelings when I heard distinct footsteps following my own! the light tread of naked feet-I stopped instantly, just as I had made a step-the tread ceased, and a moment after I heard a foot brought up as if to support the walker in this unexpected pause-Could it be echo?— I struck my foot upon the floor-the sound was short and sullen, and was not repeated-I walked on, but the steps did not follow-I turned, and paused again-all was still. I walked back, and as I reached the spot where the sounds had ceased-whether I heard or saw it I cannot tell-but something passed me, and a soft sigh floated along with it, dying away in distance like the moaning of a gentle wind. It was indistinct as it passed, but as I listened to catch its last lingering, I knew the voice of Gertrude !—" Hermann!" it said, in a tone so tender and mournful, that my eyes filled with tears, and I seemed to hear it long after it had ceased. "Gertrude !" I cried aloud-the same sweet sigh answered me, and for an instant I caught the dark beam of her eye-there was no form, but I saw her own look-that deep melancholy gaze-it was but a moment, and it was gone. "Gertrude!" I cried again, "if it be thou, do not fly me-come to me, beloved!" A pause of deeper silence followed; my eyes were fixed on the air where I had lost her, when the shadows at the extremity of the chamber began to move like the waving of a garment; their motion at first was indefinite and hardly perceptible, but gradually increased till they parted and rolled away, leaving a brighter space in the middle. This had at

first no determinate form, but soon began to assume the outline of a human figure. I shall never forget the sensation of that moment-my hair rose, my flesh crept, and drops of sweat rolled fast down my cheeks; yet it was not fear I cannot describe the emotion with which I watched the figure growing more and more distinct; and even when I saw the face of my own Gertrude, all thoughts of earth were swallowed up in those of eternity-I stood in the presence of a spirit, and felt myself immortal! The

triumph was short-it was too like herself-the eyes were closed, but it was her own graceful form, though attenuated and almost transparent-her own face-pale and languid, but oh, how beautiful-at last the eyes opened— they alone were unchanged, and they gazed on me with a tenderness I could not bear-I sunk on my knees, and hid my face-I felt her approach-I did not raise my eyes, but I knew she was near me by a glow of more than human happiness-a hand was laid upon my head-" Hermann !" said the same sweet voice, "dear Hermann! but one year more!"-and the sound floated away. I looked up-she was already disappearing-she smiled on me, and the form faded, and the shadows gathered over it.

I had sunk on the floor exhausted; the first feeling I remember was one of unutterable grief and loneliness; but the next was joy at the thought that I was not to endure it long" but one year more, and I shall be with thee forever"-I could not feel more certain of any fact of my own experience, than that Gertrude was dead, and I should soon follow.

I paced the chamber till day-break, and then watched the sky till the sun rose. I was in no haste to be gone, for I had but a short day's journey before me, and did not wish to arrive before night. I remained in my chamber till the morning mists were dispersed, and then began my journey. I rode slowly all day, musing and abstracted, and hardly noticing the objects around me, till I reached the brow of a hill beneath which lay the village of Underwalden-a few simple buildings gathered close round the church whose spire just rose above the trees; beyond was the gentle slope of green hills parted only by hawthorn hedges; and still further on, the home of my Gertrude, canopied by tall ancient elms, and gleaming in the yellow light of the setting sun.

If I had had no other reason, I should have foreboded evil from the silence of the hour-it is always a quiet time, but it has a few sounds that harmonize with its solemnitythe lowing of the cattle, the whistle of the returning labourer, or the distant merriment of the children released from school, come naturally with the close of day--but now the cattle were gathered home, and the labourer had