ever,

upon which the man squinted at him sideways, and without attending any further to his guest, he pointed, with his thumb bent backwards, to the house-at the same time adding, in a gloomy and indifferent tone—“ Only go in there, sir! my people know already." Wolfe bit his lips, and entering somewhat abruptly, his sabre that rattled after him, happened to inflict a pretty sharp blow across the legs of Mein-herr John, his landlord. "What the devil in hell!" grumbled the butcher. Wolfe, howdid not allow himself to enter into any explanation or dispute, but passed on, and came into the court. He found there a pale and sickly-looking girl carrying two buckets of water. Wolfe, drawing near to her, inquired if she was the servant of his landlord? The girl remained silent, and as if terrified, standing before him. She had set down the two buckets on the ground, and looked on him with large rayless eyes unsteadily. Her complexion seemed always to become more pale, till she resembled a marble statue more than an animated being. Meanwhile, as Wolfe renewed his question, she let her head sink upon her breast, and taking up the buckets again, she said, with her eyes fixed on a short flight of steps that led by a servant's door into the house, "Come up here; and immediately at the first door on the right hand you will find your chamber."

Wolfe looked after her a while quite lost in thought, then climbed up the narrow stairs, and found all as she had told him. The room was small and dark; the air op

pressive and suffocating. From the rough smoky walls large pieces of the lime had fallen away, and here and there were scraps of writing, initials, and figures of men and women, and beasts' heads, drawn with pieces of coal or a burnt stick. Right opposite to the half-blinded window stood a miserable bed; and near it he saw a red rusty nail, sticking a long way out of the walls. Wolfe hung his cypress crown upon it; placed his lance and sabre in a corner; threw his knapsack upon the table, and more than once, grumbling within his teeth, “What lubberly fellows these rich misers are!" he kicked aside two broken stools, went and leaned out of the window, and by degrees whistled his anger away.

Over the court and neighbouring buildings was visible a fine large garden, which “looked out,” fresh and fragrant through the bluish-grey atmosphere of the town. There dark avenues twined their branches on high, in arches like those of a Gothic cathedral over the solitary places; golden sun-flowers waved on their limber stalks over long labyrinths of red and white roses; walks and thickets surrounded the whole. There, all was silent; the rich luxuriance of the domain seemed like that of an enchanted wood, that no mortal foot had ever violated. Wolfe surveyed this garden with extraordinary pleasure, and would almost have given the world for the privilege of walking through a region of so much beauty and stillness ; but however this might be, he became quite recon

ciled to his apartment on account of its having such a prospect.

He kept himself quiet through the rest of the day, giving himself little concern about what might be going on in the house. Towards evening his military duties called him abroad. He returned just after it had begun to grow dark. The window still remained open. He drew a chair towards it, filled his pipe, seated himself, and rolling out ample volumes of smoke into the serene air, resigned himself to the voluntary flow of his thoughts and recollections.

The solitary garden, the obscure canopy of the trees, the bright moonshine that gleamed over them—all these things harmonized wonderfully together, and woke in his mind infinite trains of long-lost associations. He thought of his home, and of his aged mother; and by degrees became altogether opprest and melancholy. It occurred to him, that he was here absolutely without any one who took an interest in his fate; and all at once he felt an extraordinary longing and anxiety for his brother, who had now for a long time roamed about the world, and of whom no satisfactory intelligence had for many years been received. He had at first been a baker's apprentice-had afterwards entered into an engagement as a chaise-driver -and at last all traces of his name and fortune had, among strangers, vanished quite away. Perhaps," thought Wolfe, he has also become a soldier; and now,

when

peace has come, and every

nation is tranquil, news

may have in all probability arrived at home of my poor brother Andrew."

With this persuasion he endeavoured to console himself; but could not help wishing immediately to write home for information; the recollection of his brother had so suddenly and deeply agitated his heart.

Wolfe now for the first time noticed with great vexation, that they had given him no light. This at least he resolved to demand. He got up therefore, (not without a soldier-like oath), and dressed as he then happened to be, in a short linen waistcoat, and without a neckcloth, went out. According to his custom when much irritated, he passed his hands over his head several times, raising his luxuriant locks in such a manner as to give a considerable wildness to his toute ensemble, and cautiously groped his way down stairs. In the lobby there glimmered a dusky lamp. Wolfe stepped into the circle of the uncertain radiance, looked about for some means or other of obtaining his object, and searched with his hand for the bell-rope. At this moment Mein-herr John happened to return home from his evening recreation at the ale-house; and with glowing complexion and glistening eyes, (not being aware of Wolfe's presence), gave the accustomed signal with a hard knotted stick on the door. Wolfe perceiving this, stepped up to meet him, carrying his head very high, (while the light, such as it was, shone full upon him), and said, in a commanding tone, "Must

I always sit in the dark?" Mein-herr John started as if he had been struck with a thunder-bolt, let the cudgel fall out of his hands, looked about wildly and aghast, then rushed in and passed by Wolfe, uttering a deep groan of indescribable terror. “Is he mad, or drunk?" said our hero, who, at this strange behaviour, grew irritated, applied himself resolutely to the bell, and stood prepared to raise a still greater disturbance, when the pale interesting girl, Louisa, stepped out timidly, and, on hearing his demand, excused her negligence, and, with a light in her hand, hastened up stairs before him. She then set the candle on the table, shut the window, wiped the dust from the chairs, and, in her silent and quiet manner, employed herself for a while in the room.

Wolfe was very reserved and modest with ladies-he hated scandal; and, on the whole, perhaps, had not much confidence in the house. For these reasons, the presence of the girl rather vexed him. He kept himself turned away, and drummed with his fingers against the window. Louisa stood at the bed, with spread hands, smoothing and arranging the bed clothes.

Wolfe heard after her, as

her sigh deeply, and involuntarily looked she retired sobbing and hanging down her head with an expression of the deepest melancholy. All this vexed him to the soul. "What then can she weep for?" said he to himself "Has my rough manner terrified her? or in my hurry, have I used to her some harsh words?" He had already the light in his hands, and anxiously