The

these sad spectacles: and it struck me I was about to learn what an expression death wore on the features of a sentenced man. I followed the captain. regiment was formed into a hollow square; behind the second line, and upon the edge of the wood, some soldiers were digging a trench. They were commanded by a lieutenant, for all regimental duty is conducted with order, and a certain discipline is necessary to dig a man's grave.

In the centre of the square, eight officers were seated upon drums; the ninth, to the right and a little in advance, wrote a few words, supporting the paper upon his knees, but very negligently, and only as it seemed that a man might not be put to death without some little form.

The accused was summoned. He was a young man of elevated stature, with a noble and wild cast of countenance. Along with him advanced a woman, the sole witness whose deposition was taken in this affair.

And when the Colonel was about to interrogate the woman, "It is useless," exclaimed the soldier, "I am going to avow everything; I stole a handkerchief from this woman's house."

Colonel." You, Piter! your character has hitherto stood high in the regiment?"

Piter. "True, Colonel, I have always endeavoured to merit the approbation of my officers. In this case it was not for myself that I committed the theft; it was for Marie."

Colonel.-"Who is this Marie?" Piter." It is Marie who lives there away in the country-near Areneberg -where that great apple tree is—I shall never see her again!

Colonel.-"I do not comprehend you, Piter; explain yourself."

Piter." Ah well, Colonel, read that letter ;" and he handed to him the following letter, every word of which is fresh in my remembrance.

My dearest friend Piter "I profit by the occasion of the recruit Arnold enlisting in your regiment to send these lines, and a silk purse, which I have knitted expressly for you. I had great trouble to prevent my father from seeing me whilst about it, for he always scolds me for loving you so much, and says that you will never return. You will come back to me, will you not? At all events, if you never return, I should love you notwithstanding. I promised you my hand the day when you

picked up my blue handkerchief at the dance of Areneberg, and brought it back to me. When shall I see you again? That which gives me most pleasure, is to hear that you are esteemed by your superiors, and loved by others. But you have yet two years to serve make haste about it, because then we will get married.

"Adieu, my dearest friend, "THINE OWN MARIE. "P. S.-Endeavour to send me, too, something from France, not for fear that I should forget you, but that I may always have it about me. You will bestow a kiss upon whatever you send me, and I am quite sure that I shall afterwards find out the place of your kiss."

When the perusal of the letter was finished, Piter again spoke: "Arnold,” said he, "placed this letter in my hands yesterday evening, as they gave me my lodging billet. I could not sleep the whole night; I thought of my country, and Marie. She desired me to send her something from France ; I had no money; I had forestalled my pay for three months to come, for my brother and cousin, who are gone home these several days back. This morning, on rising to begin our march, I opened my window : a blue handkerchief was hanging on a line below it-I had the folly to take it, and I thrust it into my knapsack; I descended into the street; I then repented what I had done, and was going back to the house, when this woman ran up to me. The handkerchief was found, and that's the whole truth. The article of war ordains that I should be shotshoot me, but do not despise me."

The judges could not conceal their emotion; however, on collecting their votes, he was unanimously condemned to death. He heard the sentence with perfect sang-froid; then advancing towards his captain, he requested from him the loan of four francs. The captain gave them to him. I then saw him approach the woman to whom the blue handkerchief had been restored, and address her in these words-" Madame, here are four francs; I know not whether your handkerchief is worth more than that sum, but should it be so, I pay dear enough for it otherwise for you to excuse me the rest."

Then taking back the handkerchief, he kissed it, and gave it to his officer. "My captain," said he, "in two years hence you will return to our mountains; if you pass on the side near Areneberg, ask for Marie, put into her hands this

No. 116.

Ar Florence the Beautiful, under the pontificate of Leo X, there dwelt a statuary unknown to fame; one of those infatuated modellers, calling themselves artists merely because they possess an unhappy facility in chipping to pieces a block of marble, and of spoiling the ideal of a beauteous form by the awkwardness of their imitation. His workshop presented a mélange of strange and sombre forms, confusedly scattered around. A Madonna (which was not the "Mary full of grace,") by the side of a gigantic Apollo, with lanky, dislocated and contused limbs; a skeleton saint behind a fat and wry-faced Venus; little puffycheeked angels, grouped round a hideous satyr: and there, in veritable flesh and bone, our clipper of marble reared himself aloft, strutting about with a most

amusing air of self-satisfaction at the aspect of all these deformed creations, the children of his grotesque genius.

This man however had accomplished a chef-d'œuvre; yes, a chef d'œuvre of correctness, elegance, and virgin sweetness. Figure to yourself a charming head, the lovely proportions of which were half concealed by a profusion of natural ringlets, and placed with infinite grace upon shoulders that Praxiteles would not have disavowed. The Greek profile, altered only by the slight curving of the Roman nose; eyes neither large nor small, but admirably cut, and whose soft expression revealed a heart already pre-occupied with love; a pretty mouth, about which played that roguish smile indicative of an ingenuous mind allied to innocent mischief; a sylph-like form, whose delicate proportions and harmonious contours undulated beneath the gentle pressure of a tunic reaching far short of ankles that terminated in the prettiest little feet to be met with in all Italy.

This chef-d'œuvre was not cold and inert like the pale and ridiculous phantoms that peopled his dwelling. It

breathed; it had a soul. It was Nisida, the daughter of the statuary, seventeen years old, gentle and piquante, frolicsome yet simple-minded, reuniting, in fine, all that attracts the attention, amuses the mind, and captivates the heart.

The élite of the Florentine youth flocked to the studio of her father. It was who should obtain a glance, a smile, a word, even a frown, for every thing she did possessed an irresistible charm. Could she escape, among so many bewildering seductions, being taken in the snares of these desecrators of beauty who praise only to corrupt! Against all these, be assured, love proves the best safeguard. If Nisida appeared to enjoy her triumph and seek even to prolong it, it was no more than a trick of feminine coquetry: her heart was no longer her own-she had bestowed it on Julio, a youth, single-minded, timid, poor as herself, but very handsome, sincere, and ardently loving her. She too loved him with all the fervour, all the effusion of a first sentiment, and for him would have given, without regret, the congé to the whole swarm of those high-born butterflies she held captive under the charm of her so fascinating glances.

But here below, does it alone suffice to love and be beloved for the rendering of us perfectly happy? No! the genius of civilization is there, ever ready to step in and combat with the softest inclinations of one's nature, to torture our hearts by imposing upon them its laws, its usages, its tyrannical conventions. Poor enamoured youth! how many tears, sighs, and anxieties are mingled with thy fugitive joys!

The father of Nisida possessed all the pride which ordinarily characterises an artist of mediocrity; and that she might not be degraded from their station in life, he was desirous of marrying his daughter to a great sculptor, or at least to a wealthy man, with a view likewise to the re-establishment of his own affairs, which were greatly embarrassed. He consequently refused the poor Julio as a sonin-law, and forbade him his house. There was no further hope for him; for little minds, always acrimonious and exclusive, never revoke a decision; the more especially when it is an erroneous one. Our lovers were in despair; they only saw one another by stealth; and when a clandestine interview permitted them to exchange a few passionate glances, a few words glowing with all the enthusiasm of love, they were compelled to live for a long time upon that soft

remembrance alone.

One day Julio passed before the dwelling of Nisida. He rapidly surveys it, he espies her alone in the workshop. He enters to snatch the hurried pressure of her hand, and then quickly withdraw himself, when he is surprised by the father, who in a terrible voice inquires: "What are you doing here?"

Under such circumstances, this question, perfectly simple as it is, becomes embarrassing; the young man, after having reflected for a moment, thought himself exceedingly ingenious by making this reply: "Messere, be not angry; I am commissioned by my mother to buy her a mortar, and knowing you to be a most skilful artist, I come to beg that you will make me one."

The wave raised by the eruption of a volcano, boils not quicker than did the wrath of the statuary when he heard these words: "Darest thou insult me thus !" cried he, "request me to make a mortar ! I, who create gods! insolence unparalleled!" Then, seizing the unfortunate Julio by the collar, he added:-"Look, see'st thou, opposite my house, that wretched shop? Therein dwells an artisan whose craft it is to fashion mortars; go, and take good heed of appearing before my sight again."

Julio departs, sorrowful and abashed; and that it might not be thought he had told a lie, bends his steps towards the hovel indicated. He finds his way into a low, obscure, and ruinous apartment, where he perceives a man seated and holding a mass of stone upon his knees, which had already assumed the form of a mortar. This man's features wore a pallid hue, his vestments in shreds bespoke his distress; his sole companions were the spiders, who noiselessly and industriously wove their webs in the angles of his forlorn mansion. Julio simply relates his misadventure, his love, his chagrin, the towering rage of the statuary, and the little colloquy he had just held with him. The man of mortars smiled, arose from his seat, saying " Yes, I do make mortars, unfortunately I have none finished at the present moment; but come again in a fortnight, and I will give you one with which you will be satisfied." Then, reconducting Julio to the door, he added, with a marked accent:-" Do not forget to return in a fortnight, for you will find your account in so doing."

Julio, on regaining his dwelling, set his brains to work in commenting upon these latter words. He could not fathom their meaning: "you will find your ac

count in so doing!" What did they signify? And what was there in common between his love for Nisida and a mortar? Nevertheless he pondered on it. The drowning man will catch at a straw. The fortnight has scarcely elapsed ere he presents himself again at the hovel of the mysterious personage. The latter immediately opens an old worm-eaten press, and takes from it a mortar, which he places in the hands of the young man. "Take this," said he, "I make thee a present of it; thou wilt sell it, and then become rich enough to espouse thy dear Nisida. I make, however, one condition: carry this mortar to my neighbour the statuary, and beg him on my part to make a pestle for it."

Julio remained for awhile motionless with surprise at the sight of this mortar. It was of the finest Cararra marble. The subject sculptured with an exquisite delicacy upon it was The Passion; the figures seemed springing forth from the inert matter, and to group themselves in attitudes befitting that solemn hour. They shewed a grave pre-occupation with the divine mystery, a grief calm and resigned; a grief through which their Christian faith shone, like the dawn of those high destinies the celestial martyr had promised to the human race. The whole of the work bore a character of sublime simplicity. Not that mere correctness which is a natural emanation from art, and pleases by the help of certain rules; but that something altogether indefinable to oneself, which goes at once to the heart, and pleases, whilst it sets at defiance all conventional trammels. It was a chef d'œuvre.

Julio hastened to carry it to the statuary, and explain the object of his mission. Nisida was present. Do you not perceive her bending over that halfformed marble, feigning pretence of being busied with, yet not looking at it, but casting a soft and furtive glance at Julio? Behold also our stiff-necked statuary, bending his rigid form over the vase with swelling cheeks. He makes a tour of the bas-relief, and then says with a complaisant air :

"Truly it is indifferently well done. That fellow has stolen it somewhere. No matter, as he wishes me to make a pestle, I will do so. I think that by surmounting it with a Ganymede-”

"It appears to me, padre mio," said Nisida, "that a Ganymede with the Passion-"

"“Hold your tongue, figlia mia, you know nothing about it," retorted the

statuary ;-"as for thee, Julio, place the mortar on that slab, and get thee gone."

He was compelled to obey the mandate. Julio had scarcely quitted the house ere a dark visaged man presents himself. It was a bailiff. He came in the name of the statuary's creditors to seize upon all he possessed. Nisida, drowned in tears, implores an hour's delay; it is granted her. As sanguine as she was affectionate, she thought to save her father by having recourse to the sympathy and pity of her numerous adorers. Poor innocent! how little thou knowest those men of pleasure; ardent and generous enough to recompense vice

cold and selfish ever at the aspect of virtue in distress! It was all in vain that she implored them. Some few, however, offered their assistance; but at what price! .... She rushes from their presence, her whole countenance suffused with the blush of indignation.

The hour of grace expired, the dark visaged bailiff, who was by nature equally pitiless, laid a strong hand upon all he could find. Gods, goddesses, saints and Madonnas were corporeally seized upon and transported to the public marketplace, there to be sold by auction. The mortar escaped not the fatal seizure. It had been disdainfully thrown among the accompanying caricatures.

A great crowd assembled, and the sale commenced with the statues. For a few paoli, a young girl carried home the little mischievous blind god in her apron, and an old woman the Madonna. A fat Bacchus went to a wine-merchant to serve him for a sign; and to the perruquier at the corner of the marketplace, a great lyric poet, and famous writer of libretti, an Apollo was knocked down. The mortar in its turn was put up for sale. One of the spectators approaches, examines it, and calls out eagerly:

"One hundred piastres!"

"A thousand piastres!" bids an ecclesiastic in his turn. The auctioneer re-echoes the bidding of a "thousand piastres for the mortar," loud enough to be heard by all around. The bystanders stare with astonishment at one another: Julio is present at this scene; his heart beats quick, and he scarcely dares believe his ears. The man of the mortar is there also-hiding himself in the crowd. His lip curls with a sardonic smile, and his pale features appeared for an instant to be lit up by the rays of genius which gleam from his eyes. The contest continues; the two out-bidders grow warm,