at present do little more than name. There is the UNIVERSALLY-RESPECTED, or EXEMPLARYMONSTER, one who wants the virtue to be great, or the passion to be egregiously wrong; the OVER-REFINED-MONSTER, - who, instead of being a gentleman, is a petit maitre, and mistakes finical nicety for polished taste; the WOULD-BEGENTEEL-MONSTER, - who is the vulgarest creature under the sun, because he does not know his vulgarity, and, therefore, boldly does things which make every body else blush for one who cannot blush for himself; the INEVITABLE-MONSTER,— who, in his idleness and prosy stupidity, is continually inflicting himself on you, meeting you at every turn, though you are never able to account for his presence at that particular time and place; the MARRIED-MAN-MONSTER, who, from being one of the best companions in the world, suddenly becomes uxorious, rigidly moral, and a great descanter on the comforts of domestic life; the No-SUPPER-EATINGMONSTER, who sits down to that most social of all meals, and will touch nothing but a crust of bread and a glass of water, which he seasons with anecdotes of nightmare and apoplexy; the CLEVER-WOMAN-MONSTER, - who is aged thirty-five or forty, and probably unmarried, and who builds her reputation on her power of brow-beating her female acquaintances, and

saying impertinent things to the men; the HAPPY MONSTER, who is always in the most tremendous flow of good spirits, and who has no more notion of indulging you in a sentimental mood, than he would have of scattering roses over plumpudding; and, lastly, the CRITICAL MONSTER, --who treats authors worse than negro-slaves, but of whom it may be prudent to say no more at present, except that he is "a very ancient and fish-like monster."

THE DEAD DAUGHTER.

A TALE.

"What may this mean?

So horridly to shake our disposition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our soul."

SHAKESPEARE.

THE building was a solitary one, and had a cold and forbidding aspect. Its tenant, Adolphus Walstein, was a man whom few liked: not that they charged him with any crime, but he was of an unsocial temperament, and ever since he came to the neighbourhood, thinly inhabited as it was, he had contracted no friendship-formed no acquaintance. He seemed fond of wandering among the mountains, and his house stood far up in one of the wild vallies formed by the Rhætian Alps, which intersect Bohemia.

He was married, and his wife had once been beautiful. She even yet bore the traces of that

beauty, though somewhat faded. She must have been of high birth, too, for her features and gait were patrician. She spoke little, but you could not look on her, and fancy that her silence was for lack of thought.

They had only one child a daughter a pale but interesting girl. She was very young-not yet in her teens but the natural mirth of childhood characterized her not. It seemed as if the gloom that had settled round her parents had affected her too; it seemed as if she had felt the full weight of their misfortunes almost before she could have known what misfortune was. She smiled sometimes, but very faintly; yet it was a lovely smile, more lovely that it was melancholy. She was not strong; there was in her limbs none of the glowing vigour of health. She cared not for sporting in the fresh breeze on the hill side. If ever she gathered wild-flowers, it was only to bring them home, to lay them in her mother's lap, and wreathe them into withered garlands.

Much did they love that gentle child; they had nothing else in the wide world to love, save an old domestic, and a huge Hungarian dog. Yet it was evident Paulina could not live; at least her life was a thing of uncertainty of breathless hope and fear. She was tall beyond her years; but she was fragile as the stalk of the white-crowned lily. She was very like her mother, though there was at

times a shade upon her brow that reminded you strongly of the darker countenance of her father. It was said, that when he took his gun and went out all day in search of the red deer, far up among the rocky heights, he would forget his purpose for hours; and seating himself upon some Alpine promontory, would gaze upon his lonely house in the valley below, till the sun went down in the stormy west; and as evening drew on, and a single light faintly glimmered from one of the windows of his mansion, he has brushed a hot tear from his eye, and started into recollection.

room

One night it was dark ere he came home, and the winds howled drearily. In their sittinga room but barely furnished - he found his wife plying her needle beside the lamp, and at a little distance the dying flame of the wood fire threw its ghastly flickerings on the pale face of his daughter. He stood at the door, and leant upon his gun in silence. They knew his mood, and were silent also. His eye was fixed upon his daughter; she would have fascinated your's too. It was no common countenance. Not that any individual feature could have been singled out as peculiar, but the general expression was such as, once seen, haunted the memory for ever. Perhaps it was the black eye-blacker than the ebon hair — contrasted with the deadly paleness of her white-rose cheek. It was deep sunk,