before partially ceased, now descended more heavily. The weakness which lies at the bottom of every heart is seldom exposed to view. The scholar in his loneliness gave way to his emotion; he leaned against the base of the column, buried his face in his hands, and, forgetting every thing except his hope, fervently prayed that it might be fulfilled that night. If that eternal book, in which all the prayers of mankind are recorded, were laid open to our view, what a commentary would be found there on human folly and shortsightedness! In that position let us leave the scholar awhile, to obtain more knowledge of the person who had so strangely made his acquaintance. VOL. I. A CHAPTER III. ""Tis strange the miser should his cares employ Is it less strange the prodigal should waste His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?" Pope. "A man may strictly keep within the limits of the law, yet be one of the worst creatures that ever crawled upon the earth. Still, he must have all those benefits of the law which he can rightfully claim."-Newspaper Report of a Summing up of Chief Baron Pollock. CHARACTER is frequently indicated by the external things with which it surrounds itself. Unconsciously a man imparts to his dwelling the prevailing sentiment of his mind, so that his thoughts and tastes may be read in the style of his dwelling, the adornments of his rooms, the pictures on his walls, and, still more distinctly, in the books on his shelves. In devoting some lines to a description of the saloon in which at evening the stranger was seated, I do so that I may con vey some notion of the man who will play an important part in this history. The room, or rather suite of rooms, was of a cruciform shape. The lower part was composed of a superb and extensive gallery, devoted wholly to painting and sculpture. The arched roof was supported by porphyry pillars. The transept was terminated at either side by recesses, in which, as in a temple, a magnificent picture was enshrined. The top of this spacious apartment was finished by a small cabinet, in which there were some books for immediate use. In every part of this grand saloon there was conspicuous the skill of artists excellent in their peculiar line. There was nowhere visible a trace of that manufacture which gives to modern ornament such an air of tasteless uniformity. Each chair and couch and doorway, pillar and console, was enriched with the most delicate and elaborate carving. The compartments of the walls were broken into niches and panels for the reception of the treasures of ancient and modern art. Corregio seemed an especial favourite in the collection, as his works were the most numerous and of the highest beauty; but there were also fine specimens of Guido, Titian, Vandyke, Da Vinci, and other great masters, whose works have enlarged and elevated the domain of human intellect. In sculpture there were many of those priceless fragments which the diligence of late research has collected from the wreck of antique grandeur. On pedestals or columns of every conceivable design and material were profusely scattered cameos, models, vases, trinkets, marbles, and gems of all kinds-every thing that was wonderful and precious-though nothing found a place there that was remarkable for its rarity alone. Modern works were not numerous in this saloon; yet groups by Canova and Gibson, and some busts of distinguished men, selected in a liberal spirit— for Brougham stood by the side of Wellington, and Byron near Chalmers showed that the author was not indifferent to the merit of his own age. Chandeliers of novel construction, in frosted silver with crystal flutes, fresh from the hand of the Cellini of our day, cast a chastened light over the whole temple, in which works and decorations so varied and so beautiful formed a harmony of their own, as the primitive colours in combination melt into light. Yet the curious observer, in the midst of all this splendour, could easily detect proofs of the gloomy temperament of him who had formed the collection at such vast expense. Beside a golden censer, more precious for its workmanship than for its material and the jewels which studded it, was a human skull, which characters in pencil told had once belonged to a distinguished son of genius of unhappy memory. Near a voluptuous piece of the great Venetian master was a dark allegory by an old hard painter, probably Holbein or Dürer, representing Death firmly grasping the hand of a youth armed with a dagger, and plunging it into the breast of a maiden by his side, though his face expressed the greatest horror and reluctance. In this way, through the whole apartment, with its rich ornaments, and shrines, and galleries, a terrible fatalism seemed to jealously watch over the sources of enjoyment; and, rich as the collection was in objects calculated to afford the purest delight, no person could pass through it without saddened if not painful feelings. Its effect on the mind resembled that produced by the wild and unearthly strains which the great German musicians introduce into their ghostly melodies, as if to warn the |