he could, the end of his stick, and yet gained so little that he died in a miserable inn, disgraced and abhorred before all the world, which detested him as an execrable and accursed magician, because he always carried about with him, as his companion, a devil in the figure of a dog, from whose neck, when he felt death approaching, he removed the collar figured all over with magic characters; and afterwards, being in a halfmad state, he drove it from hence with these words: 'Go, vile beast, by whom I am utterly brought to perdition! And afterwards, this dog, which had been so familiar with him, and been his assiduous companion in his travels, was no more seen; because, after the command Agrippa gave him, he began to run toward the Seine, where he leapt in, and never came out thence; for which reason it is supposed he was drowned there. In perpetual testimony of his base and depraved life, there has

been composed over his tomb this epitaph:

This Tomb scarcely the Graces keep, but the black Daughters of Hell; not the Muses, but the Furies with outstretched wings. Alec to collects the Ashes, mixes them with Aco nite, and gives the welcome offering to be devoured by the Stygian Dog, who now cruelly pursues through the Paths of Orcus, and snatches at him whose companion he was in life, leaping up at him. And he salutes the Furies because he had known them all, and he addresses each by her own name. 0, wretched Arts, which have only served to introduce him as an Acquaintance to the Stygian Waters!'"'

"So," says Mr. Morley, "like a pagan, spat the priest upon the Christian's grave!"

Cornelius Agrippa, doctor, knight, and magician, is one more name to be added to the list of martyrs who died contending for free thought and free speech against the papal hierarchy and the darkness of the times in which he lived.

I

WILL not begin at the beginning and describe how, in my boyish days, I sported with Miss Cilly Busse. I will not describe how we used to romp together, go to dancing-school together, and reciprocate all those little innocent endearments usual between children of nearly the same age and opposite sexes. Nor will I pause to depict my feelings, when, in a game of forfeits and with much difficulty, I succeeded in kissing Miss Cilly Busse. I will not, furthermore, take up the time of the reader by showing that, from the age of eleven up to nineteen having been at school and college, I saw nothing at all of Miss Cilly Busse. Nor, lastly, will it be necessary to show how, at the age of nineteen and a-half, coming home proud of my college honors and youthful dandyism, I met Miss Cilly, domiciled in my native town of Lilyville. Having now given the public some insight into the preliminary situation of affairs, by the usual auctorial method of saying that I would not, I will go on with the narrative, as well as an unpracticed pen, and a naturally digressive habit of mind, will permit me.

When I had just left college, and

not yet recovered my pitying dismay at the small regard which the world in general paid to classics, moral philosophy, and metaphysics; when the first faint visions of a moustache came over my mind, and I daily examined with solicitude the soft down of my upper lip; when I enjoyed the novel excitement, and knew not of the agonies of shaving; when my watch-chain did not hang in sublime independence far in front of my legs; in those happy days I renewed my intimacy with Miss Cilly Busse.

Her mother and elder sisters kept a small girls' school, in which Miss Cilly was a sort of supernumerary, that is, she attended to the wardrobes, general deportment, and occasionally, the moral principles of the pupils, and took any class which happened to be without regular instruction.

Miss Cilly was not one of your foolish, rattling, laughing girls, who fascinate gentlemen by being amused with everything said or done. She had a proper idea of the majesty of human nature, and, though not above an occasional joke, regarded life with poetical earnestness and romantic gravity. She had ideas on the subject of moral

science; and, as they were remarkably similar to those promulgated by my college text-books, I fully and heartily coincided with her. But she was especially strong on astronomy. On the starlight nights, she used to mingle quotations from the poets, and deductions from the mathematicians, in a way that would have bewildered the spirits of the Pleiades themselves. After Shakespeare's, "Look, Jessica, mark how the floors of heaven," etc., she would at once startle me by some complicated proposition, with regard to a Lyræ, or 8 Canis, and would bid me farewell with some astounding fact, which left my brain divided between admiration at her knowledge and stupefaction from the imparting of it. I have since had reason to believe that she bestowed on me a réchauffée of the studies of her class, but at the time I would have scouted the idea with indignation.

Young men are generally, I believe, before they become hardened to it, oppressed with a nervous sensation in female society. Terrible possibilities, in the way of irregular cravat-ties, or exceptionable coats, or baggy pantaloons, send thrills of horror through the system. A constant tendency in their hands to rearrange their dress, wander into awkward positions, or, horror of horrors, to get into their pockets, renders incessant circumspection requisite. A doubt, as to whether they are saying or doing the correct thing, gives a gloomy cast to their thoughts and reacts upon their conversation. Whether this feeling is universal I do not know; but I must confess to having endured my full share of it. pleasure, therefore, of having a family within reach, where I soon became perfectly at my case, where I never thought about my clothes, where conversation was always ready, made me a constant visitor at the Busses'. By degrees, I began to regard the grim-looking house in which the Busses lived, with very friendly feelings.

The

To those who approached it in the morning with books in hand, and a fearful weight of unlearned lessons on their minds, it seemed to cause a chill, like the first aspect of a dungeon; but to me its dull brick walls appeared to inclose a garden of Academus. No wonder that I went there often. There I would find Miss Harmonia Busse

engaged in the perusal of some formidable treatise on education. Of course, I never disturbed her. There would be Mrs. Busse, reading some fearful religious work, by whose means she could satisfactorily damn all her friends and relatives. I never tried to distract her mind from so agreeable an occupation. But there would be Cilly, sitting in a deep window-seat that would just hold two, and looking sweetly with her little feet tucked under her, and her soft little hands engaged in some inscrutable piece of feminine employment. It was but

natural that I should take the other half of the window, and that, so cut off from everybody else, we should grow extremely confidential. We used to talk about everything-about poetry, about our neighbors, about the flowers, and the last piece of scandal; about the stars, and about ourselves. I enjoyed the conversations extremely. Sometimes we were left alone in the room, but that used to make no differenceat least, it didn't make any difference until one evening, when the colloquy took a turn which startled, dismayed, and confounded me. I believe we were talking about the stars; Miss Cilly was speaking as she generally did. She pointed out to my admiring gaze, the evening star-the star of love. From thence, we digressed to the affections. Miss Cilly's ideas of love were of the loftiest character. She could surrender all, endure all, accomplish all things, for the object of her love. If loved, she desired no other bliss, if scorned, she sighed out that she would carry her love into the grave. She knew that she never could love more than one-her first love would be her last. She could not believe in the possibility of any marriage other than one of affection-money, poor dross, what was it, that it should take the place of the only thing which could render existence happy? These ideas were not precisely original, but, being very earnestly and tenderly expressed, they touched me extremely. Then, Miss Cilly began to be inquisitive as to my experience in the tender passion. She insisted that I had been in love, and was determined to know the object of my affections. Being a nervous and bashful man, the state to which a quarter of an hour's cross-examination reduced me, can, perhaps, be imagined:

I know of no writer who could depict it. After having obtained thorough and complete information, as to the substance of every conversation I had held with any young woman in town, during the last month, Miss Cilly proceeded to draw deductions. This was the climax to my agony, and I burst forth in self-vindication. I assured Miss Cilly that I had been no where a tithe of the times that I had been to see her; that I liked nobody else as well as I liked her; and that if she was determined to declare me in love with somebody, it must be with herself. I cannot be certain that these were the words of my speech, but they were certainly the intention. Judge, then, of my horror and confusion, when I beheld Miss Cilly first blush, then draw forth her pocket-handkerchief, and then, in a voice broken with emotion, reply: "That she had long thought that I cared for her a little, but that the shock of so full an announcement of my feeling was very trying, that she reciprocated my affection, and was ready to do for me all that she had stated before," of which she now gave an enlarged and improved edition. "That my own heart must tell me what hers felt at that moment, and must pardon any inaccuracies in expression ;" whereupon she subsided into her pockethandkerchief.

I believe I did the correct thing-I believe I kissed her hand-I have heard her say that I appeared enraptured. It may be, I cannot tell anything about it. I remember nothing between the conclusion of her speech and my finding myself leaning exhausted against a fence a quarter of a mile off. Then the whole horrid truth burst upon me. With no intention of doing, so with no idea of changing my happy state of single blessedness and peace, I had become an engaged man-another person's property-and that other person I sat down quietly a young woman. on the grass and reflected. I did not care that the dew had fallen-it made no difference that the night was damp, and the locality swampy; I felt that I couldn't die-that a fate was upon me -that, till that fate was fulfilled, I could not commit suicide, catch fever and ague, or anything of the kind; that that fate was, to marry Cilly Busse. I had never looked at her with a matrimonial eye; I had never thought of anything VOL. IX.-6

except enjoying myself--and how dreadful were the consequences to be. I began to think of Miss Cilly Busse's personal appearance. I doubted as to the tinge of her hair; my mind misgave me that her nose turned up; I had a decided objection to her style of chin. Then I shrank with horror from the thought of listening for life tc Cilly drawing moral maxims from every object of nature and art, and letting loose upon me at unexpected moments small snappish pieces of information and instruction. In short, here was I hopelessly and involuntarily betrothed to a girl, whom I was rapidly convinoing myself that I detested.

I walked gloomily home with my hat very far down upon my ears, and my despair evinced by the depth to which I buried my hands in my pantaloons' pockets. I went to my room-my feelings were too highly strung to bear the light of a candle; consequently, during the process of retiring for the night, the constant and unexpected collision of various portions of my frame with every article of furniture which had a sharp edge, rather added to my sufferings. I went to bed, and dreamed that I had successfully emigrated to the Sandwich islands. There I had just wooed and won a dusky bride, when her features changed into Miss Cilly Busse, who, grasping me by the hair, and brandishing a parchment, inscribed "breach of promise," hurried me again into wakefulness and misery. I dreamed that I attempted suicide; but the rope changed into Miss Cilly's arms, giving me all the agonies of suffocation without the pleasure of releasing me from her power; while a razor, endued with preternatural life and motion, without losing any of its sharpness, cut and cruelly mangled me in the form of Miss Cilly's tongue. Nature at length came to my reliefplunged into profound slumber I dreamed no more.

When one

has been particularly happy the night before, the probability is, that the next morning will bring with it a vague sense of misery; but there is this consolation, that if you go to bed particularly wretched, you are pretty certain to wake in tolerably good spirits the morning after. When I opened my eyes, and looked my sorrows full in the face, I did not feel so thoroughly dismayed as before, and was further encouraged by receiving a

summons to leave Lilyville at once, on important business. I would be out of the way, at any rate, and who could tell what might turn up? By degrees, as I became fortified by breakfast, I began to be a little sorry to leave town; I reflected that Miss Cilly was quite a nice girl, that there was no necessity of my thinking about the engagement just yet; in short, I began to think I would have no objection to remain at home. At any rate, I ought to go and bid good-by to Miss Cilly Busse.

Miss Cilly opened the door for me herself. She looked very fresh and blooming; and, though her nose did turn up, her eyes were very pretty, and I stopped at them and did not examine further. Her hair, too, was auburn in some lights, and, whatever might be said of her chin, her lips were round and soft--so were her cheeks. So strongly was I impressed with their beauty, that I involuntarily kissed Miss Cilly Busse, and, after I had done so, I found that I liked it. Miss Cilly did not struggle very hard, so I did it again. Miss Cilly said that was enough; so we went in and sat, side by side, on the parlor sofa. If a gentleman does not want to make immediate and desperate love to a young woman, do not let him sit on a sofa beside her, particularly a small sofacrede experto. I had not been in that position five minutes, and had not told half my future intentions, when I discovered that my arm was around Miss Cilly's waist, and her head on my shoulder. Consequently, I began to feel very bitterly at the necessity of parting, and to express myself so enthusiastically that Miss Cilly was absolutely moved to tears. In short, I fancied I was really in love, and acted accordingly. Yet, oh! the fickleness of youth. No sooner had I got out of the house, where I had just been swearing eternal constancy, than I fervently hoped never to enter it again. Once out of sight of Miss Cilly, my feelings towards her began to cool; and, by the time that I was seated in the stage which was to bear me away, I was as impatient of the chain that bound me to her as I had ever been before. Her excellences began to diminish, and her little failings to loom terribly in my imagination. I denied the auburn of her tresses, and stigmatized them as red; while my very affection for her gave me the opportunity to ungenerously

discover how much of the beauty of her figure was owing to whalebone.

I sat in the stage unmindful of my fellow-passengers, and weighed down by gloomy reflections on my destiny. After a time, I became nervously aware of the fact, that my opposite neighbor was looking at me. Being naturally roused by this to return the gaze, a sudden elevation of my eyes brought them in contact with the glance of two soft, dark orbs gleaming timidly from the recess of a traveling hat. From that instant I felt that I was gone-that I was madly in love-that naught on earth should separate me from the proprietress of those heavenly eyes. I cast Miss Cilly Buss from my recollection. I utterly ignored any tie between us, and determined to win this angel or perish forever. How I wished that the stage had been in Italy, that it might be stopped by brigands, that I might spring out and defend my fair one against overwhelming numbers, and at last, having rescued her, fall expiring on a heap of slain with her voice in my ears, and her eyes gleaming tenderly upon my dying vision. But the country was prosaic-it was flat, it was American, with nothing more like a brigand than the turnpike-keeper. There was no chance of winning her regards by any deed of daring, so I had to submit to the ordinary approaches to intimacy afforded by stage-coach traveling. I was soon in easy conversation with Rose Mayland-such she informed me was her name. I found out that we were going to the same place, that we were both going to remain some time, and that I might call and see her if I liked. If I liked-what an idea! Place a fiery dragon, half-adozen giants, and innumerable magicians in the way, and I would bravely have carved out a path to her feet.

As this world has become very matter-of-fact, as dragons are confined to pantomimes, giants are only visible at Barnum's, and magicians humanely will not exercise their powers except for an entrance fee of twenty-five cents, I did not find the slightest difficulty in visiting Miss Rose Mayland. After repeated calls, I became convinced that Rose reciprocated my sentiments; for she did not appear bored by my visits, and I thought that no humanity could stand two visits a day, of indefinite length each, without being either bored or in

love with the visitor, I would have cast myself at Rose's feet, and declared my affection; but there was that horrid engagement with Cilly Busse-how to get released from it? I thought of writing myself an anonymous letter, derogatory of her character, and, on the strength of it, breaking my chain; but the experiment, or reflection, appeared too dangerous, and of doubtful efficacy. I thought of marrying Rose, and flying immediately to the end of the earth; but, apart from the difficulty of getting there, I doubted the happiness of a life without cigars and newspapers, shopping and new bonnets. Suicide was disagreeable, and would not enable me to marry Rose. In short, reduced to despair, I tried the very last resort left me. I unbosomed myself to Harry Sinclair. Harry Sinclair was a very handsome fellow, and perfectly at home everywhere, and in every emergency. He used to visit Miss Mayland, in company with me, pretty often, though Rose and he did not seem to talk a great deal to each other. When I told him my unhappy predicament, he puffed his cigar very violently-so much so, that the smoke made him wink and cough violently. He had quite recovered by the time I had got through, however, and he gave me the result of his meditations.

64

My dear Greene"-my name is Adonis Greene-"I must admit that you are in a fix. It is not so strange to be in love with one girl, and marry another-that occurs rather oftener than you imagine. But to get engaged, without meaning to, on one evening, fall in love with somebody else the next day, and get out of the first engagement the next week-that last will require generalship. We will see, however. I am going down to Lilyville to-morrow, and will examine the state of the premises. You hold yourself ready to come down when I write for you; that's all. By the way, Greene, you had better not commit yourself with Miss Mayland until you are clear of this scrape. If I were you, I wouldn't even call there, just now."

As Harry was going to act for me so disinterestedly, of course I could do nothing less than take his advice in this respect, as well as other things, though it went sorely against my inclination. The impatience with which I awaited a dispatch from Harry, was much augmented by my usual daily occupation being

That Lilyville stage ought to have been lighter by a hundred weight than the one in which I had departed from the village--that being about the difference in the weight of my heart. Harry was waiting for me, and carried me straightway to his lodgings. There he gave me an insight into the state of affairs.

Harry was handsomer than I; he was, also, richer; so he appealed more forcibly to the foibles of both young and old.

He called upon the Busses; ho was devoted to Miss Cilly; his manners were grand, yet melancholy; his conversation romantic and poetical. Need it be said that the window-seat again had two occupants; that the stars were again made to impart brilliance to Miss Cilly's conversation? Her intellectual resources again did good service. Harry was constant in his attentions; he was her slave. When matters had almost reached their consummation, and Harry had found himself, several times, artfully drawn to the very verge of a proposal, only reserving himself by great presence of mind, I was recalled to the scene of action. The crisis had arrived, the forces were marshaled, the moment of victory or defeat drew near. That evening, Harry went again to the Busses'. I gave him half-an-hour to get the elders out of the room, and to get fairly under way, and then followed. The hall-door was open; I passed silently into the parlor, and there, in that very window where Miss Cilly had owned herself mine, I discovered her in the arms of Harry Sinclair!

Though this was exactly what I wished, and expected, yet, for the moment, my indignation at Cilly's faithlessness overcame every other feeling. I groaned out her name. Cilly started -for a moment seemed inclined to rush out of the room; but, apparently, doubting the advisability of leaving her two lovers together, she remained.

"Mr. Greene," said she, "this intrusion-"