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him as then; the trees waved as lithely, the flowers smelled as sweet, the dew glistened as bright, and the breeze rustled as pensively through the leaves-even sky, and star, were alike— "No! nothing hath been changed!" murmured he, "thank heaven! here all is the same! yon bower-yon path-yon ancient oak-there are the bay trees, and here—yes, here is the very bush from which my beloved plucked the rose I now bear in my bosom !" and he bent down and kissed the leaves, in his gladness. Momentary as were his indulged recollections, he chid the delay, and would have broke from the spot, had not the sound of one walking in the principal path induced him to retreat till he reconnoitred the party. A guelder-rose shaded his form, and from this leafy covert he looked out with a breathless expectancy; the step was slow, and measured, as of one who mused in their walk, yet did it seem somewhat graver than that of the fairy-footed girl he had left the years that had passed were forgotten, and the change they had wrought was equally undreamt of! As yet the party was hidden from view by the wide-spreading foliage, and, agitated with almost uncontrollable impulse, Schooréel still watched in the agonies of suspense: the step advanced; a bright kirtle became visible through the leaves, and a fair hand was seen cropping a lily; she who culled it paused for awhile, as if to examine the plant-should he rush from his concealment ?-no !—yet a moment's delay!-one second only, and the lady appeared, but her face was averted, a bird fluttering round a branch had arrested her glance-who was she? she was taller of stature, and somewhat fuller of form than his Unna, but there was a sweet stateliness in her movements that reminded him of his beloved. Her attire was sumptuous, a silken train rustled in long folds on the grass, and her stomacher sparkled with gems; yet the form and the tint of the robe were graver than those worn by his mistress in the dawning years of her youth; her white neck was shaded by a kerchief of lace, but bright tresses of auburn fell in rings on her shoulders-Schooréel's heart leaped in his bosom; though slightly altered in mien, "it was, it must be her! that surpassing gracethat elegance that matured loveliness could be hers alone!" he sprang forward-he caught her robe in his hands-he threw himself before her he looked up speechlessly, passionately, imploringly, and his heart almost burst in its ecstacy, as the radiant eyes of his mistress once more dwelt on his face. It was, indeed, herself Unna, the daughter of Cornelitz, the first love of Van Schooréel-the adored of his bosom ! Her cheek was paler, and her brow more thoughtful than in days gone by, and there was a something of sadness in her mien, but her beauty was more seraphic than ever. "Unna! beloved of my soul! I am come-I am come!" and he bowed his head down upon her hands, and covered them with kisses, they were chill and nerveless, and returned not his pressure-the lover looked up, the face of his mistress was as that of the dead; she spoke not, but contemplated him with harrowing earnestness-" Unna! mine own Unna! mine idolized!

my bride!" exclaimed he, in alarm: she gazed as one who heard not-then broke silence and spoke. "Is it thee, Van Schooréel ?— is it indeed thee that I behold?" said she slowly, and in a hollow and under-tone, in which there was something unnatural and ominous; and she scrutinized his features as she spoke, while a shudder crept through her frame, "is it thee, truly! or hath the ocean given up thy corse only to re-visit these shades, and assure me of thy fate?" "What meanest thou, mine Unna? why wandereth thy speech ?—it is me-me-thine own-thy true and faithful-thy lover-thine husband!" and he would have drawn her to his bosom, but with a faint cry she eluded his arms; Approach not, I charge thee, Van Schooréel !—nay, chide me not, Hans!-the rumour was false-thou art safe-thou yet livest! and- -""Now call thee my wife!" cried the lover, once more extending his arms at this juncture, a sweet laugh burst on his ears; short steps hurried down the gravel-path, and, mounted on a stick with a horse's head carved on the top, a gallant boy of some four years of age, came joyously caracolling towards them. "Mother! dear mother!" lisped out the urchin, prancing to Unna, "dear mother!" but espying a stranger, he coloured, and halfbashfully drew to her side. Schooréel stood aghast; had the heavens dropped at his feet he would have noted it not, his eyes were rivetted on the beautiful face of the boy-there were features he dimly remembered, dark eyes, a broad brow, and hair black as the wing of the raven-where-where had he seen similar? His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, his knees bowed under his weight, a thick cloud came before him, heart and brain reeled, and his soul was encompassed with the sickness of death; he staggered and leaned against an elder tree for support; the boy ran to him, "He is sick! mother! ah! dear mother, how white and cold he is!" and the soft warm hands of the child rubbed and fondled his palm with infantine tenderness; Unna advanced to him, with a brow marked with conflicting emotions, Hans motioned her away, bitterness was in his spirit, and to him the wide world was but loathing and agony. "Hear me !" cried Unna, beseechingly"hear me Van Schooréel, I conjure thee!" Never," exclaimed he, "never! thou false one! thou perjured!" he moved from her in scorn," Stay, Van Schooréel! stay! we entreat thee !" implored a third voice-the unhappy man turned with surprise; gazing on him with deep sympathy, was the gallant-the mysterious Bohemian. "Forgive me!" cried he, "forgive me for the fitfulness of sudden and uncontrollable jealousy. Rumour played thee false, and many mourned thee as dead who will now gladden to discover thee alive. Here is one who wept for thee till the light dimmed in her eyes, and the ruby fled from her lip;" and the goldsmith glanced with unspeakable tenderness upon Unna, who stood, pale and motionless, at his side; "but thou wert given up," pursued he, "there were mariners who swore to the wrecking of the good ship in which thou wert adventured, the billows of the Levant were spoken of as thy grave, and Cornelitz shrunk, in his old age,

I came-a

at leaving his fair child without friends in the world. stranger, from mine own country into this, I saw the daughter of Cornelitz, I loved her and I wooed her-Van Schooréel, hate me not! I won her! yet, in tears and deep sadness did she tell me of thy love, of thy parting pledge: her father blessed us, and we were wedded ere he died:' and here the Bohemian folded his arm tenderly round the waist of his wife, who sunk her head on his shoulder and sobbed. "The discovery of thy name," resumed he, "filled me with agonies of alarm; of thine identity I assured myself by showing thee the miniature of the high-born maiden whom, years since, I heard, in Carinthia, thou didst refuse; and, to my shame do I confess it, the withering demon of jealousy found dwelling in my breast; I strove to strangle our new-born intimacy on the spot, and I thirsted for possession of the pearls which I knew were the gift of mine Unna. But the dark spirit hath departed from me; thou didst say true when thou spokest of Unna as a seraph walking this earth,-in her virtue in thine honor-I am safe; Frederic Waltzburgh, the husband of Unna, welcometh thee to his friendship-to his home!" the Bohemian extended his hand with a generous cordiality. Struck down with the mightiness of his loss, yet penetrated with admiration of his but too happy rival, Van Schooréel took the proffered hand, and wrung it with bitter agony-he glanced at Unna, she was gazing tearfully on the face of her husband, but an angelic smile played round her mouth, and the light of a rapturous affection beamed in her eye-that look told him her heart was with her hand! he could endure no more, the arrow entered his soul! snatching up the child, he kissed it with wild and unspeakable emotion, while his hot tears fell blindingly on its face-one more glance—one unutterable look at all that was dear to him on earth, and he was gone gone beyond recal; and the ringing of his spurs, the wild neighing of his steed, and the tramp of its metalled hoofs, as it dashed off with its rider, indicated the violence with which he fled from the scene of his despair.

And from that day the sun-bright glances of Unna never once beamed on the unfortunate Schooréel.

Forty-two years from the date of this incident, a reverend man died at Utrecht: laden with honours and riches he descended to the tomb; crowned heads grieved for his departure; and princes followed in the train of his mourners; Henry of Nassau, and René de Châlons, of the illustrious family of Orange, were numbered among his pall-bearers, while ambassadors and steel-clad knights and nobles of proud ancestry held torches at his obsequies. The ceremony took place in the principal church; the bishop, arrayed in gorgeous pontificals, officiated at the solemnity. An universal stillness pervaded the multitude, while the deep tones of the organ mingled with those of the choristers, floated in full bursts of celestial harmony through the aisles; the scene was imposing, all around were affected, and a bright-haired youth,

stepping noiselessly from the crowd, advanced to the bier, and gazed silently on the face of the dead. It was thin and worn, the traits of sorrow-of long suffering were legible on the still mild and most venerable features, and the figure was attenuated as that of an anchoret. At the foot of the coffin, shrouded in black, mute and motionless, and in an attitude of the profoundest despair, stood a being mis-shapen and dwarfish; and on the breast of the corse lay a withered rose, a lock of fair hair, and a chaplet of pearls. It was the corse of Van Schooréel, the painter, the poet, the orator, and the musician; wifeless and childless he had gone down into the grave, and the descendant of his first and last love bent unconsciously over his clay.

Truly his was "FAITH UNTO DEATH!"

*S*

Déjazet, the prima donna of the small theatre at the Palais Royal, is as remarkable for her caustic wit as for the levity of her conduct. Some time ago a lady observed, in the presence of the "artiste," who does not enjoy the fairest reputation, “Moi, je tiens à ma réputation." Her manner and tone of voice indicated sufficiently to whom the allusion was directed; but Déjazet replied with the rapidity and withering effect of lightning, "Vous vous attachez toujours à des petitesses." A young man of fashion had sent her two love letters in one day, and on the next a third. "Il parait que Monsieur veut à toute force, être un sot en trois lettres," she exclaimed with impatience. On another occasion an author read her a new comedy, in which the following passage occurred:-" Eh comment ne l'aimerais-je pas? Elle a de la beauté, de la grace, de l'esprit, de la vertu !" "Arretez vous là," said she, interrupting the reader,“ la vertu c'est toujours la dernière chose dont on parle."

SONNET,

FROM THE ITALIAN OF GIAMBATTISTA ZAPPI.

LOVE on my charmer's presence aye attends,
Walks in her steps, speaks in her melody,
Sleeps in her silence, whispers in her sigh,
His lustre to her every action lends.

Love's in her eye, his music in her song.

And is she scornful? or do pearly tears

Bedew her cheeks? still sovereign Love appears
Both in her tenderness and anger strong.

Glideth she in the mazes of the dance,

Still Love supports her gently twinkling* feet

So his own favourite flower Zephyr fans.

In her sweet brow is Love's own chosen seat,
Love in her lips, her hair, her flashing glance

Is seen-but in her heart has no retreat.

From the original sonnet the idea of Jackson of Exeter's song,

Eyes," is manifestly borrowed.

*Gray. Byron,

"Love in thine

G. G.

A FEW GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON NATURAL HISTORY.

THERE are few subjects, perhaps, capable of affording greater interest than a consideration of the general and indefinable link pervading and uniting the whole of the creation which appears to connect every division of Natural History-though the gradations are so fine and almost imperceptible, that it is in some instances a task of difficulty to describe the exact line of demarcation between the different species.

It is not my intention to dwell long on the anatomy and structure of the various genera, the Worcestershire Natural History Society being so rich in able medical men, that the theory of comparative anatomy in their hands would be scientifically discussed and judiciously investigated; I will, therefore, endeavour, by the present slight sketch, simply to demonstrate the gradual approximation or the general chain between the species.

In adventuring so much, I confess my object is to induce others of more commanding abilities to pursue the subject further I will only dwell on it, therefore, cursorily, and illustrate my observations with a few anecdotes.

Man, created "a little lower than the angels," endowed with reason, and dignified by the possession of "dominion" over the whole of the glorious creation, stands pre-eminent amidst the innumerable beings which now, in order and harmony, "replenish the earth." Even in his fallen condition, still he retains the boon of reason to direct his course according to the ordinances of his Creator. Alas! that such beneficence should, from the deterioration in the human race, be so frequently misapplied! Crime again produced its punishment, and the deluge submerged an offending world, with the exception of eight persons, who alone heeded the awful warnings of the Deity. In process of time mankind again became numerous, and the confusion of tongues taking place, they gradually dispersed into different regions and climates; a change which produced singular alterations in the manners, habits, complexions, and constitutions of the human race. Civilization extended by degrees, and revealed religion lent its all-powerful aid, wherever it was promulgated, to assist its progress.

It, however, appears that some climates are less favourable to the developement of the human mind than others. This observation is strongly illustrated by the accounts given by Captains

* The Literary and Scientific Institution is equally favoured in possessing numerous highly-gifted members in the same profession.

NO. III.

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